Globally Speaking: Motives for Adopting English Vocabulary in Other Languages (Multilingual Matters)

Globally Speaking

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS SERIES Series Editor: Professor John Edwards, St Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada Other Books in the Series Motivation in Language Planning and Language Policy Dennis Ager Multilingualism in Spain M. Teresa Turell (ed.) A Dynamic Model of Multilingualism Philip Herdina and Ulrike Jessner Beyond Boundaries: Language and Identity in Contemporary Europe Paul Gubbins and Mike Holt (eds) Bilingualism: Beyond Basic Principles Jean-Marc Dewaele, Alex Housen and Li Wei (eds) Ideology and Image: Britain and Language Dennis Ager Where East Looks West: Success in English in Goa and on the Konkan Coast Dennis Kurzon English in Africa: After the Cold War Alamin M. Mazrui Politeness in Europe Leo Hickey and Miranda Stewart (eds) Language in Jewish Society: Towards a New Understanding John Myhill Maintaining a Minority Language John Gibbons and Elizabeth Ramirez Urban Multilingualism in Europe Guus Extra and Kutlay Yagmur (eds) Cultural and Linguistic Policy Abroad: The Italian Experience Mariella Totaro-Genevois Language Decline and Death in Africa: Causes, Consequences and Challenges Herman M. Batibo Directions in Applied Linguistics Paul Bruthiaux, Dwight Atkinson, William G. Eggington, William Grabe and Vaidehi Ramanathan (eds) Language Diversity in the Pacific: Endangerment and Survival Denis Cunningham, D.E. Ingram and Kenneth Sumbuk (eds) Multilingualism in European Bilingual Contexts: Language Use and Attitudes David Lasagabaster and Ángel Huguet (eds) Linguistic Landscapes: A Comparative Study of Urban Multilingualism in Tokyo Peter Backhaus The Defence of French: A Language in Crisis? Robin Adamson Minority Language Media: Concepts, Critiques and Case Studies Mike Cormack and Niamh Hourigan The Sociolinguistics of Development in Africa Paulin G. Djité For more details of these or any other of our publications, please contact: Multilingual Matters, Frankfurt Lodge, Clevedon Hall, Victoria Road, Clevedon, BS21 7HH, England http://www.multilingual-matters.com

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS 140 Series Editor: John Edwards

Globally Speaking Motives for Adopting English Vocabulary in Other Languages Edited by

Judith Rosenhouse and Rotem Kowner

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS Clevedon • Buffalo • Toronto

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Globally Speaking: Motives for Adopting English Vocabulary in Other Languages Edited by Judith Rosenhouse and Rotem Kowner. Multilingual Matters: 140 Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. English language–Influence on foreign languages. 2. Language and languages–Foreign elements. 3. English language–Globalization. I. Rosenhouse, J. II. Kowner, Rotem. PE1073.G563 2008 420.9– dc22 2007040066 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue entry for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN-13: 978-1-84769-051-7 (hbk) Multilingual Matters UK: Frankfurt Lodge, Clevedon Hall, Victoria Road, Clevedon BS21 7HH. USA: UTP, 2250 Military Road, Tonawanda, NY 14150, USA. Canada: UTP, 5201 Dufferin Street, North York, Ontario M3H 5T8, Canada. Copyright © 2008 Judith Rosenhouse, Rotem Kowner and the authors of individual chapters. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. The policy of Multilingual Matters/Channel View Publications is to use papers that are natural, renewable and recyclable products, made from wood grown in sustainable forests. In the manufacturing process of our books, and to further support our policy, preference is given to printers that have FSC and PEFC Chain of Custody certification. The FSC and/or PEFC logos will appear on those books where full certification has been granted to the printer concerned. Typeset by Datapage International Ltd. Printed and bound in Great Britain by the Cromwell Press Ltd.

Contents List of Figures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 The Hegemony of English and Determinants of Borrowing from Its Vocabulary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rotem Kowner and Judith Rosenhouse 2 Icelandic: Phonosemantic Matching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yair Sapir and Ghil‘ad Zuckermann 3 French: Tradition versus Innovation as Reflected in English Borrowings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Miriam Ben-Rafael 4 Dutch: Is It Threatened by English?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Herman J. De Vries Jr. 5 Hungarian: Trends and Determinants of English Borrowing in a Market Economy Newcomer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Zsuzsanna Gombos-Sziklaine´ and Zolta´n Sturcz with Judith Rosenhouse and Rotem Kowner 6 Russian: From Socialist Realism to Reality Show . . . . . . . . . Maria Yelenevskaya 7 Hebrew: Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in a Modern(ised) Language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Judith Rosenhouse and Haya Fisherman 8 Colloquial Arabic (in Israel): The Case of English Loan Words in a Minority Language with Diglossia. . . . . . . . . . . Judith Rosenhouse 9 Amharic: Political and Social Effects on English Loan Words . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anbessa Teferra 10 Farsi: The Modernisation Process and the Advent of English . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Soli Shahvar 11 Indian Languages: Hidden English in Texts and Society . . . Dennis Kurzon v

.... 1 ...

4

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. . . 44 . . . 68

. . . 82

. . . 98

. . 121

. . . 145

. . . 164

. . . 187 . . . 208

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Chinese in Taiwan: Cooking a Linguistic Chop Suey and Embracing English . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 Sufen Sophia Lai 13 Japanese: The Dialectic Relationships Between ‘Westerness’ and ‘Japaneseness’ as Reflected in English Loan Words. . . . . . . 250 Rotem Kowner and Michal Daliot-Bul 14 Conclusion: Features of Borrowing from English in 12 Languages. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 Judith Rosenhouse and Rotem Kowner

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Bibliography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296

List of Figures 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 3.1 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7 8.1 8.2 14.1 14.2 14.3 14.4

Phonosemantic matching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phonosemantic matching of AIDS in Icelandic . . . . . . . . . Artichoke . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phonosemantic matching of AIDS in Icelandic, Modern Standard Mandarin and Hebrew. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phonosemantic matching of TECHNICAL in Icelandic, Arabic and Israeli . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Francophone borrowings
a sample out of 360 occurrences. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hebrew adjectives with various frequencies of occurrence (five times and higher) (back-translated into English) . . . . List of borrowings from the entertainment and communication domains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of borrowings from other high-frequency domains . . Summary of our sample with examples from English. . . . Total number of types of English loan words in Hebrew in the sample . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Classification of nouns, adjectives, verbs and other word types borrowed from English in the sample . . . . . . Patterns of adjectives and their distribution in Study 1 . . . Classes of words borrowed from English into colloquial Arabic. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Examples of borrowed words from English . . . . . . . . . . . The 12 case studies and their propensity for borrowing English vocabulary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Propensity for borrowing English vocabulary
ranking order . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Main factors for borrowing English vocabulary . . . . . . . . Motives, determinants and outcomes of English loan-word integration in borrowing languages . . . . . . . . .

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. . . . 28 . . . . 29 . . . . 35 . . . . 36 . . . . 38 . . . . 58 . . . 130 . . . 131 . . . 132 . . . 134 . . . 137 . . . 137 . . . 138 . . . 152 . . . 153 . . . 279 . . . 285 . . . 290 . . . 291

Contributors Miriam Ben-Rafael is an applied linguist and teacher of French as a foreign language. Her doctoral thesis focused on the language of Frenchspeaking immigrants in Israel in contact with Hebrew, and in a series of publications she has coined and publicised the term of ‘Franbreu’. In recent years, she has also turned to the investigation of the contemporary influence of English in French. She is now involved in a comprehensive study of the impact of globalisation on the language of French-speaking youth. Michal Daliot-Bul is a lecturer in Japanese studies at the University of Haifa, Israel and a translator. Her research interests include the deep cultural meanings and functions of play, urban culture, cross-cultural flows and the production of intra- and intercultural imaginaries. In addition to a number of published and forthcoming articles, she is currently revising for publication her doctoral thesis entitled ‘Licensed to Play
Play and Playfulness in the Japanese Culture’. Herman J. De Vries Jr. is Associate Professor of Germanic Languages at Calvin College, Grand Rapids, MI, USA, where he teaches the Dutch and German languages and literature. Since 1999 he has held the college’s Queen Juliana Chair of the Language and Culture of the Netherlands. His current research examines the question of language within the discussion on national identity in the Netherlands. Haya Fisherman is a lecturer in Hebrew Language at the University of Haifa and the Gordon College of Education, Haifa, Israel, and specialises in the study of Contemporary Hebrew and sociolinguistics. She has studied the status of Hebrew in the Romanian Jewish community, official languages in Israel, language maintenance in Israel, attitudes to the use of foreign words in Hebrew, and Yiddish in Israel. She also contributes to Hebrew teaching methodology in high schools in various frameworks of the Ministry of Education. ix

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Zsuzsanna Gombos-Sziklaine´ is Associate Professor at the Budapest University of Technology and Economics. She specialises in crosscultural communication and has been involved in the development of cultural studies programmes for international students. Her major fields of research and training are Language for Specific (Engineering and Business) Purposes, methodology of LSP training and fundamentals of LSP programmes for different target groups. Rotem Kowner is Professor of Japanese history and culture at the University of Haifa, Israel and specialising in Japan’s modernisation, attitudes to the Other, and Japanese language. His recent works include Historical Dictionary of the Russo-Japanese War, and the edited volume The Impact of the Russo-Japanese War. He is currently working on a book on the role of racial and bodily images in shaping Meiji Japan, and on a comprehensive method for teaching the Japanese writing system to foreigners. Dennis Kurzon is Professor of English linguistics at the University of Haifa, Israel, and specialises in pragmatics, legal language, adpositions and the sociology of language in India. His recent works include Where East Looks West: Success in English in Goa and on the Konkan Coast (2003), Discourse of Silence (1998) and the edited volume Prepositions in their Syntactic, Semantic and Pragmatic Context (2002). In the field of Indian linguistics, he is currently working on a book on writing systems and religion in Bengal. Sufen Sophia Lai is Associate Professor of English at Grand Valley State University, MI, USA, specialising in comparative literary studies. Her research areas include the history of the afterlife, gender discourse, woman warriors and cross-dressing themes in traditional China. Her recent works include a literary biography of Guo Pu (276
324) collected in Classical Chinese Writers: Pre-Tang Era. Currently she is working on a book on the historical realities and representations of the ‘Kingdoms of Women’ in China. Judith Rosenhouse, Professor of Arabic linguistics at the Department of Humanities and Arts, the Technion I.I.T, has since her retirement joined Swantech
Sound Waves Analysis and Technologies Ltd. She has published numerous books and papers in many areas of Arabic and Hebrew linguistics, phonetics, bilingualism and sociolinguistics, among them: The Bedouin Arabic Dialects (1984), Colloquial Arabic for Medical

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Personnel (1989), Trilingual Hebrew-Literary Arabic-Colloquial Arabic Dictionary (2001) and Trilingual Literary Arabic-Hebrew-Colloquial Arabic Dictionary (2004). Yair Sapir is affiliated with the Centre of Multiethnic Research at Uppsala University, Sweden. His doctoral thesis is on Modern Icelandic word formation and he has taught Grammar and Phonetics, Icelandic, Danish and Hebrew to beginners and intermediate students at Uppsala University. Currently he researches Elfdalian, a local minority language spoken in the north of the Dalarna region in Sweden. Soli Shahvar is lecturer of Iranian history and Director of the Ezri Center for Iran and Persian Gulf Studies at the University of Haifa, Israel. He is specializing in a number of fields related to the modern history of the Middle East, in general, and Iran, in particular, such as: the advent of modern technology into the Middle East; religious minorities in Iran; Iran-Ottoman and Iran-Israel relations; Iranian merchants of the later Qajar period; and the propaganda strategies and tactics of the Islamic Republic of Iran. He has recently completed writing a book on the Baha’i schools in Iran, titled ‘The Forgotten Schools’: The Baha’is and Modern Education in Iran, 1899
1934 (London & New York: I B Tauris, due June 2008). Zolta´n Sturcz is Associate Professor and Vice Dean at the Budapest University of Technology and Economics. His major fields include Hungarian Linguistics, research and teaching Hungarian as a Foreign Language, Communication for Engineering and Business Purposes, needs analysis for communication, history of teaching foreign languages and the history of language training methodology. He has been the project leader and co-author of the course book Hungarian as a Foreign Language (Threshold Level), developed according to Common European Framework requirements. Anbessa Teferra is a Lecturer of Ethiopian languages viz. Amharic and Sidaama at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Mount Scopus, Israel. He specialises in Amharic grammar and lexicography, Sidaama grammar, Hebrew
Amharic lexicography, etc. Among his publication is a Hebrew
Amharic Multimedia Dictionary of 17,000 words. He also jointly authored a forthcoming book entitled Essentials of Amharic and is currently working on a detailed grammar book of Sidaama.

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Maria Yelenevskaya is a Senior Teaching Fellow at the Department of Humanities and Arts of the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology. Most of her publications deal with problems of multilingualism, multiculturalism and media discourse. She also pursues research on immigrant communities and has published over 15 articles and a book The Russian Street in the Jewish State: Investigation into the Folklore of Immigrants of the 1990s to Israel (with L. Fialkova). Her current research involves issues in political and legal discourse. Ghil‘ad Zuckermann is Associate Professor and ARC Discovery Fellow at The University of Queensland, Australia. He has taught and held research posts in Israel, Singapore, Italy, Japan, the UK and the USA. His numerous publications include the books Language Contact and Lexical Enrichment in Israeli Hebrew and Hebrew as Myth. He is currently working on two further books: Language Genesis and Multiple Causation and Language Academies.

Introduction ROTEM KOWNER and JUDITH ROSENHOUSE

English is the lingua franca of the modern world, the ‘vehicular’ language used for science, international business and for communication at virtually any large international meeting. Speakers of English can be found in almost any corner of the globe, which is no wonder when you are the main or the official language in over 75 states and territories. Indeed, since WWII, English has occupied a new position never held by any other language before: it has become a global lingua franca. This is attested by the extent of its geographical spread, the number of its speakers and overall significance. Yet, English is not only spoken by an unprecedented number of people, both absolutely and relatively, but it also serves as a fertile field for lexical borrowing. That is, other languages are increasingly turning to English as a source for new vocabulary and incorporating English loan words in their lexicon. This volume explores the determinants of and motives for contemporary lexical borrowing from English, using a comparative approach and a broad cross-cultural perspective. By analysing 12 different languages, we isolated a number of factors that describe pattern of borrowing from English at present. From an analysis of the borrowing processes in these languages, all following similar lines, we are able to offer an account of historical trends in lexical borrowing, and to draw broader conclusions about the spread of English. The book opens with a historical review of the emergence of English as a global lingua franca and a presentation of our hypotheses regarding the motives for lexical borrowing from English in world languages. This introductory chapter is followed by 12 chapters; each serves as a case study of a different language. The contributors of these case studies, many of them renowned linguists in their respective domains, were approached to write not only because of their original contribution to the topic but also because of the special standing of their respective language within linguistic studies. Thus, two languages are described here for the 1

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first time in the context of English loan words and their effects on the receiving language: Teferra describes the state of affairs of the Amharic language in Ethiopia and Shahavar writes about the Persian language in contemporary Iran. These two countries have witnessed turbulent political and cultural changes and development in the 20th century which have left their marks on their official languages, as analysed in these chapters. Other chapters depict similarly intriguing historical background and diverse types of contacts with English as well as with British and Americans. These chapters include Ben-Rafael’s study on the French language in France; de Vries Jr.’s study on the Dutch language; Kowner and Daliot-Bul’s analysis of linguistic borrowing in Japan, a nation which underwent a period of American occupation in the 20th century after a major trauma during WWII; and Lai’s chapter on Taiwan
Chinese, whose recent history fluctuates between Chinese and English. Additional chapters examine the political circumstances which have affected the state of two languages representing East and Central Europe in our book: the Russian language brought forth by Yelenevskaya, and the Hungarian language, the latter reflecting a joint effort by Gombos and Sturcz with both editors of this volume. The case of Hebrew (by Rosenhouse and Fisherman) and Arabic (by Rosenhouse) in Israel presents the case of two official languages within a single State. Two chapters discuss specific details in the process of borrowing English loan words: Sapir and Zuckermann analyse relevant semantic processes in English loan-word borrowing in Icelandic, while Kurzon brings to light processes of ‘hidden English’ in various regions of India. This selection of languages also offers a picture of processes occurring in many language families: Latin, Germanic, Iranian and Slavic within the Indo-European language group; Northern, Central and South-Western languages within the Semitic (Afro-Asiatic) language group; a Finno-Ugric language (Hungarian), an Altaic language (Japanese) and a Sino-Tibetan language (Taiwan Chinese). All in all, not only the general framework of the book is novel, but several of the chapters in this volume deal with adoption processes in languages that have never been examined hitherto. Some of the chapters also put forth new or unheeded facts. Among these we find, e.g. the role of phonosemantic matching in lexical innovation and the intricate structures it involves, or the fact that political regimes (or their changes) or linguistic authorities (and purists) cannot change the course of lexical development. In fact, even political VIPs (e.g. in France, Japan, or the Netherlands) cannot help using English loan words.

Introduction

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Critically, this book suggests that the English lexical ‘invasion’ depicted in each chapter is a natural and inevitable process, driven by psycholinguistic, sociolinguistic and sociohistorical factors. Moreover, it demonstrates that borrowed loan words constitute part of the normal way languages develop and survive. Although speakers’ attitudes concerning loan words (either pro or con such words) may be emotional, we conclude that when borrowed lexical items are used in communication, the main driving force behind them is apparently the need for efficient and expressive communication. This conclusion may be generalised beyond the English borrowings in the languages studied here to other languages, to other forms of linguistic communication, such as metaphors, and to universal linguistic structures such as the transfer of lexical items between dialects of a certain language or different language registers. This project began in early 1997 as a collaborative research of the two us, comparing the adoption and usages of English loan words in Japanese and Hebrew (Kowner & Rosenhouse, 1997, 2001). The issues raised during this limited undertaking prompted us to probe into the broader questions of the general pattern of and motives for adoption of English loan words throughout the globe. Throughout this decade, we have been fortunate to collaborate with many bright and enthusiastic scholars, who shared with us their thoughts and knowledge in many conference panels, workshops and informal meetings we organised on this topic. During those years we came to owe a debt of gratitude to many people. Foremost among them are the contributors to this book, who supported us patiently and enlightened us with their insights on their respective language and culture. Similarly, we are grateful to the Research Authority at the University of Haifa, for its generous financial support provided during 2002
03 for a ‘University interdisciplinary project’ on ‘Models of semantic patterns for adoption of loan words: A comparative interdisciplinary and cross-cultural research’. This grant has been very useful for conducting frequent workshops and for the completion of this book. We also extend our thanks to Swantech
Sound Waves Analysis and Technologies Ltd.
for kindly allowing us the time to complete this project. Finally, we are indebted to our spouses, Fabienne and Giora. As always, they endured our academic pursuit without complaint while providing a constant source of moral support.

Chapter 1

The Hegemony of English and Determinants of Borrowing from Its Vocabulary ROTEM KOWNER and JUDITH ROSENHOUSE

Since the second half of the 20th century English has become a global lingua franca. Whereas Mandarin remains the world’s most widely spoken first language, English has emerged as the world’s first choice as a second language; more importantly, it is by now the principal means for international communication. The effect of English does not end with its wide usage. With its rise, English has come to serve many languages as a source for intensive lexical borrowing, reflecting the importance and status it holds as a leading language. This ongoing process, however, has not been uniform. Certain societies have offered resistance to the spread of English and a reluctance to borrow its vocabulary. Others have embraced English, making English loan words an important part of their vocabulary, using it in codeswitching, and even adopting it as their main language. The Italian phrase lingua franca (literally Frankish language), which now denotes English as a leading language, referred originally to the hybrid language created and used in the Mediterranean area. From early times, seamen and merchants in certain Mediterranean ports used a mixture of languages, predominantly Italian, but with many lexical elements from Greek, Spanish, Arabic, Turkish and French, for communicating with each other (Cifoletti, 1989; Schuchardt, 1980). Although the term means literally ‘European language’, it arguably narrowed down to Romance-based pidgin (e.g. Minervini, 1996). Evidently, there was nothing distinctive about the Mediterranean lingua franca, and other hybrid languages, often linguistically defined as pidgins and creoles, emerged in many other places where people speaking different languages intermingled for a prolonged length of time (Gilbert, 2002; Jahr and Broch, 1996; Mu¨hlha¨usler, 1986; Sebba, 1997). 4

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These forms of mixed and simplified language were not the only means of intergroup communication. In many places where speakers of different languages met they chose to speak one language. Usually it was the language of the majority, although in some cases numerical advantage did not play a crucial role, but the importance of the culture or nation to which the speakers belonged did. Over the years, the term lingua franca gained an additional meaning: now, it also denotes a leading language, not a hybrid but a proper language, which serves as a medium of communication between speakers of different languages in a given region or setting. In the Middle East it was Accadian, then Aramaic, then Arabic and finally the Ottoman Turkish; in some parts of Eurasia and North Africa Greek was the lingua franca for more than a millennium after the death of Alexander the Great. In East Asia classical Chinese played a similar role for thousands of years, mainly in a written form, until the late 19th century, whereas throughout much of the American continent, from California to Patagonia, Spanish has been used since the age of exploration. After the Napoleonic wars French served as the lingua franca of imperial diplomacy, as well as the principal choice of communication among the European aristocracy. More recently, for a short period (about four decades starting from 1945) Russian enjoyed similar importance in the Soviet bloc, stretching from East Germany to Mongolia. While virtually not a spoken tongue, Latin served as a key language of religion, government and scholarship throughout Europe of the medieval era, and as late as 1687 Isaac Newton wrote his first major work, Principia, in this language
but not his second!

English as a Lingua Franca The rise of English during the last two centuries to its present position has been nothing less than spectacular. In 1780 the second American president, John Adams, predicted that English is destined ‘to be the next and succeeding centuries more generally the language of the world than Latin was in the past or French in the present time’ (quoted from McCrum et al., 1986: 239). Adams reasoned that the increasing population in America, its inhabitants’ universal connection with their mother countries, and the global influence of England would inevitably make English a leading language. The realisation of this prophecy was not as self-evident as it seems in retrospect today, even for the mere fact that in 1780 English had fewer than 15 million speakers, spread sparsely over England, Scotland, Ireland, the USA, Canada and the Caribbean. Half a century later the German linguist Jacob Grimm stated that English ‘may

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with all right be called a world language; and, like the English people, appears destined hereafter to prevail with a sway more extensive even than its present over all the portions of the globe’ (quoted in Trench, 1881: 44). Neither Adams nor Grimm lived to see their prophecies come true, but a few decades later some early but promising precursors of English linguistic hegemony were more than visible. During the late 19th century English began to replace French as the lingua franca of Western Europe, and while Russian aristocrats regarded the latter as their language of choice well into the Bolshevik Revolution, their ruler, Tsar Nicholas II, displayed a clear preference for the former. Earlier, during the 18th and the 19th centuries, English had already established its position as the lingua franca of North America and the Indian subcontinent. Whereas in North America most of the population used English as their first language, in the Indian subcontinent only a small fraction did so. In the latter case English was the language of the British rulers but was gradually adopted by the multilingual locals for intergroup communication. British imperial hegemony and huge colonial possessions during the late 19th century were undoubtedly a major determinant in facilitating the spread of English at that time, but not the only one. After WWI, and particularly after WWII, American economic hegemony and growing political and cultural importance proved the main spur for the spread of English, and the USA became the cultural and linguist harbinger of the English language. In the postwar era the combined impact of these two nations has brought English to a new and unprecedented position, not only for its geographical spread and the number of its speakers, but for its overall significance. It has assumed the role of the world’s lingua franca. Today English is the preferred language of communication at virtually any international meeting hosting representatives of more than a number of nations, and at many regional meetings as well. English speakers can be found in almost any corner of the globe and English is now the dominant or at least one of the official languages in over 75 states and territories (Conrad & Fishman, 1977; Crystal, 2003b) in which at least 1.6 billion people live (Sullivan, 1991). More than 70% of scientific publications and the vast majority of the leading scientific publishers are at present in English (Ammon, 1996). Similarly, about 80% of Internet sites are in English, and most of the programming languages used are based on English. Furthermore, although the number of English speakers as a first language is approaching 400 million, and a similar number of speakers use it as a

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second language (mainly in the Indian subcontinent), it is possible that in sum nearly two billion of the approximately six billion people who inhabit the globe are able to communicate in English in varying levels of competence (Crystal, 2003b; Dalby, 2004). In this sense, English can be viewed, as McArthur (2002) suggested, as the sole representative of ‘a universalizing complex’
a new and extreme category on a continuity where the world’s languages are arranged. While English has many variants, it has emerged recently also in a new and generalised form known as International Standard English, which offers a standard and secured pattern of communication to all English speakers (McArthur, 2002). This pattern can be found on many of the services offered on the Internet (e.g. Google, America Online), in global media services (e.g. CNN, BBC), at airports and other locations where English is used in a multilingual context.

Research on the Global Spread of English: From World Englishes to English Loan Words In the last three decades much research has been conducted on the position of English as the world’s lingua franca and the processes associated with it. Many linguists have focused on description and analysis of the large number of varieties of Englishes used, in predominantly English-speaking countries, in places where English is still used as part of the British or American legacy, and in any other culture (e.g. Crystal, 2003b; Kachru, 1982, 1986, 1992; Viereck et al., 1984; Watts & Trudgill, 2002). The growing interest and academic importance of this topic is evident in the activity of two academic journals, both established in the early 1980s: English World-Wide: A Journal of Varieties of English and World Englishes. The former focuses on the dialectology and sociolinguistics of the English-speaking communities (native and second-language speakers), while the latter is committed to the study of varieties of English in their distinctive cultural, sociolinguistic and educational contexts, with emphasis on cross-cultural perspectives and identities. A related field of research is the study of English as a foreign second language, often simply known as English Language Teaching (ELT) or Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL). The main focus in this field is on teaching English to non-native speakers, and although this goal is purely educational, it enhances the diffusion of English as a global lingua franca. There are thousands of publications on this topic, including the academic journal Teaching English as a Second or Foreign

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Language (TESL-EJ)
a quarterly disseminated electronically from Berkeley, California, since 1994. The concept of ‘English as a second language’ represents for many its positive facet: a language bringing people together and mediating between cultures in conflict. This has been one of the major goals of teaching this language for many years at schools all over the world (cf. Block & Cameron, 2001). For others, however, the same type of English, an all-out global mode of communication, is not always seen as a blessing but as a threat. Some see it as the epitome of Anglo-American imperialism, the bridgehead of a linguistic invasion aimed at world domination, or at least a constant reminder of its ongoing postcolonial legacy (e.g. Pennycook, 1994, 1998; Phillipson, 1992). Others regard globalising English as undemocratic since it creates a structure of linguistic hierarchy, which enhances the cultural dominance of English-speaking countries, particularly the USA and Britain (e.g. Tsuda, 1986, 2000). In the current critical milieu, it is no wonder that the spread of English is also associated with language death, a phenomenon that takes place in several forms. Contact with English-speaking people has led in some cases to marginalisation of local languages, as has occurred among speakers of various Austronesian languages in the Pacific Ocean, and in other cases to the virtual eradication of the local population, thereby bringing about the death of their language as well, as has happened in North America and Australia (e.g. Crystal, 2000; Nettle & Romaine, 2000). Another aspect of the spread of English is research on codeswitching and codemixing, which form the actual context in which borrowings are used. Codeswitching is the use of various linguistic units, usually but not only from two participating grammatical systems within a speech event, and its usage is motivated by social and psychological factors (Ritchie & Bhatia, 2004). Codemixing is similar in form and motives to codeswitching, but whereas the former is intrasentential and is constrained by grammatical principles, the latter is intersentential and may be subject to discourse principles (Ritchie & Bhatia, 2004). In the present framework, we do not need to contrast codeswitching with codemixing. Indeed some scholars (e.g. Gumperz, 1982) consider them one entity, a ‘situational shifting’. In any case, codeswitching and
mixing phenomena alike provide the theoretical linguistic basis for the use of borrowed words in the absorbing language. The alter ego of English in this context is the plethora of all the remaining languages of the world, and indeed much research is devoted to the attitudes of other languages to English. Although there are perhaps

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more than 6000 of them, only a few hundred have more than one million speakers, and far fewer than a hundred languages receive academic attention regarding their current plight (cf. Flaitz, 1988 on the attitude to French). This attention focuses on one level on codeswitching, and on another level on language planning and policy regarding the incorporation of English lexicon. While the usage of English lexicon in various languages has been the focus of much research, some has been done on the rejection of English lexicon, know as purism. The study of codeswitching and codemixing has emerged mainly due to research on its occurrence in English mixed/switched with another language (e.g. Blom & Gumperz, 1972) and is thus related to our present theme. Over time, various theories of codeswitching and mixing structures and functions have developed (MacSwan, 2004). Studies of bilingual/trilingual/multilingual language acquisition have shown that codeswitching and codemixing exist in young children’s speech from a very early age (McLaughlin, 1984; Zentella, 1997) and are assumed to be due to the structuring of the language systems in the brain and the efficiency with which each language structure can be applied when necessary. This structuring operates in young and adult bilingual speakers. Based on these facts, the borrowing process and loan word use are natural, which explains their frequency in bilingual communication. As codeswitching and codemixing reflect the psycholinguistic effect of the interaction between languages on bilingual speakers’ behaviour, they complement the sociolinguistic effect of societal language policy on speakers’ linguistic behaviour. The spread of English is closely related to policies and attitudes of speakers of those languages, as well as some institutions designated to deal with language planning, that is, with the deliberate, systematic change of language form or use (cf. Bauman, 2004; Kaplan & Baldauf, 1997; Spolsky 2004; Wright, 2004). Such policies are an important aspect of the reception of English, either by encouraging its acceptance or by rejecting it through legal and cultural means. This issue has also benefited from the activity of the academic journal Language Problems and Language Planning (LPLP). This journal focuses on language policy and relationships within and among language communities, particularly in international contexts, and in the adaptation, manipulation and standardisation of languages for international use. Purism, a derivative and often the consequence of language policy, appears at present to have a strong association with English, at least indirectly. This is because some perceive it as a destructive check to the further spread of English, while others see it as a necessary evil (e.g. Pergnier, 1989). There have been a

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number of studies on policies of purism (e.g. Jernudd & Shapiro, 1989; Thomas, 1991), especially in France and Germany (e.g. de Saint-Robert, 2000; Langer & Davies, 2005; Plu¨mer, 2000), but also in some other nations (e.g. Wexler, 1974). Several studies have examined the dissemination of English use in general and English loan words in particular, resulting in some cases in dictionaries or other compilations, for example, in French and Japanese (e.g. Go¨rlach, 2003; Ho¨fler, 1982; Kamiya, 1994; Lorenzo, 1996; Miura, 1979; Picone, 1996). In a more inquisitive though less systematic manner, Fishman, Cooper and Conrad conducted the first substantial worldwide survey on the spread of English, and in 1977 published their findings (Fishman et al., 1977a). Their book comprised miscellaneous case studies, some descriptive, others more quantitative; overall, they illuminated the growing position of English. A decade later Viereck and Bald (1986) edited another wide-ranging book on the contact of English with other languages. Their impressive volume dealt with 29 societies on four continents, but it neither examined them systematically nor attempted to draw any general conclusions from the vast evidence it adduced. Later Phillipson (1992) examined the spread of English in a comparative study, but his focus on colonialism intentionally excluded the examination of other, perhaps not less important, factors that may determine attitudes to English. More insightful for our case is the study on the spread of English conducted by Rubal-Lopez (1991; Fishman & Rubal-Lopez, 1992) for her doctoral dissertation. Using quantifiable indicators and regression analysis of sundry variables in 121 non-English-mother-tongue countries, the study confirms the initial hypothesis that linguistic heterogeneity, colonialism and economic development are the most significant predictors of the spread of English. Rubal-Lopez also identified the degree of English-language institutionalisation, the lack of developmental orientation and the percentage of students sent to acquire their education in Anglo-American institutions as additional predictors. Nineteen years after their first book, Fishman and Conrad, this time together with RubalLopez (1996), edited another grand survey on the status of English in the 1990s. Based on 20 case studies of different former British and American colonies, their volume confirmed its assumption that English was ‘still’ spreading in the non-English-mother-tongue world, and that this spread was not orchestrated in an exploitative manner but due to AngloAmerican engagement in the modern global economy. Fishman and his associates observed additional forces outside the English world, such as

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tertiary education and local mass media, which contribute to this ongoing process. In an extension of her original study, Rubal-Lopez (1996) examined the effect of a long list of parameters (independent variables) on four features (dependent variables) reflecting the spread of English in a given country: (1) the percentage of tertiary students studying in English-mother-tongue countries; (2) the percentage of English-language newspapers; (3) the percentage of the value of printed matter exported from the USA; (4) the percentage of English book titles published. While this study is commendable for its scope, methodology and conclusions, it seems that the author did not distinguish sufficiently between determinants and mediating variables correlated with the spread of English. The level of tourism to Anglophone countries, to take one example, may increase the tendency to use English simply for the need to communicate. However, usually it is also associated with a relatively strong economy and an openness characterising developed democratic values
variables with similar if not more significant causal relations with the spread of English. As for the spread of English loan words, the most extensive and systematic study from a comparative perspective has been the single research project led in the late 1990s by Go¨rlach, together with more than 20 scholars. This team examined the lexical impact of English on 16 major European languages, representing the various regions and language families of continental Europe, and produced a dictionary of some 4000 items (Go¨rlach, 2001) as well as an annotated bibliography of European Anglicisms (Go¨rlach, 2002a). Even more relevant for our study, Go¨rlach and his team authored a highly systematic summary of the influence of English on those languages (Go¨rlach, 2002b). Each chapter consists of a history of contact of the language under discussion with English, pronunciation and spelling of Anglicisms common in that language, their morphology, their usage and the way borrowing affects the meaning of loan words. This research project is unquestionably a model for any future study of Anglicisms and the effect of English on other languages. Nonetheless, to date no comprehensive cross-cultural comparative and systematic study has been conducted to examine the motives for and determinants of borrowing English loan words. One exception is Kowner and Rosenhouse (2001), who compared attitudes to English loan words in Japan and Israel, thereby providing an explicit but preliminary insight into a number of determinants of policies and attitudes to lexical borrowing across cultures.

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Lexical Borrowing: Motives and Means of Dissemination Lexical borrowing is a widespread activity, practised ever since the first encounter between people speaking different languages in prehistoric times. It occurs when speakers of a language begin to incorporate into their own lexicon, or metaphorically ‘borrow’ (without the need for permission) a foreign word (‘loan word’). The process of borrowing requires at least some contact between the two languages, rudimentary understanding of the meaning of word and a minimal tendency to bilingualism. These nominal requirements may lead to occasional borrowing of a few words, but in many cases end with massive borrowing, amounting to thousands of words. This is the case with English, which adopted tens of thousands words from French following the Norman conquest of England in the Middle Ages, and with Modern Japanese, which has borrowed close to 30,000 loan words, mainly from English, since the onset of Japan’s modernisation in the latter half of the 19th century (cf. Hock & Joseph, 1996; McMahon, 1994). Lexical borrowing from English in modern Japanese reveals some of the general characteristics of the borrowing process. It covers, to mention only a few domains, 52% of flower names, 35% of vegetable names and 24% of animal names (Morimoto, 1978). At the same time, only a few adverbs or prepositions in Japanese are borrowed. A different and atypical situation is found in Hebrew, which in addition to many borrowed nouns, but not many plants or animal names, has adopted numerous adjectives and adverbs (Kowner & Rosenhouse, 2001). Indeed, languages tend to borrow mainly nouns, and to a lesser extend verbs and adjectives. They tend to resort to loan words in fields related to technology, sciences, leisure activities and fashion, but shun basic vocabulary such as natural geographic phenomena, pronouns and body parts. Several motives for adopting loan words are common to almost all languages, and all are relevant to English, thereby contributing further to its current position. All motives, we presume, are associated with some reward, either to the borrowing language or (at least) to the person using the loan words. The following three motives are the most fundamental, but their effects vary in different languages and cultures due to their interaction with other social and political circumstances as well as the character of their relations with English-speaking societies. Need to coin new terminology and concepts. Every living language faces a need for constant coining of new notions due to technological and cultural changes. Life involves the development of material and spiritual

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products of the given culture, or of others imported from a foreign culture. In certain periods the need for new notions is especially strong, as in the case of sudden exposure to a more advanced culture or in the case of accelerated technological change, as has in Western Europe since the 18th century and in other areas more recently. Borrowing words and terminology from another culture in which they are already established may satisfy this need partly or fully. English in this sense has been the perfect choice. Not only is it the mother tongue of some of the most advanced societies and developed economies, but it also has a rich vocabulary, perhaps the richest in the world, as a number of scholars have emphasised recently in accounting for the success of English (e.g. Bryson, 1990; Claiborne, 1983). Tendency to emulate a dominant group. Human groups, perhaps like primate groups in general, have the tendency to imitate others who seem worthy of emulation. Animals tend to imitate dominant individuals, whereas in mankind this tendency has been expanded to the cultural imitation of entire dominant groups. This association encompasses elements from the language of the dominant group. Tendency to create a special jargon in closed groups. Various groups in any culture seek ways to distinguish themselves from the rest of the population. The sociologist Georg Simmel (1904) postulated that fashions develop for this reason, and language has an important role in the creation of such differences. Borrowing from a prestigious language often serves as a means to highlight the uniqueness and progress of the borrowing group, which is often a closed elite group. This trend is typical among professional groups, such as physicians, engineers and lawyers, but also among youth groups, who use a prestigious foreign language as a marker of uniqueness. Apart from providing elevated status, borrowing such terms often reflects the need to communicate topics that are unknown and uninteresting for those who are not members in the same professional or social group. English
the language used at almost any international professional meeting but also at the leading venues of current popular culture
offers a rich vocabulary for the creation of such jargon. The dissemination of English loan words depends also on the availability of means of communication. At present the following means seem the most relevant. Direct communication. The level of exposure to English due to colonisation is evidently connected to lexical borrowing (Rubal-Lopez, 1996). Direct communication may also occur due to the military presence of troops from an English-speaking country. More commonly is may be due to tourism from an English-speaking country to a non-English-speaking

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country or vice versa, with the wish of tourists from non-Englishspeaking countries to communicate with their English-speaking hosts. Mass media. Since the early 20th century, English-speaking countries, the USA in particular, have led many trends in the global dissemination of information and popular culture. This was facilitated by radio broadcasting in English (e.g. the BBC, Voice of America), especially during WWII. The successful American film industry has presented the American lifestyle, along with its language, practically to the whole world. Later on, as the TV system developed, the role played by the movies reached spectators even in their homes. The last two decades witnessed the emergence of computers for personal use and the spread of the Internet. Currently the electronic communication media, i.e. the Internet and the World Wide Web, have become the central means of cultural influence of the English-speaking community and a motive for learning its language. The media tend to disseminate the vocabulary of the modern discourse in general and the elite’s discourse in particular, which is inevitably the English vocabulary. In many countries Englishspeaking channels are available because of their relatively low price and their cultural attractiveness. The education system. The education system serves as a central socialisation agent of the community for the dissemination of traditional and modern content and topics. In some cases the education system enhances and encourages the acquisition and dissemination of foreign words that have been absorbed by certain social classes, and in many other cases it is the main means for learning English as a second language. However, in cultures where an obvious purist tendency exists, the education system may serve to decrease the use of words borrowed from English.

Determinants of Adoption of English Loan Words in Contemporary World Languages Numerous determinants exist for borrowing English vocabulary by other languages, the majority of which are by-products of the motives and means presented above. The following section presents some of the major determinants, which will be examined in detail in each of the case studies in the subsequent chapters. Modernisation and economic development. The borrowing process involves contacts between members of various societies, including travelling abroad and direct exposure to English and its native speakers. In addition, societies entering modernisation are under greater pressure for lexical terminology. Economic development, and especially exporting

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to Anglophone countries, were found to increase pressure for use of English in schools (Fishman et al., 1977b). Prestige. Linguistic adoption partly stems from a tendency to imitate a dominant group speaking a language considered to enjoy greater prestige than the speaker’s native language. Lexical borrowing from such a group carries with it some of the concomitant prestige. Its acquisition depends on the cultural and historical background of the contacts between the borrowing language and English, the cultural and economic gaps between them, and the existence of a competing cultural-linguistic community that may decrease the effect of borrowing from English. The need for greater prestige associated with lexical borrowing is often associated with intragroup motivation, but occasionally it may be relevant for intergroup relations, notably in an ethnically heterogeneous society. Ethnic and linguistic diversity. In places where ethnic and linguistic heterogeneity exist (e.g. India, African countries, former Yugoslavia, Israel), English can serve as a partially or fully linking language between the different language communities (cf. Fishman et al., 1977b). The penetration of English as a second (or third) language strengthens the use of English vocabulary in the local language. Changes in the status of one local language within a political or social framework may strengthen or weaken the use of English for communication between speakers of different language communities. Nationalism. Nationalistic beliefs and policies tend to strengthen language purism and weaken the tendency to adopt loan words. French policies at present are only a mild example of this tendency; in the 1930s it was imperial Japan that attempted to drive out English words from its national language. Cultural threat. Perceptions of cultural threat may also yield pressures toward linguistic purism simultaneously aimed at weakening the penetration of the English language. Developments in Israel and France, for example, may serve as examples of such defensive sentiments. National character. Communal psychological features, such as obedience and conformity by the language community, may enhance processes of lexical borrowing, as witnessed in Japan, for example. In other periods this feature may lead the same community to processes of purism. Existence of regulatory linguistic establishments. Language academies are meant to help the national language by creating a language policy as part of the attempt to strengthen nationalism. Thus, language academies tend to enhance purism and to weaken linguistic adoption of loan words by coining original substitutes. The Academy of Language in Addis Ababa is a good example of this role. The closure of this institution in 1991 for

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political reasons helped to weaken the status of Amharic and strengthen processes of English word adoption in Ethiopia (Teferra, 2002). At the same time, regulatory linguistic institutions may also help by post factum confirmation of long established words in the language borrowed from English and their dissemination in official publications. But note that the official attitude of language academies to foreign word borrowing often contradicts the actual behaviour of the language speakers, who unwittingly absorb the foreign words.

Hypotheses To create a framework for a comparative study, we use the foregoing analysis to derive several predictions regarding the attitudes to English loan words discovered in our case studies. Our predictions relate to three aspects of the borrowing process: A. Predictions related to the fundamental motives for borrowing: 1. The greater the need to coin new terminology, the greater the tendency to borrow English loan words. 2. The greater the tendency in a given society to emulate other groups, the greater the tendency to borrow English loan words. 3. The more specialised and closed a group (society) is, the greater is its tendency to borrow English loan words. B.

Predictions related to means of dissemination:

4. The more contacts a society has with Anglo-American culture and the English language, past (e.g. through colonial rule) and/or present (e.g. tourism, Anglo-American military or economic presence), the greater the tendency to borrow English loan words. 5. The more exposed a society is at present to English via the mass media (TV programs, films, satellite channels, English-language newspapers), the greater the tendency to borrow English loan words. 6. The more advanced the educational system, higher education in particular, the greater the tendency to borrow English loan words. This is also valid for tertiary education: the greater the number and ratio of students studying in Anglo-American institutions of higher education, the greater their tendency to borrow English loan words even when they are back in their home countries. C.

Predictions related to features of borrowing:

7. The more recent the stage of modernisation in a given society, the greater its need for an updated and fresh vocabulary.

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8.

9.

10. 11.

12.

13. 14.

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The higher the prestige of English in a given society, the higher the chances of its linguistic adoption. More specifically, the closer the contacts between the borrowing language and the English language, the more extensive the borrowing from English. The wider the cultural and economic gaps between the two languages, and the lesser the influence of a competing cultural-linguistic community, the stronger the effect of this determinant. The greater the ethnic heterogeneity and linguistic diversity in a given society, the greater the tendency to resort to English and to adopt English loan words. The weaker nationalistic beliefs and policies, the greater the propensity to borrow loan words. The lesser the perception of cultural threat in a given culture, particularly vis-a`-vis the English language and the Anglo-American culture, the greater the tendency to resort to lexical borrowing from English. The greater the conformity and obedience in a given society, the greater the capacity to adopt lexical loan words, if this is the cultural trend at the time. The lesser the control of regulatory linguistic institutions, the greater the tendency to resort to lexical borrowing from English. If borrowing from English is national policy, the greater the control of the regulatory institutions the greater the tendency to resort to lexical borrowing from English.

The Present Book This volume was conceived to account for determinants of and motives for contemporary lexical borrowing from English, using a comparative approach and a broad cross-cultural perspective. By systematically analysing a large number of case studies of different languages used in a large variety of countries, we sought to isolate for the first time a number of enhancing or inhibiting factors that may explain the current pattern of borrowing from English, and to understand the way they interplay. This is facilitated by a careful choice of languages and cultures, which represent a wide variety of language families, political systems, economic developmental stages and historic relations with the English language and the Anglo-American world. This process uses lexical items from one (dominant, superstratum) language within the grammatical system of another (subdued) language.

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The twelve case studies in the present volume describe processes in certain languages as case studies which are structured in a similar fashion, in order to facilitate a thematic comparison. These chapters are limited to single lexical items, namely words, and the processes involved in them, largely leaving out other domains such as syntax. Although the impact of English is clearly not limited only to one section of vocabulary or language structure, this focus was imposed on the authors of the chapters to allow interlingual comparisons and concentrate on the determinants of lexical borrowing and the linguistic and cultural impact of this process. While the languages discussed in the 12 chapters below are only a tiny portion of the world languages, they were carefully selected to represent six different language families and subgroups: Indo-European (French, Dutch, Persian, Icelandic and some Indian languages), Semitic (Hebrew, Arabic and Amharic), Finno-Ugric (Hungarian), Sino-Tibetan (Chinese in Taiwan) and Altaic (Japanese). Among these, Indian languages, and to a lesser extent Hebrew and Arabic, are languages spoken in countries which were under British rule in the past, whereas Japan was under American occupation for almost seven years. We assumed that if basic linguistic features and processes are revealed and converge to yield similar results when languages so different are compared, they will probably indicate major common (universal) sources of these processes. In the concluding chapter we examine our basic assumptions and attempt to show that this path is not only interesting but also fruitful.

Chapter 2

Icelandic: Phonosemantic Matching YAIR SAPIR and GHIL‘AD ZUCKERMANN

In this chapter we account for phonosemantic matching (PSM; see Zuckermann, 1999, 2000, 2003a, 2003b, 2005a; ‘echoing word-formation’ in Sapir, 2008) in Icelandic. We will provide an overview of the Icelandic language, its structure, language planning and word-formation, and introduce the mechanism of PSM in general. We then illustrate two aspects of Icelandic PSM: word-formation, as PSM is one of many Icelandic word-formation types, and typology, by demonstrating PSM in other languages. PSM is divided into two main categories: PSM through a preexistent form and PSM through a new form. Finally, we present the conclusions and theoretical implications of this chapter. Sapir (2008) suggests the following taxonomy of the sources used to form new words in the language. It will help us in tracing the position of PSM in the system: 1. Zero source. Lexemes reproduced from this source are denoted by the established term ex nihilo (Latin ‘from nothing’), implying that they are not based on any preexistent lexical material. 2. Sound source. Lexemes reproduced from this source are denoted by the new term ex sono (Latin ‘from sound’) and are reproductions of sounds or sound symbolism. 3. The foreign vocabulary. Lexemes reproduced from this source are denoted by the new term ex externo (Latin ‘from the outside’). 4. The native vocabulary. Lexemes reproduced from this source are denoted by the new term ex interno (Latin ‘from the inside’). Sapir (2008) defines reproduction as a process ‘by which one or several bases retain their features and status in the system but are ‘‘copied’’ or ‘‘reduplicated’’ to form a new word’. Hence, words are not ‘borrowed’, ‘taken’ or ‘imported’ from one language to the other, but are rather reproduced ex externo (i.e. from the foreign vocabulary). Likewise, 19

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native words can be reproduced with a new sense to form a new word, or else by compounding, derivation etc., and can thus be defined as reproduced ex interno (i.e., from the native vocabulary). Using these terms not only renders a more realistic image of word-formation, but avoids conflicts when defining words that were ‘borrowed’ into the lexis but are at the same time considered ‘native’. Such words are defined as native words reproduced ex externo, i.e. from a lexis other than the native one. Whereas the first two sources are considered to be productive in a language’s initial stages, the two latter are considered to be productive throughout any stage of its evolution. Moreover, these sources, especially the foreign and native vocabulary, may be intercombined or bifurcated with each other in different ways. Calquing is based on a bifurcated source, as an ex externo pattern is rendered by an ex interno form. For instance, English distance teaching was calqued into Icelandic fjarkennsla with identical meaning (fjar- ‘distant’ kennsla ‘teaching’). Back to PSM, this is also a type of word-formation based on a bifurcated source, as ex externo senses and phonemes are intercombined with similar ex interno senses and phonemes, in this way camouflaging the ex externo dimension.

The Icelandic Language Icelandic: From sagas to high-tech Icelandic is spoken by approximately 300,000 people, 280,000 of whom live in Iceland, where Icelandic is the official language. From being a poor, chiefly agricultural society until approximately a hundred years ago, Icelanders have gradually established themselves among the world’s leading nations in the areas of economy, welfare, average life expectancy, as well as in the number of computers, Internet connections and cellular phones per capita (see also Sapir, 2003: 33
34). The Icelandic language, which around the end of the 18th century was best spoken in the rural areas of the island and was inferior to Danish, the officialese and likewise the language of culture and sciences, is today a full-fledged and stable language, functioning as the only official language of the Republic of Iceland. The language is rather consolidated, due to the fact that it lacks genuine dialects. Genetically, Icelandic is a Scandinavian or North Germanic language. It emerged from the Old West Scandinavian dialects that were brought to Iceland with the chiefly Norwegian settlers between 870 and 930 AD. To begin with, the language varieties spoken in Iceland and South Western

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Norway did not differ remarkably from each other. However, a couple of centuries later, they began to evolve in separate directions. Today, Icelandic and the two Norwegian languages (bokma˚l and nynorsk) are no longer mutually intelligible. Moreover, Contemporary Norwegian, together with Danish and Norwegian, is often classified as a Continental Scandinavian language, whereas Icelandic and Faroese are considered Insular Scandinavian languages. The canon of Icelandic Saga and Edda literature from the 12th and 13th centuries includes tales from the Scandinavian mythology, stories about the colonisation of Iceland and likewise about the Norwegian kings. These resources constitute the cornerstone in the further development of both Icelandic literature and language and turned out to be a most useful resource for Icelandic, as it re-established itself as a fullfledged language. Icelandic is considered the most conservative Scandinavian language. No other old Scandinavian language or dialect has preserved its morphological structure, highly complex inflectional system of Old Scandinavian and the original Scandinavian vocabulary as Icelandic has. With some training, Icelanders can today read and understand the old Sagas and Eddas. The situation could be compared to that of Classical and Israeli Hebrew (or ‘Israeli’
Zuckermann, 1999, 2005b), which has also constituted an important lexical source during the revival and standardisation of the language in modern times (cf. Sapir, 2003: 33
36). The influence of the Saga and Edda language and style is still notable today in Icelandic lexical elements reproduced in the 19th and 20th centuries, either in a shifted or an expanded meaning. One classical example is the word for ‘telephone’, sı´mi. This word appears both in the form sı´mi (masculine) and sı´ma (neutrum) in Old Icelandic, probably in the meaning ‘thread, rope’. As an archaism, it was revived, or ‘recycled’, by language planners, providing it with the new sense ‘telephone’ (a socalled neo-archaism (Sapir, 2008)). Sı´mi, allegedly reintroduced by Pa´lmi Pa´lsson in 1896, has, in turn, been productive in the formation of many derivations and compounds ever since. The structure of the language Icelandic nouns and adjectives are either weak or strong. There are three genders (masculine, feminine and neutral), two numbers (singular and plural) and four grammatical cases (nominative, accusative, dative and genitive). The choice of case is dictated by syntactic factors.

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Grammatical cases are marked by zero, suffixes and/or umlaut. Icelandic does not mark indefiniteness. Thus, hestur, meaning ‘horse’ or ‘a horse’, is the nominative form and hest is the accusative. The definite article of a noun is marked by an enclitic suffix, as in hesturinn horse-DEF ‘the horse’. Adjectives agree in number, gender, case and definiteness with the nouns they modify. Strong adjectives are indefinite, e.g. sto´r hestur ‘(a) big horse’, whereas weak adjectives express definitiveness, e.g. sto´ri hesturinn ‘big-DEF horse-DEF’ or hinn sto´ri hestur ‘the big-DEF horse’. Adjectives are likewise declined in grades. Adverbs often have an identical form to the neutral adjective form, e.g. hraður (basic form) ‘quick, speedy’, hratt (neutral form and adverb) ‘quickly, speedily’ and may, like adjectives, be declined in grades. Icelandic verbs follow to a large extent the Germanic verbal system, divided into weak and strong verbs, of which the strong verbs are, in turn, divided into seven ablaut groups and characterised by the lack of a dental suffix in the imperfect and perfect tense. The weak verbs are characterised by a dental suffix in the imperfect and perfect. Verbs are conjugated in the indicative, conjunctive and imperative moods, active and passive voice, present, imperfect and perfect tense. Icelandic is a head-first language with the usual constituent order AVO/SV. Within phonetics and phonology, Icelandic has been innovative. It thus differs greatly from e.g. Norwegian and Swedish. To name just a few features, it has the peculiarity of possessing both long and short diphthongs. Icelandic possesses both voiced and voiceless nasals and liquids. Stops are not divided into voiced and voiceless, but rather into fortes and lenes. However, voiced and voiceless dental fricatives are preserved and marked as Bð
/ð/ and Bþ
/u/, respectively. In common with most other Scandinavian languages and dialects Icelandic has the loss of /w/, nasal vowels, as well as the loss of the old system of ¨ lvdalska, syllable quantity, features still preserved in Elfdalian (or A spoken in Northern Dalecarlia, Sweden). On the prosodic level, Icelandic has lost the distinction between two tonal accents, but has preserved the stress on the first syllable also in prefixes and words ex externo. As Knu´tsson (1993) points out, Icelandic consists mainly of monosyllabic morphemes, as does Old English. Moreover, Icelandic tends to retain vowel-quantity in unstressed words. Hence, the Icelandic morphemic structure has remained largely explicit and most Icelandic compounds retain the identity of their components.

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Icelandic re-established Due to centuries of Danish rule, Icelandic has not only become highly influenced by the Danish language, but according to reports from the mid-18th to mid-19th centuries, the language in the harbours and in the capital Reykjavik was a mixed Dano-Icelandic variety (Otto´sson, 1990: 29
52). Growing interest in the Old Icelandic manuscripts overseas and an increasing national awakening gave rise to calls for the preservation of the language and to its ‘cleansing’ from its ex externo elements. These calls were embodied in the declaration made by Hið ı´slenska lærdo´mslistafe´lag (The Icelandic Society for Learned Arts), a group of Icelandic students in Copenhagen that formulated an official and puristically oriented language policy in 1780. Even at the beginning of the 19th century, the Danish linguist and Icelandophile Rasmus Rask predicted that Icelandic would vanish within a hundred years in Reykjavik and within two hundred years in the rest of the country, should nothing be done to save the language. In its statutes the above group writes as follows (in English translation): 5. Likewise, the Society shall treasure and preserve the Norse tongue as a beautiful, noble language, which has been spoken in the Nordic countries for a long time, and seek to cleanse the same from foreign words and expressions which have now begun to corrupt it. Therefore, in the Society’s publications, foreign words shall not be used about sports, tools or anything else, insofar as one may find other old or Mediaeval Norse terms. 6. Therefore, instead of such foreign words one may coin new words, compounded of other Norse [words], which explain well the nature of the object that they are to denote; in doing this, one should examine well the rules pertaining to and employed in this language as to the structure of good, old words; such words should be given a clear explanation and translation in order that they become easily comprehensible for the public. 7. However, such words that have been used in writings in the thirteenth or in the fourteenth century may be retained, even if they do not have their provenance in the Norse tongue, but be originally from foreign nations, when no other more customary or better and beautiful [words] exist otherwise. (Halldo´rsson, 1971: 223) The declared puristic orientation that accompanied language planning in that period left its traces on the Icelandic language and vocabulary. Other noteworthy motives for conservative language planning are

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18th- and 19th-century Enlightenment, a swift transformation from poverty and agricultural lifestyle into prosperity and industrialisation in the 20th century and, finally, globalisation and high technology since the middle of the 20th century. An extended conceptual and material world has consequently demanded an extended Icelandic lexis. Moreover, reproduction ex interno helped strengthen national consciousness and pride, or at least what was conceived as elements ex interno, often at the cost of old formations ex externo, based on Danish. However, Icelandic language purism was not as radical as might be assumed. As mentioned in paragraph 7 in the Society’s statutes, Medieval words that had no good substitute remained in the language. Lexemes such as prestur ‘priest’, kirkja ‘church’ and other were so enrooted and domesticated, that uprooting them would be conceived by the speech community as an extreme measure and could become counterproductive and alienate people from the mother tongue. Although based ex externo, such old words have been and still are regarded as fully native. The combination of a declared language policy and the need for new publications in Icelandic within scholarly and ideological domains have given rise to a large-scale formation ex interno (Icelandic ny´yrðasmı´ð), or at least apparently ex interno, neology that has slowly but surely become an important national sport in Iceland. Even though the work of preserving and ‘cleansing’ the language has been applied to grammar and even pronunciation, its focus has nonetheless been undoubtedly the lexis. Danish, and for the past decades also English, are often still present ‘behind’ word-formation, i.e. as sources for calques and PSM, within phraseology, in the colloquial language and in some professional jargons. Through Iceland’s political sovereignty in 1918, full independence in 1944 and the establishment of the Icelandic Language Council, I´slensk ma´lnefnd, in 1964, the status of the Icelandic language has been reinforced and language planning has ever since been carried out through legislation. The Council works with language planning and language preservation, activities run on a daily basis by its secretariat, The Icelandic Language Institute, I´slensk ma´lsto¨ð, founded in 1985. The Language Institute offers instructions and consultation for the language users and works with neology and terminology. In the terminological work around 30 different committees are engaged within different specialised domains. However, the language authorities have not been working alone. Mass media, specialists within different domains and laymen have all played an important role in applying the puristic language policy, not only by actively coining ex interno, but also through contemplations and public debates. Due to the obvious success of the Icelandic puristic language

Icelandic: Phonosemantic Matching

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policy, the language can be regarded today as one of the most, if not the most, puristically oriented living languages. Language contact and linguistic purism Due to centuries of Danish rule in Iceland, Danish has been the major immediate source language (SL) for reproductions ex externo in Icelandic. Conscious and puristically oriented language planning has not merely constituted an obstacle to the further expansion of Danish language use on the cost of Icelandic, but even led to minimising the preexistent Danish interference in Icelandic. Albeit a diminished influence on Modern Icelandic, Danish can still be considered the major immediate SL for reproductions ex externo in Icelandic throughout time. However, diminished Danish interference should not be seen solely as the result of Icelandic puristic activity, but also a consequence of the political changes in Iceland. Even though large-scale trade with Britain began already at the end of the 19th century (Karlsson, 2000: 244), considerable English language influence began only in the middle of the 20th century. British occupation in 1940 and full independence in 1944 exposed the Icelandic society to English and American culture, gradually placing English as the first SL for Icelandic and thus the primary source for reproduction ex externo on the cost of Danish (Sapir, 2008). But contacts with Britain and the English language are by no means new. Direct English influence on Icelandic, although minor, can be dated as far back as the 11th and 12th centuries, conveyed primarily by missionaries and Icelanders who studied in Britain, on the one hand, and through general religious spreading, on the other, often mediated by Norway. Additionally, cultural terms spreading between different European languages reached Iceland, usually conveyed by Norwegian or Icelandic merchants. Although trade contacts between Iceland and England were intensive in the first half of the 15th century, Old and Middle English influence on Icelandic was minor. Due to the Danish trade monopoly imposed on Iceland in 1602, trade with Britain was kept marginal until the 20th century. English and international words that entered the Icelandic language between the 17th and the 19th centuries were usually mediated by Danish. Notable English language influence on Icelandic began in the 1940s and has been growing ever since ´ skarsson, 2003: 70
71, 86; Sapir, 2008). In 1999, English replaced (O Danish as the first foreign language in Icelandic elementary schools. Through television, movies, computers and the Internet, English is

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ubiquitous in Icelandic everyday life. Most Icelanders subsequently leave school with a good active knowledge of English. Danish is slowly losing ground and many Icelanders today merely have a passive knowledge of that language, acquired as an obligatory subject at school. Whereas such traditionally oriented languages as Finnish and Hebrew have become more receptive to influence ex externo, Icelandic language planning is still considered to have preserved its traditional puristic spirit. Thomas (1991: 159) characterises linguistic purism in Finnish and Hebrew as ‘evolutionary purism’, and in Icelandic as ‘consistent, stable purism’ (Sapir, 2003: 41). To name a few examples, Icelandic has ex interno or apparent ex interno reproductions for such common internationalisms as ‘computer’ to¨lva, ‘president’ forseti, ‘psychology’ sa´lfræði, ‘telephone’ sı´mi and ‘television’ sjo´nvarp. In spite of its successfully persistent linguistic purism, Icelandic is confronting immense challenges posed by English. For instance, in the relatively new domain of computers, Icelandic speakers turn out to use more Englishisms than Swedish speakers do, although in general Swedish has rather liberal and outgoing language planning. This can be explained by the relatively scarce resources at the disposal of the authorities of an organised language community amounting to merely 280,000 persons, rendering it difficult to come up with Icelandic translations to frequently updated texts for operating systems, Internet and word-processing programs (Pa´lsson, 2003: 245; Sapir, 2003: 42). Even though the traditional puristic language planning was subject to open criticism and public debate in the 1970s and 1980s, it seems to enjoy a relatively broad consensus among Icelanders today (Kristinsson, 2001; Sandøy, 1985: 16
17). Word-formation In most languages, word-formation often involves reproduction ex interno, ex externo or a combination of both sources. Nowadays, American English is the source for ex externo reproduction in many of the world’s languages. However, when reproduction on a purely ex externo source is rejected as a principle by the speech community, as is the case of Icelandic, what alternative types of word-formation are, then, employed? In some languages, camouflaging the foreign dimension may be one solution. This type of word-formation involves ex interno cum ex externo elements. One such ‘mixed’ word-formation type that is at stake for the present chapter is ‘phonosemantic matching’ (PSM). Sapir’s (2008) survey of current Icelandic word-formation in newspaper material shows that out of 625 lexemes that entered the lexis after

Icelandic: Phonosemantic Matching

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1780, approximately 51% were reproduced ex interno, containing new forms and senses, whereas 15% were a result of a semantic shift, and merely 6% of the data were reproduced purely ex externo. Observing the bifurcated formation types, consisting of mixed ex interno cum ex externo reproductions, we find: 1. CALQUE to its different types, accounting for as much as 26% of the data. In calques, the form is reproduced ex interno, but the structure is reproduced ex externo, e.g. hugmynd Bhugur ‘mind’ mynd ‘picture’, calqued on older Danish tankebillede Btankebillede with identical meaning. 2. FORMAL HYBRIDITY, accounting for one occurrence, i.e. 0.2% of the data. Here, formal ex externo and ex interno elements are reproduced simultaneously, e.g. dulko´ða ‘to encrypt’ Bex interno dul- ‘secret’ex externo ko´ði ‘code’. 3. PSM, accounting for one occurrence, i.e. 0.2%, in the data. Here, ex externo and ex interno are combined both in form and content, i.e. on the phonological and semantic level, e.g. tækni ‘technology, technique’ are semantically and phonologically ex interno, reproduced from Icelandic tæki ‘tool’ and simultaneously ex externo, from Danish teknik ‘technology, technique’.

PSM and Previous Research If you ever go to a supermarket in Iceland, ask for the low-fat margarine Le´tt og laggott ‘light and to-the-point’. Just for your general knowledge, the name of this brand is a pun on the idiom stutt og laggott ‘short and to-the-point’. But besides the pun and the alliteration in Le´tt og laggott, there is another point here: the brand, imported from Sweden, is called there La¨tt och lagom ‘light and just enough’. By coming up with the Icelandic word laggott, which is phonetically similar to Swedish lagom, and by slightly changing the semantics of the whole phrase, the name Le´tt og laggott emerged, recognisable without difficulty to those who know the Swedish brand, with a semantic content that is very close to the Swedish one and that, moreover, makes sense to the Icelandic speaker. This is also how PSM works.1 PSM is widespread in two categories of language: 1. Puristically oriented languages, in which language planners attempt to replace undesirable elements ex externo, e.g. Finnish, Icelandic, Israeli Hebrew and Revolutionised Turkish; and

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2. Languages that use phono-logographic script, e.g. Chinese, as well as Japanese and Korean (the latter two when using Kanji or Hanja respectively), all of which are influenced by cultural superstratum languages, mainly English. Thus, Icelandic eyðni ‘AIDS’ is a PSM of English AIDS, using Icelandic eyða ‘to destroy’ and the nominal suffix -ni. This is but one example of what is, in fact, an important form of bifurcated reproduction, which can be observed in Icelandic, as in other languages. This phenomenon, which we call PSM, can be defined as a bifurcated reproduction ex externo and ex interno simultaneously, in which the element/s ex externo is matched with a phonetically and semantically similar preexistent autochthonous element/s ex interno. Thus, PSM may alternatively be defined as the entry of a neologism that preserves both the meaning and the approximate sound of the reproduced expression in the source language (SL) with the help of preexistent target language (TL) elements. Here, as well as throughout this chapter, neologism is used in its broader meaning, i.e. either an entirely new lexeme or a preexistent word whose meaning has been altered, resulting in a new sense. Figure 2.1 is a general illustration of this process. Figure 2.2 summarises the process with regard to Icelandic eyðni ‘AIDS’. Although this source of lexical enrichment exists in a variety of languages, it has not been systematically studied by linguists but rather dismissed with an honourable mention (see e.g. Heyd, 1954: 90; Sivan, 1963: 37
38, Toury, 1990 for Hebrew; Hansell, 1989; Lı˘, 1990; Luo´, 1950 on Chinese; and Ya´o, 1992 on Taiwan Mandarin; and see Zuckermann, 2003a). Also scholars of Icelandic word-formation seem to have left PSM

TL y ‘b’

Sl x ‘a’

TL(+PSM) y’ ‘a’’

y is phonetically similar to x b is similar to a y’ is based on y a’ is based on a

Figure 2.1 Phonosemantic matching

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Icelandic English

eyða ‘to destroy’

AIDS

+ -ni nominal suffix

Icelandic eyðni ‘AIDS’

Figure 2.2 Phonosemantic matching of AIDS in Icelandic

unnoticed. Jo´nsson presents the following taxonomy of contemporary Icelandic word-formation: 1. innlend la´n ‘native borrowings’, accounting for formations ex interno with new senses; 2. ny´myndanir ‘new creations’, accounting for derivatives, compounds and new stems ex interno; 3. erlend la´n ‘foreign borrowings’, accounting for formations ex externo (Jo´nsson, 2002b: 183
200). I´slensk orðsifjabo´k, the Icelandic etymological dictionary, only mentions the association between the ex interno and ex externo origin of PSMs (Magnu´sson, 1989: 286), but is not more specific than that. Groenke (1983) refers in passing to PSM. However, his taxonomy is vague and when addressing true PSM, he ignores its semantic dimension. In his taxonomy of present-day Icelandic neologisation, Groenke sums up five methods of word-formation: derivation, compounding, meaning expansion, reintroduction of archaisms with a new meaning and finally Lehnclipping ‘loan-clipping’. The latter, relevant to our chapter, is defined as follows:

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A fifth method has been applied quite often in recent times, that is, the formation of artificial words from segments of foreign patterns that can be conveniently compared to the graphic-phonic structure of Icelandic. In the case of borrowed segments, the segments cannot be analysed morphemically like in the source languages. Therefore, we prefer the term ‘clipping’. (English translation of Groenke, 1983) Groenke (1983: 148
150) cites two examples. The first one is berkill ‘tuberculosis’, in which the initial syllable tu- was clipped and the final syllable adapted to the Icelandic suffix -ill. This reportedly resulted in a new Icelandic formation, analysable as berk-ill, in which the formative berk has no meaning whatsoeverthe suffix -ill, otherwise denoting instrument or agent. Groenke’s second example is ratsja´ ‘radar’, ultimately based on the internationalism radar, in turn an acronym of radio detecting and ranging. Reproduced in Icelandic, -ra was, according to Groenke, clipped, and the Icelandic element -sja´ added, resulting in the form rat-sja´, thus analysable as consisting of rata ‘to find one’s way’, and -sja´, denoting ‘something, which sees’. Ratsja´, coined shortly after WWII, is not only graphically
phonetically dual, as Groenke suggests, alluding to radar and ratasja´ simultaneously, but also semantically dual. Thus, it is a satisfying manifestation of PSM. The traditional classifications of borrowing ignore PSM altogether, and categorise borrowing into either substitution or importation. However, we consider PSM as a distinct phenomenon, which operates through simultaneous substitution and importation devices. Recognising PSM carries important implications not only for lexicology and comparative historical linguistics, but also for sociolinguistics and cultural studies. For example, although Haugen (1950b) is considered by some to have presented the most complex typology of lexical borrowing (cf. Appel & Muysken, 1987: 164), his treatment hardly mentions PSM. He only briefly discusses ‘semantic loan’ (Haugen, 1950b: 214), which is related to only one specific category of PSM, namely ‘phono-semantic matching through a preexistent form’ and seems to have had in mind only one of many cases belonging to this category. Moreover, PSM does not fall within Haugen’s main types of reproduction ex externo or ‘borrowing’
substitution and importation.

PSM in Icelandic As noted, the original Icelandic morphemes are usually monosyllabic and polysyllabic words are analysable due to the conservative character

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of the language. Thus, when reproducing polysyllabic words ex externo, Icelandic may resemble tonal languages in the sense that some of these words may not only be perceived as phonetically native, but may also be partially or totally reanalysed semantically. Jo´nsson (2002a) calls these polysyllabic words sy´ndarsamsetningar ‘pseudo-compounds’, as the speakers are assumed to divide it in two and treat it as a compound stem, in that both syllables bear accents. As examples, Jo´nsson cites Icelandic abbadı´s ‘abbess’, which could be conceived as some kind of dı´s ‘Goddess; fairy’, and kro´ko´dı´ll ‘crocodile’ which could be conceived as some kind of dı´ll ‘speckle, spor’ (Jo´nsson, 2002a: 230). The first element can be identified as related to kro´kur ‘hook’. Knu´tsson (1993: 113) cites such examples as Icelandic a´bo´ti ‘abbot’, which can be reanalysed as a native formation reproduced of a´ ‘on’ bo´t ‘remedy’ i (inflectional suffix), and kafteinn ‘captain’, which can be reanalysed as a native formation reproduced of kaf ‘submersion’ teinn ‘rod’. Even though the semantic connection to the actual meanings of these ex externo formations is far-fetched, the next step is PSM, as in teknik
Icelandic tækni ‘technology, technique’ and bagel
beygla ‘bagel’, where logical semantic association is involved. With no special semantic content we find Icelandic harmonikka ‘accordion’, kakkalakki ‘cockroach’ and rabbarbari ‘rhubarb’. In 1780 Hið ı´slenska lærdo´mslistafe´lag (The Icelandic Society for Learned Arts) presented its declaration of principles of the Icelandic language, formulating an official and puristic language policy. Demonstrations of PSMs in Icelandic predate such puristic language planning. For instance, the Icelandic PSM guðspjall ‘gospel’ was formed upon Icelanders’ acceptance of Christianity in the year 1000. It is attested in written Icelandic in the 13th century Sturlunga Saga. Its formation involved a reproduction (1) ex externo of Old English go¯d-spel lit. ‘good tidings, good news’ on the one hand, and ex interno on Icelandic guð ‘God’spjall ‘speech’, lit. ‘God’s discourse’, on the other (Magnu´sson, 1989: 286). This can be summed up by the formula: ex externo (phonologysemantics)ex interno (phonologysemantics)ex externo cum ex internoPSM.2 PSM seems to have become much more productive in Icelandic appellatives after the turn of the 19th century. For example, Icelandic pa´fagaukur ‘parrot’, from Danish papegøje was combined with ex interno Icelandic pa´fi (in genitive) ‘pope’gaukur ‘cuckoo’, lit. ‘the pope’s cuckoo’ was first attested in the 1890s. Three steps are essential in the study of PSM: the collection of PSMs; the analytic classification of PSMs; and the analysis itself. One of the

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classifications that can help answer vital questions concerning the nature and function of PSM is lexicopoietic and is dealt with below as PSM through a preexistent form and PSM through a new form. It should be noted that during our field and library research we found a handful of PSMs in Icelandic. Our examples in these sections refer only to those related to English.

PSM through a preexistent form Consider Icelandic dalur ‘dollar’, reproduced ex interno from Icelandic dalur ‘daler’, an old Danish monetary unit, which was once in use in Iceland, and ex externo from English dollar. Note that the suffix -ur is not radical, but inflectional (Sapir, 2008). Similarly, Icelandic dapur ‘depressed, dejected, low in spirits’ was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic dapur ‘sad, downcast, woeful, weak, joyless’. Through the influence of Danish deprimeret and English depressed, the etymologically unrelated dapur has acquired the sense ‘depressed’, and its derivatives dapurleiki and depurð the meanings ‘depression’. Dapur and its derivatives share the first three consonants d, p, r with English or international depressed. Icelandic ı´mynd in the meaning ‘image, model, character being looked up to’ was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic ı´mynd ‘picture, image, symbol’. In the late 1960s this word seems to have acquired the additional sense ‘character being looked up to’ through ex externo English image (Sapir, 2008). Icelandic setur ‘centre’ was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic setur ‘seat; residence’ and ex externo from English centre. Through English influence, this noun seems to be used more and more frequently with the meaning ‘centre’, e.g. rannso´knarsetur ‘research centre’, na´mskeiðasetur ‘course centre’ and læknasetrið ‘medical centre’. Icelandic toga ‘to trawl’ (method of fishing) was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic toga ‘to pull, draw’ and ex externo from English trawl, thus sharing the phonemes /t/ or /T/ and /o/ and additionally a consonant with the English word. Likewise, the derivative togari ‘to trawl’agentive suffix was reproduced ex interno cum ex externo from English ‘trawler’. Both neologisms were coined by the director general of public health Guðmundir Bjo¨rnson, thus substituting ex externo trolla and trollari, respectively (Halldo´rsson, 1971: 233). They are first attested in the beginning of the 20th century. The English verb itself, to trawl, ultimately means ‘to draw, drag’.

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Incestuous PSM by semantic shifting PSM by semantic shifting is common in cases of cognates, i.e. the TL original word and the inducing SL word are semantically close. Consider the following: . (American) Portuguese humoroso ‘capricious’ changed its referent to ‘humorous, funny’ owing to the English surface-cognate humorous (Haugen, 1950b: 214), cf. Portuguese humoristico ‘humorous’. . French re´aliser ‘actualise, make real’ is increasingly used to mean ‘realise, conceive, apprehend’
induced by English realise (Deroy, 1956: 59), which derives from Italian realizzare or from the original French re´aliser. . Israeli Hebrew pulmu´s/pulmo´s/pu´lmus ‘polemic’ is a PSM
based on Mishnaic Hebrew [pu¯l’mu¯s] (also [pul’mu¯s]) ‘war’ (cf. Mishnah: SoTah 9:14)
of the internationalism polemic, cf. Israeli pole´mika, German Polemik, Yiddish pole´mik, Russian gjktvbrf pole´mika, Polish polemika and French pole´mique. Both Mishnaic Hebrew pulmu´s and the internationalism polemic can be traced to Greek po´lemos ‘battle, fight, war’ (cf. Kutscher, 1965: 31). However, the Mishnaic meaning ‘war’ is obsolete today (Zuckermann, 2003a: 95). Incestuous PSMs in Icelandic have an ex interno element that is etymologically cognate with the ex externo element from an IndoEuropean or a common Germanic phrase. Consider Icelandic beygla, which has acquired the additional sense ‘bagel’. It was thus reproduced ex interno from Icelandic beygla ‘dent’ (related to begyja ‘to bend, curve’ and baugur ‘ring’) and ex externo, it was reproduced immediately from English bagel, but ultimately from Yiddish beygl. Thus, it can be reanalysed both phonemically and semantically as a derivation of baugur ‘ring’ and as a reproduction of English bagel. Both ultimately go back to a common Germanic stem baugian. Icelandic heila ‘to heal, restore to health’ and etymologically cognate with English heal has expanded its meaning to comprise ‘to heal, restore to a spiritual wholeness’ by reproducing ex interno Icelandic heila and ex externo, the cognate English heal. Both go back to a common Germanic root. Icelandic staða ‘status’, a cognate of English status, was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic ‘stand, posture; position, post’ and ex externo on the internationalism status, by which it has expanded its meaning to embrace ‘status, position relative to others’ as in ‘social status’. They both go back to the Indo-European root *st(h)a¯, *st(h)e¯ ‘to stand’.

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Icelandic sto¨ð ‘station’, a cognate of English station, was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic sto¨ð. They both go back to the Indo-European root *st(h)a¯, *st(h)e¯ ‘to stand’. Originally, sto¨ð meant ‘place, position, place of landing’, but through meaning rapprochement it acquired in the 19th century the additional meaning ‘station’ and also ‘centre’ (currently often in the complex formation miðsto¨ð lit. ‘middle-place’). The meaning ‘station’ does not merely embrace concrete locations, such as train stations, but, as in English, also such establishments as radio and television stations. PSM introducing a new form The proposed Icelandic bifra ‘to vibrate’ and bifrari ‘vibrator’ based ex interno on Icelandic bifa ‘to tremble, shake’ and ex externo on English vibrate and vibrator, respectively. These words have apparently never come into use in Icelandic. Ex interno titra and titrari are used to denote ‘vibrtae’ and ‘vibrator’, respectively. Icelandic brokka´l ‘broccoli’, was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic brok ‘cotton grass’ka´l ‘plant from the genus Brassica’, cf. blo´mka´l ‘cauliflower’, hvı´tka´l ‘cabbage’, rauðka´l ‘red fairy’ and spergilka´l also ‘broccoli’. Ex externo, the ultimate source of the word is Italian broccoli, which is the plural diminutive form of brocco ‘sprout, shoot’ and the immediate one is English broccoli. Brokka´l is the least common of several competing synonyms in Icelandic. The most common one, reproduced ex interno, is spergilka´l, from spergill ‘aspargus’ka´l ‘plant from the genus Brassica’. Note that ex interno Finnish parsakaali ‘broccoli’ also has the literal meaning ‘asparagus’ (parsa)‘plant from the genus Brassica’. Broccoli has two other synonyms, that are adaptations ex externo into Icelandic, i.e. brokkolı´ and brokko´lı´ (Sapir, 2008). PSM of vegetable and fruit names is very common in many languages. Consider artichoke. This lexical item has been subject to PSMs in various languages, for example: North Italian articiocco, arciciocco (
English archychock) Barcicioffo BOld Italian *alcarcioffo (Modern Italian carciofo, carcioffo)
by association with the native Italian words arci- arch‘chief’, cioffo ‘horse-collar’ and ciocco ‘stump’. Consider also French artichaut/chou/chaud/chault/chaut
by assimilation to chou ‘cabbage’, chaud ‘warm’, hault, haut ‘high’. The Italian and French forms were Latinised in the 16th century as articoccus/coctus/cactus. English arti/horti/harty
choke/chock/choak is explained by the fact that ‘it chokes the garden’, ‘it chokes the heart’ or ‘its heart causes one to choke’. Note, however, that English choke ‘the

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mass of immature florets in the centre of an artichoke’ might have emerged from reanalysing the existent artichoke as having in its heart a ‘choke’, cf. Zuckermann (2003a: 213). Compare this with the Arabic compound PSM /’ard3i sˇawki/ ‘artichoke’ (Figure 2.3), Vernacular Arabic /’ard3i sˇo:ki/ in e.g. the Galilee. This form is used (inter alia) in Syria, Lebanon and Israel. It hybridises (i) the internationalism artichoke and (ii) Arabic /’ard3i/ ‘earthly, terrestrial, of ground’ (‘artichokes grow in earth’)˘ ˘ /sˇawki/ ‘thorny, prickly’ (cf. /sˇawk, sˇo:k/ ‘thorns’) (‘artichokes are thorny’). International artichoke ‘Cynara Scolymus’ goes back to Old Spanish alcarchofa (cf. Contemporary Spanish alcachofa, Portuguese alcachofra), from Spanish Arabic [/alxarsˇu:fa], from Arabic /al-xarsˇu:f/. Consequently, Arabic /’ard3i sˇawki/ closes a circle which began in Arabic with the etymologically unrelated /kharshu:f/.3 Returning to Icelandic, eyðni [eJðnI] ‘AIDS’, coined by Pa´ll Bergþo´rsson in 1985 (Jo´nsson, 1987), is a reproduction ex interno of Icelandic eyða ‘to eliminate, devastate’nominal suffix -ni and ex externo on English AIDS (Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome), commonly rendered by Icelanders as [eJts]. Eyðni is one of half a dozen Icelandic words suggested in the 1980s to denote AIDS, the acronym of Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. Three neologisms in particular competed with each other: alnæmi (from al- ‘all, overall’næmi ‘sensitivity’), o´næmistæring (from o´næmi ‘immunity’tæring ‘phthisis; corrosion’) and eyðni. As eyðni began to gain ground, four doctors made a case against it, arguing that a lexeme alluding to destruction may have too negative connotations for the patients (Jo´nsson, 1987). Today, the formation ex externo AIDS and the formation ex interno alnæmi are most commonly used to denote AIDS in Icelandic. Interestingly, the same Englishism was phonosemantically matched in Modern Standard Chinese as aı`zı¯bı`ng, lit.

> Spanish Arabic > Old Spanish alcarchofa > > Italian alcarcioffo > North Italian arcicioffo > arciciocco > articiocco >> > International/English

Figure 2.3 Artichoke

artichoke

> Arabic (e.g. in Syria, Lebanon and Israel)

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‘love cause/develop/neutralise/spreaddisease’, i.e. ‘a disease caused by (making) love’. Figure 2.4 summarises these processes. Icelandic ko´rre´ttur ‘absolutely, totally correct’ was reproduced ex interno from the Icelandic etymologically opaque element ko´r-, appearing merely in ko´rvilla ‘grave error, total mistake’ re´ttur ‘right, correct’ (Heimir Pa´lsson pc) and ex externo from International correct. The first record of ko´rre´ttur is found in Paradı´sarheimt ‘Paradise Reclaimed’ from 1960, written by the Nobel Prize Winner for literature Halldo´r Laxness. Within the collected data of our Icelandic PSMs, this is the only lexeme that is not totally assimilated semantically with the ex externo lexeme, as the intensifier ko´r- ‘totally, absolutely’ from ko´rvilla is reproduced. Icelandic

Icelandic

eyðni AIDS

‘AIDS’

(Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome)

As eyðni began to gain ground in the 1980s, four doctors made a case against it, arguing that its connotation is too negative for the patients.

eyð ‘to destroy’ +

-ni nominal suffix

cf. the competing terms alnæmi (‘overall+sensitivity’), ónæmistæring (‘immunity+corrosion’) and AIDS

Modern Standard Chinese

aìzībìng ‘AIDS’

i.e. ‘a disease caused by (making) love’

Israeli

eyds ‘AIDS’

aì ‘love’ zī ‘cause/develop’ bìng ‘disease’

Israeli JOCULAR REANALYSIS

en yotér dfiká stam ‘There are no more “one-night stands’”

Figure 2.4 Phonosemantic matching of AIDS in Icelandic, Modern Standard Mandarin and Hebrew

Icelandic: Phonosemantic Matching

37

Icelandic ratsja´ ‘radar’ was reproduced ex interno from Old Icelandic rata ‘to find’ (
Modern Icelandic ‘to find one’s way’)-sja´ ‘-scope’ and ex externo from English radar. The element -sja´, reproduced from the verb sja´ ‘see’ has become equivalent to the internationalism -scope in several neologisms, as in hringsja´ ‘periscope’ (with hring- meaning ‘around, circum-, peri-’), rafsja´ ‘electroscope’ (with raf- meaning ‘electrical, electro-‘) and sma´sja´ ‘microscope’ (with sma´- meaning ‘little, small, micro-‘). The meaning of -sja´ ‘an instrument, which helps in seeing things’, probably goes back to a sole Old Icelandic word, i.e. skuggsja´, lit. ‘instrument, by whose means shadows are seen’, i.e. ‘mirror’. Interestingly, the very internationalism radar was domesticated in Modern Standard Chinese as le´ida´ (Ramsey, 1989: 60; Wu´, 1993: 1540), lit. ‘thunderreach’. Many Englishisms which are matched in Icelandic are also matched
independently
in other languages. Icelandic staðall ‘standard’ was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic staða ‘stand, posture; position, post’instrumental suffix -all and ex ´ lafur M. externo from the internationalism standard. It was coined by O ´ lafsson (Halldo´rsson, 1971: 229) and is first recorded in 1955, together O with the derivatives staðlaður (adjective) ‘standard, standardised’ and sto¨ðlun ‘standardisation’.4 Similarly, Icelandic tækni ‘technology, technique’ derives ex interno from Icelandic tæki ‘tool’ and is reproduced ex externo from Danish (or international) teknik ‘technology, technique’. This neologism was coined in 1912 by Dr. Bjo¨rn Bjarnarson from Viðfjo¨rður in the East of Iceland. It was little used before the 1940s, but has ever since become highly common, as a lexeme and as an element in new formations, such as raftækni lit. ‘electrical technics’, i.e. ‘electronics’, tæknilegur ‘technical’ and tæknir ‘technician’ (Halldo´rsson, 1987: 96; 1995a; Sapir, 2008). The latter formation follows an ancient strong masculine pattern of ir- stem, formations denoting agent.5 Figure 2.5 summarises these processes, adding a relevant Israeli one. Icelandic uppi ‘yuppie’ was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic upp ‘up’ and ex externo from English yuppie. This slang word can be reanalysed as upp ‘up’the inflectional suffix -i. As uppi ‘yuppie’ is a homonym, not a polyseme of uppi ‘up, upstairs’, it is regarded here as a new form. Icelandic veira ‘virus’ was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic feyra ‘mouldiness, mustiness; rottenness, decay’ and ex externo on the internationalism virus. It was coined by the Director General of public health Vilmundur Jo´nsson in 1955, who was conscious of both the phonemic and the semantic aspects of his creation. Besides the common

Globally Speaking

38

Icelandic International

Icelandic

tækni

technique technology technical e.g. Danish teknik

tæki ‘tool’

[ tajkni]

+

‘technology, technique’

-ni

Coined in 1912 by Dr Björn Bjarnarson from Viðfjörður in the East of Iceland

nominal suffix

cf. the secondary derivatives raftœkni, lit. ‘electrical technics’, i.e. ‘electronics’; tœknilegur ‘technical’ and tœknir ‘technician’

Arabic

Arabic

[ taqni]/[ tiqani]

√tqn ‘to master, improve, bring to perfection’

‘technical, technological’ Vernacular Arabic [ tiqani]/[ tiqni] cf. the Arabic morphemic adaptation of the internationalism [tak ni:k] – rather technique: than [taq ni:k]

Israeli

cf.

‘improved (m, sg)’; ‘perfection, thorough proficiency’; [ mutqan] ‘perfect, professionally done, strong, finished up, improved’ (often said about craft/art works); [tiqn] ‘skilful, clever’

(Biblical) Hebrew

√tkn tekhnión The suggested spelling for Technion (‘Israel’s MIT’) by Israel’s poet laureate Chaim Nachman Bialik (1873–1934) – as opposed to the mere tekhnión (the , originally loanword pharyngealized [t], is the default transcription for a foreign being used for foreign th – cf. matemátika ‘mathematics’) (

ultimately took over as the name)

‘regulate, measure, estimate, be adjusted to the standard’, a secondary root of √kwn ‘be firm, be set up, prepare’ Proposed as the ultimate etymology for the internationalism technical by Professor Nahum Slouschz in 1930 (cf. Zuckermann 2003: 154)

Figure 2.5 Phonosemantic matching of TECHNICAL in Icelandic, Arabic and Israeli

Icelandic: Phonosemantic Matching

39

phonemes /v/ and /r/, Vilmundur Jo´nsson was apparently aware of the possibility of alluding to the English diphthong [aj] in English virus by the diphthong ei [ej] in veira. Moreover, Icelandic has an internal phonological development of i
ei. Having coined the word, Jo´nsson learned that long i in Latin happens to correspond frequently to Icelandic ei. As if this wouldn’t be enough, the word veira itself, and some derivations, appears in Bjo¨rn Halldo´rsson’s Icelandic dictionary from the end of the 18th century, with reference to feyra (see above). The derivation veirulaus (lit. veira‘-less’) is defined as ‘honest, straightforward’, which, according to Jo´nsson, enhances veira in its new meaning. However, veira in its old meaning is not attested in other written sources (Jo´nsson, 1985). The PSM veira and the formation ex externo vı´rus coexist in Icelandic today. Whereas vı´rus was first attested in 1945, veira was first attested in 1955. Veira is also used to denote ‘virus’ in the computer domain. Partial PSM The type of formation discussed in this chapter varies in its level of phonetic matching. Partial PSM is such a formation, whose phonetic matching is limited to no more than one morpheme of the ex externo element. In extreme cases, their very definition as PSMs can be questioned. Consider Icelandic fja´rfesta lit. ‘to moneyfasten’, i.e. ‘to invest’ and the derivative fja´rfesting lit. ‘moneyfastening’, i.e. ‘investment’ that were introduced in Iceland in the 1940s, reportedly by Gylfi Þ. Gı´slason. They were reproduced ex interno from Icelandic fe´ ‘money (genitive)’ festa ‘fasten’ and ex externo partially from English invest (Knu´tsson, 1993: 110). They are considered partial PSMs, as the first morph was substituted into Icelandic fja´r ‘money’ and the second one was reproduced phonetically and semantically as -fest-. Note also the possible influence of Danish investering, in which -ing functions as a noun suffix. The element -fest- occurs as the second element in other verbal formations, such as krossfesta lit. ‘to cross-fasten’, i.e. ‘to crucify’, where it has a concrete meaning. In lo¨gfesta lit. ‘to law-fasten’, i.e. ‘to legalise’ and staðfesta lit. ‘to place-fasten’, i.e. ‘to confirm’ the element -fest- has an abstract meaning, just as in fja´rfesta and fja´rfesting (Knu´tsson, 1993: 110; Sapir, 2008). Icelandic pallborðsumræður, or shortly pallborð, ‘panel discussion’ was reproduced ex interno from Icelandic pallborð (in genitive) ‘place of honour’ umræða (in pluralis tantum) ‘discussion’ and ex externo

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from English panel discussions. Phonemically, only the first syllable in Icelandic is equivalent to the two first syllables in English, sharing the phonemes /p/, /a/ and /l/. As Halldo´rsson (1995b) writes, he coined it around 1976, as he was looking for a suitable native word for the English term.

Conclusions and Theoretical Implications As this chapter makes clear, PSM seems to be so camouflaged that coiners conscious of the ex externo aspect of the word, let alone naı¨ve native speakers, may identify it as native while for language purists it may be considered a ‘recognised’ neologism in the language. Whereas so-called popular etymology is often mocked and looked down upon due to lacking connection between the SL semantics and the TL semantics or to a sheer misunderstanding of the SL meaning, PSM is by many considered an elegant and likewise sophisticated method of word-formation, succeeding in combining sound and meaning of both SL and TL and in awakening associations at the minds of the TL speakers. However, as we can see from the PSMs analysed throughout this chapter, the distinction between cre´ation savante and cre´ation populaire is not so categorical as many cre´ations savantes are in fact ‘populaires’ and many cre´ations populaires are indeed ‘savantes’ (cf. Zuckermann, 2003a). What at least at first glance seems like ‘good’ ex interno reproduction is in many cases a bifurcated reproduction ex interno cum ex externo, where the ex externo element is sometimes camouflaged. This description is true of the standard written language. In other registers or genres, as within scientific and professional language in different domains or within the colloquial language, the ex externo share is probably even higher in Icelandic. This is probably true also in other languages. PSM, a source of lexical enrichment distinct from guestwords, foreignisms, loan words and calquing, has had a vast impact across many languages. PSM, which usually goes unnoticed by speakers (especially those of generations following the original coinage), has introduced a substantial number of new senses and lexemes in Chinese, Finnish, Icelandic, Japanese, Israeli Hebrew, Turkish, pidgins, creoles and other languages. In the case of Icelandic, PSM reinforces the view that Icelandic lexis has been covertly influenced by other Germanic languages such as English and Danish. The (polychronically analysed) examples presented in this chapter prove that PSM is an important method of Icelandic word-formation, resulting in a handful of Icelandic lexemes or suggestions for neologisms. Many of these suggested and lexicalised

Icelandic: Phonosemantic Matching

41

neologisms have been produced through conscious word-formation. This is remarkable, taking into account the fact that the majority of SL words do not have a parallel TL element which may coincide on phonetic and on semantic levels. Such a constraint does not usually apply to calquing, morphophonemic adaptation and mere neologisation. Discussing Turkish examples of PSM, Deny (1935: 246) claims that such neologisms are ‘without precedent in the annals of linguistics’. This chapter corrects that statement. As our data show, PSM is above all a means of disguising an ex externo lexical item by attaching ex interno elements that are both phonetically and semantically connected with the ex externo lexical item. This implies that even though the neologism consists of meanings and phonemes, which are at the same time ex interno and ex externo, the sense ex externo is primary to the sense ex interno. After all, the sense ex externo is the one introduced in the TL. With ko´rre´ttur ‘totally correct’ as an exception, all our data show that the sense ex externo is the final meaning of the new PSM. The ex interno sense is just used, if one can say so, ‘to justify it’. As for the phonemes, our data witness a broad range of phonetic affinity, from partial PSMs that are phonetically distant from the SL, such as fja´rfesta ‘to invest’, through phonetically somewhat related ratsja´ ‘radar’, to the phonetically very similar uppi ‘yuppie’. Looking further at the semantic aspect of PSM, it has the advantage for language planners that apparently, differently from many other formations ex externo, a wide spectrum of senses ex externo follows with the PSM. English lexemes such as chat and mail have been recently reproduced in numerous languages, but are usually semantically limited to such a degree that second language speakers of English might sometimes forget, or not even know, that the SL English chat can also mean ‘small talk’ or ‘to have a small talk’ and that just saying mail in English does not necessarily imply that it is electronic. However, in PSMs a broader semantic range ex externo is reproduced, similarly to calques. For instance, Icelandic sto¨ð does not only mean ‘station’ as a physical location, but also the establishment of a radio or television station. Icelandic tækni does not only mean ‘technique’ and ‘technology’ in the mechanical sense, but also when it comes to using any technique, as in sports. Likewise, Icelandic veira does not only mean ‘virus’ in the medical sense, but also a computer virus (just like in English).6 The abortive coinage bifra-bifrari introduces new forms. However, it is impossible to conclude from only two examples that it would be less

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likely for a coinage introducing a new form to be accepted by the speech community than for a coinage on a preexistent form. PSM reflects cultural and social interactions and often manifests the attempt of a culture to preserve its identity when confronted with an overpowering alien environment, without segregating itself from potential influences. The result can be contempt (cf. Zuckermann, 2005a) or ‘cultural flirting’ (being strongly influenced by the environment, as is the case of Icelandic, which is currently greatly influenced by English). PSM strengthens the idea that language is a major tool for cultures to maintain or form their identity. This chapter demonstrates the existence of concealed ex externo influences on Icelandic, mainly from English and Danish. Notes 1. Similarly, Swedish Pippi La˚ngstrump (cf. English Pippi Longstocking, the surname being a calque of the Swedish), the name of the protagonist of Astrid Lingren’s children’s stories, was phonetically matched in Israeli as bı´lbi lo´ khlum, lit. ‘Bilby Nothing’, as was done in many other languages (cf. Zuckermann, 2003a: 28). 2. Note that Old English go¯d-spel is itself a calque of Greek oyaggo´ lion euange´lion (
Latin euangelium) ‘gospel’, lit. ‘glad tidings, good news; reward of good tidings, given to the messenger’, from euˆ ‘good’ a´ngelos ‘messenger, envoy’. pffi Juxtapose Icelandic guðspjall with a˚won gilyo¯n/ ‘evil revelation-book’, a˚wo¯n gilyo¯n ‘sin revelation-book’, and /ob B Bon gilyo¯n/ ‘stone revelation-book’
PSMs, found in early, uncensored copies of the Hebrew Babylonian Talmud, Sabbath Tractate, 116a. Note the structural compromise in the expressions above. For example, the quasihyperbaton construct-state a˚won gilyo¯n/ literally means ‘evil of book’ rather than ‘book of evil’. Switching places between the nomen rectum and the nomen regens
resulting in *gilyon a˚won ‘book of evil’
would have been much better semantically but not nearly as good phonetically. A similar ‘poetic licence’ occurs in Maskilic Hebrew pe´’eyr a´mud (pronounced in Polish Ashkenazic Hebrew pe´ayr a´mid), lit. ‘glory of pillar’, an adaptation of European pyramid. *a´mud pe´’eyr, lit. ‘pillar of glory’, would have been much better semantically. 3. Note that Jerusalem artichoke, the species of sunflower (Helianthus tuberosus) which tastes rather like an artichoke, is a lay phonetic matching of Italian Girasole Articiocco ‘sunflower artichoke’. It is said to have been distributed under this Italian name from the Farnese garden at Rome soon after its introduction to Europe in 1617. 4. Interestingly, the early Germanic form of Latin standardum, probably from externdere ‘to stretch out’ -ard, was the Middle High German PSM stanthart, lit. ‘stand hard’. 5. The internationalism technical was phonosemantically matched in Arabic too, as /taqniy, tiqaniy/ ‘technical, technological’ and /taqniyya, tiqaniyya/ pffiffi ‘technology, technique’. These terms derive ex interno from Arabic / tqn

Icelandic: Phonosemantic Matching

43

‘to master, improve, bring to perfection’ as in /’atqana/ ‘he did something perfectly’ (Blau, 1981: 171
172). In fact, the Arabic morphemic adaptation of International technique is Arabic /takni:k/ rather than /taqni:k/, and cf. /takno:lo:g˘i/ ‘technological’ (cf. Zuckermann, 2003a: 70
72). 6. In such cases the semantic process involves metaphorisation (J.R.
the editor’s note).

Chapter 3

French: Tradition versus Innovation as Reflected in English Borrowings MIRIAM BEN-RAFAEL

The dynamics of language contact and its effect on languages is well known and globalisation today is probably responsible for most language contacts, as it speeds up the diffusion of English throughout the world, brings it into intense contact with numerous other languages, and enhances the influence of English on them (Crystal, 2003a; Go¨rlach, 2001, 2002b; Maurais & Morris, 2004). For years this phenomenon has been fuelling ongoing debates among linguists in France about its significance for the development of French. It is in this context that this chapter analyses the influence of English on the French language in France, focusing particularly on its affect on the lexicon.1 For centuries numerous foreign words have entered the French lexicon as the result of diverse economic, cultural and political influences. This is particularly true regarding English, which has been exerting a strong influence on French since the 16th century, as expressed in the adoption of a broad variety of anglicisms. In the 20th century, much more than in any earlier period, this influence gained tremendously in power in the context of globalisation and the forceful role of American English in international communication (Hage`ge, 1987; Ho¨fler, 1982; Humbley, 2002; Pergnier, 1989; Truchot, 1990; Walter, 1997). Anglicisation became striking in the 1960s and was then vehemently criticised by linguists as a threat to the very survival of French. Etiemble voiced this criticism in his famous book Parlez-vous franglais (1964), which has been reprinted many times over the years. Up to now, about 40 years after the first publication, and a few years after the author’s death (2002), the question of the longterm effect of Anglicisation of French has remained open. In general terms, the influence of English on French is expressed in a wide range of linguistic phenomena, including borrowings, calques, lexical and grammatical interferences, and neologisms. All these have been defined, though in different ways, as anglicisms or americanisms 44

English Borrowings in French

45

(Hage`ge, 1987; Pergnier, 1989; Picone, 1996: 1
7). It is on English borrowings in French that we choose to focus in the following.2 Lexical borrowings have been the subject of numerous studies over the past several decades (Clyne, 1986; Field, 2002; Grosjean, 1982; Jacobson, 1998, 2001; Mackey, 1976; Myers-Scotton, 2002; Poplack & Sankoff, 1984; Poplack et al., 1988). It has been shown that they primarily involve nouns (Romaine, 1989) and, more specifically, concern cultural items (Mackey, 1976; Romaine, 1989)
though it is almost impossible to forecast which lexical elements will be adopted. A distinction is often drawn between collective and personal borrowings (Poplack et al., 1988), between loan-blends and loan-shifts, or between borrowings which do not assimilate to the phonology of the host language, and others which get partially or entirely assimilated. Some lexical borrowings are due to L1 attrition (Ben-Rafael, 2004a; Dorian, 1981, 1989; Schmid, 2002; Schmid et al., 2004). They may also increase the array of linguistic choices at the speaker’s disposal, where they are not due to a lack of appropriate terms in L1. It is in this perspective that Haugen (1953) contends that borrowings can be classified as those which fulfil a lexical gap and those which are gratuitous and carry specific semantic features. Moreover, many researchers (Auer, 1984, 1995, 1996; Lu¨di, 1990; MyersScotton, 1993) view borrowings as a new discursive means which is available to the speaker and which can also convey self-identity. Regarding English loan words in French, more specifically, Pergnier (1989) suggests they fulfil three essential functions: (1) designing a new reality which can hardly be named by French terms; (2) indicating a virtual reservoir for neologisms to invigorate the vocabulary with new denotative and connotative values; and (3) adding a ‘quasi magic’ touch to the discourse. Pergnier believes that the phenomenon of franglais described and condemned by Etiemble (1964) extends far beyond the notion of fashion. According to him, it is a natural process of Anglicisation, accounted for by specific facts carrying systematic consequences. The most easily identifiable of anglicisms, Pergnier says, are borrowings which generate new signifiers under innovative phonetic forms in spoken language and graphic ones in the written language, introducing thereby new signifieds into the target language. More specifically, in the case of English borrowings in French, there is not always a direct and complete overlapping between the signified and the signifier. The borrowing’s signified is then merely a hybrid product, a meeting point, a junction of two semiological systems. Moreover, borrowed words often undergo adaptation in terms of their morphosyntax as well as their semantics and phonetics. From the

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semantic point of view, the meanings of borrowed terms are frequently simplified, with their meanings becoming restricted to only one element of their original content. By virtue of its transfer from one lexical system to another, the borrowed word often loses meanings to become a ‘pure tool of designation’ (Pergnier, 1989: 57). The borrowed term exits the English system through the reduction of its meanings in order to enter the borrowing language. The borrowing is then restructured as it undergoes a process of integration in its new linguistic system. This process is not a passive integration of a new term that has come to replace older ones. It is the cause of new semantic differentiations, and redefinitions and reconfiguration of semantic areas made of existing words in a way that permits adoption of the newcomer (Pergnier, 1989: 62). In this sense, borrowings renew the lexicon and instil new life into contemporary vocabulary with new nuances and connotations. Anglicisation of French which takes on multiple forms, may fulfil a variety of functions. In the language of the young, for instance, borrowings are used more for their emblematic significance than for their semantic value; for scientists, they respond more to a communicative necessity than to a question of taste. On the other hand, Franglais is not a homogeneous phenomenon and it unevenly affects different social strata and areas of linguistic activity. The linguistic behaviours of Franglais users also vary according to factors such as age or profession. Accordingly, it is often difficult to distinguish which uses pertain to pragmatics and which to language game or mystical purposes. Some borrowings would convey particular nuances which cannot be found in French equivalents (wagons versus chariots, or outlaws versus hors-la-loi). Hence, borrowings do not exclude the use of French terms and their utilisation but add a touch of picturesque to describe specific situations. Echoing the general propositions offered by studies in the area of borrowings (see above), numerous classifications of English borrowings in French have been proposed (Actes du colloque sur les anglicismes, 1994: 208
210; Mareschal, 1994: 26
32). Distinctions have been drawn between English terms introduced into French ‘as is’ or slightly transformed, and others that are more substantially altered. As a rule, the latter are condemned by ‘purists’ as orthographic, typographic, morphological, syntactic or semantic ‘English
American contaminations’ (Boly, 1979: 10, 11). Ho¨fler (1982) distinguishes between (1) lexical import which may consist of whole English terms, borrowings that combine English and French words, and false anglicisms; (2) ‘migratory’ words borrowed from other languages via English; (3) lexical substitutions, i.e. semantic borrowings or calques. Picone (1996: 4
7) differentiates seven categories

English Borrowings in French

47

of borrowings: (1) integral (scanner, week-end), (2) semantic (adopter un profil bas, cf. to keep a low profile), (3) structural or calque
an English imitation by French, (4) pseudo-anglicisms or neologisms of French making, but composed of English elements which mimic integral borrowings (new look), (5) hybrid-neologisms combining English and French, Latin or Greek, (6) graphic borrowings when anglicised orthography replicates or overlaps the French writing system, and (7) phonological borrowings when English phonemes are introduced into French. Walter (2000: 54) distinguishes between (1) English words with little change in form and meaning, (2) new derivations, (3) -ing suffixed terms, (4) words with new meanings, (5) translations, (6) calques, (7) pseudo anglicisms and (8) particular cases. As for Humbley (2002: 120
123), he differentiates between (1) direct loans, (2) replacements of loans by various forms of translation and (3) pseudo-loans. The latter may be innovations using English elements without any English model (tennisman, racingman), truncated loans (camping, dancing, lifting instead of ‘camping area’, ‘dance hall’, facelift) or semantic extensions where anglicisms are used with a meaning not attested in English (footing in the sense of ‘jogging’). The diverse categories proposed here and many others do not, actually, exhaust all possibilities of borrowings in French, and classifications remain often vague and confused (Mareschal, 1994: 32; Picone, 1996: 7; Walter, 2000: 54). Furthermore, the reasons evoked to explain the scope and forms of the penetration of English into French as well as the attitudes and value judgements of linguists toward this phenomenon are highly varied and even contradictory. Substantial change, actually, has taken place over the years and we may delineate a general line of development. It is to this issue that we now turn.

French Linguists’ Approaches to Anglicisation We may divide, grosso modo, the development of this debate into two phases: from 1960s to the mid-1990s and since the late 1990s. As mentioned, in the 1960s Anglicisation was harshly criticised. Etiemble (1964) even spoke of the destructive invasion of ‘franglais’ and the formation of a ‘sabir atlantic’, i.e. an Atlantic sabir,3 which threatened to take the place of French. Etiemble’s protest sparked a storm of reactions
mainly supportive at the time. Following Etiemble, linguists have divided into two major camps
those who more or less maintain his position and those who somehow reject it. For the former, the principal

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contention involves identity (Boly, 1979; Deniau, 1983; Doppagne, 1979; Lenoble-Pinson, 1991; Voirol, 1990). They contend that it is not by tolerating Franglais or a defective language that we will be able to keep to our francophone identity (Deniau, 1983), and that ‘words do not only designate objects or feelings, they express a certain perception of the world and of others, as well as a perception of life’ (Lenoble-Pinson, 1991: 7, 8). The aspiration to remain faithful to French against Franglais is primarily bound to the awareness that borrowings are primarily feared as a source of linguistic impoverishment. Franglais is perceived as franglomanie stemming from indifference, laziness, ignorance or snobbery (Doppagne, 1979: 55
58). Until the 1980s and 1990s, Anglicisms continued to be widely seen as a force to be combated (Lederer, 1988). One spoke of ‘insidious Anglicisms’ and ‘Anglomania’ (Voirol, 1990). Even researchers who considered borrowings as French words as long as they behaved according to the rules of French grammar still vigorously opposed what they called ‘awkward forms’
shampooing, shampooiner, shampooineur (Rey-Debove & Gagnon, 1988). Others produced lists of current borrowings, in order to propagate the use of French substitutes including, e.g. pigiste for free-lance; info-varie´te´s for talk-show; sauci-pain/ hot-dog; tomatine/ketchup (Lenoble-Pinson, 1991); or mercatique for marketing; pittonage/zapping; perdeur/loser (Voirol, 1990). These innovators declared that ‘looking for equivalents [to EnglishAmerican borrowings] does not mean Anglophobia or Americanophobia. It denotes less a resistance to Anglomania than an assertion of a will of francophones to express themselves in their own language’ (LenoblePinson, 1991: 7, 8). But other researchers, even when they do not deny that the identity-culture issue remains bound to the preservation of a ‘pure and uncontaminated’ language, understand that specific conditions and contexts must be taken into consideration when judging the appropriateness of borrowings, such as the challenges of bilingualism and the fact that English has become a quasi-universal language (Hage`ge, 1987). Today English fulfils major transglossic functions for Francophones, just as it does for speakers of other languages in contemporary societies (Truchot, 1990). Trescases (1982) also believes that people today are ready to look at Franglais in a new manner despite the tensions that may set America and Europe in opposition. In the meantime, both in public speech and in the media, the growth of Franglais has by no means been interrupted by the debates dividing the linguists. In the late 1990s Franglais continues its course and in the words of Lenoble-Pinson (1994) ‘se porte bien’ (feels well), even if from

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49

time to time one still finds vituperative articles against its propagation in Etiemble’s tradition and attempts to fight the English influence by practical policies (Le Cornec, 1982).4 ‘French public opinion’, Pergnier (1994) reports, ‘stands somewhat passively this state of affairs which fails to enlist the crowd’. Radical changes are observed as the last century moves to its close. For Da Costa (1999), for instance, borrowings are just transpositions of words from one language to another. Words, he says, do not recognise national boundaries. Words stemming from specific languages enrich others with new nuances. Franglais is by no means threatening; it is an aspect of the linguistic transnational reality of our contemporary world. The major contribution to this shift of attitude to the penetration of English into French was Walter’s (2001) book Honni soit qui mal y pense (Evil Be To Him Who Evil Thinks), in which she contended that Francophones must stop worrying obsessively about the ‘me´chant loup’, that is, Anglicisms. French is no longer the international language it used to be . . . which does not mean that French does not feel well. On the contrary, French is fully able to express the modern world with words it borrows from English and the words that it generates by itself . . . If French did not borrow English words, it would be worrying. It would be a sign of fossilisation. (Walter, 2001: 245) Over the last two centuries, Walter elaborates, French has been enriched by a large number of terms of English origin, while English, in the same manner, has never stopped borrowing from French since the Middle Ages. However, English has been far more welcoming than French to borrowings from its counterpart. This is also the conclusion of several English scholars (Wright, 2000) who see the purist and elitist attitudes of the champions of French as the continuation of a long French tradition (Dewaele, 2000) backed by republican values in which France wishes to illustrate Frenchness itself (Ager, 2000). Humbley (2002) thinks that French attitudes to anglicisms as well as the official policy of their replacement are somewhat unique in postwar Europe. Among the factors suggested to explain this kind of policy, he underscores three essential facts: (1) language planning is part of French history; (2) French was the leading international language until the 19th century, and is still an international linguistic factor; and (3) giving French substitutes to English terms and developing a terminology planning are considered as important ‘means of catching up in the race against English’.

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Globally Speaking

That said, a substantial gap still exists between, on the one hand, the normative attitude of the French Academy and other bodies charged with the mission of preserving a ‘bon franc¸ais’ and, on the other, attitudes of speakers in general who show more openness to foreign languages, and to English in particular (Judge, 2000). Among the French institutions engaged in the safeguarding of the language, the French Academy has the task of granting legitimacy of words and forms of speech; the De´le´gation Ge´ne´rale a` la Langue Franc¸aise and a commission for terminology related to various ministries are in charge of institutionalising specific terminology, responding to neological needs.5 Moreover, anti-anglicism groups of activists still exist. They may be organised in associations, express themselves in publications, use mailing lists and issue press releases.6 As for the locutors themselves, Pergnier (1994) claims that it is difficult to ascertain what their opinions toward anglicisms are, given the fact that surveys are not numerous in this area. What is known is that reactions vary from one group to another
some are more fundamentally hostile to anglicisms and others much more flexible and welcoming. The largest majority, it seems to Pergnier, stands somewhere in the middle. An analysis of letters by readers sent to Le Monde between 1987 and 1997 shows (Walker, 1998: 79), ‘a lack of linguistic security that is sometimes implicit and sometimes more than explicit’. Walker’s (1998: 505
508) study in different francophone communities leads him to the conclusion that French students are more indifferent to the multiplication of English borrowings than other groups of Francophones,7 and that the same is true of their indifference toward the notifications of the French Academy and other regulating institutions. Similar conclusions were reached by Fugger (1979; cited by Walker, 1998) in a research that tackled the same topics.

The Research: Objectives and Methodology It is in this context that we present our own research on the present state of the Anglicisation of French of France. As this process is vast and complex, we look here only at borrowings. Our first intention is to draw out a general picture of this penetration of English borrowings updated to 2004. The second objective of this research is then to consider, on the basis of this picture, how far, about 40 years after the publication of Etiemble’s manifest, his pessimistic forecast
as well as that of numerous other researchers about the future of French
is confirmed

English Borrowings in French

51

by reality. Is the penetration of English that serious a threat to the very existence of French? Guided by these research interests, we collected data over three years (2001
2004) from (a) television programmes on the French channels France 2, TV5 and Arte (news, shows, documentaries, films); (b) French newspapers on the Internet (Le Monde, Libe´ration, France-soir, Le Figaro) and in print (Le Monde, Match); (c) conversations, random collection of utterances gathered from French speakers living in France; (d) 15 informants were interviewed and asked to supply lists of English words used currently, according to them, by French people in their regular discourse; (e) lists of English borrowings recognised by current dictionaries (Ho¨fler, 1982; Rey-Debove & Gagnon, 1988; Robert, 1995, 2001). Within the limited scope of this study, we do not take into account the innumerable English terms related to advertising and the current linguistic landscape in France.

The Findings Categories of findings The borrowings in our collection represent various grammatical categories
nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs
and pertain to various semantic fields. They include both borrowings that do not have equivalent terms in French and others that do. Some have undergone semantic shifts, while others have formed the basis for neologisms; some are loan-blends, while others are pseudo-English terms. This classification is to be considered with caution since, as Mareschal (1994) and others have emphasised, the boundaries between the various types of borrowings are often fluid and changeable, and thus difficult to pin down. Lack of equivalence

Among the borrowings without French equivalents some are adopted en bloc, phonetically and semantically: black out, box, brunch, clip, leadership, attachment; others only semantically: superman, wagon, management.8 These borrowings are explained essentially by the need to name new technological activities, such as in computer science; the want of appropriate French terms to describe given cultural values; or the reference to new concepts appearing under new names (pressing, email, start up, web), which, however, may eventually be re-baptised in French (Courriel for email; jeune pousse for start up; or toile for web).

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Globally Speaking

Borrowings and French equivalents

Borrowings may appear even when French equivalents exist. They are in fact numerous and often present semantic differences when compared to their so-called French equivalents, as we see in the following examples: (1) Test/e´preuve; speed/vitesse; show/spectacle; match/compe´tition sportive; boss/patron; smiling/sourire; krach/faillite bancaire; cool/calme; relax/ de´tendu; job/boulot; interview/entretien; week end/fin de semaine; wc/ toilettes; lifting/de´ridage; peeling/exfoliation; self-service/libre service; (faire du) shopping/courses; walkman/baladeur; fast food/restauration rapide; (avoir le) feeling/impression; standing/haut niveau; staff/e´quipe; star/e´toile, vedette. At times, borrowings adopt meanings that distance them completely from their French translations. This is also the case of cow-boy versus vacher, leader versus dirigeant or meeting versus re´union, for example. In the 2002 French presidential campaign, the various French political leaders (not ‘dirigeants’) Chirac, Jospin and Le Pen, for instance, held political meetings, but never ‘re´unions’. The same happened during the Bush and Kerry campaign in 2004
they were always presented as leaders in the French press and television shows. Lucky Luke, the hero of the French/ Belgian comics is a cow-boy (and not a ‘vacher’), because in French only the English word expresses the content of this cultural concept9 (BenRafael, 2004b). Semantic simplification

Borrowings are often simplified and reduced when introduced in French, keeping but one of their original ‘signifie´s’ of the English ‘signifiant’; une star means only an actor or actress; un short refers only to short trousers; une lady is a woman who behaves in a distinguished manner; un drink is an alcoholic drink; un boy is a young servant (domestique), des girls are dancers in a music hall or a night club des danseuses de music hall; un/e black is a dark skinned person (une personne de peau noire). Semantic amplification and recovery

Later on, once adopted in French, the meaning of the English term can expand and acquire new meanings in addition to the one originally imported from English. This amplification, however, is less frequent than the reduction process of the signifie´s. On the other hand, what is relatively frequent is the recovery and addition of signifie´s that had not been considered or had been rejected at the first stage of adoption of the

English Borrowings in French

53

English signifiant; cool, for instance, which was originally used in French as jazz cool versus jazz hot, has taken over time various semantic variants of the English term and has become synonymous with formidable, bien, joli etc., as these examples show: (2) Ma grand-me`re est cool (‘my grandmother is wonderful’) (3) Speaker 1: Apre`s on ira au cine´ (‘later we will go to the movie’) Speaker 2: Cool (‘wow’) And a writer talking about her readers says: (4) J’avais des lecteurs qui pouvaient eˆtre cool (gentils) ( . . . .) enfin un peu de douceur (Paris Match, 8/04) (‘I had readers who were cool . . . at last some gentleness’) Similarly, black, which basically signifies a black person, has also started taking on the French meaning of ‘black market’; (5) Il l’a eu au black (France 2, 9/04) (‘he got it on the black market’) Semantic alteration and specialisation

The English signifier may also lose its original meaning and receive a new one; the signifier remains more or less bound to the semantic field it belongs to in English, though it experiences a sort of bifurcation, causing the new signified to differ from the original one, as in (6): (6) cake: Fr: fruit cake versus Eng: any cake Foot: Fr: football versus Eng: foot Square: Fr: small public garden versus Eng: square/quadrilateral place (e.g. Trafalgar Square) Poster: Fr: decorative poster versus Eng: advertisement poster Neologisms

Lexical productivity is also made possible by lexical derivations of adopted English words by means of affixes; derived from borrowings, new terms are created
nouns, adjectives, as well as verbs, which seem to be the most productive forms: (7) stock0verb: stocker; abstract nounsuffix: stockage, agent noun suffix: stockiste; prefixnoun: surstockage (8) stopper, scotcher, bluffer, (se)crasher, mixer, spidder, (se)dopper, chatter, looker, relooker, briefer, de´brifer A journalist reports in Le Monde after the catastrophe of the Twin Towers (11/2001):

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Globally Speaking

´ s a` leur te´le´visions (for: colle´s)/‘people are Les gens sont scotche glued (like scotch tapes) to their TVs.’ ´ (for: s’est e´crase´)/‘the plane crashed’ (10) L’avion s’est crashe

(9)

Franc¸oise, speaking about her family, writes in her e-mail: (11) Mon fils et sa julie squattent chez moi/’my son and his girlfriend squat by me (at home)’ On French television (France 2) we found: (12) Le jeu e´tait sponsorise´ par une banque/‘the game was sponsored by a bank’ (13) Il faut pas mixer les ide´es/‘one mustn’t mix ideas’ (14) G.: Allez speed un peu!
F.: Je suis stresse´e / G.: ‘Go with a little more speed!
F.: I’m stressed’. (France 2, 2003, Program: Un gars, une Fille) Pseudo-English terms

In a similar vein, there is a tendency to form English-looking terms which do not exist in English and are, in fact, false Anglicisms: (15) auto-stop for hitchhiking; tennisman for tennis player; footing for jogging; hair-coif for hairstyle; camping-car for motorhome; brushing for se´chage and brossage. Abbreviations

Alongside the adoption of English terms, we must also consider English abbreviations like VIP, USA, FBI and PC, and acronyms such as SONAR, RADAR and IBM, pronounced sometimes the English way and sometimes ‘a` la franc¸aise’
IBM (ibe´e`m), TV (te´ve´), ICBEM (ice´be´e`m). The formation of abbreviations and acronyms, typical of English, has been widely adopted by contemporary French, although the majority of abbreviations and acronyms remain shortenings of French terms pronounced the French way: HLM (from ‘habitations a` loyers mode´re´s/ ‘public sector of housing’), PC (parti communiste/‘communist party’), TGV (train a` grande vitesse/‘high-speed train’), SIDA (versus AIDS), SRAS (versus SARS), OTAN (versus NATO). Segmental English insertions

Together with unitary lexical borrowings, we find English insertions with more than one lexical element. These are idioms, full sentences and commercials which are very common in the press (16), in oral and written discourse (17) and in the general surrounding landscape.10

English Borrowings in French

55

(16) just do it; fashion victims; directeur du unit business chaussures; made IBM (17) my pleasure; everything under control; up to you; no comment; help yourself English expressions come up in French e-mails
isn’t?; thank you d’avance
or call attention to the written message: (18) On pourra converser ou comme les gens ‘in’ disent ‘chatter’ sur E-mail; y a plus qu’a` correspondre et a` ‘chatter’ ‘we will be able to converse or, as ‘in’ people say, to ‘chat’ on Email; we just have to correspond with each other and ‘chat’’ Borrowings also often lend themselves to word games, as in the following example when Margo intentionally uses the French verb ramer (to row) in her e-mail together with the English verb surf, in order to express her poor web surfing skills: (19) Moi je rame pe´niblement sur le web, certains surfent, ce n’est pas mon cas ‘Me, I row with difficulty on the web, some people surf (easily), that’s not the case with me’ Borrowings as discursive means

Besides lexical aspects, borrowings may fulfil specific discursive functions: the repetition or the recall of a French word by means of an English equivalent, for example, emphasises or makes the sense of an occurrence more explicit. In (20) an instructor explains to future receptionists/telephonists the importance of smiling at clients, even when talking to invisible listeners: (20) Il faut faire passer le sourire, le smiling . . . il faut que tu fasses un smiling ‘One must let the listener feel the smile, the smiling . . . you have to make a smile’ Similarly, the shift from one language to the other enhances the discourse (21, 22), and allows indirect discourse to be resumed or reported (23): (21) Je suis reste´ dans le purple, instead of: Je reste dans la gamme des violets ‘I dress in all sorts of purple’ (22) C’est quelqu’un qui est tre`s foot . . . moi je suis pas tre`s foot ‘It’s somebody very fond of football . . . Me, I’m not fond of football’

56

Globally Speaking

(23) L’enterrement de la reine me`re ’the queen mum‘ comme les anglais l’appellent aura lieu mercredi ‘The funeral of the queen mother, ‘the queen mum’, as the English call her, will take place next Wednesday’ The transition from French to English may also facilitate the differentiation of concepts; PC, when pronounced the English way means a personal computer, whereas PC pronounced the French way
pe´ce´
means the French Communist Party. Similarly, the distinction between round versus tour (24),11 or start-up and jeune pousse (25), evokes the pugnacious nature of the presidential campaign, as well as the difference in nuance between some German start-ups that are rather more experienced than some young French ones. (24) Premier round avant le deuxie`me tour des pre´sidentielles ‘First round before the second presidential round’ (25) Des start up allemands a` l’aide des jeunes pousses franc¸aises ‘German start-ups help French start-ups’ Borrowings and semantic fields According to the literature, borrowings firstly concern cultural domains; yet as already mentioned, it is practically impossible to predict which terms will be borrowed, and at times it is difficult to connect them with a specific domain. When we attempt to classify our data, we see that some semantic domains are particularly privileged in this respect, such as sports, politics, economics, computer science, fashion and music. This is shown here with examples from the sports domain collected in 2002 at the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics (26) and the French presidential campaign (27): (26) il a touche´ au milieu du snowboard/‘he touched the middle of the snowboard’; des e´quipes de hockey sur glace/‘ice-hockey teams’; le hockeyeur/‘the hockey player’; 10 km de sprint/‘a 10-km sprint’; last lap, finish, shooting; le coaching peut faire gagner une rencontre/‘coaching can help win a match’ (27) suspense dans une ambiance de meeting/‘suspense in a meeting atmosphere’; paraıˆtre sur les me´dias vaut mieux que vingt meetings/‘exposure in the media is worth more than twenty meetings’ Some borrowings, however, remain without any affiliation, while still others seem to share structures which ensure easy integration into French. As already noted by Hage`ge (1987), Pergnier (1989) and others, one finds

English Borrowings in French

57

a tendency to adopt monosyllabic terms (cool, coach, hot, kit, tag) and bisyllabic ones (sponsor, roller, tuner, charter). When borrowings are longer words, truncation may take place, self-service becoming self and livingroom becoming living. -ing terms are frequently borrowed; prefixes (mini, self, super, extra, hyper, top) and suffixes (man, ex), which are basic in the formation of neologisms, are frequently used as units on their own (28): (28) c’est un type super/‘he’s a super guy’; C’e´tait extra/‘it was great’; la mode mini et maxi/‘the mini- and maxi-fashion’ Moreover, English blendings such as brunch (br/eakfastl/unch) are numerous in French and inspire French neologisms
courriel, progiciel, coming as substitutes for e-mail and software and composed by the blending of courri/er el/ectronique, and pro/gramme lo/giciel. The French borrowing process: An unflagged and creeping phenomenon English borrowings penetrate French most naturally. Discourse, both written and oral, remains fluid even though anglicisms are sometimes flagged. Flagging may be signalled by inverted commas in the writing: (29) c’est ’so british‘ (‘it’s so British’); ‘it’s not my cup of tea’ (Le Monde, 2002) (30) ils e´taient ’cast members‘ pour reprendre la terminologie impose´e (Le Figaro, January 2004) ‘they were ‘cast members’, to use the imposed terminology’ The user may also apologise for their use: Hage`ge (1987) quotes, for example, President Mitterand who, after having said the English word ‘remake’, immediately added remake . . . si je peux me permettre de parler franglais ‘if I am allowed to speak Franglais’. In fact, generally speaking, one can say that a kind of ‘tacit Anglicist agreement’ penetrates the discourse: borrowings drag in other ones or provoke word games; the use of ‘start-up’ in an article in Le Monde/Internet about current economic conceptions and the proble´matique of the start-up system brings out, for instance, the ironic use of ‘start down’: (31) start up ou start down, que nous re´serve l’avenir? ‘Start up or start down, what does future have in stock for us?’ English citations, without any translation, appear rather frequently in the press. After 11 September 2001, a French reporter writes in Le Monde (28.11.01):

Globally Speaking

58

(32) united we stand dit un slogan affiche´ partout a` New-York ‘United we stand says a slogan all over New York’ The knowledge, or at least the familiarity, of the French TV viewers with British/American codes is taken for granted. During the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics (in 2002), for example, the American display of the results on French TV was presented in mostly English, as in the USA. Also, last lap, finish, shooting, etc., were said. The same happened during the Athens Olympic Games in summer 2004. This of course does not prevent French TV from remaining faithful to conventional French codes in other circumstances. The football match between France and Wales in Cardiff (2002) was presented with French conventions, including the translation of Wales by Galles throughout. The proliferation of English terms is recognised and ‘coolly’ experienced by French interlocutors. Still, when our 15 francophone informants from France were asked to provide a list of English words in use in contemporary French, at first some of them found it difficult to answer, even denying the use of any English term. One of them, the most ‘purist’, only agreed to speak after hearing others recalling English words, and told of his son wanting to buy baggies (not pantalons), and spending most of his time on the web (not on the toile). Hence, when the informants began to think it over, borrowings of all kinds literally streamed out (Figure 3.1). starter

baskets

car jacking

duffle-coat

internet

night club

scotch

back up

casting

e-mail

interview

no comment

scrabble

stress

baggy

charter

fair play

jackpot

on line

(se) shooter

struggle for life

basket

chatter

fashion

joint

out

self control

super

battle-dress

clash

fashion victim

kidnapping

panel

shift

surfer

best seller

clean

feed back

kipper

penalty

shop

tea room

black

cocktail

flashback

kit

pin up

slash

timing

book

come back

football

leader

play boy

speaker

top

boots

compact disk

forwarder

look

pressing

spleen

training

boss

computer

gang

media

rap

spot

trip

break

cool

gangster

mail

relooker

squash

tuning

briefing

cornflakes

grill

mailer

review

squat

volley ball

brunch

crasher

happy end

meeting

ring

standing-

walkman

brushing

dealer

hip hop

miss

rock

innovation

web

bug

derby

home jacking

net

round

star

week-end

business

drink

in

news

rush hour

start up

zapping

Figure 3.1 Francophone borrowings
a sample out of 360 occurrences

English Borrowings in French

59

Some might have thought that the war in Iraq, particularly at the beginning (Spring 2003), having somewhat strained French relations with the USA and Great Britain, might have an impact on the use of English in French. However, despite occasional biting criticism or puns that appeared in the press and a sort of war of words,12 the anglicist flow has, in fact, continued at the same rate. To present the news about the war itself, it is American terminology that is used
holster, scotch, body-bags, MRE (meals ready to eat); in Le Monde on 2 March 2003, for example, it said: (33) Un sergent-major se pre´parant a` entrer en Irak a e´poussete´ son holster de cuir noir ‘A sergeant-major preparing to go into Iraq dusted down his black leather holster’ (34) On s’inquie`te pour savoir si les 40 body bags au lieu des 200 demande´s seraient suffisants ‘One is worried whether the 40 body bags instead of the 200 requested will be sufficient’ Reports of speech or quotations generally remain in English, untranslated: (35) Finalement . . . Bush se le`ve et annonce: ‘ok, let’s go’ ‘Finally . . . Bush gets up and announces: ‘ok, let’s go’’ (36) Les gamins crient ‘water water’ a` la vue de tout ve´hicule e´tranger ‘The children shout ‘water, water’, any time they see a foreign vehicle’ And events are described using the usual English terms: jogging, slogans, look, supporter, raid, back home, stock and others: (37) Les soldats ame´ricains font du jogging chaque matin ‘The American soldiers go jogging every morning’ (38) Un journaliste britannique a demande´ d’eˆtre ‘imbedded’, ‘inte´gre´’13 a` une troupe ‘A British journalist asked to be ‘imbedded’, ‘integrated’ in a unit’ (39) En une journe´e des milliers de raids/‘In one day thousand of raids’ Demonstrators against the war in Iraq are also described in English terms: (40) La jeunesse japonaise . . . allure cool se joint aux manifestants de Stop the war! (they have written) ‘no war’ sur la chausse´e . . . le temps des coctails Molotov est re´volu. ‘The Japanese youth . . . very cool joins the demonstrators of Stop

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the war! (they have written) ‘no war’ on the pavement . . . Molotov cocktail time is over’ The same is true of daily life in Baghdad (Le Monde/Internet, 18.9.03): (41) Trois filles (. . .) designers dans une imprimerie de Bagdad racontent leur peur ‘Three girls (. . .) designers in a printing firm in Baghdad talk about their fear’ A journalist reports14 what an Iraqi dealer in radio and television sets has to say: (42) Le business marche bien, les gens veulent entendre les nouvelles du monde, vous comprenez ‘Business is OK, people want to hear world news, you understand’ Thus the Iraqi conflict has not had an impact on anglicist habits in French. The case of the French rock singer Johnny Halliday, among many other examples, is good evidence of how alive and well English is in French. On the occasion of his 60th birthday, in the summer of 2003, all the articles in Le Monde, Le Figaro, Match or the Halliday website, were saturated with borrowings: (43) Happy birthday Mister Rockn’ Roll; le rocker est plein d’e´nergie; rue´e des fans; Johnny superstar shoote´ par 60 photographes; Johnny ge`re bien le stress; il jouera un crooner; il est en teˆte du hitparade; country, folk, blues, rock, disco, toutes les musiques qu’ il aime. (Match, 11 June 2003) ‘Happy birthday Mister Rockn’ Roll; the rocker is full of energy; a rush by the fans; Johnny a superstar is taken by 60 photographers; Johnny handles stress well; he will play a crooner; he’s at the top of the hit-parade; country, folk, blues, rock, disco, all the music he likes.’ (44) Il peut parodier les crooners, nasiller country/‘He can take off crooners, and the twang of country’; ses yeux bleus husky/‘his husky blue eyes’ (Le Figaro, 5 June 2003). The many examples available during this period indicate that Franglais continues apace, whether it is about the 2003 summer vacations (un petit break, mobile home, camping, barbecues, parking, beach party, candle-lights, tossing, fast-food) or children’s fashions for the new school year (baggy, bombers, matie`res stone´es, jersey gratte´, denim blanchi, bottes zippe´es, fashion, glamour, top).

English Borrowings in French

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Computer and Email, despite their new French equivalents, are still very much alive. Several days prior to the American presidential elections the following was written in Le Monde/Internet: (45) Toute l’actualite´ des e´lections ame´ricaines par E-mail/‘All the news about the American elections by E-mail’ Finally, on TV, the newscaster, when discussing the problems of succession after Arafat’s hospitalisation in France in October 2004, mentions the possibility alongside Abu Alaa and Abu Mazen of a third ‘leader’, an ‘outsider’ living outside the Palestinian territories (TV5, 29.9.04). Similarly, under the English title ‘France feelings’, an announcer presents a chocolate-fashion exhibition (France 2, 30.9.04). It would be ‘tedious’, as Hage`ge (1987) himself said, and practically impossible to monitor and pick out all the possible English/French combinations. They are creeping up endlessly. As already mentioned, borrowings adapt very well to written and spoken discourse that remains mostly fluid. This smooth lexical adaptation is supported by grammatical adjustment. We can even speak of a grammar of borrowings which is flexible and allows for variations. The grammar of borrowings Gender of nouns

While in English gender is often not morphologically marked, French distinguishes between masculine (m) and feminine (f) nouns, adjectives and certain verb forms. What gender should a borrowing from English have? It is difficult to formulate an absolute rule, but we can suggest that borrowings tend to adopt the gender of the French nouns that are the equivalents of the borrowings. This would be the case, for example in: une start up f, as in une entreprise or une jeune pousse; une star f as in une e´toile. Other examples, however, do not meet this principle: un meeting is m, whereas une re´union is f; une interview is f in the French spoken in France, yet un entretien is m. At times, the choice may appear arbitrary: le funk, le hip hop, le disco, le rock are masculine, while la soul or la pop are feminine. In point of fact, it transpires that the same borrowings take on different genders depending upon whether they were borrowed by French in France, Quebec in Canada or in other French-speaking areas: (une) interview and (un) job are feminine and masculine respectively in France, yet in Quebec they are m and f
(un) interview, (une) job; local variants also turn up: la soul is f in Le Monde (12.9.03) and in Le Petit Larousse (as translation for ‘aˆme’), but in

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Le Robert it is le soul. Other nouns are also either m or f
le or la black, depending upon whether the reference is to a man or a woman. Borrowed adjectives

Whereas in French adjectives agree in gender and number with the nouns they modify, borrowed adjectives tend to remain unchanged, as in English: (46) des arrangements pop ‘pop arrangements’, une rythmique rock ‘rock rhythmics’, la re´volution free ‘the free revolution’, une formation soul ‘a soul formation’, la musique country ‘country music’, les yeux husky ‘husky blue eyes’, la musique black ‘black music’. The plural

As in French, a voiceless final ‘s’ tends to mark the plural form of English borrowed nouns, and one finds then: les supermarkets, les hippies, les stars, les reporters pronounced the French way, without pronouncing the ‘s’: /les supermarket, hippie, star/ and /reporter/. Nouns may be also invariable, and the plural form is only marked thanks to French plural articles such as les, des, ces, mes. Moreover, the ‘man’ suffix may either take the plural form, ‘men’, like in English
les jazzmen, les tennismen, les barmen, or the voiceless French affix ‘s’; un barman, for example, will also then become des barmans, pronounced/ barman/. Neologisms

The creation of new words happens frequently in French, as indicated above: verbs get formed based upon borrowings, following generally the French first verbal model which usually ends -er: tester, (se) doper, mixer; nouns are formed by adding the French suffixes -tion, -eur (m), -euse (f), -age, -iste as in sponsorisation, sprinteur and sprinteuse or prefixes like sur and anti. One then finds families of words, such as the various derivations from the borrowings dope and doping0 dopeur, dopage, anti-dopage; or the derivations of stock 0the verb stocker, and the nouns stockage, stockiste or surstockage. Adjectives are also formed by adding the suffixes -ant and -ard, thus: flash 0flashant; stress 0stressant; snob 0snobinard.

Conclusion In 2004, 40 years after the ‘franglais crisis’ of the 1960s, it was already possible to get both diachronic and synchronic perspectives on the phenomenon of Anglicisation, and to evaluate it with more objectivity. For some researchers, this phenomenon is only a fashion, a trend or

English Borrowings in French

63

primarily the language of the young. They point out that some borrowings are more easily absorbed than others, many become dated and disappear with the disappearance of the concept they represent. Several researchers respond that certain borrowings fall out of use after some time, others remain for good and still others replace those that are gone, or serve simultaneously with them, reflecting new realities (hi-fi, night club replacing for instance pick-up or dancing). Moreover derivation perpetuates the life chances of borrowings. The word gag adopted in 1922, becomes, for instance, gaguesque in 1977; gadget (1946) becomes gadge´tisation (1968) and gadge´tiser (1970); film (1889) becomes filmer (1908), filmage (1912), filmeur (1917), filmable (1927), filmique (1936), filmographique (1937) and filmothe`que (1967) (Robert, 2001).15 Yet, purists are still fighting against the Franglais phenomenon, lamenting that people use English terms such as hard, challenge or gay for dur, de´fi or homosexuel, and also complaining that borrowings continue to invade the domains of music, sport, communication, press and advertisements (Cholewka, 2000; Yaguello, 2000). They try to save endangered words and time and time again come back with new arguments, hoping to safeguard French against the ‘English danger’ (Laroche-Claire, 2004; Pivot, 2004). Institutions
the Acade´mie Franc¸aise, the De´le´gation Ge´ne´rale a` la Langue Franc¸aise and the Commissions Ministe´rielles de Terminologie, as already mentioned
are in charge of what they view as the ‘desirable’ development of French. Laws, such as ‘la loi Toubon’16 and others were suggested in order to limit the English penetration of French. Such decisions are in fact of little effect.17 English borrowings remain numerous and have undoubtedly become a part of the French language. Anglicisation is today more vivid than ever. The linguists’ and committed activists’ campaign of the 1960s against the influence of English has drastically declined even though a certain anxiety subsists, and there still are scholars who think like Voirol (1990: 7) in the 1990s: One must not proclaim that French is in danger and brandish the crusade flag. There is no pure language ( . . .). All languages owe something to others. French has nourished English, English has nourished French. Yet for half a century, the linguistic balance between the two languages is in deficit to the detriment of French. To resist Anglomania does not mean giving in to Anglophobia. We will keep week end, foot-ball, sex-appeal, and many others which are useful, since we have not found any better. For the newcomers,

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however, let us pay attention. Let’s adopt words (. . . .) let’ s try to invent and create new ones. In the study presented here, we set ourselves two key questions as research targets: (1) to paint a general picture of the current phenomenon of borrowings, based on data gathered between 2001 and 2004; and (2) strictly limiting ourselves to the field of borrowings, to check whether this lexical penetration represented an existential threat for French. Our general impression is that the penetration of English into the French lexicon is a productive and dynamic process, whether speaking of English terms adopted ‘as is’, or terms undergoing change or serving as a source for lexical neologisms. This process takes place when French equivalents for the English adopted terms do not exist, but is also very common when equivalents are found. The borrowed terms, then, often set themselves apart from their so-called equivalents and present specific semantic nuances. Dated borrowings have sometimes disappeared or been replaced by new ones, according to new social or technological developments, yet this is an ongoing process, where dated as well as new adopted words or new combinations live and develop together. Some semantic fields are more involved than others (sport, music, politics), yet it is practically impossible to predict which terms will be kept in French. Certain English forms (short words, -ing terms or specific structures) appear to be more easily integrated. The reasons for borrowing remain above all functional
the need to express new things that do not yet have a word in common usage in French, and which in this world of globalisation are in any case understood in English. Introducing English words allows speakers to go beyond the physical and linguistic areas of daily life. It also lets speakers play with words, in order to reinforce a statement or differentiate concepts. It is, in fact, another means of expression for French L1 speakers, in written and oral discourse. Furthermore, it is also undeniable that in today’s globalised world, English enjoys a particular prestige, and it seems that many a concept originating from American/ English discourse is willingly adopted as a marker of ‘updatedness’, especially among the young, but not only among them. Hence the analysis of our data has shown, in accordance with Pergnier, Walter and others, that borrowings often represent new realities and semantic shades; they are virtual reservoirs for new connotative and denotative values, and contribute to the building of new symbols. What can be learned from our analysis is that Anglicisation is almost unavoidable in contact situations engendered by contemporary globalisation.

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Yet, when referring to French, it does not come instead of or at the detriment of French. For Etiemble and many others after him, the influence of English on French was and remains an existential threat to French. Two key facts which we encountered in our findings refute this approach. The first is that data definitely show that borrowings do not prevent the speakers from sticking to French as their ‘matrix language’ (Myers-Scotton, 1993), in the written and oral discourse with respect to all areas and subjects considered in our research. Hence, while the phenomenon of borrowing is very much alive, the practice of codeswitching, or moving from one language to another, as it is the case of some languages in other contact situations (Ben-Rafael, 2001a, 2004a; Heller, 1988; Myers-Scotton, 1993), has hardly appeared in material. The second fact is that, in our data, despite the important lexical penetration of English, grammar remains essentially French. This relates to the assessment by many scholars that grammar generally constitutes the heart of the language and is relatively resistant to external linguistic influences (Hage`ge, 1987, 2000). Grammatical changes are slow (LeemanBouix, 1994; Walter, 1988), and it is only when grammar is affected in its hard core that we can speak of the beginning of a genuine language shift (Hage`ge, 2000). It has been shown, moreover, that secondary grammatical changes
like in Que´be´cois (Chantefort, 1976; Martineau, 1985), Acadian and Ontario French (King, 1989; Mougeon & Beniak, 1989, 1991) or Franbreu18 (Ben-Rafael, 2002, 2004a)
are not enough to cause the transformation or attrition of a living language. As far as English borrowings are concerned, our data confirm that they are integrated in the French of France according to French grammatical rules. The same applies to neologisms also drawn from English and mostly built a` la franc¸aise. We then may conclude that French is not in danger as long as French grammar is not endangered, and agree with Yaguello (2000) when she says: Franglais . . . one should not make a big fuss about it because what is important for the resistance of a language, is its grammatical structure, and its own syntax and morphology; as long as French conjugates English verbs ‘a` la franc¸aise’ like: se crasher, surfer, cocooner, sponsoriser . . . everything is ok. Etiemble saw Franglais as a ‘sabir’ responding to his famous acronym ‘ESTEL’ (En Sabir tout est licit/‘in Sabir everything is allowed/legal/ licit’). French, he proclaimed, was disintegrating under the influence of English, and both its vocabulary and grammar were heading for

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catastrophe and anarchism. As for us, we see rather the penetration of English in French as innovativeness and dynamism, indicating that French speakers today live at the same time in a global world and in their own culture. Notes 1. This chapter refers to the French spoken in France. While the French of other Francophone countries shares numerous characteristics with the French of France, there are also numerous differences attributable to the differences in language contact situations. 2. The current tendency is to view codeswitching through a continuum of alternations, starting from the single unit to the largest segments (GardnerChloros, 2000; Myers-Scotton, 1993; Romaine, 1989). Various names are used instead of ‘borrowings’, such as adoption, cloning, insertion, etc. Although I agree with this attitude, and have often called borrowings, ‘unitarian codeswitchings’ or ‘insertion’ (Ben-Rafael, 2001b), I will use here the term ‘borrowing’ for the sake of clarity. 3. Etiemble writes intentionally sarcastically ‘atlantic’ (with ‘c’), as in English, instead of ‘atlantique’, but he retains the French structure of nounadjective/ ‘sabir atlantic’ as against the English structure of ‘Atlantic sabir’. This is one of the numerous means he uses to express his opposition to the penetration of English into French. 4. Le Cornec argues in favour of national linguistic reforms imitating those already implemented in some regions of France. During the 1980s, for instance, the Orne region requested that road signals as well as texts on monuments should appear only in French. An attempt was also made to replace words such as ‘camping’, ‘parking’ with terms such as campie`re, camperie, campement, etc. (Le Cornec, 1982: 309
310). 5. In 1989, for example, the Dictionary of Neologisms suggested a preference for condense´ over digest, exclusivite´ over scoop, boutique franche over duty free and voyagiste over tour-operator (Lenoble-Pinson, 1991). In 2000, the Commission of Terminology proposed lists of equivalents in the area of finance, to make it unnecessary to use foreign terms
aide de caisse for bagman, chef de file for leader and direction de la mercatique for marketing management (CGTN1, 2000). In the field of computers, one proposed, among other terms, e´cran controˆle for monitor, traitement de texte for text processing and mise a` niveau for upgrading (CGTN2, 2000). 6. On websites one may find lists of borrowings to be substituted by French terms; the lists appear under headings such as: ‘Il ne faut pas dire’ (one is not to say) versus ‘Il faut dire’ (one should say) or anglicismes (anglicisms) versus bon franc¸ais (good French); for example: job versus boulot, coach versus entraineur, air bag versus sac d’air, etc. 7. Walker’s research on Anglicisms in different Francophone communities was carried out with a questionnaire sent out to Francophone students from France (Albi, Paris, Reims, Rouen and Strasbourg), Africa (Benin, Cameroon, Madagascar, Senegal) and Vietnam.

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8. This phonetic comment, valid for borrowings with equivalents, is also valid where there are none. We therefore do not take this into consideration in what follows. Further, the problem of pronunciation is diminishing, and the variation between the English/American accent and French pronunciation of borrowed terms is becoming ever less marked on account of globalisation (the media, travel, etc.). 9. In Hebrew, on the contrary, one finds the equivalent ‘boker’, which is quite current in oral and written discourse, in children’s stories. Yet together with boker, the English term cowboy is also used. 10. As already mentioned, this will not be discussed here. Many such examples are quoted in Picone (1996). 11. Round means turn, too, yet it also has the additional connotation of competition, boxing, tournament. 12. Mr and Mrs Bush, living in France, Frenchify their name to M. and Mme. Buisson. In the USA, french fries have, for some Americans, become freedom fries. In the New York Times 26.3.03, it is written, ‘boycott everything French’. On chat groups, there were over 3000 messages calling for a boycott between 15 and 26 March. The brands most often cited by French speakers in this period are only French ones: Air France, Evian, Renault, Alcatel and Nissan (article by Laure Belot, in Le Monde, 29.3.03). 13. In the text, next to the little known borrowing ‘imbedded’, there is also a French translation in inverted commas. This is not a common addition, but here it makes things easier for the reader. 14. What the merchant said was translated from Iraqi Arabic to French, except for ‘business’, which remained in English. 15. French neologisms may be offered as alternatives, yet are not necessarily accepted, or are used together with borrowed words; one finds the French new term
un baladeur, but also the English borrowing
un walkman. 16. The Toubon law (4 August 1994) rules, among other dispositions, that consumer goods must not be sold without French instructions, and that English advertisements must not be shown in French cinemas; bilingual advertisements must not display the French part of their message in characters smaller than the English part, etc. 17. In her report of 1 July 2003 on linguistic practice in French companies, Catherine Tasca, for example, considers that ‘the findings give the impression of the weakness of French in the corporate world’. She concludes that there should be more stringent monitoring of the implementation of the Toubon law (www.culture.gouv.fr/culture/dglf/politique-langue/rapporttasca.html). 18. The French of veteran French-speaking immigrants in Israel carrying numerous influences from Hebrew.

Chapter 4

Dutch: Is It Threatened by English? HERMAN J. DE VRIES JR.1

Most visitors to the Netherlands quickly observe how remarkably adept the Dutch are with the English language. In fact, linguistic versatility has long been a source of Dutch national pride. Some Dutch people fear, however, that this versatility has driven their own language into a danger zone. In 1997, two parliamentarians, one each from the Netherlands and Belgian governments, decried the influence of English in a report they submitted to the Dutch Language Union (Nederlandse Taalunie), a governmental organisation subsidised by each country. The report expressed concern that English
particularly hi-tech English
was polluting the Dutch language. That same year, two Dutch parliamentarians submitted a proposal to constitutionally anchor the use of the Dutch language in the Netherlands. Although the proposal was ultimately unsuccessful, a robust discussion about the state of the Dutch language ensued in Dutch media for months following the report (Het Nederlands, 1997; Kwetsbare taal, 1997). The sentiments of those concerned are perhaps best summarised in an article in a major Dutch paper, the headline of which reads: ‘Sounding the Alarm: Dutch is Disappearing!’ (ten Hooven, 1998, my translation). How serious is this supposed threat to the Dutch language? Which issues are at hand? These are the questions pursued in this chapter. But first some basic information is offered by way of introduction. Dutch is the language spoken by some 21 million people, most of them residing in the delta region of Northwest Europe where the waters of the great rivers Rhine and Maas empty into the North Sea (Vandeputte et al., 1989; de Vries et al., 1995). This area, often collectively called the Low Lands, comprises the Netherlands and Belgium. Dutch is the primary language in all of the Netherlands, the population of which is approximately 16 million. Dutch is also spoken by some five million Belgians, most residing in that country’s northern regions, which are collectively called Flanders. In addition, Dutch is spoken by several 68

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hundred thousand people on the islands of the Netherlands Antilles and nearby Suriname on the South American mainland (Shetter, 2002; van der Horst & Marschall, 2000). The issues related to the status and health of the Dutch language vary in each of these specific linguistic regions. The historical role of Dutch in Belgium, for example, differs significantly from that in the Netherlands. Having had to battle the government for a rightful place alongside French, Flemish Belgians are said to have a stronger emotional bond to the Dutch language than do their Dutch neighbours to the north (Wils, 2001). Though the language issues in Flanders are considerable and significant, they fall outside my expertise and the scope of this chapter, and will therefore not be addressed here. Dutch stems from the Indo-Germanic language family whose offshoots grew into diverse Germanic languages, which include North Germanic (Scandinavian), East Germanic (Gothic
now extinct) and West Germanic languages, where Dutch is situated alongside its linguistic relatives German and English. Using this familiar image of the language tree, it can be said that Dutch finds itself on the same branch as English and German; in fact, it is positioned between the two. Dutch evolved amongst two Germanic tribes, the Franks and the Saxons. Unlike German, Dutch never underwent the Second Sound Shift that led to some of the consonants one finds in German. And unlike English, in which vowel combinations have flattened in pronunciation, Dutch has retained numerous complex vowel diphthongs. In a linguistic sense, Dutch is a form of low German, a fact reflected in the name, Nederduits (literally, ‘Lower German’), which was the official lexical term used for the language until the early 20th century. The form of Dutch that is understood by 21 million speakers today and taught in schools is technically referred to as Standard Dutch (references to ‘Dutch’ in this chapter indicate this standard form). Standard Dutch itself derives primarily from one particular dialect, Hollands, which was spoken in the urban conglomerate in the western province of Holland (now two provinces, North and South Holland). The dialect of Holland ascended to become the standard variety of Dutch for reasons that have to do with two potent forces in Holland during the 17th century, its Golden Age: economics and religion. Cities in the province of Holland, such as the capital and port city, Amsterdam, as well as the bustling merchant city and cultural centre of Haarlem were the shaping forces of the economy and the arts. The Holland dialect naturally became de facto the form of Dutch used for commerce. Religious developments also helped propel the Holland dialect into universal use in the low lands. The ascendancy of Calvinist Protestantism during the 16th century

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led to religious hegemony in the northern provinces of the Low Countries. Though the traditional view is occasionally challenged (van der Sijs, 2004), longstanding linguistic history maintains that the Statenbijbel (States Bible), a vernacular translation of the Bible commissioned by the States General in 1648, served as a chief linguistic unifier. Being for centuries the authoritative Christian scriptural text and state Bible, the Statenbijbel enjoyed a status akin to that of the King James Bible in the English-speaking world and exercised a powerful shaping force in linguistic and idiomatic developments in the Netherlands (Donaldson, 1983). Nowadays, many Dutch
particularly those living in eastern provinces
still refer to standard Dutch as Hollands. Whereas the Dutch now officially call their language Nederlands, the colloquial label Hollands serves as a constant reminder of the geographic and historic origins of the language’s standard form. The English label for the language, Dutch, holds enough potential for semantic confusion
particularly for speakers of English or German
to warrant a brief comment here. Dutch is an obvious cognate of Deutsch (German for the German language). The phonetic kinship of Dutch and Deutsch has historically caused problems for the Dutch in Englishspeaking regions. For example, amidst the anti-German sentiment in America during the First World War, Dutch immigrants saw their native tongue maligned by virtue of association. Not only did Dutch sound like German to untrained American ears, but also the language’s traditional designation as ‘Low German’ furthered the association. What is more, Duits (which considerably resembles Dutch) is the Dutch word denoting the German language. Thus the very nomenclature of the language of the Low Lands has, over the centuries, shown itself to be remarkably flexible and sometimes vulnerable.

Contacts with Other Languages During the latter 16th and 17th centuries
Holland’s Golden Age
the maritime supremacy of the Dutch brought them to every corner of the globe. The resulting traffic in the harbour city of Amsterdam made it already then a richly cosmopolitan city. Thus, not coincidentally, the 16th century was a period which first saw scholarly attempts to limit the influence of other languages on Dutch. These developments coincided with movements in linguistic purism which themselves grew out of emphases on the vernacular cultivated in the Renaissance. Such developments overlapped further with the heyday of the chambers of rhetoric (rederijkers)
meetings in which Dutch poets would parade their latest

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writing. As literary guilds, the rederijkers served as important instruments in the cultivation of the vernacular within intellectual circles. The scholarly focus encouraged during the Renaissance also resulted in various attempts to standardise the spelling and grammar of Dutch. The Dictionarium of 1574 stands at the beginning of a long tradition of lexicography in the Netherlands. An important early work to standardise the spelling was Pontus de Heuiter’s Nederduitse Orthographie (Dutch Orthography) of 1581. But Dutch intellectuals were also keen to rid Dutch of loan words from other languages. Latin words were naturally prevalent in academic and clerical Dutch, as they were in all European languages emerging from the middle ages. There also was an incorporated body of Spanish vocabulary to deal with, too, as the low lands were a territory reigned by the King of Spain until Dutch liberation after the Eighty-Year War (1568
1648). Language purists of the 16th and 17th centuries were particularly keen to rid Dutch of French loan words. The force of French courtly culture was deeply felt in the Dutch cultural establishment; so, naturally, French made deep inroads into the Dutch vernacular. Ironically, the Dutch sometimes turned to German to find replacement for French loan words, as at that time the distinction between German and Dutch was not felt as acutely as today (Donaldson, 1983: 104). The Dutch language faced the force of the French language, in fact, time and again. Whereas the 16th century dealt with the cumulative effect of French courtly culture on the Dutch language, the 18th and 19th centuries would similarly deal with the linguistic force of French due to the Napoleonic hegemony. This was the case particularly from 1806 to 1815 when the Netherlands and Belgium belonged to the Kingdom of France. As the overview sketched above suggests, the Dutch have been internationally oriented and intercultural for centuries. Nowadays, in our world of ‘globalisation’, the international presence of the Netherlands is similarly evident. In the realms of art and culture, Dutch orchestras and museums are known worldwide. In the realm of commerce, the Dutch also keep a high international profile with transnational corporations like Philips and Shell. The country’s bustling airport, Schiphol, as an international hub, allows the Dutch interaction with foreigners on a daily basis. It has long been maintained that centuries of sustained exposure to other cultures, other peoples and other languages has decidedly shaped Dutch mentality and imagination. As a result, people in the Netherlands are notoriously open to foreign ideas and influence. They have, it is said, a natural receptivity to the spoken tongues of other

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peoples
and they are remarkably adept at learning to speak those languages as well.

Extent of English in Dutch Society and the European Union As is widely known by professional linguists and uneducated world citizens alike, the English language has become a dominant force in many areas around the globe (Nettle & Romaine, 2000). English has made formidable inroads into Dutch culture, particularly since the postWWII era, and has been increasingly found in many spheres of linguistic and cultural life in the Netherlands. Let us observe some examples of English used in entertainment, business, politics and education in the Dutch society
one need not go far to find them. In Dutch entertainment the examples are myriad. Dutch television broadcasts a sizeable number of foreign programmes and films, and as a rule the media provide Dutch subtitles rather than dub the voices into Dutch (whereas in countries such as Germany and France dubbing is the norm). Also, nearly every Dutch household has access to cable television in which basic offerings include the American Cable News Network (CNN) and even Music Television (MTV). Therefore, children who watch television grow up hearing countless hours of English. The radio waves are filled with English-language pop music, and many Dutch singers perform their songs in English too. Dutch contestants in the European Song Festival have sometimes sung in English. In Amsterdam one easily converses in English with virtually anyone working in the tourist, entertainment or culture industries. The preponderance of non-native Dutch (‘allochtonen’) in Amsterdam
over 50% of the residents
further encourages English as the city’s lingua franca in many aspects of social life. English seems equally ubiquitous in the Dutch museum culture as well (De Nijn, 1999; van Heugten, 1999). Examples of such preference for English are abundant in the market place as well. One count shows that over 160 occupations are referred to by English job titles (Ridder, 1995). Research summarised by Renkema et al. (2003) documents that 15% of advertisement to Dutch readers is written in English, and a third of television ads use English terms. Where one once saw the word ‘korting’ displayed in retail store windows, one now often sees the English equivalent, ‘sale.’ And even within Dutch corporations themselves, English has made significant inroads. Philips, for example, ran an improvement campaign under the English slogan: ‘Let’s make things better’. And, not surprisingly, computer-related speech in the Netherlands is deluged with anglicisms. Here are but a

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few examples: browsen, deleten, inloggen, upgraden, emailen (meaning ‘to browse’, ‘to delete’, etc.), hardware, software, downloaden, chatten, clikken; and even hybrid forms like searchopties (search options) and dubbelclikken (double clicking). P. Stroop’s (2003) analysis of 8000 e-mails received or sent by one salesman revealed that on average one English word is used in every single e-mail composed
a frequency that Stroop contends none would consider exaggerated. In higher education the trend is similar. Scores of professional schools and colleges of various universities offer courses taught in English (van Bree, 1999). Indeed, Dutch competence with the English language is no superficial matter. In fact, the linguistic self-confidence is so great that, in the 1990s, the Minister of Education (J.M.M. Ritzen) suggested that English should become the operative language of Dutch higher education (Devoldere, 2002). It was possible for Minister Ritzen to advance this position as the Netherlands constitution nowhere anchors Dutch exclusively as the official language. By contrast, fellow European countries such as Germany, Sweden, Italy, Portugal, Luxembourg, Ireland and France constitutionally protect their official languages (van der Burg, 1997). Even though Minister Ritzen’s suggestions never materialised in governmental policy change, his comments did initiate significant debate on the subject. And while many view such a language shift in the universities as very unlikely, the mere fact that such a proposal could be discussed speaks volumes for the country’s view of its own language and for the people’s estimation of their own ability with the English language (Ringeling, 1997). Government agencies have also shown a trend to use English. During the Bosnian crisis in the 1990s, when the Dutch armed forces found themselves under critical scrutiny in the debacle at Srebrenica, the Minister of Defence responded by establishing an internal department under the English title: ‘Lessons Learned’ (Freriks, 1998). Similarly, a federal report analysing the potential of building a high-speed railway appeared under the English title ‘High Speed Train’. One of the reasons that the earlier mentioned representatives submitted their proposal to anchor the Dutch language constitutionally was their apparent frustration with the minister of Foreign Affairs, Van den Broek, who ‘spoke English all the time and everywhere’ (Nederlands al voldoende beschermd, 1997; Schoof, 1997). Likewise they were put off by the Green-Left party, which was wont to post English signs and notes within the parliamentary working quarters. In the arena of international politics, the English-language factor becomes obviously more complex (Bolkestein, 2004). As of this writing in

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the year 2004, the European Union counts 25 member states and 20 officially recognised languages. Even the staunchest purists in the Netherlands would agree that pragmatics call for some degree of English as part of the Dutch EU parliamentary work. As such, the language politics played out by the Dutch in the EU provide an opportune case study of the possibilities and perils involved with a Dutch-like readiness to use English in their political negotiations. As one of the original four languages of the former European Community (1958), Dutch has always enjoyed the protection still granted to member countries of the European Union. Currently, the ‘Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe’ states that ‘[e]very person may write to the institutions of the Union in one of the languages of the Constitution and must have an answer in the same language’ (Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe, 2004: Article II-101.4). Simultaneous interpreters are likewise available for hearings in the union’s various legislative and judicial bodies. But the Dutch have been wont and willing to speak in English in the EU sessions
a reality that sometimes irritates simultaneous interpreters who then have difficulties with the ‘Dutchness’ of the parliamentarians’ English idiom (Donker, 1988; Ester, 1999). While all languages are officially equal, it seems that some are more equal than others. The judges at the Court of Justice in Luxembourg, for example, communicate in French, the preferred language of ‘Eurocrats’. The European Commission uses French, German and English. Occasionally, the Dutch are starkly reminded that language itself is politics in the EU. In 1997, the Dutch displayed surprising but unequivocal defensiveness when Environment Minister De Boer submitted a protest against Austria, the chair of the Union, after a decision was made to use only Spanish, English, French and German at an important meeting (Nederlandse taal inzet ruzie met EU, 1998). Because of incidents like this and others (such as the French proposal in 1994 to restrict the European Union’s languages), the Dutch have taken some notable stands to defend the use of their language (van der Burg, 1997). For the foreseeable future, the Dutch language enjoys security in the European Union, and they will do well to take advantage of the impartiality toward languages that still prevails in the EU (van Bree, 1999). But given the recent growth to 25 member states, it appears imminent that the debates over language use in the EU will intensify (Thyssen, 2002). In response to the prevalence of English
suggested in the above overview
Dutch language purists have set up forts to defend against the advancement of English. The most prominent example hereof is the

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Stichting Nederlands (translated literally: foundation for the Dutch language). The goal of this foundation, formally launched in 1999, is to promote the use of the Dutch language. As part of its strategy, the organisation has assembled a running list of some 1200 frequently used English words along with their Dutch equivalents. The Stichting Nederlands grew out of a task force assembled by the society (and same named journal) Onze Taal (‘Our Language’), which is considered a premiere linguistic observer of trends in the Dutch language. During its initial years in the early 20th century, Onze Taal played the watchdog role of language purism that the Stichting Nederlands does today. However, back then the intruder was not English but German. Over the course of the 20th century, the journal Onze Taal has abandoned the role of strident defender of the Dutch language, and favours now a more passive role of observer of language trends (Sanders, 2002).

Evaluation of the ‘English Problem’ Given the complexities of the English problem for the Dutch language, it will prove helpful to make some crucial distinctions, as two rather separate phenomena are at work. One trend is that the Dutch, with striking frequency, choose to communicate in English. The second phenomenon is the apparent mark that the English language is making on the Dutch language. In analysing these phenomena we will have to gauge, in the first matter, both why the Dutch are speaking English and to what extent this is actually happening. In the second matter we shall need to determine to what extent English is eroding Dutch, and whether Dutch can survive the onslaught. In other words, concerns are heard about the situation of the Dutch language as it faces the external reality of English as a competing mode of communication. In addition, the Dutch language must, internally, deal with the influence of English on its own linguistic system (de Vries, 2001; van Bree, 1999). Let us address the phenomena in that order. The first theory suggested
that the Dutch language is being displaced by English
begs the question of cause or effect. If the rise of English is an effect or the result of a process already underway, then we could expect to trace it to an intrinsic deficiency in Dutch itself. The inadequacy of such a presumable cause is, however, suggested by the general observation that Dutch or regional dialects are still, to an overwhelming degree, the languages spoken in homes, schools, churches, clubs and over neighbours’ fences in the Netherlands and Flanders. Even though much Internet activity, for example, might take

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place in English, such high-tech interaction encompasses by no means all of one’s verbal interaction in the course of a day. While anglicisms and the like may pepper the speech of urban types at the work place, Dutch is the nation’s language for most of life’s basic spheres and activities such as for family, friends, news, intimacy, verbal and literary expression, and the like. In other words, the Dutch still speak Dutch. The appropriate reminder here is that if indeed Dutch is disappearing, it is due to the force of English in the linguistic environment. Thus, while Dutch itself remains a vibrant language, it is here and there replaced by another
in this case, English
which functions as an invasive species, to use a biological metaphor. To which degree Dutch is being supplanted is an increasingly important question, for the issue at hand is the addition of another language into the culture. In the midst of such a presumable transition to a new multilingualism, however, it is crucial to note the vibrant persistence of the Dutch language itself. Some argue that we are, in fact, now witnessing the functional development of a new professional bilingualism (Bakker, 1998). An articulation of this view is found in a recent book by van Oostendorp, Steenkolen Engels (2002, loosely translated as ‘Broken English’). Van Oostendorp exemplifies an unreserved pragmatic approach to dealing with English. His argument proceeds from what he considers the obvious observation that ‘broken English’ has become a lingua franca, and asserts that we will all do well to let this development have its way. What van Oostendorp means by ‘broken English’ is the same thing that the Dutch Language Union Report (Rapport Werkgroep Europa) intimates with the term ‘deculturalised English’, which is to say an English not bound to a particular English-speaking culture (Devoldere, 2002; the report, section 1.1.4.) The key to the success of ‘broken English’ as a lingua franca, so continues the argument, is to accept the imperfections of such English and allow vast variations of the language as part of the common tool for communication. The sooner everyone relaxes grammatical rules and lowers idiomatic expectations, the better. A notable part of van Oostendorp’s thesis of Steenkolen Engels is his two-fold insistence that Dutch is neither significantly corrupted by English, nor dying out because of English. For van Oostendorp, the phenomenon of English in Dutch culture is one of a new bilingualism (or, for many, a trilingualism, given the continued presence of regional dialects). In other words, English is for many Dutch citizens essentially an additional tool or yet another skill at their disposal for their international way of life.

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While there is something attractive and even admirable about van Oostendorp’s view, one wonders whether there is not some unwarranted overconfidence in the effectiveness of communication with such a freefor-all English that is abstract and untied to specific cultural and traditional meanings. A good example of this problem is evident, ironically, in the book’s very title word, which van Oostendorp (2002: 52) explains in an appended English-language pre´cis, ‘Summary in Stonecoal English’: Due to a combination of historical accidents and serious bloodshed, approximately 25 percent of the world population speaks English now. Within the Netherlands, this number is as high as roughly 90 percent, according to some assessments. The English these people speak is not uniform and in many ways does not resemble the English that is spoken by native speakers in Britain or the United States. Within the Netherlands, it is sometimes referred to as ‘steenkolen-Engels’
‘Stonecoal English’. This is a pejorative term, but I argue that it could be used in a positive way as well. If English is going to be such an important language in the world, everybody will have a right to it, not just the native speakers. The linguistic problem that remains unsolved throughout van Oostendorp’s summary is a semantic one. The English speaker will puzzle over the word stonecoal as modifier of the noun English. (My Webster’s New College Dictionary, in fact, does not even list stonecoal as an entry.) It is only after consultation with native speakers of Dutch that one will arrive at the conclusion that one of the images that ‘steenkool’ evokes in the Dutch mind is that of broken pieces of coal. For the native English speaker, however, coal connotes things like energy source, air pollution and perhaps the idea of petrification. It does not connote something broken or substandard. My point here is not to castigate a non-native English speaker for getting the nuance of an English term wrong. But one must point out the regrettable irony that a crucial semantic misunderstanding arises from the very title of a book devoted to the thesis that non-native English speakers should cheerfully embrace English as a lingua franca in the interest of better intercultural communication. Perhaps more caution is in order before the Dutch fall headlong into an embrace of a functional Dutch/English bilingualism. The second question concerns the internal transitions within Dutch due to English as an intrusive, polluting and ultimately savaging force. Linguists and language pedagogues have been addressing this issue in the press and academic journals for some time. In contrast to the

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response of the purists, an overall optimism prevails among linguists regarding the health and future of Dutch (Stroop, 1997; van der Horst, 1995, 1997; van der Sijs, 1998). Although some linguists express concern (van Marle, 2004), most have tended to claim, instead, that many of the linguistic adaptations of English are not danger signals for Dutch, but rather indicators of the health and adaptability of the Dutch language (Verkuyl, 1998). For much of the analysis that follows here, I am indebted to one linguist in particular, C.J.W. Zwart (1999; see also de Vries, 2001.) Linguists and philologists have traditionally observed two primary scenarios of language change. One way is where one group of speakers finds itself in a subordinate social role to a stratum of speakers of a different language, who, though they wield the power, are far fewer in number. In this strata-based manner of language change, the substratum is compelled to adopt the language of the superstratum. This phenomenon explains, for example, the inception of Europe’s Romance languages, such as French. The phenomenon also accounts for the Afrikaans language. The substratum succeeds in taking on the superstratum’s vocabulary, but is only partially successful in adopting the other language’s system, i.e. syntax and morphology, including inflexion. As a result, a new mixed language is formed. The speakers in the superstratum are dramatically fewer in number, so they soon adapt to the newly formed hybrid language. Regarding such strata-based language change, the obvious is quickly noted: namely, that no such dynamic of social strata is involved in the current question of Dutch and the English languages. A second manner in which a language can fundamentally change is through appropriating loan words, also called borrowing. In the most extreme examples, one language borrows so many words of the language with which it is in contact that the former is altered to the point where it becomes a third language that is a lexical hybrid. Such is the case, for example, with Mitchif, the language of the Canadian prairie lands, which some linguists describe as an example of ‘language intertwining’. Mitchif is a mixture of Cree and French that came about around 1800 when many fur traders married Native American women of the area. In Mitchif the verbs, personal pronouns, interrogatives and demonstratives are largely Cree, whereas the nouns, adjectives, adverbs, articles and numerals are largely French. Speakers of Mitchif can often speak neither Cree nor French (Callaghan & Gamble, 1996). Current linguistic research indicates that Dutch examples of borrowing are nowhere near such a level as in the Mitchif case. Compelling studies suggest a low cause for concern regarding loan words from

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English. In her book, Geleend en uitgeleend (Borrowed and Loaned) van der Sijs (1998: 181ff.) summarises numerous studies of the use of loan words in the press. She and others estimate that around 20
30% of the words are loan words of foreign origin. But most of these words have been commonplace for decades, even generations; they include such common vocabulary as: politie (‘police’), zich (‘self’), raket (‘racket’), radio, club, sport, sce´ne, citaat (‘citation’) and etcetera. One study estimates that only around 10% of all loan words used in the press are borrowed from English. Some concerned language observers might contest such attempts at reassurance from history, claiming that the percentage of English loan words is dramatically increasing at present. But of all the words that, since 1985, have been newly added to the Dutch dictionary, Hedendaags Nederlands (‘Present-day Dutch’), only 11.3% of these are loan words
and only a fraction of those words are from English. We ought also to bear in mind that many of these words
particularly those of high-tech jargon
appear to undergo ‘dutchification’ nearly at the same rate with which they entered the language. Thus, words like diskette, hard drive, word processor and keyboard are with increasing frequency referred to, respectively, as: schijfje, harde schijf, tekstverwerker and toetsenbord. Sales of computer software show a similar trend. For example, 80% of Dutch consumers choose the Dutch version (over the English version) of the Windows operating system. As Zwart asserts
the system always wins. That is to say, grammar and linguistic basics, such as pronunciation, intonation, syntax and morphology (including plural formation) seem convincingly impervious to significant alteration due to English influence. In fact, where Dutch does seem to show some syntactic evolution, the impulse appears to be more from non-English linguistic cultures such as the Suriname
a pronounced segment of youth culture in Amsterdam (Reinders, 1998; van der Horst, 1995; van Kempen, 2000). With respect to pronunciation: English words like goal, quiz and off side are pronounced in Dutch as kool or chool, kwis and afsijt. The accent of a word like ‘stewardess has become stewar’dess in Dutch. The plural of kwis (for ‘quiz’) is not formed with the English ‘s’ (kwisses) but rather with the Dutch ‘n’
kwissen; likewise the plural of stewardess is stewardessen, not ‘stewardesses’. Even in gender formation, the Dutch system adapts words according to its own rules. Thus, ‘dashboard’ becomes in Dutch a neuter noun requiring the definite article ‘het’ (het dashbord). ‘Credit card’, however, is rendered with ‘de’ which is the definite article used with masculine and feminine nouns (de creditcard). English, of course, knows no gender distinctions with the articles and uses only the definite article ‘the’.

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There are more examples. English loan words are inflected and given endings according to the Dutch rules, such that the diminutive of kwis (quiz) is a kwisje, a female typist is a typiste (her male counterpart is a typist). Adjectives like ‘clever’ and ‘hip’ become clevere and hippe in certain situations (clevere en hippe studenten: ‘clever and hip students’). Comparative and superlative degrees of modifiers likewise follow the Dutch grammatical system. Thus we have hippere and hippste and coolere and coolste studenten (and not the English superlatives: hippest and coolest). In past tense formation we see the same phenomenon. A computer file, once ‘ctrls’ has been pushed, has been gesaved
or geseefd (the Dutch are still sorting out the spelling, but either way, it is clearly the Dutch past participle formation system at work
not the English one). With a few minor exceptions (de Vries, 2001), there has been little significant, systematic alteration of the Dutch language due to incursion from English. The number of loan words from English remains relatively small, and the Dutch linguistic system is stable and robust enough quickly to press foreign words into its own mould. The Dutch allow these words to enrich their language, as it were. And many of these words, particularly those from the high-tech sector, are just that: words used in one distinct linguistic setting. There is thus a built-in self-containment for these vocabulary groupings. This is not to say that the Dutch language is not changing. It has in fact evolved considerably, even in recent decades (Kuitenbrouwer, 2002; J. Stroop, 2003; Verkuyl, 1998). The 20th century, for example, saw two official spelling reforms. Dutch of today is as different from the Dutch of the 17th century as is American English from the speech of Shakespeare. But it is erroneous to assume, first of all, that such changes are unusual, and secondly, that these changes are due primarily to the present dominance of English. As van der Horst (1995: 74) says, ‘The fact that Dutch changes so vigorously may yet be seen as proof that it is so alive. For let us not forget that our language changed much in earlier eras. We can see that clearly from our perspective now. If there were no such changes in our era, then there would be reason for concern’ (my translation).

Conclusion While Dutch is not a major world language, it does rank at around 60th on the world language list
a significantly high ranking, if the generally assumed total of all the world’s languages at 6000 is to be

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trusted. Also, more and more students are studying Dutch in over 250 academic programmes in Dutch worldwide. The Dutch Language Union (Nederlandse Taalunie) makes notable efforts to promote Dutch language study outside of the Low Countries, granting generous financial support for this pursuit. So Dutch and Flemish taxpayers indeed do support promoting their own mother tongue
even if a favourite posture of the Dutch is to feign surprise that one would want to learn their language (Burger, 1998). Like speakers of any language and representatives of any culture, the Dutch too are flattered when a foreigner has taken the time and effort to learn their language. Regardless of how well the Dutch communicate in English, every foreign language pedagogue and every traveller knows that, in the Low Countries, a person who speaks some Dutch is better off than one who does not. Concern about the influence of English on the Dutch language will likely continue to be expressed in the Netherlands. Anglicisms do arise and pepper the Dutch language, but assimilation of loan words is a normal process and a sign of the vitality of a language
a fact buttressing the confidence of linguists, such as van der Horst (1997), that Dutch persists today as a solid and vibrant language. Like living organisms, languages are anything but static; they are ever changing, ever mutating. In fact, Dutch appears to have an extraordinary capacity to assimilate vocabulary, a characteristic that helps to explain the exceptional magnitude of the Dictionary of the Dutch Language (Woordenboek der Nederlandsche taal), which is now the world’s largest. The completion, in 1998, of this 40-volume dictionary (45,805 pages) made lexicographic publication history. Like the Low Countries, which welcome the constant inflow of Europe’s rivers on the one hand, and live with the ever present waters of the sea on the other, so does the Netherlandic mother tongue accept linguistic incursions from the outside and use them to its own enrichment and advantage. Note 1. This paper has its origin in a lecture I delivered in 1999 upon my inauguration into the Calvin College Queen Juliana Chair of the Language and Culture of the Netherlands (De Vries, 2000). While I have substantially revised the original text and have added material in consideration of recent literature, the piece maintains some of the tone of a spoken text delivered to a general audience.

Chapter 5

Hungarian: Trends and Determinants of English Borrowing in a Market Economy Newcomer ´ N STURCZ ZSUZSANNA GOMBOS-SZIKLAINE´ and ZOLTA with JUDITH ROSENHOUSE and ROTEM KOWNER

English loan words are more omnipresent in present-day Hungarian than ever before. Whatever TV channel you switch on, whatever newspaper you read in Hungarian, you will inevitably come across an increasingly large number of terms and phrases rooted, in a variety of ways, in British/American English. This phenomenon is so obvious that not only have linguists dealt with it in the last decade, but journalists have also devoted many articles to examining its repercussions on Hungarian society and culture. No wonder, then, that articles regarding the role of English in Hungary and elsewhere, such as ‘English the universal language of the net’ or ‘Why English is the actual lingua franca’, are an everyday occurrence (Kontra, 1998). This chapter deals with Hungarian (Magyar), for long the largest nonIndo-European language spoken in Europe, and therefore a traditional source of fascination for Western linguists. This said, a few words of caution about its current status seem necessary, to clarify the territorial limits of our investigation. Hungarian is spoken today by about 13 million native speakers, of which close to 10 million live in the Republic of Hungary. About two million speakers live in territories that were part of the Kingdom of Hungary before 1918. The largest Hungarian-speaking minority, of about 1.4 million, is found in Romania, and smaller ethnic and linguistic communities live in Serbia, Croatia, Ukraine, Slovakia, Austria and Slovenia. While the linguistic developments in dominant Hungary penetrate in various forms into the linguistic satellite communities beyond its national border, there are certain linguistic differences between Hungary and other Hungarian-speaking communities, especially in 82

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regard to linguistic borrowing. For this reason, the present chapter focuses on the borrowing of English lexicon in Hungary alone. As vocabulary is the most flexible component of any language, we concentrate here first on lexical items and indicate the most frequent cases of English lexical borrowings in the Hungarian language and explain the need for them where possible. Next we explore some peculiarities of borrowings in the Hungarian context, and specifically focus on the trends and features of the Anglo-American linguistic influence on everyday Hungarian speech, and point out the adoption of such words in Hungarian. A secondary goal of this chapter is to investigate certain assumptions about universal trends concerning this subject, and point out peculiarities of our language in the context of universal trends. Finally, consideration of the so-called ‘minor languages’ in the European Union is one of the important goals of the Action Plan Promoting Language Learning and Cultural Diversity (Action Plan 2004
2006, Commission of the European Communities for the Protection of Language and Cultural Diversity). As such, our survey may contribute some data for this purpose as well, and is expected to suggest topics for projects on less widely taught languages (Eurobarometer, 2001). The main body of the material used in this study was collected from numerous written newspapers, as well as other media channels, including commercial ads broadcast over the Internet, the TV and the radio, and material collected from the speech of university students and other young people.

History of Hungarian Contacts with Foreign Languages and English Until the 20th century Hungarians had very limited contact with the English-speaking world. The Magyar tribes who spoke a Finno-Ugric language migrated to the Pannonian plain in the late 9th century, and established their kingdom in the year 1000. At that time they began to use Latin script instead of what is known now as ‘Rova´s’, the old Hungarian script. Speaking a language genetically remote from the neighbouring Germanic-, Latin- and Slav-based languages, the Hungarians nonetheless kept their original language up to the present. By 1526, however, the Ottomans gained a decisive victory over the Hungarian army and for the next 150 years ruled the region. The Turkish presence left some deep traces in the Hungarian language in the form of vocabulary of either Turkic, or even Arabic or Persian, origin. The Ottoman retreat in 1686

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marked the rise of the Habsburg kings of Austria and dominance of German culture and language in Hungary for the next 250 years. Eventually, in 1867, Hungary became a theoretically equal half of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but the German language retained its dominance at least until 1918, as the main source for vocabulary in the fields of technology and economics. As a foreign language, German was for centuries the most popular language, and even now it remains high on students’ list of foreign languages. Side by side with German, Latin remained the official language of the Kingdom of Hungary until 1844, and since its early contact with Christianity, the Hungarian language had absorbed loan words of Latin origin in the domains of religion, law, administration, politics and medicine, such as ko´d ‘code’, passzus ‘pass’, konfirma´cio´ ‘confirmation’ and diagnozis ‘diagnosis’. This trend has not ceased and may be confused with modern English loan words, as seen in recent vocabulary such as stabiliza´cio´ ‘stabilisation’, spekula´cio´ ‘speculation’, infla´cio´ ‘inflation’ and privatiza´cio´ ‘privatisation’. Borrowed foreign words, including those coming from Latin, were adapted to Hungarian by e.g. adding an epenthetic vowel to prevent word-initial consonant clusters (which does not conform to Hungarian phonology) as in Hungarian iskola B Lat. scola ‘school’ (Menus, 2003). The history of Hungarian borrowing of English lexicon is customarily divided into six periods: 1610
1820, 1820
1849, 1850
1920, 1920
1945, 1945
1980 and 1980
present (Farkas & Kniezsa, 2002; Magay, 1992). During the first era, only a few English loan words entered Hungarian, among them the word parlament ‘parliament’. Although there are no definite testimonies about the earliest contacts with English, since the 17th century a number of English travellers documented the presence of English loan words in Hungarian. One such testimony is Edward Brown’s ‘Travels in divers parts of Europe’, which was published in London in 1687 (Magay, 1992; Orsza´gh, 1977). And yet, the impact of English loan words during this period and even as late as during the 19th century was fairly restricted. So limited was the knowledge of English at this period that prominent works of English literature reached Hungarian readers mostly with the aid of double translation, that is, via German translations. In the first period about 90 loan words penetrated Hungarian belonging to everyday life in semantic fields of clothing, eating, agriculture, building industry, shipping and sports, whereas during the second period (The Age of Reform) about 150 words were borrowed, mostly related to political, social and economic life, as well as to road and water transport and technology and the exact sciences. The

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third period witnessed a steep rise, with about 400 English loan words recorded. The fourth period saw some 180 borrowings in an era of political distancing from the English
American block (Bala´zs, 2001: 29). Two examples of loan words from English dated to the first half of the 20th century are the 1930s verb csencsel (‘change’), meaning ‘trading, exchanging things’, and nejlon (‘nylon’, with Hungarian spelling), which in the 1940s was already a frequently used word for a synthetic fibre. The period starting in 1945 reveals considerable fluctuations in English loan words borrowings, following the dramatic political and social changes which characterised these years. As Hungary fell under the aegis of the Soviet Union in 1945, the influx of English borrowing declined markedly, together with its instruction at the state schools. Since the end of the 1980s, the restrictions on linguistic borrowing have diminished and the adoption of English loan words has been renewed in an increasingly intensive manner. With the fall of the Soviet Union and the political changes of Hungary, a new sense of globalisation began to become a reality. Hungary held its first multiparty elections in 1990 and soon initiated a free market economy. Globalisation and Westernisation were facilitated by the new political environment, but also due to IT development, mobile communication, and the easy and mass accessibility to information via the web. The significant sociopolitical transformations (collapse of the Iron Curtain, transition to a market economy, mobility in all fields) accelerated Hungary’s becoming an integral part of NATO in 1999 and the European Union (EU) in 2004. As everywhere in the world, the globalised culture penetrated Hungary through several channels including the Internet, mobile telephony, printed media and broadcasting of written texts and music. In the domains of technology and business alike, English, or more precisely American English, assumed in this period the leading role in spreading information on a universal scale. Because of the opening of the country and its integration in the broader capitalist market and highly developed affluent society of Western Europe, there was greater need for vocabulary development in the 1980s, and as a result Hungarian has become inundated by expressions mainly rooted in American English. Farkas and Kniezsa (2002: 278) note that most of the borrowed words in this period were direct borrowings and many of them came through spoken English as a consequence of the advent of the radio and television (in contrast with previous periods when loan words originated in written texts). Without good knowledge of English, Hungarians began to feel that access to the globalised world had become practically impossible (Sziklaine´ Gombos, 1997). The transition to a market economy in

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Hungary necessitated the development of an adequate vocabulary (as implied by words such as profit ‘profit’ and recesszio´ ‘recession’), resulting in rapid steps taken to enrich the language in specific domains (cf. Gre´tsy & Kovalovszky, 1980 and 1985).

Attitude to English Loan Words In recent decades English has acquired the status of a leading lingua franca in Hungary. This status is expressed in the predominance of full Anglo-American forms (i.e. genuine borrowings) and the use of terminology based on Anglo-American roots in numerous languages. This process has been accelerated by the expansion of the European Union (EU), where English is undeniably the most common language of international communication for speakers of so many different mother tongues. This lingua franca type of English (or Englishes), which is neither British nor American, will soon, if it has not already, become the major second language for the EU population. In May 2004 Hungary became an EU member-state. As a result, its language policy is now determined by the European Commission Action Plan. One of the objectives of this commission in regard to language competence is that any EU citizen would speak two foreign languages besides their mother tongue. Although Hungary may face some difficulties in realising this objective, due to its linguistic background, recent attitudes to English may assist in changing old habits. A significant change in foreign language preference is not only that English has become the lingua franca of the modern world, but the area of application of the language has changed as well. As mentioned earlier, loan word adoption was necessitated almost exclusively by the demand for new vocabulary items for writing. At present the field of borrowings has expanded substantially and embraces oral forms of speech, both professional and colloquial (Bala´zs, 2002). A survey conducted in 2003 by the Hungarian National Marketing Research Institute regarding the extent to which Hungarians understand the importance of English for the future of their children shows that for 80% of the parents English is the favourite foreign language at school. This finding corresponds to figures obtained at about the same period in other European countries. That is, in other candidate countries for EU membership 87% of the parents regarded English as their favourite foreign language at school, and in EU-member countries 75% of the parents did so. The languages next in preference (after English) are German and French, apparently due to their perceived

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usefulness. Similar data were provided at the same time by the Hungarian Ministry of Education on foreign languages in public and tertiary education. In educational documents English skills are mentioned as a basic competence (together with computer literacy or driving). Without these skills it is very difficult to find employment nowadays in Hungary. Founded in 1949, The Research Institute for Linguistics of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences also expresses interest in the current developments of the language, but does not seem to interfere with its development in general and the adoption of English loan words in particular. Research projects conducted in the Institute investigate various aspects and different variants of Hungarian in and outside Hungary including issues of language policy within the framework of European integration. The Institute operates a public counselling service on language and linguistics, which prepares expert reports on relevant affairs on demand (Minya, 2005). A most recent phenomenon in this field is the establishment of a counselling service (MANYSZI) in 2006, with the support of a Ministry of National Heritage project (Bala´zs, 2001). MANYSZI offers consultations both for institutions and the public at large in matters of language use, and organises conferences, lectures, publications and studies of the current state of Hungarian (see http:// www.e-nyelv.hu). In addition to the awaking public activity, also individual scholars seem to be concerned with the current state of Hungarian. A case in point ´ da´m Nadasdy (2001), who calls for is a short article written by Prof. A increased use of foreign words (including English) regardless of its outcomes. He lists many foreign words adopted in the past by the Hungarian, which he describes as a multilayered language. At present, he contends, the Hungarian language does not have to prove its viability and any borrowing is welcomed. The publication of such an article attests to the fact that there are voices also against profuse borrowing. But more than an opposition to borrowing, many Hungarians are simply concerned by the future of their language. A recent article which presents various types of English loan words in Hungarian, concludes correctly that ‘keeping abreast of these changes keeps linguists, lexicographers, language learners and language teachers extremely busy’ (Tennant & Tennant, 2004). From another angle, Kerte´sz (2003), who compared phonological processes of borrowings from foreign languages in Hungarian, Japanese and Russian, provides a glimpse into the various academic deliberations of English borrowings in Hungary.

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Domains of Lexical Borrowing Corresponding to universal tendencies, the Hungarian language is continuously subjected to the invasion of Anglo-American vocabulary. Planned vocabulary building based on Hungarian terms cannot follow
or does not even aspire to follow
the torrential inflow of new information on technological development, and new trends and phenomena in the fields of economy and business. Borrowings frequently achieve the status of loan words. They become integrated components of the language, with or without undergoing minor changes, but their foreign origin is mostly detectable. In the past, loan words lost the properties that marked their foreignness for their users and underwent the necessary changes required by strictly prescribed academic norms of Hungarian, the target language. The foreign origin of words
German in our case
eroded down the centuries and has become barely discernible to the native speakers of Hungarian (as also noted by Nadasdy, 2001). Nowadays, however, because of the accelerated pace of development, and the urge to name the novelties around us, adaptation of loan words does not strictly follow those expected trends or conform to those rules. Borrowing foreign terminology serves to prevent ambiguity, and in this way ensures the constant validity of the terms applied. Thus we find that the most significant domains or fields of vocabulary that import borrowings are those involved with rapid changes. These fields include technology (high-tech as well as its applications in everyday life), economy and related sciences and activities (management, marketing, finance), politics and its institutions, issues of immediate urgency for Hungary in its newly acquired EU membership status (including the environment, sustainable development, workforce mobility), the arts, culture and academic life (entertainment, music, media and life-long learning). In fact, all of these are aspects of the globalised nature of everyday life.

The Form and Limitation of Borrowing English Vocabulary Hungarian is characterised by diverse ways of adoption of borrowed words, varying from the absence of change, minimal change in form or meaning, to complex changes (cf. Farkas & Kniezsa, 2002). There are several reasons for adoption of English loan words without change (which we call ‘real’ borrowings). First, plain mental laziness (the principle known as the ‘least effort’, cf. Zipf, 1949) is assumed when no search for a proper equivalent for an English term is undertaken. This phenomenon tends to occur when there is increased pressure for

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implementation of up-to-date technologies without delay. Terms for objects and notions missing from the target language are learnt together with the acquaintance with the denoted entity. This is especially typical of the case of (proper) names of objects where a conscious decision is taken not to change them, as in the case of company names or brand names like Nokia and Adidas. The urge for vocabulary building may result in another manner of borrowing causing the formation of mixed compounds, namely component(s) of Anglo-American origin mixed with Hungarian lexical items. See: cyber-kalo´z ‘cyber-pirate’, hacker-ta´mada´s ‘hacker attack’, nonstopnonsleep o¨sszejo¨vetel ‘non-stop-nonsleep meeting’, online piacte´r ‘online market square’, spamforgalom ‘spam movement’, software ipar ‘software industry’ and show-car-kia´llı´ta´s ‘show-car exhibition’. In the borrowed component, forms with Hungarian spelling are frequently observed, such as in kiberbu¨no¨ze´s ‘cyber punishment’, kiberta´mada´s ‘cyber attack’, lı´zingce´g ‘leasing company’ and szoftveripar ‘software industry’. Loan words such as in the above examples preserve some typical features of the source language. In these cases the acquisition process of loan words/loan expressions is similar to that of learning new words in one’s mother tongue. As attested by the history of adoption of German or Latin loan words outlined earlier, the difficulty of acquiring foreign-sounding expressions does not depend on any foreign language competence of the speakers. The linguistic characteristics of Hungarian make it an unwelcoming host for lexical borrowing from English. Compared with most of its neighbours, the rules of phonetics, morphology and syntax of Hungarian, a Finno-Ugric language, are very different from those of English. Especially interesting is how the native speaker’s phonetic/morphological competence will affect the adoption, adaptation and assimilation processes. These may reveal the instances when the language is not permissive or when it is even intolerant to certain linguistic forms. A survey of linguistic interference can provide us with useful data, which may be applicable in course development for language teaching programmes for non-native speakers of Hungarian (Bala´zs, 1999). In addition to phonetic adaptation, the fast inflow of Anglo-American vocabulary has often led to uncertainty about the spelling of the words or phrases concerned. Hungarian has no diphthongs, and therefore such vowels in foreign words will undergo some phonetic alterations. This may yield several different spellings for the same word using English and Hungarian spellings, for example, file/fa´jl, franchise/frencsa´jz, feeling/ fı´ling and surf/szo¨rf. Similarly, because of the lack of the semi-vowel /w/

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in the Hungarian phonological system, the sound concerned is interpreted as /v/ for native speakers of Hungarian (as in the better known German) as in (szoftver/software). Also the word ‘manager’ has two versions (manager/menedzser) for the same reason. A recognisable stage in the transition of words from the state of borrowings to loan words has been assimilation of foreign words in sound and spelling to features of Hungarian words (e.g. fa´jl, ko´la, lı´zing, lu´zer). This is so obvious in Hungarian writing because almost all Hungarian phonemes have distinctive (single-letter) representations in writing. As letters have distinctive sound values, a condition that serves as the basic principle of reading in Hungarian, speakers will pronounce also borrowed words according to the sound values of the corresponding letters in the Hungarian alphabet. In addition to the original version and the version with Hungarian spelling, a Hungarian equivalent word may also exist as in projector, projektor, vetı´to¨. The Hungarian form might be more understandable for the larger public and can be used in written texts for explanation of the foreign word, and can be considered a translation of the two previous versions of foreign origin. As an agglutinative language, Hungarian has a highly developed morphology which operates several grammatical categories and accounts for the length of its words in general. By series of prefixes, suffixes and infixes embedded into the framework of one word, grammatical and semantic meanings are expressed. This language feature is applied also in the English loan words found in our study, as the following examples will show. Verbs of foreign origin can be admitted to the Hungarian vocabulary under the condition that a supplementary verbal suffix is inserted before the person and tense verb endings (e.g. -el or -ked): to manage
menedzsel, to babysit
be´biszittel, to lose
lu´zerkedik (slang, with semantic change, ‘behave like a loser’). After this process the verb and its derivatives behave like any regular verb of Hungarian origin and can acquire the various features of Hungarian verb morphology. See, for example, Menedzselte/he was managing it (a form in the third person singular past tense); Brainstormingoltunk, meetingeltu¨nk/we were brainstorming/having a meeting (past tense first person plural); Brainstormingola´s/brainstorming, meetingele´s/meeting, shoppingola´s/shopping, bloggola´s/blogging (verbal nouns); shoppingola´si la´z/shopping fever (in this example the adjective is derived from the verbal noun by suffixing to it the adjective suffix -i.) Nouns of foreign origin tend to obtain the features required by the morphosyntactic rules of Hungarian, such as those referring to case endings. See the following examples: Veszek egy hamburgert. Te vegye´l

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hotdogot!/I am going to buy a hamburger. (You,) Buy a hotdog. (an accusative suffix -t/-ot is attached to the noun in object function); Tala´lkozunk a meeting pointna´l./We are going to see each other at the meeting point. Here the locational suffix is added to the borrowed (English) noun and the definite article precedes the English noun compound. Online check-in van az EasyJetne´l./There is online checking at Easy-Jet. Here too the locational suffix is added to the related noun; its form is modified because of the phonological vowel harmony rules. Note, on the other hand, that the subject in this sentence does not take any suffix, as required by the Hungarian syntactic rules. Borrowings and loan words with typical morphological features of Hungarian give the speech a so-called ‘Hunglish’ character. It sounds even more Hunglish or ‘pidgin Hungarian’ when borrowings or loan words (with or without endings) occur within Hungarian structures, as in: Kickoff-meeting lesz ‘There will be a kick-off meeting/we are going to have a kick-off meeting’, Brainstorming volt ‘There was a brainstorming meeting’. The noun or noun phrase is represented by an expression of Anglo-American origin while the category of the verb is expressed by the auxiliary ‘to be’ or ‘to have’ in Hungarian in its appropriate form. The frequent combination of notion words expressed by borrowings/loan words with Hungarian verbs (as in the above examples) results in a pidgin kind of language usage, also frequent in codeswitching processes in other languages. Calques, that is, literal translations of single words or phrases, are a frequent form of borrowings widely used in terminology building as in ‘access point’  ele´re´s(i) pont, or ‘green field investment’  zo¨ldmezo¨(s) beruha´za´s. Another case of calque is observed in the term for a (computer) mouse/ege´r. Both the English ‘mouse’ and its Hungarian equivalent (the name of the animal) are used in Hungarian today. Probably because of the shortness of the expression, the metaphorical and emotional content and the humorous nature of naming this particular device, the Hungarian version is widely used as well. Somewhat different is the case of ‘tower’ toronyha´z. The Hungarian phrase explains the meaning of the expression with a somewhat expanded version (literally the Hungarian word includes two elements: ‘tower’ and ‘house’, i.e. a tower used for residential purpose). Such forms are frequent in daily usage and produce a variant for translations without any explanation. Another influence of Anglo-American terminology building in Hungarian is when translated versions of certain Anglo-American suffixes and prefixes become productive in Hungarian. Thus see: felhaszna´lo´bara´t is ‘user friendly’, and it has been followed by gyerekbara´t

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‘child friendly’, gyermekbiztos ‘childproof’. In the same way frequently used expressions may be used as prefixes. EU has become a productive prefix in EU-related terminology, similar to e-, which has acquired the rank of a productive prefix, meaning ‘electronic’: EU-adminisztra´cio´ ‘EU administration’, EU-nyugdı´jrendszer ‘EU pension arrangement’, eurobu¨rokrata ‘Euro-bureaucrat’; e-doctor/e-doktor ‘e-doctor’, e-analfabe´ta ‘e-analphabet’, e-learning ‘e-learning’, e-business ‘e-business’ and e-ko¨nyvta´r ‘e-library’. Note the aforementioned uncertainty in spelling also in these examples. Borrowings and loan words can change semantic features at different levels. Having lost their foreign nature by assimilation into the target language, words can assume new meanings, and modified meanings might follow, depending on the context. See for example the case of politika. This word in Hungarian used to have the dominant meaning of ‘politics’ (as a social science), but nowadays the expression is more and more frequently used to express the notion of an activity on the highest level of decision making. Today politika has also acquired the meaning of ‘policy’ and is a very common (generic) component of compound terms of social and economical terminology. This generic term evidently requires an attribute to make its meaning specific, for example, huma´npolitka ‘humanitarian policy’ and vezete´si politika ‘management policy’. The first meaning of politika was probably derived from the Latin origin, while the second meaning reflects the modern vocabulary imported from the American context. A final example of semantic changes due to cultural political features is represented by the word adminisztra´cio´. In the past it used to have the meaning of some back-office job. The shift in meaning to refer to government or highest decision-making body is apparently influenced by American usage of this word in the political context, as in ‘US administration’. See also stabiliza´cio´ ‘stabilisation’, spekula´cio´ ‘speculation’ etc. Hence, we may conclude that diversification in many cases is due to the fact that a very great number of words of Latin origin, already long present in the Hungarian vocabulary, have re-entered the language as loan words via Anglo-American usage.

The Context of Borrowing More than anything, English loan words represent for Hungarians a lifestyle and atmosphere of the 21st century. They reflect a mood of the generation born in the 1970s and brought up at the time of the significant changes in East and Central Europe. The older generations have to learn

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a new vocabulary while getting acquainted with new phenomena of the surrounding environment; but for today’s young adults the features of the globalised world are integrated components of their everyday lives. Language use at the workplace and at school acquires new features of slang drawing on the English vocabulary. English vocabulary is also related to higher education. The academic context of words such as Prezenta´cio´ ‘presentation’, folia ‘transparencies’, projector ‘overhead projector’ and regisztra´cio´ ‘registration’ is indisputable. Studying subjects in a foreign language while speaking the mother tongue with peers can make codeswitching quite frequent in language use in an academic environment. Student mobility programmes also contribute to this trend of language usage in student groups. Staff members of globalised companies speak a kind of workplace slang as well, e.g. riportol (he reports). The most common domain of borrowing is related to modern lifestyle, such as names of foods and drinks: hamburger, hotdog, pizza, tonik; entertainment, relaxation and related places and activities: pub, wellnesz/ wellnesss, story/sztori, hobby/hobbi; sports and hobbies, equipment: rafting, fitness, aerobic/aerobik, surfing/szo¨rf, szo¨rfo¨le´s; fashion, make-up, clothing: jeans, T-shirt, tattoo, piercing, solarium/szola´rium; trends in life: single/ szingli; popular and common professions: stylist, project manager/projekt menedzser, babysitter/be´biszitter; travel, tourism, leisure activity: last minute (utaza´s/travel (deal)), shopping, jogging. TV commercials contribute much to the creation of this image. AngloAmerican expressions transmit the feeling of a modern up-to-date society and the use of this vocabulary adds a shade of ‘state of the art’ to the content. It has also become more and more common not to translate slogans and trigger expressions of advertisements and commercials. Visual input accompanied by some verbal stimuli in English for buying, consuming and enjoying will create an effect by linking the English language predominantly with the pleasant things of life, as the English of commercials is used to transmit the sense of richness, elegance and higher living standards, such as Nokia, connecting people; Philips, makes things better; and Keep it Digital. Another major source of penetration of borrowings is through job advertisements, which often appear in the Hungarian press in English, or to a lesser extent in German. Sometimes the Hungarian equivalent is given in parallel. On the one hand, English terminology for the job description in ads is intended to avoid ambiguity, as job titles are meant to refer to exactly the same positions and assignments at different locations of multinational companies all over the world. On the other hand, the presence of a great number of advertisements for jobs in

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English in the Hungarian press suggests that English is used for the additional reason. That is, English is used as a means of attracting the reader’s attention by creating a feeling of something exclusive, rather appealing, up-to-date and international. An advertisement in English can be misleading, therefore, if the job has none of the above qualities. Similar to the phenomenon of an English-based jargon, a specific slang of the young generation can also be observed, marking the generation gap even through everyday language use. The linguistic tool by which youngsters express their preference for McDonald’s is a diminutive form, meki. Meki is so much part of this slang that it can take all the grammatical forms a Hungarian noun can have, such as a mekibe/to McDonald’s and a mekiben/at McDonald’s. Abbreviation is a frequent device in Hungarian modern vocabulary structures, and not only in borrowed words. Versions produced in this way for words in a technological context do not necessarily carry any additional emotional semantic connotations; e.g. mikro´ ‘microwave oven’. They rather correspond to the tendency of accelerating the communication process. Not only do loan words assimilate to the requirements of Hungarian, but also the imprints of variegated terminological structures based on their vocabulary are becoming detectable in the Hungarian context in general. The N1N2 structure, with no visible grammatical link to reveal the deep syntactic relationship between the two nouns (whether subject, object or other), is an accepted method in Hungarian terminology creation (e.g. taxisofo¨r ‘taxi driver’). However, the scope of this type of structure has been growing under the influence of English. The speed of modern life certainly enhances the use of compact linguistic forms. As analytical representation of semantic components of a phrase by means of long chains of successive morphological devices would affect the efficacy of communication, the application of time- and space-saving linguistic solutions is required by the demands of informatics. Thus, a mobile type of communication is spontaneously developed for achieving maximal efficiency with a minimal inventory of means in the shortest time. Accordingly, new forms are coined, such as do¨nte´shozo´ (policymaker, lit. decision making), ko¨rnyezetve´delem (environment protection) and teste´kszer (piercing, lit. body jewel). Similarly, the adjectivenoun pattern is a frequent way of terminology building. In such phrases the noun often has a general, comprehensive meaning of a system, structure or method, and its content is specified by the adjective. E.g. finanszı´roza´si rendszer (system of financing), do¨nte´si mechanizmus (decision-making mechanism).

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Mosaic Words: Abbreviations The urge for new items in the terminology of different fields results in numerous ‘mosaic’ words as well. Some are of Hungarian origin, others are borrowings. Some have undergone the typical process of borrowings to become loan words, if not fully assimilated into the inventory of Hungarian mosaic words. The formation of mosaic words is initially necessitated by the communication needed for introducing new terms and finding different compact forms for naming new notions. The application of mosaic words of foreign origin helps to meet the requirements of unification, generalisation and standardisation. The extent of mosaic word usage largely depends on the traditions of the general and terminological context of the language concerned. At the same time, mosaic word frequency is now a feature of globalisation, resulting from the effects of the media and the trends of the web. The increase in the number of mosaic words is so intense that the largest dictionaries of contemporary mosaic words of English/German contain more than a million lexical items and it seems very practical to classify them by profession under terminological headings. The items included in such lists could be considered also as abbreviations or symbols. In contemporary Hungarian the majority of these expressions are of English origin, followed by many earlier items of German origin. The examples below show what the use of mosaic words in the modern Hungarian context looks like. Such words demonstrate a mixture of English/Hungarian pronunciation. The pronunciation of the written letters is usually closer to Hungarian than to English. Thus: CIA (szı´a´je´, szı´a´´ı ), OECD (o´ece´de´, o´esze´de´, oiszidi), WHO (ve´ha´o´), PPP (pe´pe´pe´, pı´pı´pı´). This ambiguity is even more visible in morphological forms, i.e. when grammatical endings are added to these mosaic words: GPS (dzsı´pı´esz, ge´pe´esz, ge´pe´es) GPS-szel, GPS-sel (with GPS). The simultaneous usage of full names and abbreviations of institution names in the international and Hungarian forms contributes to the lack of uniformity: ECB/EKB (European Central Bank/Euro´pai Ko¨zponti Bank), GPRS (General Packet Radio Service/a´ltala´nos csomagkapcsolt szolga´ltata´s) (see Sturcz, 2005: 71). Translations of such abbreviations undoubtedly have some positive facets. In the introduction of a new idea, translating the individual components of that term can help understanding and can serve as its explanation. By understanding the components, the learner gets closer to understanding the meaning of the whole term. However, translating mosaic words and acronyms can cause confusion, especially in understanding complex and professional

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terms if the translations are not uniform, for several possible renderings (and meanings) might emerge.

Conclusions: The Scope and Limits of English Borrowing in Hungarian Hungarian is one of the languages that have been least affected by lexical borrowing from English among the 12 case studies surveyed in this volume. Borrowing from English in Hungarian is not only relatively new and somewhat limited, but at present it is mostly regarded as posing neither linguistic nor social threat to the Hungarian language and society. The limited impact of English is related historically to the scant influence of either Britain or the USA on Central Europe, Hungary in particular. It was the foreign influence of German culture and language (mostly via the Austro-Hungarian Empire under the Habsburg dynasty) that affected Hungary and Hungarian in the two centuries until 1945, and then for the subsequent four decades it was the Soviet Union that had a significant effect on Hungarian politics and culture. As such, the significant impact of English as a global and increasingly also regional lingua franca has begun here only some two decades ago. Based on our data, we found that the limited span of time since English began to affect Hungarian on a massive scale notwithstanding, English loan words are present in all the domains and usage of contemporary Hungarian. Their existence clearly reflects trends and requirements of present-day market-oriented Hungarian society. At the same time, it seems that the use of words of foreign origin has not become the privilege of any particular social group or professional circle but is common among all members of the society, even though it is more popular among the young generation. As in the past, Hungarian is open today to foreign influence, and tends to accommodate loan words by adapting them to its phonological and morphological features. Throughout the 20th century, Hungary witnessed two waves of purism, the first one in the interwar era and the second starting in the late 1940s, under Soviet influence. Present-day Hungary is in one of the most open phases, both culturally and linguistically, in its modern history. The Research Institute for Linguistics of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences does not interfere with the trend of borrowing English loan words or act against it, but observes this process closely. The institute aims to study the development of the contemporary Hungarian language, and despite some pros and cons on this issue, does not object to borrowings in general or to English borrowings in particular. The

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current integration of Hungary in the EU and further afield in the global economy makes Hungarians much more inclined to regard English as their major source of linguistic borrowing rather than German, the regional lingua franca they had been relying on and borrowing from for several centuries. As such, English serves as the main source of new vocabulary related to globalisation, mass communication and cuttingedge technology. The relatively new regard for English is associated also with its becoming the primary and the most popular foreign language taught today at the Hungarian education system, replacing Russian in the Soviet era and German before 1945. This new role English has acquired in Hungary reinforces the existing tendencies to borrow from it, and as this trend began only in the late 1980s, one may predict that the influence of English may grow stronger in the coming years.

Chapter 6

Russian: From Socialist Realism to Reality Show MARIA YELENEVSKAYA

Fast decline of the Communist party authority, violent ethnic conflicts, perestroika and, finally, the disintegration of the USSR
all the social upheavals that led to the crash of the ‘last empire’ have triggered sweeping changes in the Russian language. Linguists agree that one of the most salient of these changes is the activation of foreign words and phrases, in particular those borrowed from English (see, e.g. Kolesov, 1998; Kostomarov, 1994; Nesterskaia, 1997; Shaposhnikov, 1998). And this process is not limited to new borrowings but includes rejuvenation of lexemes absorbed by Russian earlier (Krysin, 1996: 142). Material for this chapter was drawn from the media and Internet publications, and from literature in humanities and social sciences. In addition, since 1999 I have been recording Anglicisms1 in the speech of various interlocutors in Russia. I made notes about the context in which English insertions occurred and extralinguistic data that were relevant to the situations in which they occurred. Besides, my archive contains newspaper clippings with ads and cartoons, as well as photographs of the street signs, billboards and posters taken in Moscow and St. Petersburg. As data collection was not systematic and the initial criterion for selecting material for analysis was intuition of a native Russian speaker, I filtered the sample after consulting linguistic literature on language contact, bilingualism, foreign borrowings in Russian, as well as various dictionaries. The collected examples were divided into groups on the basis of the following categories: motivation for borrowing, semantic domains, semantic reanalysis and stages of integration into the language system. My primary concern was to trace the interaction of linguistic, social and cultural factors accompanying the current wave of massive borrowing from English to Russian. This seems to be of special interest in the period when post-Soviet Russian society is reassessing its position on the East
West axis. 98

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Russian Language Contacts The intensity of language contacts in Russia has a cyclic nature. Periods of extensive borrowing alternate with emphasised purism (Maximova, 2002: 197
198). Since the 18th century Russia has considered itself to be part of Europe, and in different periods of history was under the linguistic influence of various West European societies. AngloRussian language contacts can be traced to the 16th century, when the two countries established trade relations. The English words borrowed then were mercilessly mispronounced and would hardly be recognised today (Timofeeva, 1995: 10). The next massive borrowing from English occurred during the rule of Czar Peter I, at the end of the 17th to the beginning of the 18th century. It was the period when the Russian fleet was born, and the vocabulary of seafaring was taken from English and Dutch. Most Anglicisms in seafaring were used alongside their Dutch counterparts, thus forming parallel terminological systems (Maximova, 2002: 193). At the beginning of the 19th century, educated classes of Russian society became interested in English technologies, economic theories and practices, in the system of education, as well as in culture and literature.2 Borrowing in that period did not pertain to any specialised sphere, but to social life as a whole (Ward, 1986: 315). In the early 20th century, borrowing from West European languages went hand in hand with political events. After years of emigration, Russian revolutionaries brought home many foreign words and activated vocabulary of the French Revolution previously familiar only to intellectuals. Many of them reflected new social and political phenomena and moved from the periphery to the centre of the lexical system. They were repeated in speeches, flyers and in the press, and contributed to the politicisation of the general vocabulary in the period from the First Russian revolution of 1905 to the first years of Soviet power. An illustration of this can be found in the novel by Mikhail Sholokhov, Virgin Soil Upturned. One of the protagonists, Nagulnov, tried to learn English in order to get ready for the dialogue with the world proletariat. He was astonished to discover that all the words he would need to agitate for the world revolution, e.g. revolutsia, elektrifikatsia, industrializatsia,3 existed in English and did not differ much from familiar ‘Russian’ words. In the 1920s, foreign words from the domains of government and economy were among the first ones adults saw in the reading books in schools opened for the illiterate. In that period, numerous words borrowed from English came to denote new technologies, artefacts and activities.

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In the Soviet era, except for the early 1920s, the period of Khrushchev’s Thaw in the mid-1950s
mid-1960s, and the years of Perestroika, in the late 1980s, the policy of language planning was rigid and opposed influence of other languages, which were considered to be vehicles of alien ideologies (see Busse & Go¨rlach, 2002: 16; Dardano, 1986: 235
236; Farkas & Kniezsa, 2002: 280 on ideological roots of purism). Comrie et al. (1996: 25, 27) note that the closed society that characterised the Soviet period in general was reflected in the language in that the standard was codified and promoted by schooling and by the heavily censored literature; as a result, the standard language was far behind developments in spoken standard Russian. In the 1930s, the policy of language purism was often pushed to absurdity: many foreign words that were in use were rejected and replaced by native equivalents, frequently at the expense of language economy. This trend continued in the 1940s during WWII and in the postwar years during Stalin’s campaign against ‘rootless cosmopolitans’. The next outburst of struggle against foreign expansion in the language occurred in the mid-1970s. In postwar years Anglicisation became a global trend and it became increasingly difficult to prevent penetration of English words. Yet, as a fully developed language with well developed terminological systems and a vast repertoire of functional styles, Russian could service every sphere of communication (Kryuchkova, 2001: 405
406). This, and the closed nature of Soviet society, allowed the Russian language to be self-sufficient. But with the growing longing of the Soviet urban population for the Western way of life and latent opposition to the official ideology, the desire to learn English was growing. The use of English idioms was fashionable in underground publishing, samizdat (self-publishing), and in songs circulating on tapes, magnitizdat (publishing on magnetic tapes). Above all, Anglicisms were used in private conversations of the Soviet intelligentsia expressing discontent with the regime, and known as ‘kitchen conversations’. Foreign words were also widely used in the student slang and in the jargon of big cities (Ermakova, 1996: 32).

Language Contacts since the Glasnost The policy of Glasnost launched by Gorbachev and subsequent attempts of post-Soviet Russia to enter the community of developed nations created favourable conditions for closer contacts with the West. Political changes influenced the language too, and made it much more amenable to the influence of English.

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Russians acquired a taste for travelling, both on business and for pleasure. Many people started looking for seasonal jobs abroad or entered a new lucrative business called ‘shuttling’: they would go to China, Turkey, etc. to buy cheap consumer goods and then sell them at home. In well-to-do families it became fashionable to send children to study in private schools and colleges in the West. The new social phenomena did not take long to convince the urban population that proficiency in English could open new opportunities in work and leisure. This gave an unprecedented boost to learning English as a second language. Interspersing speech with English words again became a marker of prestige. Foreign imports increased, thus introducing the Russian public to Western consumer goods. New products entered the market under original names, e.g. various gadgets and house technologies: fotokity, pleery, blendery for photo-kits, players and blenders; cosmetics
sprei, conditsionery, pilingi for sprays, conditioners, peeling-creams; articles of clothing: legginsy, kardigany, slaksy, for leggings, cardigans and slacks. New foods conquered the market, and for a short time Russians became enthusiasts of American-style fast food, devouring gamburgery, cheeseburgery and khot-dogi (hamburgers, cheeseburgers and hot-dogs). New developments in politics, and in particular the emergence of a multiparty system and election campaigns, flooded the country. Here too, Western style was imitated and required the introduction of new concepts and new words: elektorat, impichment, inoguratsia, votirovat’, lobbirovat’, (electorate, impeachment, inauguration, to vote, to lobby), etc. Not all of these are native English words, yet in the 1990s they were borrowed from English. Just as in the first decades of the 20th century, laymen became passionately involved in political activities, and neopolitical terminology started moving from the periphery to the centre of the lexical system. Economic reforms and privatisation of state property made Russian citizens willing or reluctant participants in these processes and introduced an abundance of economic and business terms into the lexis: retsessia, defolt, depozit, tender, holdingi, bondy, vauchery (recession, default, deposit, tender, holdings, bonds, vouchers), and so on. Various economic and social processes, such as privatisation, expansion of service and entertainment industries, triggered new employment opportunities, hence the emergence and wide use of such words as distribiuter, marketolog, surveier, rielter, broker, diler, sikiuriti, (distributor, marketing expert, surveyor, real-estate agent, broker, dealer, security-guard). Some of the English names of occupations, such as farmer, manager, businessman

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and producer, had entered the Russian language much earlier, but were previously used primarily with reference to life in the West. Like other Anglicisms, they acquired pejorative connotations in the Soviet times, particularly when applied to the local life and people. During Perestroika the process of de-ideologisation of the society began and was reflected in the language. Many words lost their negative ideological connotations or even reversed them. The process of re-connotation of the vocabulary (see RyazanovaClarke & Wade, 1999: 91) involved not only the words directly related to politics and ideology but also to economy, people’s occupations, clothes, foods, etc. A case in point is the shift observed in the nouns biznes and biznesmen (business and businessman), which were used to describe illegal or dishonest commerce in the Soviet period. Today ‘business’ has become one of the most prestigious occupations, although pejorative components of meaning have not disappeared. They have been redirected and express envy and hatred for the new bourgeoisie, the so-called ‘new Russians’. Another example illustrating the acquisition of value sememes in foreign words is fermer (farmer). The native word krestiane (peasants) was almost completely ousted in the Soviet times by the stump compound kolkhozniki (members of a collective farm). Due to the deterioration of the kolkhoz system in the last decades of Soviet power, this word came to be associated with inefficiency and dated agricultural methods. The borrowed noun fermer and its derivatives fermerstvo (farming) and feremerizatsia (farm development) became widespread in the 1990s and imply the use of advanced agricultural techniques, private ownership and even cost-effectiveness. The spread of information technologies (IT) contributed to the increase in the number of loan words from English. The computer terminology is predominantly English, and a lot of buzz words associated with online activities and the lifestyle of the young have entered everyday speech and youth slang: virtual’nyi mir (virtual world), chatit’sia (from ‘to chat’, to participate in an online discussion forum), khaknut’ (from ‘to hack’, to break into a computer system), etc. An interesting phenomenon has been observed by Ryazanova-Clarke and Wade (1999: 119). From the 1960s to the 1980s, English was the primary source of innovation in the Russian youth slang. In the 1990s, however, the saturation of the language with English words made slang develop counter to the general stratum and mainly draw on native resources. While in the past English helped to create a subcultural code inaccessible to the general public in the 1990s, it could no longer isolate one subculture from another. Yet, some of the Anglicisms have stayed in this register and produced a variety of

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derivatives. For example, the noun ‘flat’ first integrated into the youth slang without modification, later developed into fletukha
apartment (the suffix ukha adds pejorative connotations); fletiara
big apartment; fleter
the owner of an apartment; fletovskii
of, belonging to or connected to home (Levikova, 2003).

Motivation for Borrowing The main reasons for borrowing are the same irrespective of place and time (see, e.g. Comrie et al., 1996; Krysin, 1996; Ryazanova-Clarke & Wade, 1999). All of them can be observed in contemporary Russian and can be summarised as four distinct cases: the need to name new concepts, activities, social phenomena and products; the need to differentiate semantically close concepts; language economy; and sociopsychological factors. According to Polivanov (1968), the rate of shifts in languages is closely associated with social upheavals. This was the case with the Russian language in the first decade after the October revolution of 1917 and in the first post-Soviet decade. Virtually all the Russian linguists analysing recent foreign borrowings agree that most of them appeared to reflect new phenomena of Russian life. They also agree on the domains that proved to be most active in absorbing foreign lexis, although classifications differ, as some of the words are attributed to different categories by different authors. One explanation is that most of these words are first introduced into speech by journalists who use them in different contexts and thus the domains of use frequently overlap (Sabol’ch, 2003: 560). For example, iappi (yuppie) belongs to the domains of economy and society, fitnes-tsentr (fitness centre) to sports and entertainment, nou-hau (know-how) to technology and politics and fentezi (fantasy) to literature and entertainment. The current process of new word acquisition is dynamic, and some new words imported from English are intensely used in the media but have a short life-span (Maximova, 2002: 1999). Besides integrating separate words, contemporary Russian has borrowed intensively from developed terminological systems, when entire fields of knowledge, culture or technology became accessible to the language community. A case in point is Information Technologies (IT), whose English terminology quickly penetrated professional slang of programmers and electrical engineers and then spread among rank-andfile computer users. Similar examples are massive borrowings in the fields of economics and commerce that were needed to reflect realities

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that had not existed in the USSR. The vast majority of these terms, however, are mostly used by professionals and journalists specialising in economic surveys but remain poorly understood by the lay public. By contrast, the emergence of Western-type show business that replaced state organised mass culture of the Soviet times is popularised by the mass media and made its terminology widely accessible. Today many newly borrowed English words coexist with native words or old loan words from English and other languages, for example, spektakl’-shou (show), obraz-imidz (image), pol’zovatel’-iuzer (user), makiazh-meikap (make-up), podtiazhka-lifting (cosmetic surgery), afisha-poster (poster) and so on (see other examples in Maximova, 2002: 199). It is still difficult to say which of the competitors will remain in use. The language does not like semantic doublets, but they can survive either as stylistic variants or in different functional niches. Drastic changes in social conditions, such as the departure of a formerly dominant sociopolitical elite, may result in the disappearance of the innovative form; under other circumstances, if only one competitor survives, it is most likely to be the new one (Krysin, 2000: 40; Thomason, 1997: 186
187). Differentiation of semantically close concepts is observed both in the centre and on the periphery of the lexical system. As native and semantically close foreign words do not only diverge in meaning but appear in different contexts, their combinatorial properties also differ. Here are some examples: The generic drug and the feminine form podruga have been replaced by a boifrend (boyfriend) and g’olfrend (girlfriend) when a romantic relationship is implied. Another pair is ubiitsa
killer, in which the latter stands for a professional killer. The borrowing and fast integration of this word were triggered by the exponential increase in organised crime. While the native noun has no derivatives, the borrowed one has developed a feminine form killersha and compounds telekiller, antikiller (tele-killer, anti-killer), and noun phrases, such as informatsionnyi killer (information killer, referring to a journalist releasing information that can ruin careers and even lives). Differentiation of semantically close concepts is a salient feature of scientific terminology. In the following examples, the native word in each pair is neutral while the borrowed one is used in specific contexts of the corresponding discipline/s: nabludenie
monitoring (natural sciences, medicine, social sciences) spad
retsessia (slump, recession, decrease
recession, economics) pol
gender (sex, gender
gender, social sciences)

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Sometimes, a new borrowing appears side by side with the word it has replaced (the underlined words mark the native equivalents of the foreign word): S ekranov ushli kartiny v zhanre ekshn
firmennoe bludo Gollivuda. Mezhdu tem, na liubom festivale imenno fil’my deistvia’’ ( . . .) obespechivaiut interes pressy, burnuiu svetskuiu zhizn’ i proch. Movies of the action type, the Hollywood specialty, have almost disappeared from the screen. Yet it is the movies of action ( . . .) that attract the press, trigger animated high life, etc. (Argumenty i Fakty (AiF), #7, 2002) Vam nuzhno kupit’ maechku-topik You have to buy a little T-shirt-top. (Sputnik Novosti, #34, 2002) Sometimes the meanings of the native and borrowed words are juxtaposed: ‘Politicheskikh sub’ektov deliat na tri kategorii
‘narod’, ‘elektorat’ i ‘grazhdane’. Political discourse distinguishes three types of subjects: the ‘‘people’, ‘electorate’, and ‘citizens’. (AiF, #35, 2003) Among the English words introduced for the sake of language economy, we can distinguish two subgroups. Words in the first group denote new concepts that could be rendered in Russian by descriptive paraphrases (some also using foreign words): klipmeiker (clipmaker)
tot, kto delaiet klipy allarmizm (alarmism)
tendentsia k rasprostraneniu trevozhnykh nastroeniy imidzhmeiker (imagemaker)
tot, kto sozdaet obraz [politika] Words belonging to the second group replace native phrases that were in use but remained on the periphery of the lexical system: vstrecha v verkhah 0summit (summit) uchastnik oprosa/perepisi 0 respondent (respondent) vkladyvat’ den’gi0investirovat’ (invest) Because of the novelty of foreign words and instability of their use, language economy is not achieved in actual texts as authors either use both the native and the borrowed word together (see examples above) or feel they have to translate or explain unfamiliar words. This metatext

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breaks the automatic flow of speech: the writer mobilises language reflexivity and concentrates on the form of the utterance and on the means of expression (see Krysin, 2004: 199). Some of these comments are neutral: to est’, ili, chto oznachaet (that is, or, which means); others reveal the author’s attitudes that range from being apologetic and self-ironic about the use of an alien word: poprostu govoria, a po-Russki, kak teper’ priniato govorit’ (simply speaking, as we say in Russian, as it is customary to say today), to ridiculing it: Master diplomatii i fandreizinga (po-prostomu dobyvania sredstv) T. v liubykh kontaktakh besprepiatstven i azarten. A master of diplomacy and fundraising (simply speaking obtaining funds), T. sees no obstacles in finding contacts and does it with fervour. (Moskovskie Novosti (MN), 3 September 2004) The frequency of such comments in the discourse makes metalanguage activities of contemporary Russian speakers a distinctive feature of the period. Analyses of these commentaries show that they perpetuate the dichotomy of we versus the other and give another proof of the heterogeneity if not polarity of values and social orientation of contemporary Russian speakers (Vepreva, 2003: 21). The major sociopsychological factors that trigger introduction of English words are communicative significance of concepts they denote and the prestige of English. Some examples of this phenomenon were mentioned in the previous section. Additional ones include the native word podrostok, almost completely ousted by a tineidger (teenager), tseliteli, which turned into hilery (healers), izbirateli replaced by the elektorat (electorate), and so on. In many cases previously absorbed and nativised words from various West European languages, including English, are being replaced by new borrowings from English: zhargon
sleng (jargon
slang); sort
brend (brand); kegel’ban
bouling (bowling); bal’zam
konditsioner (conditioner), etc. An important indicator of the prestige of English words is obvious in their use in the names of businesses and in advertising. Here are some examples that appear on the streets of St. Petersburg: Stomatologia: Smail (Dental clinic: Smile); Insaid: Agentstvo nedvizhimosti (Inside: Real-estate agency); Iuridicheskaia firma: Edvaizer (Law firm: Adviser); Muzhskaia odezhda: Mister I (Men’s clothes: Mister I). Note that these businesses operate on the domestic market and offer services to local customers.

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Lexicosemantic Processes Related to Borrowing Foreign words are seldom integrated into a language without changes in meaning. The most important feature of contact is that it involves at least two languages, and irrespective of the area of study, languages in contact must be analysed as languages in contrast (Ivir, 1991: 237). The semantic re-analysis that occurs in the process of borrowing and innovations of old borrowings can be divided into four groups: narrowing of meaning, expansion of meaning, semantic redistribution and indirect borrowing, also known as calques or loan translation. The narrowing of meaning in newly borrowed words is widespread in my sample. Polysemantic words are first used in one meaning only while the other meanings are rendered by native words or older nativised borrowings. Here are some examples indicating the number of meanings each word has in English and quoting the one in which it is used in Russian: organaizer (organiser, 6 meanings4)
a personal organiser broker (broker, 6 meanings)
a stockbroker brend (brand, 10 meanings)
a brand-name fentezy (fantasy, 13 meanings)
the name of a genre in literature and film Note that in some cases (e.g. organaiser, broker, brend) a component of the original compound word is dropped in Russian. Moreover, the remaining component can become a part of a newly formed compound in which it is combined either with a native or an old loan word: . . . seichas zapadnye kompanii-brendy primenaiut te zhe samye komponenty, kotorye dostupny i riadovomu moskovskomu sborschiku. . . . Western companies-brands use the same components that are available to a rank-and-file Muscovite assembling computers. (Izvestia, 15.09.2000) The meaning is also narrowed when newly borrowed words acquire specific connotations nonexistent in the native equivalents or old loan words. A magazin (shop), for example, sells any goods, a shop, on the other hand, presupposes only high quality goods. An obraz (image) is neutral and can be good or repulsive; by contrast, an imidz (image), is associated with attractiveness and glamour. Even the names of occupations, such as rieltor, diler, distribiuter (realtor, dealer, distributor) have an aura of prestige in Russian which they do not have in English. Moreover, they have a euphemistic function as compared to the words they have

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replaced: kvartirnyi makler, torgovetz valutami, agent po prodazhe (see similar examples in Kolesov, 1998: 229
230; Shaposhnikov, 1998: 145). This phenomenon is often observed in commerce. In the following example the original meaning of the borrowed noun clashes with the new one and with the adjective that modifies it. The result is the creation of an oxymoron, as in the name of a shabby store in St. Petersburg: Elitnyi sekond hend: kachestvennaia odezhda iz Evropy Elitist second hand: quality clothes from Europe In the first sections of the chapter we have already given examples of redistribution of meaning. New semantic components can replace older ones or supplement and expand the existing meaning of loan words, thus although it is a qualitative phenomenon, it is often combined with a quantitative change. Expansion of meaning does not happen immediately after a new foreign word appears in the target language. Some borrowings first covering only one segment of the semantics of the source word later acquire additional meanings. Meaning expansion may be consistent with the semantics of the source word or deviate from the original. In my sample the most obvious reasons for the latter are fashion and inadequate understanding of new words. For example, sponsor was first used in the meaning of a ‘person or company financing a building project, a movie or play production, or publication of a book’. Today it denotes anyone ready to give money to another person or organisation for whatever purpose, including a man supporting his mistress. Meaning expansion can be connected to a shift of domain. Thus the word kasting (casting) first appeared in the vocabulary of show business, but later expanded its meaning to ‘choosing a candidate among applicants for any job’. Note that in the passage quoted below ‘casting’ and another recent borrowing ‘piercing’ are used to create a humorous effect implying the similarity between contemporary Russian politics and show business: Esli bez pirsinga v sovremennoi zhizni esche kak-to oboitis’ mozhno, to bez kastinga*uzhe nikak. Dlia tekh, kto esche ne znaet: kasting eto podbor kandidatur (s pirsingom ili bez nego) na razlichnye rabochie mesta. K primeru, letom 1999 goda v Kremle sostoialsia kasting na mesto Prezidenta Rossii, kotoryi uspeshno proshel Putin. It is difficult to do without piercing today and one can hardly survive without casting. If you don’t know yet, casting is selection of appropriate candidates (with piercing or without it) for various jobs. For example, in the summer of 1999, the Kremlin held casting for the

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position of the Russian president which was passed successfully by Putin. (MN, #30, 6
12 August 2002) Another example of expansion is the word ‘remake’, which has become so fashionable that it is applied not only to new movie and play productions, but also to an altered version of any story, picture or recurrence of events and trends. Rassuzhdenia o ‘tretiei mirovoi voine’ okazyvaiutsia remeikom ofitsial’noi versii o mezhdunarodnom terrorizme Deliberations about ‘World War III’ appear to be a remake of an official version about international terrorism. (MN, 10
16 September 2004) Indirect borrowings, or calques, which form new words or phraseological units by means of literal translation, often emerge as the reaction of the speech community to a sharp increase in the number of direct borrowings (Iartseva, 1998: 211). In my sample there are a few morphological calques from English, for example, pol’zovatel’ (user), stsenarii (scenario), piramida (financial pyramid) and prozrachnyi (transparent). In fact, most of these are difficult to distinguish from semantic extensions, a phenomenon frequently observed in calques. Thus the old loan noun stsenarii was until recently used only in the meaning ‘script’, pyramida in four meanings equivalent to the meanings of its English equivalent, all of which had a common sememe specifying the geometric shape, but it was not associated with commerce. Similarly, the adjective prozrachnyi (transparent) was used in the meanings stemming from the physical property of transmitting light through a substance. It had the metaphorical meaning of ‘obvious, not concealed’, but in this meaning was used only in one phraseological unit: prozrachnyi namek (a clear hint). Today prozrachnyi is frequently used in the metaphorical meaning and appears in collocations with the nouns ‘upravlenie’ (transparent management), granitsa (transparent boarder) and metody (transparent methods), etc. Most of the other calques in my sample are phraseological units: sotovyi telefon (cellular phone), torgovaia marka (trade mark), myl’naia opera (soap opera), etnicheskaia chistka (ethnic cleansing), vysokii sezon (high season), dvoinoi standart (double standard), zhivaia muzyka (live music), etc. Some of the calques coexist with the loan words, and form semantic doublets, for example, khai tek (high tech)
vysokie tekhnologii, had disk (hard disk)
zhestkii disk. The phrase vsemirnaia pautina ‘worldwide web’ appears seldom, but as a component ‘web’ is used in compound nouns in

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combination with a native word or an old loan word, for instance, vebstranitsa (web page) or veb resursy (web resources). The phrase otmyvanie deneg (money laundering) has produced another innovation, used informally, otmyval’schik (launderer). Similarly, in the programmers’ professional slang materinskaia plata (motherboard) has been reduced to mamka, diminutive and slightly pejorative for ‘mother’. Calques are often used to produce stylistic effects. Po dannym epidemiologov, krys v Moskve obitaet ne menee 10 mln. osobei, a kolichestvo myshei v ‘vysokii sezon’, to est’, letom i oseniu priblizhaetsia k 50 millionam. According to the data provided by epidemiologists, at least 10 million rats reside in Moscow, and the number of mice in ‘high season’, that is, in summer and fall, approaches 50 million. (AiF, #24, 1999) The article criticising inefficiency of sanitary services mockingly uses the phrase ‘high season’ familiar from commercials of tourist businesses. In the context of the passage the calque implies that Moscow has turned into a resort for pests.

Stages of Integration Foreign words integrated into a borrowing language can be divided into three categories: occasional insertions, barbarisms or exoticisms, and loan words (Kolesov, 1998: 227
231; Krysin, 2004: 59
64; RyazanovaClarke & Wade, 1999: 151). Occasional insertions tend to form numerous subcategories in the analysed sample. Like exoticisms, they remain morphologically indivisible in the target language (Krysin, 2004: 59). They cannot be found in dictionaries or lexicographical publications, and their appearance in the text is triggered by the theme of the utterance, individual mannerisms or the author’s desire for the utterance to attract the reader’s/listener’s attention. Another distinctive feature of occasional insertions is that they often appear in the script of the source language. The majority of these in my sample are names of companies and products, both imported and domestic. In the latter case, the motivation for choosing an English name is two-fold: high prestige of English and desire to conquer foreign markets using transparent names. Pervyi ezhegodnyi open-air festival’ elektronnoi muzyki CASTLE DANCE (ICE EDITION) The first annual open-air festival of electronic music CASTLE DANCE (ICE EDITION) (Vechernii Peterburg, 7 July 2005)

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Novinka: Be cool, uveren i svoboden. Novyi antiperspirant Cool Spray ot Gilette A new product: Be cool, self-confident, and free. A new antiperspirant Cool Spray produced by Gilette. (an ad in St. Petersburg subway) Both of the cited examples include more than one insertion using English words in the Latin script. In the advertising of a music festival the modifier ‘open-air’ is used instead of its Russian equivalent pod otkrytym nebom in addition to the name of the festival. In the second example, the authors of a commercial use a new foreign word, antiperspirant, instead of the previously integrated deodorant. The name of the product and its manufacturer, as well as the appeal to ‘be cool’, are given in the Latin script and are highlighted by the use of a different font. Even if only a negligible part of the readers appreciates the pun created by the interaction of two different meanings of ‘cool’, the authors of the text seek to attract the public by the prestige of English words. The Latin script is also used to highlight English phraseological units inserted in the text as in the following examples: V Pkheniane, v svoiu ochered’ v etoi situatsii mogut deistvovat’ po printsipu ‘to use or to lose’. Pyongyang, in its turn, may act according to the principle ‘to use or to lose’. (Nezavisimaia Gazeta, 1 March 2005) S 11 utra i do 11 vechera prodolzhalsia prazdnik zhivoi muzyki non-stop The festival of live music lasted non-stop from 11 in the morning to 11 at night. (Metro, Sankt-Peterburg, 8 July 2005) Unlike occasional insertions, which often function as individual mannerisms, exoticisms are repeatedly used in various texts but remain unstable in pronunciation, spelling and number. Likewise, words in the intermediate stage between exoticisms and loan words share the same features of instability. Thus the word ‘remake’ appears as remeik and rimeik; ‘distributor’ as distribiuter and distributor; ‘racketeer’ as reketir, reketior and reketmen; ‘off-shore’ [companies] as offshornyi and ofshornyi; ‘shopping’ as shopping and shoping (Shaposhnikov, 1998: 38; Timofeeva, 1995: 81
99). In addition, there is no uniformity in the spelling of compound nouns, which are alternately spelt as hyphenated words or as one word: bisineswumen (businesswoman) but biznes-ledi (business-lady), teleshou and tele-shou (tele-show), fitnes-tsentr and fitnestsentr (fitness centre), boifrend and boi-frend (boyfriend), sekond-hend and sekondhend (secondhand) and so on.

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In newly adopted nouns there is no instability in gender. The agreement of new words, inanimate nouns, is usually based on the analogy of the last syllable of the word to the ending typical of masculine, feminine or neuter form of native equivalents. On some occasions a new word inherits the gender of the Russian word it replaces: . . . avtor rassmatrivaiet svoiu rabotu kak nekoe keis-stadi . . . (the author considers her investigation to be some kind of a case study). In this example ‘case study’ is neuter like the Russian noun issledovanie which would be used to translate it. The agreement of animate nouns is guided by the context, but in most cases they function as masculine forms which are chosen for generic use in contemporary Russian. Thus, auditor (auditor), baiker (biker), prodiuser (producer), spichraiter (speechwriter), imidgmeiker (image-maker), rieltor (realtor) and sponsor are all masculine. In many newly adopted words we can observe instability of singular
plural forms. Thus the nouns sikiurity (security), pablisiti (publicity), nou-hau (knowhow) and kopirait (copyright) appear as singular and as plural forms: Oni ispolosovali parniu plecho i nogu, i neschastnogo sikiuriti prishlos’ gospitolizirovat’ (. . .) Prichem feis-kontrol’ sikiuriti osuschestvlaiut iskluchitel’no po vneshnim priznakam They shredded the guy’s shoulder and leg, and the poor security was to be hospitalised. ( . . .) Notably, security carry out face control only judging the [customers’] appearances. (Moskovskii Komsomolets (MK), 27 June 2001: 1) Another sign of the instability is that English words borrowed in the plural form sometimes appear without a Russian inflexion marking the plural and sometimes with it. As a result, in some words the category of plurality is marked twice: leginsy (leggings), fiutchersy (futures), sekondtaimerzy (second-timers) and so on. Finally, English nouns that are not yet fully integrated and nativised appear only in the nominative case and do not agree with other nouns and adjectives in the case and/or number. The process of integration of newly borrowed Russian words is multistage. First a new word is phonetically adapted. As Thomason (2001: 72) remarks, phonological adaptation is typical even in casual contact situations. In fact, in most cases these adaptations follow the same pattern as pronunciation mistakes of Russian speakers. Ultimately, new words enter the system of conjugation and declension and come to be perceived as native. It has been observed that the abundance of affixes and inflexions simplifies the task of nativising

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foreign words (see, e.g. Kostomarov, 1994: 116). And although adaptation of foreign words is a gradual process, the majority of the nouns borrowed in the last two decades are derivable (Krysin, 2004: 53), primarily along these patterns: noun 0noun reket0reketir (racket0racketeer) skeitbord 0skeitbordist (skateboard0skateboard-rider) promoushn 0 promouter (promotion 0promoter) noun 0adjective reiting0reitingovyi (rating 0having high rating, popular) glamur 0glamurnyi (glamour0glamorous) promoushn 0 promouterskii (promotion 0promoting) noun 0verb lobbi 0lobbirovat’ (lobby 0to lobby) sponsor0 (pro)sponsirovat’ (sponsor 0 to sponsor) parking0 (za)parkovat’, (pri) parkovat’sia (parking lot 0 to park) (Prefixes marking perfective forms are given in parentheses.) It has been observed that in various languages nouns are on top of the list of borrowed words. The reason for this is lexical
semantic, rather than grammatical and structural: the items for which new designations are needed are primarily indicated by nouns (Weinreich, 1967: 37). Russian is no exception. At the next stage of integration nouns of other categories are formed (e.g. device 0process; occupation0 person engaged in it; an object, tool 0 a person using it, etc.). Among derivatives, adjectives are numerous but adverbs are few. Finally, nouns belonging to various categories derive verbs differing in aspect and supplied with prefixes to distinguish imperfective and perfective forms (see examples above). In some cases reflexive forms of the verb are created with the help of the corresponding suffix: parkovat’sia (to park), chatit’sia (to chat). In the last decade a new pattern can be observed among borrowings from English: adjective 0 noun ekskluzivnyi 0 ekskliuziv (exclusive, elitist0products, goods and services accessible to the few, extraordinary events) intensivnyi 0 intensiv (intensive 0intensive work, intensive courses) criminal’nyi0kriminal (criminal0 criminal behaviour, the rule of criminal groups, members of criminal groups) extremal’nyi 0ekstrim (extraordinary, dangerous (about situations, conditions) 0 risky enterprise, adventure)

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In these and similar cases the Russian adjectival suffix is dropped and the newly coined nouns become almost identical to the corresponding adjectives in English. The adjectives that serve as the source of innovation are loan words previously integrated into the language. The phenomenon observed here can be viewed as back derivation, an indirect effect of language contact triggered by an earlier direct importation. Although these later changes are motivated by internal pressures within the language, they would be less likely to occur if the initial contactinduced change had not happened (Thomason, 2001: 62). While results of direct importation remained on the periphery and were seldom used in speech, the newly derived nouns are currently fashionable and appear in the speech of journalists and lay persons alike: Vy by esche predlozhili zapisyvat’ svoi ekstrimy v dnevnik i chitat’ na son griaduschii This would be like suggesting I should keep a diary of everything extraordinary happening to me and read it before falling asleep. (AiF, #34, 2003) The process of derivation, as well as the emergence of expressive and metaphoric components of meaning, and the use of foreign words in unusual contexts testifies to their integration into the recipient language (see, e.g. Krysin, 2004: 200). Some of the English borrowings of the last decade are used with diminutive and endearing suffixes that connote small size, pleasant appearance and cuteness: displeichiki (displays), beidgiki (badges), smailiki (smileys), miski (plural for Miss). In the last example the diminutive form creates a humorous effect because it forms a homophone with the native noun miska/i (bowl/s). Endearing and diminutive suffixes can be added to acronyms: pisiushka (for PC), esemeska (for SMS), sidiushka (for CD). In my sample pejorative suffixes are rare and mostly come from youth and programmers’ slang: pisiuk (for PC), mamka (for mother board) and sidiushnik (for CD player). The Russian language has a high percentage of words with value sememes (Novikova, 1995: 79), and the addition of these to the words that are value-neutral in the source language is another sign of their integrating into the target language. Among the best examples of fully integrated borrowings of the last decade is the abbreviation ‘PR’, for ‘public relations’. First it was used in the Latin script, in inverted commas and was supplied with translation or explanation of the meaning (see, Leichik, 2002). Later it turned into an acronym piar with inflections of a masculine noun. The process of

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derivation produced additional nouns: piarschik, piarovets (a person engaged in PR). Compound nouns were formed: piar-aktsia (promotion event), samopiar (self-advertising). The adjective piarovskii modifies such nouns as ‘activity’, ‘efforts’, and the verb is used in the imperfective form piarit’ (advertise) and in the perfective form with the appropriate prefixes: otpiarit’, propiarit’. Phonological and morphological adaptation has been followed by semantic expansion. In Russian piar can be used as a value-free noun but it has also acquired value sememes that are often emphasised. While in English the goal of public relations is to promote goodwill between various parties, such as a company and customers, the government and an individual, etc., Russian piar sometimes implies the opposite
defaming others. In this case the modifier chernyi (black), which has strong negative connotations in the Russian culture, is used: Chernyi i belyi piar Black and White PR (headline, Mir Novostei, No. 35, 2003) Kak nam otPIARit’ Rodinu? How can we Improve the Image of our Motherland? (headline, AiF, #27, 2002) Militsiu propiarili. Po-Chernomu The militia got a blaze of publicity. It was negative, it was black. (headline, AiF, No. 27, 2003) Finally, speaking about integration of new borrowings from English it is necessary to mention word play in which members of the Russian speech community replace the alien word with the native word on the basis of their phonetic or graphic similarity. This is a long tradition of urban speech habits. For example, stipendia (stipend) has been long called stepka (the diminutive of the male name Stepan). The spread of computer culture turned the program ICQ into As’ka (diminutive of the female name Asia), and an Internet home page is called homiak (hamster). E-mail is commonly referred to as Iemelia (diminutive of the male name Iemelian seldom used today but familiar to everyone as the name of the protagonist of a popular fairy-tale) or mylo (soap); DVD is transformed into dovedi (to lead (to), to take (to) to accompany (to)), while shareware turns into sharovary (baggy trousers) and share into shar’ (to grope about) (these and more examples in Kapanadze, 2001; Leichik, 2002; Shumov, 2003; Trofimova, 2002). The abbreviation CD is used as a newspaper rubric SiDelka (nurse), devoted to new recordings by popular musicians,

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and so on. In fact, the richest reservoir of such innovations can be found in the hackers’ slang from which it penetrates the speech of other groups. Another popular technique of word play with loan words is substituting a native morpheme or its part for a foreign one. In the first post-Soviet years during privatisation that was perceived by the lay public as stealing national riches by the powerful and greedy, the old loan noun privatizatzia and its newly formed derivative privatizatory (people in charge of privatisation) were transformed into prikhvatizatsia and prikhvatizatory derived from prikhvatit’ (to seize up, to take illegally); the old loan word demokraty that also moved from the periphery of the lexical system to the centre was transformed into der’mokraty, in which the Greek morpheme demo was replaced by der’mo (shit) and into demokrady in which the second morpheme borrowed from Greek kraty was replaced by the native krady (thieves in compound nouns) (see these examples in Shaposhnikov, 1998: 99). Similar puns are used in informal and media discourse. Their comic effect is achieved by paronymy of the borrowed and native words, and their stylistic effect is particularly strong when the native words are taboos (see Leichik, 2002: 42
43). In the press such puns often have a strong position in the text and appear in headlines: DLT kak zerkalo prikhvatizatsii DLT [a department store in St. Petersburg] as the mirror of grab-andgo privatisation. (Literaturnaia Gazeta, 24
30 May 2005) Puns in which English morphemes are integrated into Russian words are widely used in advertising. Two quoted below could be found on posters in many public places of St. Petersburg in summer 2005: Dzins delaiet KHOT. V KHOTiaschie $000. IsKHOTiaschie $003 Jeans is acting HOT. Incoming calls are $000. Outgoing calls are $003. Kvas
ne kola, pei Nikolu. Kvas
is not Cola, drink Nikola. Advertisers of the mobile telephone company ‘Jeans’ use the sound similarity of the native root khod (going) and the English ‘hot’ in the words iskhodiaschie (outgoing) and vkhodiaschie (incoming). In the second example above, producers of the national soft drink kvas, whose brand name is the Slavic name Nikola, appeal to the consumer by boldly opposing their own product to the international giant’s popular drink, and the aesthetic pleasure derived from the rhymed pun is part of their persuasive strategy. The communicative value of advertising, which

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will not be fully effective unless adequately understood by potential customers, depends on the familiarity of the public with the English words incorporated into puns.

Attitudes Towards Intensive Borrowings in the Society Russian linguists observe that throughout history, the overall attitude of Russian society to massive borrowings from other languages has been negative. In the period of social change there may be a connection between people’s attitudes to new social phenomena and innovations in the language. The young, who are often the driving force of political and social reforms, are more willing to accept penetration of new concepts and words than people of advanced age. Today, urban dwellers and people from the centre have more contacts with American culture than those who live in villages and on the periphery, so they are more tolerant of the expansion of Americanisms. Krysin (2004) observes that the higher the level of education, the faster the language adaptation; moreover, people in humanities dealing with culture professionally are more tolerant of foreign borrowings than others (Krysin, 2004: 201). Today journalists are the pioneers of new vocabulary in Russia. In the Soviet times mass media were considered to be a vehicle of speech education. In the late 1980s Krysin (1989: 88) asserted: ‘the language of the mass media greatly influences the speech of the people; while contributing to the spread of normative and literary usage it filters dialectal elements, common parlance and other socially limited speech variations’. Today the standard speech of the Soviet period is being reappraised. Overloaded with ideological cliche´s, verbal red-tape and mannerisms of the country’s leaders, it was often stifling and repelling to members of the speech community. Since perestroika the influence of mass media on the public has increased. Their language has changed dramatically: it has become more personalised, more dialogical, more stylistically dynamic and more open to changes in naming. Journalists tend to combine stylistically contrasting elements and use metaphors and metonymies more generously than in the past (Panov, 1988: 23). A new phenomenon in Russian journalism is codemixing, many examples of which have been given in this chapter. The weakening of censorship and autocensorship also lifted the ban on the free use of common parlance and slang (Zemskaia, 1997). All these factors proved favourable for the expansion of Anglicisms in the media. In contemporary Russia, this phenomenon is perceived by some as a political and ideological defeat of the country, its surrender to Western culture and lifestyle. Excessive use

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of foreign words in public speech was repeatedly on the agenda of the Russian Parliament, State Duma. After lengthy discussions, during the third hearing it approved the bill ‘On the Russian Language as the State Language of the Russian Federation’. One of its clauses was devoted to ‘language culture and the culture of verbal communication’ (compare this with the French legislative efforts in Humbley, 2002: 111). The document put limitations on the use of common parlance, scornful and swearwords and expressions on the occasions when Russian is used as a state language. It also restricted the use of foreign words if appropriate Russian equivalents existed (http://www.vesti.ru/news.html?id  25367&tid12288, 15 February 2003). This bill was criticised and shelved. Ironically, as if to prove the unrealistic nature of proposed regulations, parliamentary, scholarly and Internet discussions of the bill abounded in loan words and recent borrowings. Global expansion of the English language and the interaction of Russian and American cultures are a frequent theme of newspaper and TV discussions. Thus the central TV channel RTR-Planeta repeatedly showed an issue of the prime-time weekend programme Cultural Revolution that was entitled, ‘Do we have to know English?’ The two panellists were the controversial politician Vladimir Zhirinovsky, and Prof. Yuri Viazemsky, an expert in world literatures. Zhirinovsky’s thesis was: the world has to learn Russian; we don’t have to humiliate ourselves by suffering from a foreign language. Moreover, he claimed that if post-Soviet politicians had not used the loan words ‘revolution’, ‘communism’ and ‘default’, but the native bunt (revolt), obzhinnoe obschezhitie (communal life) and obval (landslide), no political disasters would have happened in the country. His opponent Viazemsky maintained that among the talents of the Russians (he referred to Russian speakers at large) was the ability to learn and internalise new material quickly. The only way to make it known to the world is to explain it to everyone in English (which is not English, but American, or rather world language). Despite the notoriety and obvious absurdity of Zhirinovsky’s claims, he was supported by a substantial part of the audience in the studio. It has already been mentioned that insertion of new borrowings is often accompanied by the metatext in which speakers reflect about the meanings of new words and compare them to the native words and concepts. Grassroots control hampers the integration of foreign words and concepts that remain vague and alien to the speakers. The most effective way of doing it is mockery, and see (above) how derision functions with words used in political discourse.

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Among the linguists positions differ concerning the spread of borrowings from English, but many are concerned about the ‘excess of alien words and concepts’ jeopardising the ecology of the language. Notably, in one of the most authoritative Russian dictionaries the word varvarism (barbarism) is defined as a ‘word from a foreign language or an expression built according to a pattern of a foreign language that violates the purity of speech’ [italics by the author] (Ozhegov, 1983: 63). Critical remarks against the expansion of Anglicisms/Americanisms in contemporary Russian that appear in linguistic literature (see, e.g. Kolesov, 1998; Kostomarov, 1994; Novikova, 1995; Savelieva, 2000) can be summarised as follows: . The number of exoticisms that have not been digested by the language community is constantly increasing. They reflect the current language fashion to make speech too bookish and elaborate and cause information emptiness. Unclear to a vast majority of the speakers, exoticisms are frequently misused. Despite the publication of new dictionaries of foreign words, many borrowings remain unmapped. Experiments conducted in various towns testify to the growing number of agnonyms and a drastic drop in speech culture even among professionals and students (see Cherniak, 2000; Sirotinina et al., 1998). . Many foreign borrowings are no more than doublets of the native Russian words. As a result, there is redundancy in naming objects and phenomena, which violates onomaseological development of the language (from object to semantics). . Exoticisms oust native words and concepts and endanger the Russian ethnocultural landscape. Borrowing of English words has paved the way to the expansion of American culture shaped by an alien mentality. Intergenerational ties secured by the continuity of words and images are disintegrating, and the national language may lose its folk basis. Anxiety about the current state of the Russian language and appeals to deal with the language on the state level (see Kolesov, 1998: 228) are countered by other linguists who believe that rapid changes occurring in the language are natural in periods of social change (Tsivian, 2002: 471) and are signs of health and robustness of Russian. Skliarevskaia (1996: 463), for example, argues that it would be reasonable to speak about qualitative changes in the language if the language system transformed such features as the nature and means of semantic development, wordbuilding, the principles of stylistic stratification, and ability to borrow

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and adapt alien elements. The intensity of the processes witnessed in the Russian language today testifies to the opposite: the language system has not lost its potency but shows vitality and coherence. Notes 1. To classify words as Anglicisms I used Go¨rlach’s (2003: 1) definition: ‘An Anglicism is a word or idiom that is recognisably English in its form (spelling, pronunciation, morphology, or at least one of the three), but is accepted as an item in the vocabulary of the receptor language’. In Russian linguistic literature today, the term Americanisms is more frequently used, as language borrowings are seen as a part of American cultural expansion. 2. Infatuation with everything English among the enlightened part of the aristocracy, however, could hardly compete with the influence of the French language and culture in that period. 3. To render Russian words and proper names, the US Library of Congress transliteration system has been used. 4. Here and below I am listing the number of meanings cited in Webster’s Universal College Dictionary, 1997.

Chapter 7

Hebrew: Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in a Modern(ised) Language JUDITH ROSENHOUSE and HAYA FISHERMAN

Wherever languages come into contact, their speakers borrow various items from one another (Weinreich, 1953/1967). Bilingual speakers, at any level, use words from different languages within the context of the dominant language. Borrowing words from a language different from one’s mother tongue is a universal phenomenon of human communication and is related to codeswitching on the one hand and relexification on the other. Different semantic areas within the general vocabulary of a language reveal this effect at variegated levels (for references see, e.g. Bhatia & Ritchie, 2004). Interlanguage contact (in many languages) is a social and cultural process often addressed by sociolinguists such as Fishman et al. (1977b), Haugen (1972), Higa (1979) and Maurais (1985). Three types of countries have been described regarding the contact between national languages and the common communication language 1.

2.

3.

Countries characterised by competing local cultures and languages that adopt the common communication language as a compromise. An example is India, where the struggle between Hindu, Urdu and Bengali led to the embracing of English as the language of the government and the social elite. Countries with ethnic subdivisions and problems regarding political unity, and lacking a national governmental tradition, where a common communication language is adopted as a symbol of national unity (‘nationism’, according to Fishman). Countries with a tradition of national language, in which a common communication language is adopted for certain functions to 121

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122

integrate political, economic and social modernisation (‘nationalism’: see, e.g. Fishman, 1971; Fishman et al., 1977b). The purpose of the present chapter is to study some features of the English borrowings in Modern Hebrew at the beginning of the 21st century and the effect of English on Hebrew through borrowed vocabulary. This investigation may give some idea of the scope of loan words and their relative distribution in various types of written journalese style which reflects the everyday intermediate Hebrew. We begin with a brief survey of the history and background of lexical borrowing processes in Hebrew and focus on borrowings from English. The study of borrowed words in recently published sample texts from newspaper articles in Hebrew is described, analysed and compared with previous studies. Linguistic literature distinguishes foreign words from borrowed words in the language,1 but we do not discuss this issue in this chapter. Clearly, borrowed words in Hebrew do not come only from English. The etymological origin of many borrowings, in Hebrew and in many other languages, is often Greek or Latin. Sometimes it is therefore difficult to define the exact origin of foreign words in Hebrew. Borrowings often involve translation (calques) and transfer of either or both semantic and syntactic elements from the source language. Borrowed items may have diverse forms: single words, phrases, collocations, idioms and whole ‘formulas.’ The process has been noted already in the general literature as well as the literature on Modern Hebrew (Alloni-Fainberg, 1977; Nir, 1989; Shlesinger, 2000). Our present work is limited to single words, but we also comment on words used in loan translations.

Historical and Linguistic Background Although Hebrew is often described as having been revived after a long period of death, it is known to have been used as a holy language for liturgical purposes, as well as for secular literature, including poetry, during about two millenia of Diaspora. For Jews it remained a second or foreign language (see Horvath & Wexler, 1997), while local languages were used for daily communication with local (not necessarily Jewish) speakers. This diglossic situation is somewhat similar to the condition of Latin in the Middle Ages. However, Hebrew has regained the status of a mother tongue, while Latin, like other extinct languages, died with the death of the last native speaker. Since about the 18th century movements for the revival of Hebrew began advocating the learning of Hebrew out of ideological motivation.

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123

They wrote belles lettres in modern (Western) genres and journalistic publications for adults and for children.2 At the end of the 19th century this activity reached ‘Palestine’, then part of the Ottoman Empire. By the beginning of the 20th century not only adults could write and speak Hebrew, but also children,3 who learnt it from siblings, friends, teachers and parents (Bar-Adon, 1988; Glinert, 1991). This process led to the development of Contemporary or Modern Hebrew as a full-fledged spoken and written mother tongue. There was dire need to adapt the language to daily use, as the vocabulary of Biblical or Medieval Hebrew alone did not suffice for daily communication. The Hebrew Language Committee, established in Jerusalem in 1908, undertook the task of coining, innovating and disseminating new terminology for the necessary objects and notions. Also after the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948 this committee, renamed in 1953 the Hebrew Language Academy, still continues this activity and many of the present-day words of Modern Hebrew have been coined by linguists, educators, writers, poets, journalists and members of the Hebrew language Academy.4 But word borrowing is usually a spontaneous process, not directed by any language policy, and thus even the Hebrew Language Academy sometimes affirms borrowed words that have already integrated in Hebrew (Language Academy, 1992). The lexical innovations coined by the Hebrew Language Academy are disseminated in various ways, including mass media (radio, TV and journals), written publications and dictionaries. For example, for about 45 years the Office of Technological and Scientific Terminology of the Academy5 published more than 80 dictionaries of technical or scientific terms, of which about 50
60% have been absorbed into daily use over the years.6 Simultaneously, many other terms were absorbed in Hebrew from foreign languages, and were used even by Academy members who supported the innovation of Hebrew words.7 At the beginning of the 20th century, the borrowed terminology in Hebrew originated in important culture-languages in Europe
mainly Russian, Polish, French, Spanish, German and Yiddish (Fisherman, 1986; Garbell, 1930; Glinert, 1991), as their speakers in Palestine knew them from their countries of origin. The British Empire had interests in the Eastern Mediterranean in the 19th century and even earlier (Lewis, 1960). But British English reached the area only with the beginning of British Mandatory rule in 1920, after the British conquest of Palestine at the end of World War II. The British Mandate lasted until 1948, when the newly established state of Israel

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took over. During those three decades English was the main official language of the country, with Hebrew and Arabic as additional official languages. In that period many borrowed words (such as ginger, puncture, jeep, winker, ax (in a car) and file) entered Colloquial Hebrew rather than normative newly coined Hebrew words, but only a few have survived to the present. When the British left the country the English language ceased to be an official language (Fisherman, 1972). Thus, later, penetration of English into Hebrew comes from a different source. After World War II American English rapidly spread all over the world as a result of the US role in the war and its economic and political power. With its mass media communication (radio and movies) and its material and cultural products, American English relatively quickly replaced the role of British English in Israel. This influence has been growing since the 1960s, especially following the Six Day War in 1967 (see Bendavid, 1974: chapter 4), so that most of the loan words in Hebrew in the last three or four decades have come from this language.8 This trend is attributed to the prestige of American English compared with other immigrant languages, and is similar to the situation elsewhere (cf. Auer, 1999; Kova´cs, 2001). Schwarzwald (2001) assumes that the rate of borrowed words that have integrated in Hebrew is more than 10%, for the borrowing process in Hebrew has been going on throughout its history. A 20th-century example is that the Dictionary of Foreign Words in Hebrew (Pines, 1955) has 12,000 entries, whereas the Expanded Dictionary (Pines & Pines, 1976
77) has some 24,000 entries. This number has greatly risen in the last 30 years: Rosenthal’s (2005) slang dictionary already contains about 10,000 items drawn from English. The status of borrowed words has also strengthened and numerous dictionaries insert such words among their entries (including the new edition of the prestigious Even-Shoshan monolingual Hebrew dictionary).

Public Awareness of Loan Words in Hebrew and Attitudes to Them Public awareness of borrowing depends on the speakers’ cultural and linguistic backgrounds. Native speakers do not usually consider this issue and use their language without questioning it, as an inherent part of their life. In many language communities, those who care for the state of a native language, its development and future are mainly language professionals such as linguists, language teachers, educators and writers of all genres of literature. This holds for Modern Hebrew too. The first

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125

large-scale Hebrew slang dictionary (by Ben-Amotz & Ben-Yehuda, 1972, 1982) reflects awareness of the mixed state of the language and the happy acceptance of its unsupervised development.9 The academic literature, along with public debates in journals and daily newspapers, is exceedingly rich in discussions of the Hebrew language, particularly its future (for summaries of this literature see, e.g. Fisherman, 1986, 2001; Muchnik, 1994a, 1994b, 2003). Expressions such as ‘Modern Hellenisation’, ‘Engrew’ and ‘Hebrish’ (cf. ‘franglais’) reflecting attitudes to borrowings are not uncommon in this literature. A recent example of such discussions is Goldberg’s (2002) article about ‘high-tech language’, the mixed Hebrew
English language spoken by hi-tech employees, especially in the areas of electronics and computers. This article was one of the articles about the Hebrew language that appeared in the Ha’aretz Independence Day supplement. Like so many writers who discuss the present situation of Hebrew, Goldberg (2002) mentions several reasons for the use of English in this population. These reasons include the English language skills of this population, who are actively connected with colleagues abroad, mainly in the USA; a ‘snobbish’ and ‘elite’ feeling of these workers; and the need for English terminology due to its absence from Hebrew. Thus, psycholinguistic and sociolinguistic aspects combine with ‘objective’ linguistic features of Modern Hebrew (Nir, 1989, 1993). Fisherman (1990) studied the attitudes of three groups of Hebrew speakers
school students, nurses and university students
to foreign words in Hebrew and loan word use. Differences and discrepancies between theory and practice were found in these groups, related to age, home background, language background and employment. These participants showed relatively little objection to the use of foreign words, although the actual rate of use of such words was lower than their expressed support rate. The public attitude to Hebrew as a national value in Israel has been changing since about the 1980s. Before the establishment of Israel, and for roughly the first three decades after its establishment, the ideology and general attitude to Hebrew revolved around the slogan ‘Hebrew [person]
speak Hebrew [language]’. By now this motto is nearly forgotten, and private and official establishments are more open to the preservation and use of newcomers’ mother tongues
mainly the tongue of newcomers from the former Soviet Union. Many shop signs and media advertisements are written also, or only, in foreign alphabets (even with spelling mistakes).10 On billboards, ads for cultural entities such as theatres, journals, orchestras and nightclubs are often written in Russian,

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Globally Speaking

alongside Hebrew. In addition, the writing and titles on foodstuff packaging are often in Hebrew and Russian instead of Hebrew and English (cf. Shur, 1999; Spolski & Shohamy, 1999). Some researchers fear that the effect of English will change the nature of the national language. Others think that Israel, formerly a multilingual country due to the numerous immigrants’ languages, has recently become bilingual, with English being the most dominant foreign language. The fact that at least half the Israeli population is bilingual definitely affects the development of Hebrew. Rosenthal, for example, argues that what worries the debaters is not the question . . . whether this is good or bad . . . but whether Hebrew can die out. The Hebrew language is still a unifying force for the parts of Israeli society. If this society decomposes and dies out from the inside, a scenario which looks very remote right now, the orthodox Jews will resort to talking Yiddish, the Russians will talk Russian and the secular Israelis will move to English. On the other hand . . . Hebrew exists and is alive, but not always must you invent a word in a language instead of something nice that the Gentiles have given us. (Goldberg, 2002) Another newspaper article (Tsemah, 2004) discusses various syntactic and semantic changes in Modern Hebrew mainly due to loan translations (calques) from English. Thus, public awareness of the state of Hebrew is expressed mainly in the educated classes in discussions dealing with ideological (normative) aspects, the future of this language, its ongoing development and specific linguistic topics (e.g. Kantor, 1994; Ravid, 1994).

Features of Borrowed Vocabulary in Hebrew The morphological classification of vocabulary traditionally refers to nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs (e.g. Schwarzwald, 2001). As in other languages, loan words in Hebrew, including words borrowed from English, involve more nouns than any other part of speech (Fisherman, 1986, 1994; Ravid, 1994). Borrowed words may have morphological and/ or phonological foreign features (Nir, 1989, 1993), which affect their absorption in the new environment (Fisherman, 1986; Ravid, 1994). Such features, for example, are phonemes that do not exist in the ‘original’ Hebrew system, such as ˇc, ˘g, w in ‘chief, jeep, winner’, diphthongs such as [ou] in [sou] ‘so’, or phoneme clusters making heavy syllable structures, especially in the end of a word, such as in [bank] ‘bank’, and [humanist] ‘humanitarian’. It should be noted that word-final

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127

clusters with the sonorants /l,m,n,r/ are often resolved in speech by an added vowel, e.g. ‘Lincoln’
[Linkolen], and film
[filim]. Fisherman (1986) notes concerning her sample that the innovated Hebrew parallel was often written next to the borrowed foreign word. Muchnik (1994a) suggests several explanations for this phenomenon, such as subconscious linguistic redundancy; sensing foreignness in the borrowed word (especially adjectives); the personal wish to explain a foreign word by a Hebrew one (if the foreign word comes first), or a patronising assumption that the reader might not know the meaning of the foreign word. In this context it has often been noted (for other languages) that semantic differences may evolve between the borrowed word and its parallel in the receiving language, whether an innovation or a translation. For example, in the pair /sotsiali/ (Bsocial) versus /’evrati/ (social, in Hebrew), the first means ‘social work’ and the latter ‘belonging to a society or community’ (Blanc, 1989: 90); see also /moral/ (Bmorale) versus /morali/ (adjective referring to morals, ethics). Thus, certain loan words become part and parcel of the vocabulary of Modern Hebrew and cannot be replaced by Hebrew innovations. Word borrowing is usually a spontaneous process, not directed by any language policy and the Language Academy sometimes indeed affirms borrowed words that have already integrated in Hebrew. The integration of borrowed words apparently involves three processes (not necessarily in any chronological order): first, straightforward borrowing (without changes); second, modification of the phonological form to adapt it to the phonological system of the receiving language; and third, morphological modification by adding or modifying morphemes (e.g. feminine or plural of a noun or a verb derived from the consonantal stem of the word; more about this in Fisherman, 1986). Examples are /zapping/
/mezapzep/ (singular masculine present tense verb form, with geminated ‘root consonants’), /sponserit/, ‘a female sponsor’ (a feminine singular suffix at the end of the English word) and /kasetot/ ‘cassettes’ (with the feminine plural suffix at the end of the borrowing). Shlesinger’s (2000) study of Hebrew journalese also referred to foreign borrowings in it. He found that different genres borrow at different rates: the less formal or academic the style (e.g. gossip sections), the more borrowings are used in the text. Identifying a loan word as originating from British or American English is possible not only due to linguistic but also to extralinguistic factors, such as the type of object or notion it refers to (e.g. scientific, technological, fashion) or the date this object or notion was first

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produced. Here this kind of semantic classification is not dealt with, however.

Case Studies The following sections present our study of the effect of English on Hebrew as revealed in recent journalese writing, the intermediate register of written Hebrew. Journalese vocabulary and style, like any text, vary by topic and register (politics, science, sports, economy or literary supplements) and by ‘genre’ (e.g. short news, articles and advertisements) (Rosenfeld, 2003; Shlesinger, 2000). We therefore examined a number of articles in genres that appeared to us likely to reflect different areas of English influence. The research questions for the studies described below concern the rate and kind of English elements in Hebrew, in what fields they are found, and the manner and nature of their blending with Hebrew journalese. Material The material of this research is mainly based on the three largest daily newspapers in Israel, Ma‘ariv, Ha’aretz and Yedi‘ot Aharonot. From Ma‘ariv we scanned 35 issues over a three-month period (March
May 2003).11 From Ha’aretz we scanned news briefs (22 March 2003), two supplementary brochures ‘Shammenet’ (‘cream’) and ‘Captain Internet’, the supplement for Internet news (26 March 2002). We also scanned the festive issue for Passover (March 2002). From Yedi‘ot Aharonot we scanned the news briefs and the ‘Good Times’ supplement issued on the same day (21.3.02). Finally, we scanned the local news section in the Haifa local weekly Kol-bo (March 2002). This material is comprised of advertisements, news and general political articles. On the whole, this array presents a variety of journalese text styles which reflect the medial communication level of Modern Hebrew.

Method All the entries of the Ma‘ariv corpus were studied for morphological classification of the Hebraised adjective forms, frequency of occurrence of each adjective, and the semantic domains of all the borrowed nouns. In addition, we made a linguistic analysis of loan translations found in the Ma‘ariv corpus. We then compared the findings with those of previous studies (Fisherman, 1986, 1994). In the material from Ha’aretz, Yedi‘ot Aharonot and Kol-bo only the non‘Standard European’ words were analysed. We counted only words that

Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in Hebrew

129

had specific semantic meanings originating in British or American English (even if they were also ‘Standard European’ words). We also divided the borrowed words into British and American groups. Although it is sometimes difficult to define the source language of the borrowed words, this sample gives an idea of the scope of English borrowings in Modern Hebrew at the beginning of the 21st century and their relative distribution in journalese.

Findings Entries, distribution and occurrence rates Ma‘ariv provided 612 entry patterns of foreign words of which 404 (65%) were nouns and 208 (35%) were adjectives. Out of the 404 nouns, 192 (48%) were identified as originating in English. The adjectives were adapted to Hebrew by means of the nisba ending, namely ‘i’ suffixed to the foreign base.12 As in Fisherman (1986), approximately the same relation between nouns and adjectives was found in this sample: nouns in 1986 constituted 61% of the borrowed words (1986), now 65%; adjectives were then 39%, now 35%. (For example, in the new corpus, 12 of the 20 items occurring ten times or more were adjectives. Among the 71 words that occurred 6
9 times, 42 were adjectives.) However, nouns borrowed from English showed a marked numerical difference: in the 1986 study, 28% of them were from English, whereas the figure in the present corpus is almost double, 48%. The corpus from Ha’aretz, Yedi‘ot Aharonot and Kol-Bo amounted to about 200 types (450 tokens) of borrowed words from English, that is, a higher relative rate of borrowings than in the larger Ma‘ariv corpus. As in the Ma‘ariv corpus, in this sample most of the borrowings were nouns, but the ratios were very different. Nouns here amounted to 86.7% of the occurrences, whereas only 13% were adjectives and other speech parts. This finding seems to reflect the different journalistic genres. Another cross-section refers to the distribution of specific nouns versus adjectives (in tokens). Of the 208 adjectives in the Ma‘ariv corpus, 37 (18%) appear at a high frequency (5 times and more). On the other hand, among the 183 words with a small occurrence rate (1
5 times), 119 are nouns and 62 are adjectives (see Figure 7.1). From another angle, 60% of the high-frequency words (6 times and above) are adjectives, whereas only 40% of the nouns have a frequency of six times or more. It appears, then, that adjectives of foreign origin are used more often than borrowed nouns, whereas the absolute number of the borrowed nouns is larger.

Globally Speaking

130 5–7

8–10

11–15

20+

1. Objective

1. Optimistic

1. Aggressive

1. Relevant

2. Alternative

2. Automatic

2. Dominant

3. Anonymous

3. Attractive

3.Dramatic

4. Authentic

4. Intimate

4. Massive

5. Intellectual

5. intensive

6. Ethnic

6. Strategic

7. Drastic

7. Effective

8. humanitarian

8. Global

9. Virtual

9. Digital

10. Tragic

10. Legitimate

11. Logistic

11. Standard

12. Minimal

12. Specific

13. Maximal

13. Collective

14. Pessimistic

14. Critical

15. Correct 16. Conventional 17. Rational 18. Theoretic

Figure 7.1 Hebrew adjectives with various frequencies of occurrence (five times and higher) (back-translated into English)

It should be noted that Modern Hebrew adjectives have become an independent category and a strong source for lexical enrichment of the Hebrew vocabulary through derivation (cf. Ravid & Shlezinger, 1987). This trend is in contrast with Biblical Hebrew, where the verb and noun classes are dominant, rather than adjectives. ‘Foreign’ adjectives are claimed to create a stronger sense of foreignness than nouns. According to Mirkin (1975), writers who use these foreign words demonstrate over-erudition. Nir (1993) maintains that the profuse usage of foreign adjectives is often due to a lexical deficiency, accompanied by a desire to be stylish, as well as some snobbishness. In addition, borrowed nouns become obsolete with time and are replaced by new ones, whereas adjectives show a stronger tendency to survive over time. The picture given by the borrowings in Ha’aretz, Yedi‘ot Aharonot and Kolbo is completely different, as noted. Loan words in these newspapers are mainly nouns and include only a tiny number of

Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in Hebrew

131

adjectives. This difference can be probably explained by the different genres of texts examined in these newspapers. American and English product names and toponames are especially numerous in this part of the sample. Advertisements in particular abound in foreign proper names, which are usually not translated into Hebrew. As expected, the number of loan words referring to American culture items that have penetrated Hebrew is large in articles that discuss topics related to the USA, for example, catering, volume, super (Bsupermarket), ‘sea food market’, suite (/swita/ in Hebrew, a luxurious living accommodation), concept (/kon’sept/ in Hebrew), baby-sitting (/beibisiting/ in Hebrew), jazz (music style), rock (dance type), etc. In the Ma‘ariv sample, approximately 60% of the words borrowed from English are from the entertainment, communication and socioeconomic fields (43% of the 60% entries pertaining to folklore and society are from the field of entertainment and communication). Twenty percent of the words borrowed from English are from the technological domain; 10% are from the political and security domains; and 10% are from the fashion domain. Figures 7.2, 7.3 and 7.4 present some of the items from this newspaper. A picture of the findings in the samples from Ha’aretz, Yedi‘ot Aharonot and Kolbo can be obtained in three other figures. Figure 7.5 is a detailed summary of the data and Figure 7.6 presents the total number of types of English borrowings in Hebrew in this sample. Finally, Figure 7.7 gives the classification of 205 types (of 450 tokens) of borrowed nouns, adjectives, verbs and other word types in the various newspapers (except Ma‘ariv). 1. Audition

11. D.J

21. Talk-Show

31. Cinemateque

41. Cocktail

2. Eighties

12. Date

22. Tenor

32. Small Talk

42. Club

3. Item

13. Disk

23. Trans

33. Special

43. Close-Up

4. Effect

14. Discotheque

24. Media

34. Spin

44. Come-Back

5. Action

15. Disk

25. Medium

35. Pub

45. Country-Club

6. Blind-Date

16. Drink

26. Sound

36. Play-Boy

46. Rating

7. Gimmick

17. Happy-End

27. Statist

37. Prime

47. Record

8. Jingle

18. Happening

28. Stand-Up

38. Chat

48. Show

9. General

19. Winner

29. Stand-Upist

39. Comics

Rehearsal 10. Double

(Stand-Up Comedian) 20. Ton

30. Striptease

40. Confidence

Figure 7.2 List of borrowings from the entertainment and communication domains

Globally Speaking

132

Banking and

Way of life and Security and

Money

Social Life

Politics

Technology

Fashion

1. Overdraft

1. Out

1. Act

1. Egzos (< exhaust)

1. Old-fashion

2. Upgrade

2. Outsider

2. Bunker

2. Internet

2. Elegant

3. Bonus

3. Aids

3. Deadline

3. E-Mail

3. Jeans

4. Boss

4. In

4. Terror

4. Astronaut

4. Vest

5. Business

5. Integrity

5. Trigger

5. Blender

5. Touch

6. Bar

6. After (After-

6. Lobby

6. Breaks

6. Tissue

7. T-Shirt

duty break) 7. Broker

7. Baby-sitter

7. Lynch

7. Jack

8. Barman

8. Jungle

8. Sticker

8. Video

8. Look

9. Job

9. Jogging

9. Session

9. Visher

9. Lipstick

10. Deal

10. Junk-Food

10. Patriot

10. Wax

10. Mini

11. Dealer

11. Duplex

11. Panel

11. Toaster

11. Maxi

(Windshield Wiper)

12. Hacker

12. Homosexual 12. Partner

12. Tuner

12. Model

13. Hi-Tech

13. Homeless

13. Primaries

13. Timing

13. Style

14. Tip

14. Hamburger

14. Cabinet

14. Tape

14. Stylish

15. Trade-In

15. Well-Done

15. Concept

15. Tipex (
15. Switcher

16. Terminal

16. Trip

16. Conflict

16. Telephone

16. Sale

17. Minus (=

17. Trend

17. Consensus

17. Tester

17. Kitsch (from

18. Supermarket

18. Lobby

18. Kit bag

18. Transistor

19. Start-Up

19. Loser

19. Campaign

19. Modem

20. City

20. Light

20. Campaigner

20. Micro-wave

21. Selector

21. Steak

21. Ritual

overdraft)

German!) 18. Poster

21. Mesting (<messtin)

22. Center

22. Stereotype

22. Switch

23. Plus

23. Single

23. Masking tape

24. Check

24. Slums

24. Stopper

Figure 7.3 List of borrowings from other high-frequency domains

Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in Hebrew 25. Charter

25. Sandwich

25. Starter

26. Client

26. Sport

26. Sponsor

27. Credit

27. Fast-Food

133

27. Seedcome (<sitcome)

28. Shopping

28. Park

28. Pedal

29. Cadre

29. Play-Station

30. Cool

30. Fax

31. Complex

31. Factor

32. Copywriter

32. Front

33. Catering

33. Parameter

34. Client

34. Code

35. Campus

35. Compact Disk

36. Captain

36. Copy

37. Sector

37. Clutch 38. Radio

Figure 7.3 (Continued)

List of borrowings from other high-frequency domains

Phonology and morphology

1.

Phonology. Loan words in Hebrew from British or American English differ phonetically. Older borrowings reflect the British Mandate period, e.g. [derbi] ‘derby, a football match’, [dzˇi:p] ‘jeep’, [pantsˇer] ‘puncture; now also any mishap’. These older borrowings (not only from English) have added new phonemes to Modern Hebrew [dzˇ, tsˇ] which are not felt to be phonologically foreign any more. Recent borrowings from American English often retain their original phonetic form using phonemes that may still sound foreign to the phonological system. An example is ‘style’, pronounced with a diphthong [stail] (rather than as German /sˇtiil/ or French /stil/) that does not belong to the original phonological system of Hebrew, ‘international’ produced as [interneisˇenal] (not /internacional/ as the Hebrew name of the socialist anthem), or the affricate [g˘] rather than [g] in ‘giga’, etc. It should also be noted that acronyms (IBM, MIT, etc.) are usually pronounced by Hebrew speakers as in English by their letter names
which is only ‘natural’
unless they are translated into Hebrew, as in [’um], itself an acronym, for ‘UNO’.

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Globally Speaking

Figure 7.4 Summary of our sample with examples from English

Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in Hebrew

135

Figure 7.4 Summary of our sample with examples from English (Continued)

136

Globally Speaking

Figure 7.4 Summary of our sample with examples from English (Continued)

Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in Hebrew

Source

Number of types

Total number

204

Ha’aretz: “Shammenet”

75

Ha’aretz: “Captain Internet”

64

Yedi'ot Aharonot: news, ads,

61

137

“Zmanim Tovim” Yedi'ot Aharonot: sports news

2

briefs

Figure 7.5 Total number of types of English loan words in Hebrew in the sample Note: Some of the words in this list are written in English letters

2.

Morphology. Many borrowed words are integrated into the Hebrew morphological system and accordingly take morphological derivational affixes. From the Ma‘ariv corpus we compared the adjectives with the nisba ending in the present research with those of the 1980s to find changes in the use of borrowed adjectives. There are several subpatterns of nisba endings, depending on the ending of the foreign adjective, as Figure 7.7 shows. The differences between the two studies are not large, per subpattern, but on the whole the present study shows more adjectives than the earlier one.

The comparison also reveals that this process has become almost the exclusive derivation means for the borrowed adjectives in Modern Hebrew, in that the majority of the adjectives in our corpus are created through concatenation with the nisba ending. In certain cases the foreign (or English) adjective endings are clipped in the process (-ous, -ian, -c
i, see: humanitarian
[humanitari], anonymous
[anonimi], dramatic
[dramati]) whereas others remain entire (e.g. legal
[legali], aggressive
[agressivi]). Borrowed noun adaptation to Hebrew morphology is expressed in: a. retaining the word without any morphological marker (e.g. [telefon] B‘telephone,’ [kepten] B‘captain’), b. suffixing a feminine suffix to the foreign
seemingly masculine
form, as in [liga] ‘league’ and [kaseta] ‘cassette’, with the feminine suffix [-a], or [sponserit] ‘female sponsor’, with the Hebrew feminine suffix [-it].

Globally Speaking

138

Source

Nouns

Adjectives

Verbs

Others

Ha’aretz,

58

5

1

2

58

5

1

-

Yedi’ot

58 (including

1

-

Aharonot,

11 hotel names

sentence and a

news, ads,

and other

phrase)

“Zmanim

business place

Tovim”

names)

Yedi’ot

2

“Shammenet” Ha’aretz, Captain Internet

-

-

2 (including a

-

Aharonot, sports news briefs

Figure 7.6 Classification of nouns, adjectives, verbs and other word types borrowed from English in the sample Note: Some of the words in this list are written in English letters

c.

A non-English suffix such as the Polish/Russian suffix [-ia], which is very productive in Modern Hebrew, occurs in certain abstract nouns (e.g. ‘television’
[televizia], ‘cognition’
[kognicia]), which seem to have been borrowed through British or American English mediation. d. English plural forms may, however, get a feminine singular suffix [-a] when borrowed into Hebrew and omit the original plural marker in nouns such as [logistika] ‘logistics’ and [genetika] ‘genetics’. e. The plural suffix is added to singular loan words according to Hebrew morphological rules; for example, [format] ‘format’, a masculine singular noun
[formatim] ‘formats’ with the masculine plural suffix [-im], whereas [kaseta] ‘cassette’, a feminine singular noun, becomes [kasetot] with the feminine plural suffix [-ot]. A borrowed word ending with a vowel creates a morphological problem, because of the adjacency of that vowel to the vowel of the plural suffix. Thus the older borrowings [radio] ‘radio’ or [oto] ‘auto, car’ do not usually take the plural suffix in Modern Hebrew, and other linguistic devices are sought to pluralise them, e.g. adding the plural

Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in Hebrew

139

Figure 7.7 Patterns of adjectives and their distribution in Study 1

form of the Hebrew word [maxsˇir] ‘tool, device’ to ‘radio’, or reverting to a new Hebrew word such as [mexonit] for ‘car’, which can get the plural suffix. A conspicuous ‘literary’ concoction is [beya’adness], which in itself is an unconventional abstract noun expressing ‘being together’ or ‘togetherness’. Here the English suffix ‘ness’ is affixed to the Hebrew word [beya’ad] ‘together’ (itself including the prefix [be-] ‘with’ and [ya’ad] ‘together’). Verbs are derived from the consonantal base (or ‘root’) of the foreign word (which is usually triconsonantal in Hebrew, but sometimes even quadriliteral), for example, [le-farverd] ‘to forward’ (an e-mail message) or [le-dabeg] ‘to debug’ (for more examples see Ravid, 1994). Orthography and spelling: Transmission methods

Loan words can be found in Hebrew texts in Hebrew script, in the original English script, in loan translations (calques) and sometimes in forms that mix Hebrew and English into one syntactic structure such as compounds, or repeats of the same word in Hebrew and English. Hebrew script. In our sample, most of the English borrowings in Hebrew texts are written in Hebrew script. This is especially conspicuous in titles, proper names and place names, etc., for example, ‘British Airways’, ‘Super Center’, ‘Sports Illustrated’, ‘Sheraton City Tower’, etc., but also elsewhere, for example, ‘tape double cassette’ or ‘cocktails’. The Hebrew spelling of borrowed words may involve simple typos or errors demonstrating the writer’s poor English. Examples are the spelling /tayc/ for ‘tights’
a word that originally ends with /t//s/, the plural morpheme, or /tsarter/ (without affrication) for ‘charter’.13 English script. The use of the English alphabet sometimes exceeds single words, and applies to two-word phrases, idioms and longer complete English sentences. In our material we found, for example, the formula or cliche´ sentence ‘I should have known better’ in a short story

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Globally Speaking

written in Hebrew, and ‘Citibank never sleeps’ as part of an ad otherwise written in Hebrew. These seem to be examples of ‘written codeswitching’, which exceeds ‘simple’ borrowing of words (Poplack, 1980). Our examples suggest that many of the words written in the English alphabet are ones that would be difficult to read if written in Hebrew due to their non-transparent forms for Hebrew readers (whose Hebrew text normally provides the consonants but not the vowels). Such words definitely include acronyms of foreign institutes and companies (MIT, IBM, ‘turbo CD’), but also words with syllable structures and phonemes
both consonants and vowels
that do not exist in Hebrew. For example the word ‘hours’ in ‘Happy Hours’, includes phonetically the triphthong /au/, which is not found in the Hebrew phonological system. There are also compounds or annexations, such as [mitqan GPS] ‘GPS device’, which combine Hebrew and English scripts. The use of English (or Roman) script in Hebrew texts was already frequent in academic texts throughout the 20th century. Many examples from academic texts (not studied as part of our sample) refer to scientific terms or authors’ names (see, e.g. articles in Klausner, 1957, and numerous papers and dissertations in any Israeli university over the years). A relatively large proportion of the items in the noun group (about 15%) in the studied newspapers (excluding Ma‘ariv) are written in English script, including two- and three-word phrases and even whole sentences. This proportion of penetration of the English alphabet into non-academic Hebrew newspaper texts has not yet been reported, as far as we know. The high rate of this usage may be related to the lexical material involved and the writer’s goal (e.g. ads for tourists’ needs, attracting the reader’s eye, adding a snobbish flare, etc.). Fisherman (1986, Chapter 2) discussed the transcription of borrowed words but did not mention English transcription. We may thus assume that using the English alphabet in ‘normal’ journalese writing is fairly new, and has accelerated in the last two decades (since Fisherman, 1986).14 Semantics

(1) Domain distribution. The article topics in the Ma‘ariv corpus are mainly social and economic, hence the considerable proportion in it of borrowings in these domains. Today entertainment and communication fill an important role in Western society, perhaps more than other fields, and accordingly display the largest number of borrowed words from English, as seen in Figures 7.2, 7.3 and 7.4. Also the samples from the other newspapers show a bias to these domains. Particularly strong are the domains of electronic communication and devices (mobile phones,

Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in Hebrew

141

TV sets, video and DVD), tourism, imported and exported products, including perfumes, hotel names, airlines, tourist accessories, etc. The salience of these English words reflects the need of the Hebrew-speaking society for such words. (2) Borrowings versus Hebrew words. Some of the borrowed words have no Hebrew parallel, while others do. In our texts, when the borrowings had parallel Hebrew words, the borrowing or the Hebrew form could be found apparently with no functional distinction, or with the covert intention of stylistic enrichment and diversification. For example, in an article on cycling, both English ‘pedalling’ and Hebrew /medavsˇot/ (pedalling, pl. f.) occurred. Likewise, English ‘cassettes’ appeared in the same articles in the adapted form /kasetot/ and the more recent Hebrew term /kalatot/. Muchnik (1994a) studied specifically the use of an English (or any foreign) word next to Hebrew words as their synonyms within the text, with the foreign word preceding or following the Hebrew. She concludes that this simultaneous use of loan words and Hebrew words reflects the linguistic inner conflicts of Modern Hebrew speakers, who have not yet decided which form they should use in their vocabulary, and when. (3) Borrowed word translation (calque). Calque, or loan translation, occurs as covert borrowing of English elements by Hebrew. The process on the whole involves semantic transfer from one language to the other. It may be with single words, on which we focus here, as well as phrases and longer utterances. In Hebrew, a calque can originate in diverse European languages, including Yiddish, so it is sometimes difficult to trace its exact origin. At present the language influencing Hebrew journalese is undoubtedly English rather than any other European language. Two types of calques can be observed in the studied texts: 1. Calques related to the metaphoric
idiomatic use of certain words (here back-translated from Hebrew), for example, a. The public certainly praises the vigorous preparations of the Home Front Command and the security system, but does not take them seriously (H. Shalev, 28 March 2003). b. Assad is collaborating with Iraq. In other words, Assad is playing with fire (B. Caspit, 2 April 2003). c. To a great extent, Sadam is now playing the role which for some time was played by Yaser Arafat (A. Rapaport, 8 April 2003). d. The 11th of September falls this year on Thursday (R. Russo, 11 April 2003).

Globally Speaking

142

e.

Topaz takes to heart every article and criticism (G. Ochovsky, 18 April 2003). f. It seems as if everybody suddenly has caught (got) cold feet (G. Ochovsky, 18 April 2003). 2. Parenthetical or ‘hedging’ expressions used in various communicative functions. These include the expression of opinions and the writer’s voice, persuading the reader by rhetorical means, and attracting readers and involving them in the written text. Moreover, such expressions often characterise the colloquial register. These vernacular elements reflect the changes under way in the intermediate register of the Hebrew journalistic language. These are some examples: a. It ain’t pleasant saying, but no one has a clue as to the current level of risk we are in (G. Ochovsky, 26 March 2003). b. The Eastern Jews draw on the Ashkenazi culture, and that’s also O.K. (N. Bar‘am, 28 March 2003). c. Peres is obviously not trying to rehabilitate the Labor party for someone else, forget it (S. Yerushalmi, 9 May 2003). d. After all, it is obvious that there is no way to cover the debt (B. Caspit, 23 May 2003).

Discussion and Conclusion The present flooding of Modern Hebrew with English words is without doubt part of the influx of cultural innovations and consumer products from the English-speaking USA since 1967. The Hebrew language and its speakers receive and accept the new products and notions as they are, usually with their foreign names. The Hebrew Language Academy keeps translating such words and coins new ones instead of foreign ones, but its activity progresses slowly compared to the pace of the torrent of English borrowings. The rate of absorption of English elements in speech and writing reflects bipolar sociolinguistic and psycholinguistic factors, such as the prestige of English and snobbish attitude of people who know this language, or conversely speakers’ wish to retain the purity of the Hebrew language and their refusal to use loan words. Loan word acceptance reflects the ability of the language to develop and survive in light of new notions and products. Journalists do not hesitate to use English terminology in a Hebrew text. This is a feature of journalistic writing, which as described in the literature reflects the ‘intermediate’ register of Hebrew. Shlesinger (2000) defines journalese as the media mediator between foreign languages and

Borrowing Ideology and Pragmatic Aspects in Hebrew

143

Hebrew for Hebrew speakers in Israel. He classifies foreign influence on Hebrew journalese by genre (e.g. political essays, advertisements, sports, personal gossip) and notes differences between the genres relating to foreign influence. He does not treat English borrowings separately, however, as we do here. Among the foreign (and English) borrowings he mentions also those used as jargon and as slang, which have not been discussed here (but see Rosenhouse, 2006). The loan words we found reflect effects of cultural attitudes, register characteristics, text topic, professional jargon and snobbish or patronising attitudes. Their use deviates from earlier conscientious considerations of the need to develop and retain Hebrew. According to Shlesinger (2000) this usage is an aspect of modern permissiveness. This borrowing situation is basically common to any language and language society when it comes into contact with another language through its speakers. However, the influence of American English on Hebrew works more through products and media transmitting cultural concepts than through direct personal contacts. Speakers often use the loan words because they do not know how to express these notions in their native Hebrew. One of the goals of this study was to check the special factors or phenomena of English borrowings in Hebrew at present. Two important features seem to emerge: the fact that the English alphabet has penetrated so much in borrowings in non-academic texts (see also Shlesinger, 2000), and the fact that most of the borrowed vocabulary is comprised of nouns. Borrowed adjectives form the second largest group of words in distribution in Fisherman’s (1994) study as well as in this one, but they constitute a much smaller group than borrowed nouns. However, once they have penetrated Hebrew, borrowed English adjectives seem to be more stable than nouns, not changing with fashion. Their morphological adaptation to Hebrew with the concatenated nisba suffix is very easy, which enhances their integration in Hebrew, simultaneously making the nisba suffix very productive. Our study, which analyses certain written texts, investigates part of the linguistic situation of English borrowings in Hebrew. A study of spontaneously spoken discourse would reveal additional and different features of borrowing from English, including different frequency rates and distributions (see Rosenhouse, 2006). This aspect of the subject has hardly been addressed in the literature, and deserves an independent study in the future. English loan words in Hebrew
the linguistic aspect of globalisation
are apparently here to stay. It is important, however, to maintain the foundations of the national language, namely Hebrew in

144

Globally Speaking

Israel, for the people’s sense of unification and uniqueness. Hebrew seems to be adopting its own version of the English loan words (like so many other languages) and will survive, for all we know, though in a form increasingly differentiated from previous forms. Notes 1. A word is defined as foreign when it is perceived as such by speakers who do not regularly use the word’s original language; borrowing is a lexical element integrated in the receiving language (see Von Polenz, 1979). 2. Pelli (2001) considers this activity the beginning of the phase of Hebrew as a living language. Ornan (1984) and others describe the development as beginning in 1882. 3. Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, as told, made his wife talk only Hebrew to their children. Morag (2003) reviews such beginnings. Glinert (1991) studies this question from a grammatical point of view, based on early schoolbooks. 4. Some famous innovators are Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, Haim Nahman Bialik, Nathan Alterman, Avraham Shlonski, Yonathan Ratosh and S. Yizhar. 5. This office was at the Technion
I.I.T. in Haifa until it was closed in 2003. 6. This was calculated by Prof. S. Irmay, who directed this office for about 40 years (personal communication). 7. E.g. Glikson’s (1923) paper ‘About the use of foreign words’ dated 1923, in Muchnik (2003), and Porat (1993). Opposition to borrowing was not unanimous among members of the Academy, however. See Prof. Klausner’s support of borrowing in his 1915 paper, reprinted in Klausner (1957). 8. Such borrowings are not
but might have been
from Russian, Amharic or any other (previous) immigrant language, such as German, French or Polish (Fisherman, 1994). 9. See Blanc’s introductory words in Ben-Amotz and Ben-Yehuda (1972). 10. This trend is not limited to this recent period. See Avinery (1966), Shur (1999) and Spolsky and Cooper (1989). 11. The dates of these issues are as follows: March
5.3, 6.3, 11.3, 12.3, 14.3, 16.3, 20.3, 21.3, 23.3, 24.3, 25.3, 26.3, 27.3, 28.3; April
2.4, 3.4, 4.4, 8.4, 9.4, 10.4, 11.4, 15.4, 18.4, 21.4, 24.4, 25.4; May
2.5, 5.5, 6.5, 9.5, 11.5, 15.5, 16.5, 23.5. 12. The Arabic term nisba has been borrowed by Hebrew grammar for an affix used very frequently in Arabic as a adjectival suffix. This concatenation is similar to processes in European languages. 13. Such errors are also found in ads put up on billboards by shopkeepers, market stall holders, etc. 14. Sometimes (although we have not found this in this sample) even single English letters are combined within words written in Hebrew. This mainly occurs in (humoristic) advertisements in newspapers, TV, billboards, etc.; see examples in Machauf (1997).

Chapter 8

Colloquial Arabic (in Israel): The Case of English Loan Words in a Minority Language with Diglossia JUDITH ROSENHOUSE

In the 20th century English became the lingua franca of the whole world. The reasons for this process are numerous, and in part complex. In certain areas the impact of English is due to direct contact or friction with a non-English-speaking population (e.g. Aitchison, 1991: Chapter 8; Janson, 2002: Chapter 12). This is especially so in countries under the British Crown in the 19th and early 20th century.1 The influence of English on other languages (and their speakers) may be more indirect: the penetration of notions, products and terms from an English-speaking country or community to countries whose population do not speak this language. Another way of linguistic influence is the penetration of English vocabulary into a third language through a mediating language, whose speakers have direct contact with English speakers. Such phenomena occur in any interlingual contacts and are not unique to English or Arabic. The discussion of the effect of English on Arabic should be divided into two parts in accordance with the dual structure of this language, namely written or so-called ‘Literary’ or ‘Standard’ Modern Arabic, and colloquial Arabic, which is used for normal oral communication. Modern Literary Arabic is based on rich layers of Classical literature and innovations added down the ages, especially since its renaissance at the beginning of the 19th century. Colloquial Arabic is well known among world languages for its numerous dialects, which vary due to many geographic and demographic factors. This dichotomy between the Literary and Colloquial varieties, called diglossia (see the classic paper by Ferguson, 1959), exists in other languages, but the degree of difference between the two is probably unique to Arabic. A major linguistic problem is the absence of a clear boundary between Literary and 145

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Globally Speaking

Colloquial Arabic, and native Arabic speakers mix numerous features of these varieties in diverse combinations. In examining the influence of English on Arabic we must realise that it may differ between the varieties, which develop independently as different linguistic states.2 The motivation for the present study is the wish to know how English affects such a diglossic language as Arabic, and how the effect differs from the process in other languages. The aim is to analyse and sum up the penetration of English into Arabic vocabulary to understand the special features of this process. The lexical wealth of Literary and Colloquial Arabic is immense due to their long history across a vast geographical territory with many speakers, among other factors. To avoid confusing a particular issue with unrelated phenomena, which might blur the clarity of the findings, we focus on the case of the effects of English on Colloquial Arabic in Israel. First we briefly summarise the situation of Arabic in Israel. The colloquial Arabic dialects spoken in Israel can be classified according to geographic and demographic criteria. Geographically, the dialects can be divided into those of the north (the Galilee dialects), the centre (the great and small ‘triangles’, and Samaria and Judea) and the south (the Negev and the Gaza Strip) of Israel. The demographic classification involves four cross-sections: 1. Sedentary versus nomadic (Bedouin) dialects. The sedentary dialects include urban and rural dialects throughout the country, but mainly in the north and centre, with hardly any in the south (except the Gaza Strip, which is actually separated from Israel). The Bedouin dialects are concentrated mainly in the Negev desert area in the south and the fertile Galilee in the north. In the centre of the country there are few Bedouin tribes. Most Bedouins are settled by now, notwithstanding their traditions and heritage. 2. Communal dialects. These reflect the many religious communities, along with their sub-sects. In Israel these include Muslims, Christians, Druze and Jews (the latter include individuals born in various Arabic-speaking countries in the Middle East and others who are descendants of ‘Sephardic’ families living in the country for many generations). 3. Gender-based dialects. Such differences are found in many other languages, and recently more attention has been paid to these aspects too in the study of colloquial Arabic (e.g. Rosenhouse, 1998). 4. Socioeconomic and educational levels. These factors are valid in this area as elsewhere: the higher the speakers’ socioeconomic state, the

English Loan Words in Colloquial Arabic

147

higher their educational level, which leads to a greater rate of mixture between Literary and Colloquial Arabic in their speech. This mixture increases the number of subgroups on a scale from ‘pure’ Literary Arabic to ‘pure’ Colloquial Arabic at the extremes. The situation in Israel in this respect is characteristic of the linguistic structure of Arabic in most Arabic-speaking countries in the Middle East and North Africa (see Rosenhouse & Goral, 2004). At the same time, the situation is unique because of the dominance of Hebrew in the country, which makes Arabic into a minority language in spite of the millions of its speakers in the surrounding countries (see Talmon, 2000). The effect of English on Literary Arabic (in Israel and elsewhere) is ideologically limited due to the activity of the Arabic language academies that exist in Egypt, Syria and Iraq. Although the language academies translate, innovate and coin new terms in order to retain the purity of the language, they cannot stop loan word penetration into Literary Arabic. Foreign terms are borrowed mainly through journalistic writing and the mass media, in addition to proper names of products, establishments and industries in advertisements (cf. Rosenhouse, 2004).3

The Contact between English and Arabic in Israel The English language first affected the Arab population in the country during the Mandate period (1920
1948). The British took the country from the defeated Ottoman Empire towards the end of WWI (1917). British rule, which was formalised somewhat later (1920) by the League of Nations, contributed much to the development of the civil infrastructure of the country. This activity included the development of roads as well as the railroad system, building the Haifa, Jaffa and Tel Aviv ports, constructing electricity plants, water projects and new urban settlements, whose inhabitants comprised immigrants from Europe (mainly Jews) and from neighbouring Arab countries (mainly Arabs). Also older towns expanded and private residences and public buildings in them rose in number in this period. Urbanisation at this time was largely the result of new workplaces that sprang up in the towns for Arab as well as Jewish workers in small workshops and the first factories. The Jewish community developed many educational and cultural institutes, such as schools and universities, theatres and orchestras. The Arab sector of the population in the country increased and developed in this period, but the cultural scope of its activity was smaller than that of the Jewish sector.4 Still, the number of Arabic-speaking schools increased, more newspapers, magazines and books were published, and civil security

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Globally Speaking

improved.5 This period, which went on until 1948, actually moulded the basis for modernisation in the country.6 In the Mandate period English was the official language of the country, with Hebrew and Arabic as additional official languages. Direct contact between British servicemen and officials and the Arab (and Jewish) population was slight and not very friendly. Thus, the linguistic influence of English on Arabic was minimal (Suleiman, 1985: 79
81). The British forces left the country in May 1948, along with their language, so to speak. In the early years of Israel’s independent existence a military government was imposed on the Arab population, restricting their physical movement in the country and their cultural links with the outside world. The Arab population was cut off from English culture and language as well as from Arabic culture and language, which continued to develop in the Arab countries around Israel; they were cut off partly also from Hebrew. The major penetration of native Arabic speakers into the economic and cultural life of the state began mainly when the military government ended in 1966. This integration process grew stronger after 1967 (the Six Day War) and still more in the 1980s. In all the years of Israel’s existence the number of Arabic-speaking students in the obligatory education framework continued to grow (see Rosenhouse, 2005) and more students studied English among other school subjects. All this time another channel of contact with English for native Arabic speakers was the many tourists for whom English was the lingua franca in Israel (Abdeen, 2002; Amara, 1986, 1995, 1999). This direct contact was made easier because of the English learnt at school (see also Suleiman, 1985: 79
81). Since the end of the British Mandate the major source of links between English and the Arab (and Jewish) population has been mainly through the strong economic, cultural and political relations with the USA mainly since the 1960’s and its language. In fact, as Hebrew is the dominant language in Israel, many English terms are borrowed into colloquial Arabic through Modern Hebrew (or rather through ‘Colloquial Hebrew’). It is difficult to assess the scope of the penetration of English terminology into Arabic, however, although various methods have been reported (e.g. Abdeen, 2002; Amara, 1991; Owens, 2004).

Sources of Linguistic Influence on Colloquial Arabic Like most world languages, Arabic has absorbed numerous foreign words over the centuries. Even in its Classical period, which is documented in the vast Literary Arabic literature, many borrowed

English Loan Words in Colloquial Arabic

149

lexical elements are attested. Such words derive from Aramaic, Hebrew, Greek, Persian, etc. Under the Ottoman Empire, which ruled the region for more than five centuries,7 many words from Turkish were adopted by Arabic, and have survived mainly in the colloquial dialects (e.g. /’o:d a/ ‘room’, /t a:za/ ‘fresh’, /dug˙ri/ ‘straight on, direct’ or /baxsˇi:sˇ/ ‘bakhshish, tip’, /qisˇle/ ‘prison’ and even in legal and official terminology as /t a:bu/, ‘land ownership affirmation document’). In the 19th and the first half of the 20th century the Middle East was mainly under French and British influence or rule, and their languages influenced Arabic, especially in North Africa, Lebanon and Egypt. Before the 20th century several other European countries (Greece, Italy, Spain and Russia) had similar interests in the Middle East. Altogether, the linguistic influence of these languages on Colloquial Arabic in Israel has been fairly small compared with other more recent sources of influence, and is limited to specific objects of the periods before the mid-20th century, in fields such as fishing, seamanship, clothing, housing, etc. (see Butros, 1963; Suleiman, 1985; Bahumaid, 1992). As mentioned, in the first half of the 20th century three academies for the Arabic language were established in Arab countries (Syria, Egypt and Iraq), and these have contributed to the vocabulary of Literary Arabic. Thus, numerous modern terms in many Colloquial Arabic dialects derive from Literary Arabic and not from English (see, e.g. Shraybom-Shivtiel, 1993, 2005). In many cases it is difficult to identify the direct origin of a borrowed foreign term as it may reflect ‘Standard European’ vocabulary stock (Blau, 1976, 1981). This term refers to words usually derived from Latin or Greek roots, and used in ‘Latin’ languages such as French, Italian and Spanish, or a ‘Germanic’ language such as English and German, all sharing similar base-forms (or stems). Some examples of this kind of word are /bo:s t a/ ‘post’, /talag˙ra:f/ ‘telegraph’ and /kilometer/ ‘kilometer’ (more examples in, e.g. Holes, 1995; Monteil, 1960; Stetkevych, 1970). Still, modern names of objects, activities and notions, such as /elektro:niyya/ ‘electronic’, /internet/ ‘internet’, /i:kolo:gia/ ‘ecology’ or /influenza al-t uyu:r/ ‘birds’ influenza’, could not reach the absorbing language before the (modern) period in which they were first created. Accordingly, a study of such borrowings can usually more or less establish the date of penetration of such words into Arabic, along with their origin. For example, the linguistic area of computers, mobile phones, the Internet and TV satellites is a very productive source at present for English borrowings in Arabic (cf. Sakarna, 2004). These terms have naturally been flooding Colloquial Arabic in Israel since about the

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Globally Speaking

end of the 20th century from American English, which has become the strongest source of influence on Colloquial Arabic vocabulary after Hebrew, as on other language communities (see this volume). Hebrew, the dominant language in Israel, is however currently the main source of linguistic influence on the vocabulary of Colloquial Arabic in that country. Sociolinguistic studies have found that in addition to Literary Arabic, which most native speakers of Arabic consider the most important language, Hebrew is more important than English (Abdeen, 2002; Amara, 1986, 1991; Amara & Spolsky, 2001; Ben Rafael, 2001; Shohamy & Donitsa-Schmidt, 1998). The importance of English for native Arabic speakers depends on their ability to use this language. English is also described as having a relatively important instrumental function for this population, distinct from integrative or ideological functions of languages found elsewhere. As education in Israel is compulsory, and both Hebrew and English are studied in addition to Arabic in the schools for native Arabic speakers, high-school graduates have the potential to know these languages relatively well. However, the use of English is rather limited in the daily life of this community, for they can watch TV and chat on the Internet in Arabic rather than in English, whereas for daily and local official needs they use Hebrew; English is usually limited to contacts with tourists from all nations, or for official correspondence with bodies abroad
and not all the population have such contacts. In sum, certain English words penetrate Colloquial Arabic through Hebrew, through Literary Arabic, through school education or through direct contact with English speakers. English words of different semantic domains penetrate Literary Arabic (not surprisingly) through the written media of science and technology books and all realms of journalistic writing.

The Goals of This Study The goals of this study derive from the background described above. We wish to study the English vocabulary as used today in Arabic in Israel, investigate its origins and draw conclusions from our findings. We will not try to classify the words we find by the various dialect groups described above, but rather focus on vocabulary as a whole, and on the processes the words undergo while becoming absorbed into the new language environment. No thorough semantic study of the vocabulary of colloquial or Literary Arabic in Israel has been done so far; nor has a separate study been dedicated to English loan words in Colloquial or Literary Arabic in Israel.8 Literary Arabic in Israel has been developing

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151

next to Colloquial Arabic all this time, being more or less conscious of the role of the academies of the Arabic language.9 Our focus here is, however, English loan words in Colloquial Arabic in Israel.

Method The work is based on several sources. We scanned English loan words found in printed text collections of spontaneously recounted stories or conversations. Several collections appeared after 1948, in addition to a few published earlier. Our texts represent all the dialect groups in the country: sedentary (rural and urban) and Bedouin dialects, spoken by both males and females (Blanc, 1953; Geva-Kleinberger, 2004; Havelova, 2000; Miron & Kabha, 1993; Piamenta, 1964; Rosenhouse, 1984). In addition, we scanned some dictionaries of colloquial Arabic (Elihay, 1977; Rosenhouse, 2002) and of Hebrew slang (Ben Amotz & BenYehuda, 1972, 1982) for words borrowed from English. From these sources we prepared a list of words now used, as far as we know, as loan words in Arabic. This list was used for a ‘pilot study’ with eight young adults, three males and five females, native Arabic speakers from various places in the north of Israel. Their age range was 18
25 and most of them were students at the Technion
Israel Institute of Technology. Each item of the list was read aloud in a quiet room, to each participant, who was asked whether s/he recognised the words. If they answered in the affirmative we wanted to know how they used them, with an example. Their answers were written down. Finally, we collected words from randomly overheard conversations among Arab students at the Technion, as they use many professional terms from Hebrew and English in their daily speech. Such lexical items vary among the different study areas (university faculties) and form a professional jargon and are thus restricted to speakers who belong to these professional groups. For examples from our study see Figures 8.1 and 8.2. See also Sakarna (2004) and the appendix in Suleiman (1985: 101
126), with a similar list representing the speech of Jordanian students.

Findings This section summarises the main phonological, morphological and semantic features found in the single-word English borrowings in Colloquial Arabic in our sample. As many English terms are loantranslated into Arabic (either spontaneously or by the language

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academies, as mentioned), native Arabic speakers are often hardly aware ¯ du:d al-d ama:n /‘Ltd.’/, al-wila:ya:t alof their foreign origin (e.g. mah ¯ ida /‘the United States’/). Loan translation is not discussed here, muttah however.

Figure 8.1 Classes of words borrowed from English into colloquial Arabic

English Loan Words in Colloquial Arabic

Figure 8.2 Examples of borrowed words from English

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Figure 8.2 Examples of borrowed words from English (Continued)

English Loan Words in Colloquial Arabic

155

Phonology Most of the words we found in our study reveal adaptation to the phonological system of Colloquial Arabic, the absorbing language. Phonemes (consonants and vowels) and syllable patterns that do not exist in this variety of Arabic are not retained in the ‘foreign’ words but are assimilated as much as possible to the forms of the absorbing system. For example: /brinna:t/ ‘Bren guns’ (/e/
/i/), /sa:rg˘in mi:g˘ir/ ‘sergeant major’ (/e/
/i/, /ei/
/i:/), /ambalans/ ‘ambulance’ (/u/
/a/), /talafo:n/ ‘telephone’ (/e/
/a/), /bazbort, basbort/ ‘passport’ (/p/
/b/, /s/
/z/), /kamb/ ‘camp’ (/p/
/b/), /sikrabo:r/ ‘sick report’ (/p/
/b/; /e/
/a/; /t/ is deleted because of syllable structure rules).10 Some of the words (partly from Blanc, 1953, and GevaKleinberger, 2004) reflect obsolete terms that are hardly used nowadays. For example, weapon types have been replaced with more modern ones and for military ranks usually Hebrew or (Literary) Arabic terms are used instead of the English ones. Other phonological adaptation processes include consonant gemination, as in /bat t ariyye/ ‘battery’, addition or deletion of phonemes (and morphemes) e.g. /na:rse/, beside /ne:rs/ ‘nurse’, /g˘ing˘i/ ‘ginger, red headed’ (with omission of the final /r/ and exchanging the vowel into a vowel that exists in Arabic), /fri:za/ ‘refrigerator, frigidair’ though probably derived from ‘freezer’ (where the last consonant is omitted), and addition of anaptyctic vowels where necessary according to the dialect rules (e.g. /ebreks/ ‘brakes’). Interestingly, in two-word terms (compound words) one of the words (the borrowed one) may be pronounced as in Hebrew, e.g. /mhandis ’elektroni/ ‘electronics engineer’ (literally: ‘electronic engineer’), where the Arabic word for ‘engineer’ is followed by the borrowed adjective in its Hebrew form (itself borrowed). Naim (1998) analyses the pharyngealisation and velarisation phenomena which occur in certain foreign loan words in Beirut Arabic as due to switching certain features of the foreign language into features that exist in the borrowing language. Her examples refer to words long used in colloquial Arabic dialects, such as ‘cigarette’, ‘lemonade’, ‘salad’, ‘port’ and ‘powder’, which originate mainly from French and Italian and not from English. Still, her explanation should be taken into consideration. In the colloquial Arabic dialects in Israel these processes can also be found in a few words such as /b a:b a/ ‘Pope’, /bat t ariyye/ ‘battery’. These processes occur, however, in a relatively small number of foreign loan words (from English or other languages) apparently because velarised

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and pharyngealised consonants, including words with secondary (added) velarisation, have generally weakened even in the original velarised and pharyngealised consonants of the system in urban and rural dialects of Israel during the last century at least (see, e.g. Blanc, 1953). Morphology Morphological adaptations involve several optional stages: 1. Literal transfer without any changes: e.g. /bulibif, fayl, tiket, la:rg˘/ ‘bully beef, file, ticket, large (for size of clothing, etc.)’. 2. Adaptation to the morphology of the absorbing language: e.g. /ba:s/ ‘bus’ (by lengthening the vowel), /talafo:n/ ‘telephone’ (with a long last syllable instead of the diphthong in English), /ki:la/ ‘kilogram’ (lengthening the first vowel, omission of the ‘gram’ part, and exchanging the remaining vowel into a vowel that exists in Arabic; cf. Hebrew /kilo/). 3. Full integration demonstrated by derivation of new words from the borrowed word. This can be seen in verb forms as well as in nouns and adjectives. In Arabic a verb can be derived from a foreign noun (like any lexical item, in fact) by the root consonants being set in a productive verb pattern. For example, the verb /ballaf/ ‘he bluffed’ derives from ‘bluff’, both a noun and a verb in English. The verb /narvaz/ ‘to make nervous’ and its passive participle /mnarvez/ ‘nervous’ exemplify another Arabic verb pattern.11 The second obvious morphological adaptation feature is that of gender marking. In Arabic, feminine forms are mostly derived from the masculine ‘base-form’ by suffixing to it a feminine morpheme, such as /
a/ or /-e/ in /malik
malike/ ‘king
queen’ and thus see /ne:rse/ ‘nurse’ or /sektere:ri, sekrete:ra/ ‘female secretary’. Colloquial Arabic has apparently borrowed few adjectives, except for fixed terms such as ‘large’, ‘maxi’ and ‘mini’ for sizes. That such adjectives are not declined to gender, elative or superlative, seems to imply their foreignness. A third case in this area is that of loan-word pluralisation. One method of pluralisation in Arabic is by linear concatenation or suffixation of a morpheme to the word (like the plural suffix -s in English). This pattern, called the ‘sane plural’, has two variants, for masculine (/-i:n/) and feminine (/a:t/) nouns. In many other cases, however, the plural of an Arabic singular noun is formed by ‘moulding’ the root (or stem) consonants in a different pattern, that is, in a different vowel array with or without additional morphemic syllable(s). This plural form is called ‘broken plural’.

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157

The sane feminine plural suffix is the most frequent form of plural for foreign inanimate nouns. However, a word that is completely absorbed into the language often takes the ‘broken plural’ form. Examples are: /breksa:t/ ‘brakes (in a vehicle)’, /trakka:t/ ‘trucks’, /taksiyya:t/ ‘taxi cabs’, /nersa:t/ ‘nurses’, /kambyu:tara:t/ ‘computers’, /slaida:t/ ‘slides’, vs. /kru:ti/ ‘cards’ (pl. of /kart/ ‘card’), /bnu:k/ ‘(money) banks’, pl. of /bank/, /saga:yir/ ‘cigarettes’, pl. of /siga:ra/, etc. Interestingly, this process has been found not only in other Arabic dialects (Owens, 2004; Sakarna, 2004), but also in Beaumont’s (1987) description of the speech of immigrant Moroccan women in Canada, and in studies referring to children’s acquisition of the plural in colloquial Arabic (see Ravid & Farah, 1999; Ravid & Hayek, 2003). 4. Another option of using the English loan word is to combine it in an Arabic idiomatic expression, such as /d arab talafo:n/ ‘call someone on the phone’, /d arab breik/ ‘stop, halt, brake (a car)’ with the verb /d arab/ which literally means ‘hit, beat’. These examples suffice to show processes that are apparently general in lexical transfers from English into any Colloquial Arabic dialect (see also Owens, 2004; Sakarna, 2004; Suleiman, 1985 for more examples). Differences between Arabic dialects in English borrowings often depend on the effect of substrate languages, related or unrelated to Arabic, and the frequency of use of English within that Arabic language community (cf. Owens 1998, 2004, for the analysis of English loan words in Nigerian Arabic). Semantics The semantic processes observed in the borrowed English words in Arabic are similar to those in other languages and are not unique to Arabic (see, e.g. Lyons, 1977; Rosenbaum, 2002; Sakarna, 2004; Stetkevych, 1970; for examples and semantic discussions). Accordingly, we find loan words whose meanings are identical to those in the source language; loan words with meaning expansion or narrowing; and loan words with meaning shifts or changes (usually due to misinterpretation of the original words). The new meaning may sometimes prevail, even up to full disuse of the original one. Here are some examples from our sample. Direct transfer, without meaning changes, is found in Colloquial Arabic in Israel in many nouns, that is, modern object names such as /sofa/ ‘sofa’, /kombyu:ta/ ‘computer’ and computer accessories such as /disket, draiv/ ‘diskette’, ‘drive’, etc.

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Another group includes words like /g˘e:rse, g˘erza:i/ ‘jersey’, which in Colloquial Arabic means a ‘warm woollen sweater’, obviously derived from the English ‘jersey’, /bodi/ (English ‘body’), which in Colloquial Arabic refers only to the body of a car, and /boks/, which in Arabic denotes only the sport of boxing and the kind of punch used in it. These examples show a narrowed meaning field. The additional meaning of ‘jersey’
a thick type of cloth originating on the island of Jersey, as well as a type of dairy cow
is not known in Colloquial Arabic. Similarly, the other meanings of ‘body’ (of animals or humans) and ‘box’, such as ‘a kind of case, chest’, have simply not been transmitted to the Arabic vocabulary. For an example of meaning changes during the transfer, take the word /blaster/, ‘plaster’, which is short for ‘adhesive plaster’ or ‘band aid’. In English this term derives from ‘plaster’, which has a different basic meaning. Neither the basic meaning nor its adjective ‘adhesive’, which completes the term, has been transferred into Arabic. ‘Plaster’ in Arabic has a different meaning from the basic meaning of English ‘plaster’. However, in this case this form and meaning (/plaster, blaster/ for ‘band aid’) might have passed into Colloquial Arabic through (colloquial) Hebrew, where the same word is used in the same manner. After listing the loan words, the next step in our study was to classify them in semantic groups or categories. The groups represented in our list are set out in Figure 8.1. We have not studied the occurrence rate of these words in the daily speech of native speakers as that depends on the semantic field and the context of the item, and our lists were formed from ‘frozen’ texts (transcribed in books). The words in our list show a large variety of topics and domains, reflecting many diverse types of employment, education and circumstances.12 The statistical task is beyond our present goal; it is generally difficult to do (but see the method used in Owens, 2004), and has not been undertaken at all for Colloquial Arabic in Israel. The field study Our pilot study involved a small group of young adults, mostly students, native Arabic speakers from various places in the north of Israel. The small number of participants prevents valid statistical calculation of the results, but it is interesting to observe their responses as preliminary tendencies for future deeper exploration. The participants’ answers on the items of the list revealed wide variability in their knowledge of or acquaintance with the items (i.e.

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159

understanding and recognising the referents) and their active use of them. From their answers it was clear that British English words (the ‘older’ items, from the Mandate period) were hardly known to all of these young speakers. When known, such words were less well recognised and less often used than the words from American English, which were more readily produced and explained. An interesting finding was that even knowledge of modern items seemed to vary and depend on speakers’ personal background and extralinguistic cultural
educational experience, including their academic fields of study. This fact refers both to words of British English origin and to words of American English origin. For example, a young female Muslim student, with a religious family background, seemed ignorant of many items reflecting mainly the ‘Western’ ways of life. On the other hand, another female student, a Christian, who was more involved in the modern Israeli environment and was also somewhat older than the above-mentioned participant, freely offered many American English loan words in addition to our basic list. In addition, male participants seemed to recognise and use more terms of the technical semantic fields than the females, whereas female participants were more eloquent in the hygiene, cosmetics and clothing areas.

Discussion and Conclusions The contemporary vocabulary of Arabic dialects includes loan words from various languages, such as French in the North African countries and Lebanon, English in Jordan or Dutch in the Netherlands, affecting Arabic-speaking immigrants’ speech (see Abou, 1962; Boumans, 1998; Butros, 1963; Canut & Caubet, 2001; Mejdell, 2006; Ziamari, 2004). This study focuses on English loan words in Colloquial Arabic mainly in the area of Israel. English loan words infiltrated into (Colloquial) Arabic13 in that country in the 20th century in two chronological stages and from two sources. First, during the British Mandate rule of Palestine, they originated in British English; and second, after the establishment of Israel, and mainly since the mid-1960s, they have been streaming in from the American English of the USA. Some English loan words reached Arabic through Hebrew, the dominant language in Israel, which is also affected by global English. That such loan words come from Hebrew can be seen in their ‘Hebrew’ phonological form. Numerous loan words have entered Colloquial Arabic, and probably a smaller proportion, partly representing different lexemes, is used in Literary Arabic. The main

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semantic domains of these words are related to modern technology, devices and the sciences on one hand, and to consumption products, culture and entertainment on the other. Popular modern objects, along with their names, are typically related to electronic or computer elements, such as kitchen tools and communication devices. These objects originate and are first produced or used mostly in the Englishspeaking USA. Figure 8.1, which presents examples of loan words from various semantic areas, is very similar to lists that can be found in other languages. This similarity arises because the contacts between English and other languages (including Arabic) are culture-dependent and involve notions and products which are often new to the absorbing languages. The largest part of these loan words in Colloquial Arabic are nouns; far fewer are adjectives, verbs, particles, vocatives, (pragmatic elements), etc. In spite of the small number of the particles and vocatives, their use is very frequent because of their pragmatic roles in direct communication. The distribution of borrowed word types in Arabic is similar to that in other languages, as well as to children’s order of vocabulary acquisition in their mother tongues (Rosenhouse, 2000; Walter, 2006). Not all the loan words used in the Mandate period are relevant today. Most of the words that have survived belong to some professional jargon or a specific topic, such as terms for cars and car parts, sports, and some kinds of food and clothing. This is a typical feature of ‘open class’ vocabulary items, which thrive, flourish, become obsolete and die out in any language system. Certain items, from ‘Standard European stock’, have reached Arabic directly from the ‘West’ (i.e. Europe) and their English origin can hardly be determined. Standard European terms may originate in French, Italian, Spanish or German, and not in English, as these languages were used in countries that had been in contact with the Middle East from an earlier date and for a longer period than Britain and the USA. It is therefore sometimes difficult to determine the real source of a loan word in Arabic. This fact also decreases the stock of words borrowed directly from English (cf. list in Sakarna, 2004, referring only to three semantic domains). Some loan words have come through Hebrew, the dominant language in Israel. This latter process is apparently specific to the case of Colloquial Arabic in Israel. A comparison of our list with that of Hebrew loan words in Colloquial Arabic in Israel (based on Koplewitz, 1989, 1992) shows partial semantic similarity with them. This similarity is rather abstract and is expressed in the fact that most of the words denote material notions and names of

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161

products or well known institutions, all of which reflect modern culture. English loan words in Colloquial Arabic often also exist in Literary Arabic; such words belong mainly to the vocabulary of technological and scientific terminology. Sometimes, in Literary Arabic, the original English term is added in parentheses beside the term in Literary Arabic (which is a newly coined lexeme or a calque). On the whole, our English loan word list in Colloquial Arabic is apparently shorter than the list that can be presented for English loan words in Hebrew (see Rosenhouse & Fisherman, this volume). This fact is in line with our previous observation that English is less relevant for native Arabic-speakers in Israel than Hebrew. It would be interesting to compare our findings with the colloquial dialects of Jordan, Egypt, North-Eastern Nigeria, Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, described in Butros (1963), Holes (1987), Owens (2004), Rosenbaum (1994, 2002), Smeaton (1973) and Suleiman (1985). But this is a topic for a separate investigation. A part of the English loan words in Arabic have been completely absorbed in it and have undergone processes of Arabisation. The morphological processes involved are expressed in suffixing Arabic morphemes for gender or number to the singular form or by creating new verbs from the consonantal component of the English words. Such processes have been described also for other Arabic dialects (e.g. Owens, 2004; Sakarna, 2004) and exist also in Hebrew (e.g. Fisherman, 1986). Our pilot field study of the knowledge and use of English loan words in Colloquial Arabic in a group of young native Arabic speakers revealed acquaintance with few words from the Mandate period (British English). Loan words from American English, or more recently coined terms, were definitely more familiar to them. Moreover, the selection of items that each participant recognised from our list of English words differed greatly from the selection of other speakers. Much of their vocabulary seemed to depend on and reflect the speaker’s personal background (including the academic material they studied). Obviously, as in other experiments, interspeaker variability has to be taken into consideration, if any frequency is to be calculated.14 The variables for such a study should include age, sex, education and linguistic origin (dialect or speech community). Other studies often note that borrowed vocabulary, mostly from English but also from another major language, is typical of the speech of speakers (cf. Duerscheid & Spitzmueller, 2006; Rizq, 2004, Ziamari, 2004). Further investigations along these lines may well reveal deep-working language interactions and developments. The Arabic diglossia components, namely Literary and Colloquial Arabic interactions, are similarly affected by phenomena emanating from

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the linguistic environment external to this language. However, for methodological reasons our study focused on the vocabulary of Colloquial Arabic. In Literary Arabic (written texts) loan words from English are used to reflect daily (colloquial) speech and modern notions that still have no Arabic equivalents; or they appear in scientific texts where the original term is important. These situations are not ‘spontaneous expressions’ like those found in Colloquial text collections. Notes 1. For a historical survey of the situation in the area of the Middle East, including Israel, see e.g. Horani (1991) and Tibawi (1956). 2. See, for example, Shraybom-Shivtiel (2002, 2005), who focuses on the circumstances of lexical innovation in Literary Arabic, partly due to influences of Western culture, including English, and compared with processes in Modern Hebrew. See also relevant chapters in the earlier works of Monteil (1960) and Stetkevych (1970). Rosenbaum’s works (1994, 2002) are also related to our topic, but focus on the linguistic situation in Egypt. Special attention is paid to the language of youngsters in Egypt (and elsewhere) as absorbing Anglo-Saxon influences in, e.g. Esmail (2002) and Rizq (2004). Other works on this topic in other Arabic dialects are, e.g. by Owens (2004) and Sakarna (2004). 3. Generally the subject of this paper may be also related to the study of bilingualism and codeswitching. In these areas there is ample literature on Arabic (see, e.g. Boumans, 1998; Canut & Caubet, 2001; Owens, 1998; Rosenhouse & Goral, 2004; Sallo, 1992; Suleiman, 1985). A discussion of these aspects is beyond the goals of the present paper. 4. Expenditure by the Mandatory authorities on education for the Arabic sector was double that allocated to the Jewish sector. Jewish institutions concentrated on Jewish educational activity and paid for it, in addition to the Mandatory budget. In contrast, there was hardly any central educational activity in the Arab sector and the ratio of children who went to school to the total number of children was 4:10. Even Arab children who went to school rarely continued to high school study, vocational school or the university level (see Kimmerling & Migdal, 1999: 152
155; Segev, 1999: 290
292; Tibawi, 1956). 5. Security had to be maintained against highway robbers and various Bedouin tribal feuds. 6. Politically, this was the period of crystallisation of Jewish society in the country, which was preparing itself for an independent state following Lord Balfour’s Declaration in 1917 about a Jewish homeland in the country. At the same time, political awareness in the Arab population was increasing, and with it outbursts of violence mainly initiated by Arab gangs. 7. In fact the beginning of the Turkish Empire is considered to be in 1293, but it underwent periods of growth, stagnation and dissolution until its final collapse as a result of WWI. 8. We may mention here Butros (1963), Sakarna (2004) and Suleiman (1985), whose works deal with Jordanian Arabic. Jordanian Arabic is related to

English Loan Words in Colloquial Arabic

9. 10. 11. 12.

13. 14.

163

Colloquial Arabic in Israel, both being part of the Syro-Palestinian dialect area, but they differ in several respects. In 2002 an academy for the Arabic language was established in Nazareth, Israel, but it has not advanced much since then. In 2007 the academy and its roles were officially authorized by State law. See the discussion of phonemic substitution, including p
b, in Suleiman (1985: pp. 63 ff). A similar picture is shown in Suleiman (1985) and Sakarna (2004) for Jordanian Arabic. The same process and similar examples are found in Sakarna (2004) for Jordanian Arabic, Rizq (2004) for Egyptian Arabic and Owens (2004) for Nigerian Arabic, as well as for Hebrew (Rosenhouse & Fisherman, this volume). See Suleiman’s (1985: 57) discussion of the term ‘infiltration’. Brill (1940) compiled a word frequency count for Literary Arabic based on newspaper vocabulary. This work hardly reflects the modern vocabulary, nor does it reflect Colloquial Arabic. See Owens (2004) for a statistical method of reference to borrowings from foreign languages, including English, used in his study of Nigerian Arabic.

Chapter 9

Amharic: Political and Social Effects on English Loan Words ANBESSA TEFERRA

Our world has progressed tremendously in the last few decades in the domain of computers, communication, science and technology, and so on. This rapid modernisation has resulted in a massive influx of new terminologies into languages of the world. The situation is no different in Ethiopia. Since the 1950s Amharic has extensively borrowed from European languages, especially English, in various fields, but mostly in science and technology.1 This chapter sets out to examine the ways in which Amharic has tried to incorporate lexical items, phrases and idiomatic expressions from English.2 The first of its four sections is an introduction with general information about Amharic, such as its history, its position within Semitic and a brief linguistic description. The very short second part concerns the contact between Amharic and English. The third and major section addresses the areas of connection mainly between Amharic and English. The various types of loan words are analysed, and loan-word adaptations employed by Amharic to incorporate these lexical items are discussed. The sociolinguistic factors that triggered the loan word adaptations are likewise discussed. The final section summarises the findings. Ethiopia is a country with a diverse range of ethnic groups and a multitude of languages. Various linguists working on Ethiopian languages have made different approximations of the number of languages spoken in the country. Thus according to Bender et al. (1976: 15
16) there are 71 languages while according to Meyer and Richter (2003: 23) more than 70 languages and several dialects are spoken in its territory.3 Hudson (2004: 162), based on the 1994 Ethiopian population census, lists 73 languages plus two extinct Ethio-Semitic languages, namely Ge‘ez and Gafat. All the languages of Ethiopia belong to the Afro-Asiatic or the Nilo-Saharan families of languages. The Afro-Asiatic family subsumes 164

Political and Social Effects on English Loan Words in Amharic

165

Semitic, Cushitic and Omotic subfamilies, and most Ethiopian languages belong to it.

The Amharic Language Amharic belongs to the Semitic family of languages in general and the Ethio-Semitic subfamily in particular. The latter is divided into two, northern and southern, where the northern branch includes languages such as Ge‘ez (the now extinct liturgical language of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and Ethiopian Jews), Tigre and Tigrinya. The southern group comprises languages spoken in the centre and the south. These are Amharic, Argobba (a language closely related to Amharic), Harari (also known as Ada¨re and spoken mostly in the city of Hara¨r), Gurage (four language groups with several dialect clusters) and Gafat (an extinct language). Amharic has five major dialects, those of Gondar, Gojjam, Wello, Menz and Addis Ababa. Of these five, the Addis Ababa dialect has emerged as the accepted standard since its introduction as the medium of instruction and press during the reign of Emperor Menelik II. It is used in the mass media, commerce, educational books, the bureaucracy, etc. According to the 1994 population census, around 17 million people speak Amharic as their mother tongue, that is, about 35% of Ethiopia’s population. In addition, Amharic is spoken as the second language by some five million people, roughly 10% of the population. The total share of Amharic speakers is thus around 45%. Among the Semitic languages, Amharic has the largest number of speakers after Arabic. Amharic speakers predominantly live in central and North-western Ethiopia. Outside Ethiopia a large pocket of Amharic speakers is found in North America, particularly the USA, Western Europe and Israel.

History of Amharic Before the beginning of the 13th century Ge‘ez was a language of the government. Thereafter Amharic became the l3ssana¨ n3gus (‘king’s language’ lit. tongue-of king) and has served as the court language for several centuries.4 In the 20th century Amharic was promulgated as the official language of the Ethiopian Empire (Negarit Gazeta 1955: §125). The constitution of 1987 (Negarit Gazeta 1987: §116) and of 1994 (Negarit Gazeta 1994: §5) declared Amharic the ‘working language’ of the Ethiopian government. Ethiopia, unlike many African countries, has retained an indigenous language, namely Amharic, as a national and unifying language.

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The factors that contributed to the expansion of Amharic include its use (until 1992) as a language of instruction in primary education, in the mass media, in bureaucracy, literacy campaigns, etc. However, after the fall of the Communist regime in 1991 and the ascendancy of Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) the widespread use of Amharic was affected. Beginning in September 1992, 15 languages (besides Amharic) were successively selected as languages of primary education in various ethnically based regions of Ethiopia. In addition, these languages began to be used for bureaucratic and judicial purposes. Still, Amharic remains the most important language of Ethiopia. It is the lingua franca for people from different linguistic backgrounds. The Position of Amharic within the Semitic languages In contrast to Ge‘ez, Amharic is not a typical Semitic language. For instance, its phonology evinces palatal and ejective consonants while lacking laryngeals. Its word order is also the inverse of other Semitic languages: the direct object precedes the verb (it is an SOV language) and adjectives precede their head noun. Amharic is thought to have acquired its non-Semitic features from neighbouring Cushitic languages such as Aga¨w, and to have lost some of its Semitic features because of the contact with those languages. The main linguistic features of Amharic In the section below the salient linguistic features of Amharic are presented.5 The features briefly summarised are part of Amharic phonology, morphology and syntax. Phonology

Amharic has 31 consonants and 7 vowel phonemes. The consonants are grouped into six classes according to their place of articulation. These are: labials: p, b, p’, f, m, w dentals: t, d, t’, s, z, s’, n, l, r alveo-palatals: cˇ, ˘g, cˇ’, sˇ, zˇ, nˇ, y velars: k, g, q labio-velars: kw, gw, qw, hw glottals: ’, h The consonant p appears in loan words mostly from European languages: e.g. pasta, ‘pasta’, polis ‘police’. The consonant p’ appears in Greek loan words through Ge‘ez, the classical and liturgical language of Ethiopia: ta¨ra¨pp’eza ‘table’, p’app’as ‘pope’ and p’aulos ‘Paul’. Each of the

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seven vowels in Amharic is associated with each ‘order’ of the Ethiopian syllabary; the vowels are a¨, u, i, a, e, 3 and o. Words in Amharic are almost without stress, hence Bender (1976: 77) calls it a ‘flat stress’ language. Yet a slight stress usually falls on the penultimate syllable, as illustrated below. (Throughout the chapter examples in Ethiopic script are immediately followed by phonetic transcription for the benefit of readers unfamiliar with the Ethiopic writing system.) (1) dubba ‘pumpkin’ ma¨skot ‘window’ c’3’kanne ‘cruelty’ Gemination, i.e. lengthening of consonants, is phonemic and so can result in differences in meaning. Consider the examples in (2). (2) ga¨na ‘still’ versus ga¨nna Christmas’ ala¨ ‘he said’ versus alla¨ ‘there exists’ In the Ethiopic script gemination is not marked by special symbols and can be inferred only from the context. However, linguists such as Leslau (1967) marked gemination by placing two dots over the doubled consonant. Gemination in phonetic transcriptions is indicated by the doubling of a consonant or by a colon set after the geminated consonant. In this chapter the former way is adopted. Amharic exhibits various phonological processes. Two of them, elision and palatalisation, are discussed below for illustrative purposes. 1.

2.

Elision: weak vowels are elided when two vowels come into contact, as in (3a
b). ‘my/mine’
ya¨ne (also ya¨-3ne) (3) (a) a¨-3
a¨: *ya¨-3ne (b) a¨-a
a: *ya¨-abbat ‘father’s’
yabbat (also ya¨-abbat). In addition, as Amharic does not allow long vowels, one of the identical vowels is elided as in (3c). (c) a-a
a: *ra¨dda-acˇcˇa¨w ‘he helped them’
ra¨ddacˇcˇa¨w ˇc ˇa a-a
a: *sa¨mma-ac ¨ w ‘he listened to them’
sa¨mmacˇcˇa¨w Palatalisation: dental/alveolar consonants are palatalised when followed by /-i/ or /-e/ in the verbal inflections such as second person feminine singular imperative and first person converb (gerund) forms as shown below under (4) where the basic verb stems are /da¨rra¨s-/ ‘arrive’, /hed-/ ‘go’ and /ma¨rra¨t’-/ ‘choose’. ‘arrive!’ da¨r3sˇsˇe‘I arriving’ (4) d3ra¨sˇ-i ˘ ˘geh3˘g-i ‘go!’ hig ‘I going’ ‘choose!’ ma¨r3cˇcˇ’e‘I choosing’ m3ra¨c’i

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The Script

Amharic is written from left to right in Ethiopian script,6 which has the longest history among the sub-Saharan languages in Africa. The present Ethiopian writing system was originally introduced approximately 2500 years ago by the Semitic Sabean people of Southern Arabia who crossed the Red Sea and eventually settled in the northern part of Ethiopia (present-day Eritrea). Sabean had 29 letters and the script was Abjadic, that is, each character denoted a consonant and there were no vowels at all. Hence the interpretation of a given text was heavily dependent upon the context. Vowel notations appeared in the inscriptions in the 4th century A.D. under the reign of King Ezana. Another noticeable change was the direction of the script: Ge‘ez (classical Ethiopic) inscriptions started to be written from left to right. Ge‘ez took 24 letters of the Sabean script and then adopted the letter p’ to represent Greek loan words. After the fall of the Axumite empire in the 10th century, Ge‘ez lost its importance as a spoken language and died out after 1000 A.D. Its entire script was later taken over by Amharic and Tigrinya, its sister Ethio-Semitic languages. In addition, Amharic introduced eight new characters (most of them palatals such as sˇa¨, ˘ga¨, a¨, etc.) to represent sounds not found in Ge‘ez. The Ethiopian script evolved from Sabean via Ge‘ez with some incremental modifications. The Ethiopian script is termed syllabary because each character of the Amharic script usually represents a syllable.7 Morphology

According to the revised grammar model by Baye (1994), Amharic has five word classes: nominals, verbs, adjectives, adverbs and adpositions. Nominals, verbs and adjectives undergo inflection, derivation and compounding, hence are open and productive, as opposed to the closed class of adverbs and adpositions.Nominals subsume both nouns and pronouns. The Amharic pronoun system has special polite forms of address. It makes a familiar-polite distinction in second and third person singular forms. The polite forms are 3rswo/3sswo ‘you’ (polite) and 3rsacˇcˇa¨w/3ssacˇcˇa¨w ‘he’ (polite)’.8 Nouns are inflected for number (singular and plural), determination (definite versus indefinite) and very rarely for gender (masculine versus feminine).

(5)(i)

singular bet ‘house’ ta¨mari ‘student’

plural bet-ocˇcˇ ‘houses’ ta¨mari-wocˇcˇ ‘students’

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indefinite bet ‘house’ ta¨mari ‘student’

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definite bet-u ‘the house’ ta¨mari-w ‘the student’

The plural marker /-ocˇcˇ/ follows consonant-final nouns, while /-wocˇcˇ/ follows vowel-final nouns. In addition, Amharic has various plural formation patterns borrowed from Ge‘ez. One of them is a ‘broken’ plural, which is formed by pattern replacement or internal stem modification as in [d3ng3l] ‘virgin’, [da¨nag3l] ‘virgins’ or [ma¨l’ak] ‘angel’ [ma¨la’3kt] ‘angels’. Adjectives are declined for number and determination. For instance ˘ ˘g3m ‘tall ones’ is plural. Adjectives ra¨˘g3m ‘tall’ is singular, while ra¨˘gag mark definiteness with the same type of morpheme as nouns. Verbs are inflected for person, gender, number and tense. Amharic, like other Semitic languages has a roots and patterns system. The root is a consonantal grid which carries the basic semantic content. For instance gdl ‘kill’, sbr ‘break’, asb ‘think’, etc. A pattern consists of a set of vowels which are inserted after the radicals and carries a certain grammatical load. For instance the concatenation of a¨
a
i after radicals produces an agent noun as in s’a¨hafi ‘author/writer’ from the verb s’afa¨ ‘he wrote’ (whose root is s’.h.f ‘write’). In synchronic Amharic the verb root in its phonetic, that is, surface form consists of one to five radicals, so a verb pattern can be classified as monoradical, biradical, triradical, quadriradical or quinquiradical. Most synchronic verb roots are triradicals, while biradicals are also quite frequent. The biradicals are a result of historical loss of laryngeal consonants. For instance, the Amharic word [ba¨lla] ‘eat’ comes from the Ge‘ez [ba¨l’a] ‘eat’. Quadriradicals and quinquiradicals are quite new in the language. Quinquiradicals in particular are very few and are mostly restricted to verbs which indicate mobility. Here are representative examples of Amharic verb types. Verb Type monoradicals biradicals triradicals

A. B. C.

quadriradicals quinquiradicals

Verb Root sˇs-m q-m s-b-r f-l-gm-r-k m-s-k-r n-q-s-q-s

[sˇa] [sa¨mma] [qoma¨] [sa¨bba¨ra¨] [fa¨lla¨ga¨] [marra¨ka¨] [ma¨sa¨kka¨ra¨] [ta¨nqa¨saqqa¨sa¨]

‘desire’ ‘hear’ ‘stand’ ‘break’ ‘want’ ‘attract’ ‘testify’ ‘move’

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Amharic has a richer and more complex tense system than some canonical Semitic languages such as Hebrew. There are six types of tenses: past, present/future, present perfect, past perfect, present continuous and past continuous. Amharic expresses various shades of meaning such as causative, reflexive, intensive, passive and reciprocal via derived stems. These are formed by internal stem change such as reduplication of the basic stem, by external stem change such as prefixation or a combination of both. There are three types of external derived stems: a- stem (simple causative), as- stem (double causative) and t- stem (passive). Consider the various derived forms based on the verb ‘eat: (6) aba¨lla ‘feed’ asba¨lla ‘cause to be eaten’ ta¨ba¨lla ‘was eaten’ The prepositions are quite similar to Hebrew: ba¨ ‘by/with’, la¨ ‘to’, ka¨ ‘from’, etc. However, unlike Hebrew, Amharic prepositions do not stand alone and are usually combined with postpositions, e.g. [ka ¨ . . . gar] ‘with’, [ba¨ . . . lay] ‘on top’, [ka¨ . . . tacc]? ‘under’, etc. Lexicon

It is believed that 70% of the Amharic word stock is of common Semitic origin. Some instances of universal Semitic words are listed under (7): (7) ras ‘head’, ‘ayn ‘eye’, sa¨mma ‘he heard’, da¨m ‘blood’ However, because of phonological changes such as loss of laryngeals and palatalisation, even certain common Semitic words have undergone extensive changes. In addition, even some of the most basic items are borrowings from Cushitic languages, such as w3ha ‘water’, w3sˇsˇa ‘dog’, sa¨nga ‘gelded animal’, etc. Syntax

The normal word order of a simple declarative sentence in Amharic is subject-object-verb (SOV). The modifiers precede the lexical head which they modify, so numerals, adjectives and relative structures precede their nouns. Subordinate clauses precede the main clause.

Contact between Amharic and English Before the description of the contact between Amharic and English, let us explore the language situation in Ethiopia prior to the first contact between Amharic and English. Ge‘ez, the imperial language of Axum, was spoken until the beginning of the 10th century. By the 13th century it had steadily been replaced by Amharic and ceased to be spoken as a mother tongue. Yet Ge‘ez, which is sometimes referred to as the ‘Latin of

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Ethiopia’, continued to be Ethiopia’s literary language almost until the mid-19th century. It is still the liturgical language of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and of Ethiopian Jews. Ge‘ez had a vise-like grip on Ethiopian education, culture, history and so on till the beginning of the 16th century. This literary monopoly was not broken until the late 16th and early 17th century, when Portuguese Jesuits employed Amharic for religious pamphleteering. After the Jesuits were expelled, however, little was written in Amharic until the reign of Tewodros II in the mid-19th century. He was the first Ethiopian monarch to have the Ethiopian royal chronicles written in Amharic, though they had been previously written in Ge‘ez. By the beginning of the 20th century Emperor Menelik II had enlarged his empire and as a result Amharic also spread from the centre to the periphery. When greater communication with the outside world began in the 19th century, Italian and French were the principal languages of wider communication. This continued until 1936. That year Italy invaded Ethiopia, which it occupied until 1941 when the Italians were defeated and driven out by Ethiopian nationalists supported by British troops. Thereafter the Ethiopian government declared English the language of instruction in junior and senior secondary schools, probably as a gesture to Britain for its role in the liberation of Ethiopia. Since then the use of English has spread and its influence is immense. Today English is the chief language of wider communication in Ethiopia. Although only a small minority in Ethiopia speaks English, the language has great prestige because of its use as the government’s principal foreign language for business and communication, and as the medium of instruction in government secondary schools, colleges and universities. In addition to the history of contact between Amharic and English one may also seek out the factors involved in borrowing and lexical adaptation. Six factors clearly stand out: necessity, differentiation, level of educational use of the borrower’s language, level of esteem for one’s own language, political changes and the role of a language academy. The first and most important of these is ‘necessity’, the need for new terms. As mentioned earlier, due to rapid modernisation Amharic was forced to borrow words in various fields. Abraham (1994: 8) identifies two distinct periods of Amharic loan adaptation: pre-revolutionary (before 1974) and post-revolutionary (after 1974). According to him, most loans in the pre-revolutionary period were ‘ . . . scientific and technological . . . but also a considerable number referring to Western social, economic, political, and legal concepts and institutions’. The postrevolutionary period, on the other hand, saw ‘ . . . an upsurge of

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ideological lexical innovation’. The ideological/political loan terms were introduced by members of various socialist parties, university students and the government itself (Kapeliuk, 1979). But these were general tendencies rather than a clear-cut division. For instance, in the post-revolutionary period technological and scientific terms for various disciplines (chemistry, botany, physics, geography, etc.) were coined extensively, and this culminated by the publication of the first English
Amharic Science and Technology Dictionary (Academy of Ethiopian Languages, 1996). Another important step in this respect was the publication of the Amharic
English Visual Dictionary (Corbeil, 1991). The other factor for borrowing is distinctiveness or differentiation. In this case a group of people, say youngsters or ‘elite groups’, borrow English words or expressions to mark themselves as cosmopolitan or people following the latest trend. Hence most of the loan words are used by people who have completed secondary or tertiary education. Those with a higher level of education even have a great urge to express their rank and status, so they use more loan words, including loan words of the sophisticated variety. The third factor that might increase the level of borrowing is the educational role of the borrowing language in the educational system. If the official language is used in all stages of education, then the level of borrowing from the other language is lower. In the Ethiopian education system, Amharic is the language of instruction in primary schools in areas where it is spoken as a mother tongue. Secondary and tertiary education, on the other hand, is conducted solely in English. This leaves little room for Amharic to grow and expand, so it is forced to adopt loan words from English. The fourth factor, which is also an offshoot of the preceding point, is the level of esteem for one’s own language. As English is the medium of instruction at higher educational levels, and as it is an international language, many educated people hold Amharic in low esteem and they borrow liberally from English. Fekade (2000: 120
126), for instance, laments the abandoning of native languages and cultures and also the low appraisal of native authors, scientists, philosophers and the like. Additional evidence for this is the way well educated people freely intersperse English lexical items in their speech (codeswitching), despite the availability of Amharic equivalents. Moreover, in some video cassette or DVD recordings of Amharic theatre drama, released in Ethiopia and the USA since 2000, subtitles (if they exist) are exclusively in English. I have not encountered a single

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drama/play with Amharic subtitles. As most of the viewers are Amharic speakers, the logic behind English subtitles can only be understood as arising from the prestige of English.9 Other sound evidence of low esteem accorded by the elite to Amharic is the level of prestige that students of Addis Ababa University (and of other universities and colleges) attach to various departments. Students of Ethiopian Languages and Literature were assigned low prestige by students of other departments because their main occupation after graduation would be teaching Amharic. Although I have not come across any study on this subject, I can testify to this from my own experience when I was a student in the 1980s at Addis Ababa University. The fifth factor affecting borrowing is the political climate after the government change in 1991. The then Transitional Government of Ethiopia (TGE) declared that every ethnic group could speak and write its own language. This in particular affected Amharic, which till then had been the only language of instruction in all primary schools of Ethiopia. Now it is the language of instruction in primary schools mostly in the Amhara region, namely where most native Amharic speakers reside. According to Cohen (2002: 48
62) it also serves as the medium of instruction in some places in the Southern Nations, Nationalities and Peoples Region (SNNPR), where there is no other viable language or because of sociopolitical considerations. Nowadays the previously important position of Amharic is occupied by local languages such as Oromo, Tigrinya, Somali, Sidaama, etc. This process has let English become more entrenched in its intercommunal role as it is the only language used in secondary schools and the higher education system. An effort was made in the late 1980s to introduce Amharic slowly, first into secondary education and then into tertiary education. I recall a case where a group of freshmen at Addis Ababa University were taught Marxist philosophy in Amharic and another group took it as usual in English. Those who took the course in Amharic failed because they did not understand a plethora of concepts translated via Ge‘ez, a language alien to most of them. Nowadays trying to teach in Amharic instead of English even at the level of secondary schools would be more difficult because of possible fierce opposition by other major language speakers such as Oromo or Tigrinya. The sixth and final factor is the ineffectiveness of the Amharic Language Academy, which was established in 1972 to develop and expand Amharic. According to Girma (1999: 28), the success of the Academy was very limited because it functioned only for two years. The then Provisional Military Administrative Council (PMAC) of Ethiopia

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issued a decree in 1974 which substituted the Amharic Language Academy by the Ethiopian Language Academy. This was necessitated by the acknowledgement that Ethiopia is a multilingual country. Some of the achievements of the Academy regarding Amharic were (Girma, 1999: 31
32) modification of the Ethiopic script and publication of the English
Amharic Science and Technology Dictionary (Academy of Ethiopian Languages, 1996). The language academy was closed down during the 1991 government change and was reestablished as the Ethiopian Languages Research Center in 1997. Such constant changes, and the fact that the new centre is concerned not only with Amharic but also with all other languages of Ethiopia, presumably dilutes the centre’s ability to preserve the ‘purity’ of Amharic and stem the deluge of borrowings from English.

Borrowings from English and Other Languages into Amharic When languages borrow, the process does not usually affect all word classes to the same extent. Usually nouns are borrowed, followed by other word classes. This is a universal phenomenon and it holds true for Amharic. The predominantly noun borrowings into Amharic from English and other languages are followed by adjectives which are usually formed by modifying the loan word into the usual pattern of Amharic adjectives. Loan verbs are few and several of them formed by means of the auxiliary verb /ada¨rra¨ga¨/ ‘do’. For instance, from the loan noun [faks] ‘fax’, Amharic speakers derived the verb [faks ada¨rra¨ga¨] ‘he faxed’ and not *[fa¨ka¨ssa¨sa¨] (asterisk marks theoretical forms) as is the case in Hebrew ( fikses ‘to fax’). The process of language adaptation does not always involve pure borrowing, but also indigenous word coinages. This is the process whereby speakers take the concept but produce their own lexical items, as we shall see later. Lexical borrowing from English is heavy in the domain of science and technology but borrowings also occur in other fields such as entertainment, communication, politics and more. As indicated above, most of the loan words are nouns. Verbs derived from such nouns are quite few and the method involved in such verbal derivation is somewhat restricted. Adjectival derivation is very rare. Even the inflectional and derivational adaptation of the loan words is a fairly recent phenomenon. This became evident after 1991, when the new government relaxed censorship on authors and the steady influx of Internet and information technology swelled.

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Borrowing from English continues to increase, while borrowing from other languages is declining or nonexistent. A case in point is Italian. Many Italian lexical items made their way in during the Italian occupation and even as late as the early 1970s. However, after the 1974 Ethiopian Revolution almost all Italian and other Western companies were nationalised, and many Westerners were expelled. Hence the influence of the Italian language declined considerably. The language which gained from this decline was English. In addition to its use in the educational system, the explosion of Information Technology (IT) services such as e-mail, Internet, short message service (SMS), etc., enlarged the wide use of English. Moreover, the exposure of a large segment of the population to various TV channels through the widespread use of dish antennas is encouraging the penetration of English still more. Various types of borrowings are observed, including entire lexical and phonological borrowing, lexical borrowing with minor phonological changes, semantic (i.e. conceptual) borrowing, partial lexical and phonological borrowing, and the like. The most prevalent is a complete lexical borrowing. Entire phonological and lexical borrowing This category contains lexical items from several languages, namely English, Italian, French and Arabic. As might be expected, Amharic has borrowed heavily from English in the area of science and technology. However, we begin by referring to phonological borrowing. New phonemes

The phonemes /p/ and /v/ are new to Amharic. Several words that Amharic has borrowed from English contain them. (8) (i) a. (ii) a. b. b. c. c. d. d.

/polis/ /vayolin/ /p3lastik/ /vayra¨s/ /kompiyuter/ /televizˇ3n/ /3sport/ /vitamin/

‘policeman’ ‘violin’ ‘plastic’ ‘virus’ ‘computer’ ‘television’ ‘sport’ ‘vitamin’

In formal educated speech /p/ and /v/ are preserved while in the speech of non-educated people /p/ is replaced either by /f/ or /b/

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while /v/ is almost exclusively substituted by /b/. Some examples appear under (9).

(9) a. b. c.

Educated form /polis/ /pola¨tika/ /viza/

Non-educated form /folis/ /polis/ ‘policeman’ /bola¨tika/ ‘politics’ /biza/ ‘visa’

Borrowed words usually conform (or should conform) to the syllable structure and phonological rules of the borrowing language. For instance, Amharic allows only velarliquid clusters viz., /kl-/, /kr-/, /gr-/ and /gl-/. Thus the epenthetic /3/ in (8b) and the prosthetic /3/ in (8e) are inserted to correct ill formed clusters. Entire lexical borrowing

This is a process whereby a lexical item is borrowed in its entirety without modification. Most of these lexical items are from science and technology. In the examples below and others the data are organised in three columns. The first is the list of the lexical items, the second is the phonetic transcription of the Amharic word, and the third gives the glosses. A. Noun loan words That the majority of loan words in Amharic are nouns can be explained by the fact that most borrowings are items or technological concepts, not processes, which require the borrowing of verbs. The borrowings are in many varied domains: science and technology, telecommunication, transport, medicine and health, food and drink, clothing, entertainment, sport and numerous others. Below a sample of loan words from various domains is listed. (i) Telecommunication and entertainment (10) faks ‘fax’ tep ‘tape recorder’ ‘telephone’ vidyo ‘telescope’ telefon10 telegram ‘telegram’ televizˇ3n ‘television’ mobayl ‘mobile’ proja¨kta¨r ‘projector’ analog ‘analog’ signal ‘signal’ cˇanal ‘channel dijital ‘digital’ fayba¨r optik ‘fibre optic’ kaset ‘cassette’ sidi ‘CD’ dividi ‘DVD’ odyo vizˇuwal ‘audio-visual’ ya¨satelayt disˇ ‘satellite dish radiyo ‘radio’

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Two words in the above table, CD and DVD, appear in their acronym form. A few of the words have Amharic equivalents, which are used rarely. A case in point is the word for a ‘satellite dish’ [ya¨ma¨qa¨bba¨ya sah3n] ‘receiving dish’. (ii) Information technology (11) softwer ‘software’ grafiks ‘graphics’ monita¨r ‘monitor’ internet ‘internet’ flasˇ disk ‘flash disc’ cˇip ‘chip’ ‘animation’ laptop ‘lap top’ anima¨sˇ3n imeyl ‘e-mail’ websayt ‘web site’ ‘memory’ s’3huf aqa¨naj ‘word processor’ mah3da¨ra¨ t3w3sta The above examples demonstrate that most information technology (IT) words are borrowings from English. However, two of these words have Amharic equivalents: ‘memory’ is mah3da¨ra¨ t3w3sta (from mah3da¨r ‘file’ t3w3sta ‘memory’) and ‘word processor’ is s’3huf aqa¨naj (from s’3huf ‘script’aqa¨naj ‘coordinator’). The words e-mail and web site have Amharic equivalents too, which have not gained currency. The rendering for e-mail is i-t’omar (from t’omar ‘mail/letter’) and for web site it is d3ra¨ ga¨ss’ (from d3r ‘web’ga¨ss’ ‘page’). The other interesting development is advertisements for shops which sell electronic goods and for institutes which offer IT courses. Some of the advertisements are solely in English while others are partly in English and partly in Amharic. They could be comprehensible if just the course names are in English. However, sometimes even the cost, address, syllabus and so on are listed in English, even though most of the potential customers or students are Ethiopians. (iii) Science and technology (12) atom ‘atom’ kamera ‘camera’ radar ‘radar’ teleskop ‘telescope’ volt ‘voltage’ kompiyuter ‘computer’ (iv) Transport (13) awtobus mota¨r saykl (v) Food items (14) gril barbekiw cˇips ya¨dabbo duk’et

‘bus’ ‘motor bicycle’

helicopter ayroplan

‘grill’ koktel ‘barbecue ’ ayskrem ‘chips’ stek ‘bread crumbs’ kukis

‘helicopter’ ‘plane’

‘cocktail’ ‘ice-cream’ ‘steak’ ‘cookies’

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Many terms for food items are from Italian. However, the number of terms from English is also considerable, and steadily increasing. For instance, the first four words in (14) made their way into Amharic relatively recently. The last word on the first column, ya¨dabbo duk’et (from ya¨dabbo ‘of-bread’duk’et ‘flour’) ‘bread crumbs’, is not a direct loan but is a loan translation. (vi) Medical terms As in many other fields, Amharic has borrowed a considerable number of medical terms. Søiland (1998: 3) writes, ‘Firstly, in Amharic the scientific vocabulary is poorly developed. Many terms in English do not have a single corresponding word in Amharic. Therefore some English terms need several words in Amharic to explain the concept . . . Some words are transcribed or directly translated from English.’ The examples below demonstrate this fact. (15) farmasy ‘pharmacy’ bronkayta¨s ‘bronchitis’ ‘infection’ laboratori ‘laboratory’ infeksˇ3n vayra¨s ‘virus’ ecˇ ay vi ‘HIV’ 3strok ‘stroke’ gangrin ‘gangrene’ oprasiyon operation antibayotik ‘antibiotic’ Many of the above words are used by literate people. On this too Søiland (1998) asserts, ‘. . . some words are not understood by people without higher education’. Some of the above words have Amharic equivalents, of which several are very current while others are not. For instance, farmasy ‘pharmacy’ has an Amharic equivalent ma¨dhanit bet (lit. ‘medicine house’) and oprasiyon has the equivalent k’a¨ddo t’3gga¨na (lit. ‘tearing repairing’). These words are widely understood by the majority of the population. On the other hand infeksˇ3n ‘infection’ has a relatively new coinage b3gna¨t ‘inflammation’, which is not understood by majority of the population. The mass media, the educational system, authors and so on can help greatly in the dissemination and integration of such new coinages. There are also instances where the English loan words related to health and medicine have Amharic equivalents (with literal meaning). (16)

l3bb madama¨cˇ ’a s’a¨ra¨ 3ng3da akal ya¨s z3n3ga’e ba¨sˇsˇ3ta mada¨nza¨zˇa

heart hearing anti-foreign body of-forgetting disease means for benumbing

‘stethoscope’ ‘anti-bodies’ ‘Alzheimer’ ‘anaesthesia’

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(vii) Economic and business terms (17) promosˇ3n ‘promotion’ odit ‘audit’ marketing ‘marketing’ inva¨stment ‘investment’

inta¨rprayz pa¨blik sa¨kta¨r globalayza¨sˇ3n fa¨nd

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‘enterprise’ ‘public sector’ ‘globalisation’ ‘fund’

There are some newer economic and business terms which were borrowed into Amharic after undergoing a partial loan translation. Examples are listed below; translation is provided only for the Amharic words as the English ones are self-evident. (18)

ya¨b3dd3r kard polisi k’a¨ra¨s’a invest madra¨g aksiyon ma¨gzat

‘credit card’ ya¨-b3dd3r ‘policy formulation’ k’a¨ra¨s’a ‘to invest’ madra¨g ‘to buy shares’ ma¨gzat

‘of-credit’ ‘formulation’ ‘to do’ ‘to buy’

There are also a number of economic terms which have been entirely translated into Amharic. The case in point is na¨s’a ga¨ba¨ya ‘free market’ (from na¨s’a ‘free’ and ga¨ba¨ya ‘market’). Words such as kredit kard ‘credit card’ are borrowed whole without any type of translation. (viii) Political/ideological terms Numerous lexical items connected with ideology and politics made their way into Amharic in the post-revolution (after 1974) period. Their number was so large that a work entitled Ta¨ramaj Ma¨zga¨ba¨ Qalat ‘Progressive Dictionary’ (1976) was produced to accommodate them. Many of the words are related to Marxist
Leninist ideology, while several others refer to general political concepts. The Marxist
Leninist terms were rendered into Amharic by making use of the existing Amharic derivational morphology and also using Ge‘ez forms as the root verb.11 (19)

his ‘criticism’ teramaj abiyot ‘revolution’ adhari hida¨t ‘process’ ma¨da¨b k3sta¨t ‘phenomenon’ gwad

‘progressive’ ‘reactionary’ ‘class’ ‘comrade’

Most of the above nominals were created directly from Ge‘ez. In some of the above and other examples, the existing Amharic word was assigned an additional meaning related to politics and ideology. A case in

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point is ma¨da¨b, whose original meaning was ‘bench made of earth for sitting or sleeping’. That is how even Leslau (1976: 37) defined it in his Concise Amharic Dictionary published in the very early days of the revolution. However, during the communist regime the term was expanded and assigned an additional meaning, namely (social) ‘class’, as in ya¨-sa¨rata¨n˜n˜aw ma¨da¨b ‘the proletariat’ (lit., ‘of-worker class’). In other instances compound nouns of construct-state type were formed from Ge‘ez (Gz.) to accommodate political and ideological concepts as illustrated by the following examples. (20) s’a¨re abiyot silta¨ mirt n3qata¨ hlina r3’3yota¨ ‘ala¨m

‘anti-revolutionary’ ‘enemy’(Gz.) ‘mode of production’ ‘means’ ‘consciousness’ ‘be awake’ ‘ideology’ ‘see’ (Gz.)

‘refuse’(Gz.) ‘product’ ‘thought’ ‘world’

B. Slightly modified loan words (nouns) Here the loan word is slightly modified phonologically to give it an Amharic-like pattern. In other instances the derived noun seems to have undergone slight Amharic phonological modification but it is actually from other European languages. Most of the loan words from 3.1.2.2 up to 3.1.2.9 are drawn from the Science and Technology Dictionary (STD) (Academy of Ethiopian Languages, 1996). (21)

ma¨gna¨t’is fizika turbina siringa

‘magnet’ ‘physics’ ‘turbine’ ‘syringe’

galasi akostika erodinamika mekanika

‘galaxy’ ‘acoustics’ ‘aerodynamics’ ‘mechanics’

C. Use of existing nominal pattern for new loan words Some words borrowed from English are incorporated into Amharic by undergoing the indigenous nominalisation process such as internal stem modification plus suffixation.12 It is simply a new use of a nominal pattern that already exists in the language. (22)

w3gda¨t ‘ablation’ w3rza¨t ‘perspiration’ guzot ‘transportation’ mukra¨t ‘trial’

m3tt’osˇ telamdo d3nna¨na g3rja¨fa

‘absorption’ ‘adaptation’ ‘afforestation’ ‘ageing’

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D. Blending (compounding) Another process of borrowing involves translating the loan word, but also blending two of the terms involved in the loan translation. ‘addendum’ t’3rs ‘tooth’  cˇ’af ‘tip’ (23) t’3rcˇ’a ‘abnormal’ l3kk ‘measure’  alla¨f ‘over’ l3kkalla¨f ‘pharynx ’d3h3r ‘post’  af ‘mouth’ d3raf 3nqucˇ’ ‘albumen’ 3nqulal ‘egg’  na¨cˇcˇ’ ‘white’ malna¨t’3b ‘mid-point’ ma¨hal ‘middle’  na¨t’3b ‘point’ E. Infinitive formation Some of the Amharic lexemes occur in their nominal form only. One of the most recent and boldest efforts to create new verbs from such words is denominalisation, as illustrated below. Such verbs denote modern notions borrowed mainly from English, although the words themselves are from Amharic (or Ge’ez) origin. Base forms Infinitives ‘people’ mahazza¨b ‘to popularise’ (24) h3zb sa¨na¨d ‘document’ ma¨sa¨nna¨d ‘to document’ da¨nn ‘forest’ madna¨n ‘afforest’ F. Compound forms English compounds are incorporated by being translated into their compound equivalents in Amharic. These are Amharic compounds, as opposed to those under (20) which are Ge’ez compounds. Compound noun Components of the compound (25) ayya¨r gffit ‘air pressure’ ‘air’ ‘pushing’ ‘pollution’ ayya¨r b3kka¨la ‘air pollution’ ‘air’ ‘salt water’ ‘salt’ ‘water’ cˇ’a¨w w3ha G. Partial compound forms In such compounds one part of the compound, usually the first and sometimes the second, is in Amharic while the other part (the nontranslatable part) is in English. Compound form Amharic part of the compound ‘polymorph’ b3zu ‘many’ (26) b3za¨ form ‘polyester’ b3zu ‘many’ b3za¨ esta¨r ba¨t’a¨bba¨t’a¨ ‘mix’ normal b3t’b3t’ ‘normal solution’ s’a¨ra¨ histamin ‘antihistamine’ s’a¨r ‘anti-’ abro enzaym ‘co-enzyme’ abba¨ra¨ ‘unite’

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H. Nouns derived from borrowed words In some instances new nouns are derived from borrowed words and this involves the usual Amharic nominalising affixes and internal stem modifications. Such a process and its usage are very restricted because it is understood by few educated people. Not all these words relate to science and technology. For instance, the last two words are taken from Fekade’s (1999) [Ya¨s3na¨ qal ma¨mriya] [A Guide to Oral Literature]. Base noun Derived noun 3yya¨ra ‘aeration’ (27) ayya¨r ‘air’ polima¨r ‘polymer’ pulma¨ra ‘polymerisation’ format ‘format’ furma¨ta ‘formatting’ ‘theorisation’ tewory ‘theory’ t3ww3r I. Adjectivalisation of loan words Adjectives are derived either from loan nouns or pseudo-loan nouns. The process involves the usual Amharic adjectival affixes and internal stem modifications. Base word Adjective ‘comique’ (Fr.) (28) kwa¨mma¨ka¨ ‘to joke’ kwa¨maki lastik ‘plastic’ ta¨la¨staki ‘elastic’ J. Phrasal borrowing The borrowing is not limited to lexical items but also includes phrasal items and idiomatic expressions (collocations). The first three below are examples of partial phrasal borrowing, as one of the words is from English; the last is an instance of loan translation (semantic borrowing). (29) lift ‘lift’ sa¨tt’a¨ ‘gave’ ‘gave a lift’ sponsor ‘sponsor’ ada¨rra¨ga¨ ‘made’ ‘sponsored’ taksi ‘taxi’ yaza¨ ‘grasp’ ‘took a taxi’ wa¨nba¨r ‘chair’ wa¨ssa¨da¨ ‘take’ ‘take chair’ K. Existence of an English item next to an original term Several English words have Amharic equivalents. Both forms are used side by side, the English versions being widely used by highly educated people. English term Gloss Amharic equivalent (30) instityut ‘institute’ ta¨qwam original ‘original’ wa¨tt’ taks ‘tax’ qa¨ra¨t’ ‘inspection’ qut’3tt’3r inspeksˇ3n turist ‘tourist’ agar gwa¨b3nˇnˇi artifisˇal ‘artificial’ sa¨w sa¨rrasˇ

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In example (30) two words are Amharic compounds. The word for ‘tourist’ is composed of agar ‘country’gwa¨b3nˇnˇi ‘visitor’, while the word for ‘artificial’ is composed of sa¨w ‘man’ sa¨rrasˇ ‘made you (f. sg.)’. Distortion of the meaning of the borrowed word

I have come across one word whose intended meaning was distorted, although there may be more. The Amharic equivalent for ‘airborne’ is ayya¨r wa¨lla¨d (lit. airgave birth). The original translator apparently took the word borne, a past participle of the verb bear, ‘carry’, to be another form of the phrase ‘be born’. Consequently he or she used the Amharic word wa¨lla¨da¨ ‘give birth’ instead of the expected ta¨sˇa¨kka¨ma¨/azza¨la¨ ‘carry’. To rectify this distortion the compilers of the Science and Technology Dictionary of Amharic (Academy of Ethiopian Languages, 1996: 7) translate ‘airborne’ as 3zla¨ ayya¨r, although they also include the earlier and widely used word ayya¨r wa¨lla¨d in parentheses.

Conclusions I set out to examine the ways in which Amharic has tried to incorporate lexical items, phrases and idiomatic expressions mainly from English. The chapter was divided into four sections. The first section provided general information about Amharic. This language is an Ethiopian lingua franca with 17 million native speakers and five million speakers who use it as their second language. Although Amharic belongs to the Semitic family of languages, it is not a typical Semitic language like Ge‘ez. The latter is a classical language which was spoken till the end of the 10th century but nowadays has only liturgical use. Among the differences between Amharic and other Semitic languages is the fact that Amharic lacks laryngeals, while on the other hand it has a series of palatal sounds. In addition, its word order is SOV, unlike other Semitic languages. These features show that Amharic was highly influenced by neighbouring Cushitic languages and hence its substratum can be viewed as Cushitic. The main linguistic features of Amharic were also presented in this chapter. For instance, it was shown that gemination is significant/ phonemic, while stress is hardly felt in the language. The main phonological processes in the language are palatalisation, vowel deletion, weakening and various assimilatory rules. The morphological system is similar to other Semitic languages. For instance, the verb stem pattern and derived verbal stems are typical of Semitic languages, and 70% of the lexicon is of Semitic stock. Syntax is quite different in that the verb comes last (with SOV word order) while modifiers precede the element which

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they modify. For instance, modifiers such as adjectives and relativised nouns precede their head noun. The second section dealt briefly with the contact between Amharic and English. In the 19th century and in particular the first decades of the 20th century, Italian and French were the principal languages of wider communication, and although English, too, was used in schools, its impact was insignificant until 1941. Italy was defeated that year and its forces were driven out of Ethiopia. After the victory, the Ethiopian imperial government declared English to be the language of instruction in junior and senior secondary schools, and later in colleges and universities, probably in appreciation for the British role in the liberation of Ethiopia. Since then the use of English has become more widespread and its influence is immense. Although only a small minority in Ethiopia speaks English, the language has great prestige because of its use as the government’s principal foreign language for business and diplomatic purposes, and as the medium of instruction in secondary schools, colleges and universities. The third and main section of the chapter dealt with the connection between Amharic and English. The various types of loan words were analysed and linguistic strategies employed by Amharic to incorporate these lexical items were discussed. The Amharic vocabulary was found to be highly affected by English. The number of English words is quite substantial and it touches almost every field: medicine, telecommunications, Internet, technology and so on. People place such prestige on English that they use English terms even when Amharic equivalents are readily available. One of the main reasons is to signal to others that the speaker is educated. Another reason is the genuine lack of an Amharic equivalent. In addition to the loan words, the sociolinguistic factors which triggered the borrowing in the first place were described in this section. Some predictions were made by Kowner and Rosenhouse (2001) on the basis of their short survey of Hebrew and Japanese. These predictions were found to be true for the English Amharic contacts. For instance Amharic has a large frequency of English loan words. Although this emanates primarily from the lack of lexical items, it also reflects the positive image English enjoys among educated Amharic speakers. The other fact is the lexical coinage process is relatively slower and the coined words are not forced into wide use. In addition, the new political climate has adversely affected the status and development of Amharic. As expected from the predictions, these factors have led to widening the scope of semantic and phonological borrowing from English.

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Notes 1. I express my warmest thanks to Prof. Judith Rosenhouse, Prof. Olga Kapeliuk and Prof. Grover Hudson for their valuable comments. All errors are of course mine. 2. Amharic has also borrowed from other foreign languages such as Italian (It.), French (Fr.) and Arabic (Ar.). A larger research paper which deals with Amharic borrowings from all foreign languages will be my next goal. 3. There is still no agreement regarding the number of languages spoken in Ethiopia. This is because sometimes dialects of the same language are listed as separate languages, and sometimes separate languages are treated as dialects. In addition, until recently, little known languages spoken on the periphery were not analysed or included in the language list. 4. Amharic words written in Ethiopian script are immediately followed by an equivalent phonetic transcription. This should be of help to readers who are not familiar with the Ethiopian script. 5. Among Ethiopian languages Amharic is the most researched. Some of the most important grammar works in this respect are: Praetorius (1879), Cohen (1936) and Dawkins (1960), Leslau (1967, 1995, 2000) Baye (1994) and, Appleyard (1995). Regarding dictionaries Kane (1990) is an extensive twovolume work while Leslau (1973) is an English-Amharic Context Dictionary. 6. The writing system is termed Ethiopian syllabary and not Amharic syllabary deliberately. This is because the same script is used for writing not only Amharic but also Ge‘ez, Tigrinya, Harari and other Ethiopian languages. Thus the term Ethiopian is more inclusive. in 7. The exception is the sixth-order letter, which usually carries a vowel m in the word m3n ‘what?’ but not in the word-initial position as in final n, which does not contain a sixth-order vowel . Not all instances of word-initial sixth-order letter necessitate the vowel. For instance there are a handful of Amharic nouns that, when occurring in the sixth order in velar r , as in grar ‘acacia’, sequence word, initially do not contain the vowel krar ‘musical instrument’, etc. 8. Both pronouns have alternative forms 3sswo ‘you’ (polite) and 3ssacˇca¨w ‘he’ (polite). These forms appear to be derived from 3rswo and 3rsacˇca¨w respectively by a regressive assimilation of s to r. 9. This was also one of the consistent remarks I heard from my Amharic students in Israeli high schools and colleges when I screened video and DVD films on Ethiopia. They asked me why the narration on the videos and DVDs was not in Amharic or Hebrew. They also asked why it did not have subtitles in at least one of the languages. I think that the videos and DVDs were intended for international consumption, so they were prepared in the predominant international language, i.e. English. 10. The word telephone has a sort of indigenous equivalent [s3lk] which ultimately is itself a loan word from Arabic [silk] ‘barbed wire’. 11. It is not the interest of this paper to delve into political terms and concepts borrowed by Amharic and their adaptation. For a more detailed discussion one can refer to Kapeliuk’s (1979) article.

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12. In the previous and subsequent sections most of these modified loan words are understood and used only by few members of the elite class and sometimes they are known only to those who compiled the dictionary. This demonstrates that not all the loan words were absorbed by the population and attained currency. The main reason for this is their infrequent use (if any) and the fact that they were not used in schools and mass media.

Chapter 10

Farsi: The Modernisation Process and the Advent of English SOLI SHAHVAR

Farsi (or Persian) is part of the Indo-Iranian group of the vast IndoEuropean (or Indo-Aryan) family of languages. Two main subgroups constitute the Indo-Iranian group of languages: the Iranian and the Indian subgroup of languages. All the languages originally current on the vast Iranian plateau, stretching from the Pamir region in the east to the borders of present-day Iran in the west, form the Iranian subgroup of languages. These languages were spoken by the Aryan tribes, who approximately from the second millennium B.C. started their migration onto this plateau. The Iranian languages are divided into three groups: the Old languages (which include Avestan, Old Persian and Median), the Middle languages (which include Parthian, Pahlavi, Soghdian, Kharazmian and Khotanese) and the Modern languages (which include Persian or Farsi and many different dialects). The Persian language carries an old cultural and literary tradition, and it once carried great significance for neighbouring peoples, the Turks in particular. Old Persian was the language of the Achamenid Empire (6th
4th centuries B.C.), while Middle Persian was that of the Sassanians (3rd
7th centuries A.D.). Modern Persian, in its present form, developed after the Muslim conquest of Iran, during the 10th century (Thackston, 1993: xi; Lambton, 1953: ix), and in certain lands it has even become the language of politics and cultural accomplishments (Alam, 1998: 317
349; Cohn, 1985: 284
295). Iran was divided into many linguistic regions, the main languages being Pahlavi, Dari, Farsi, Khuzi and Suryani (Syriac) (Al-Nadim, 1991: 19). In addition, a large number of dialects existed in Iran as well, differentiated from each other by region (province, town, etc.) (Khanlari, 1972: 81
85). Farsi is the developed, but simpler and more regular, form of Dari. Its forms are both shorter and more economical, with 187

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multisyllable and multiflexion words giving way to easily grouped words of few syllables. These changes are in keeping with the general principle that languages have a progressive trend (Jespersen, 1922: 326), and there is a constant tendency towards simplicity and absence of flexion (Partridge, 1949: 110). Today, despite Farsi being the official language of Iran, there are still many ethnic groups (e.g. Armenians, Arabs, Assyrians, Azeris, Baluchis, Kurds, Lurs, etc.) for whom Farsi is not the mother tongue and who tend to use their mother tongue within their respective communities. In Afghanistan, where it is called Dari, Farsi enjoys official status along with Pashto and is spoken by all educated people. In Tajikistan, where it is called Tajiki, Farsi became the official language too, after the downfall of the Soviet Union (Thackston, 1993: xi). Today Farsi is also spoken in the various communities of Iranian immigrants, mainly in Europe and the USA, where most of them moved after the 1978
79 Revolution. Persian script is a slightly modified form of Arabic script. It is written from right to left and has a total of 32 characters, four more than in Classical Arabic. Like Arabic, the letter forms differ according to their position in the word
initial, medial or final
and may be connected or unconnected with the adjacent letters which precede or follow them (Boyle, 1966: 1; Thackston, 1993: xx
xxxii). The effects of one language on another have been studied by many scholars. Sapir (1949: 192), for example, stated, ‘languages, like cultures, are rarely sufficient unto themselves’. Elaborating on this point he added, The necessities of intercourse bring the speakers of one language into direct or indirect contact with those of neighboring or culturally dominant languages. The intercourse may be friendly or hostile. It may move on the humdrum plane of business and trade relations or it may consist of borrowing or interchange of spiritual goods
art, science, [and] religion. (Sapir, 1949: 192) Another linguist, Einar Haugen (1950b: 210
231), pointed out that ‘linguistic borrowing’ is one of the manifestations of this contact. Linguistic ‘loans . . . may be analyzed and described in terms of the extent to which they are imported in extenso and the extent to which they are modified by substitutions of native habits’(Haugen, 1950a: 288). He defined this ‘linguistic borrowing’ as ‘the attempted reproduction in one language of patterns previously found in another’ (Haugen, 1950b: 212). As a language used for extensive and continuous cultural (and other) contacts with the surrounding world for centuries, the Persian language borrowed many words and linguistic forms from other

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languages, both in the pre-Islamic and in the Islamic periods, whether as an exact or modified version of the ‘imported’ word. Since earliest times Iran has been a meeting place and an intermediary between East and West. Trade, wars, diplomacy, science and technology, the arts, religion and philosophy have brought Iranians into direct contact with other peoples and cultures. By the 7th century B.C., war and peace had brought Iranians in contact with Elamites, Sumerians, Akkadians, Aramaeans, Greeks and others, while after the dawn of the Islamic era and down to the 19th century, Iranians encountered mainly speakers of Arabic and Turkish. This intercourse helped to shape the Persian culture and affected Farsi, causing vast lexical changes, modifications, the death and birth of many Farsi words of all kinds. Chief among these forces was Arabic, which caused changes in the vocabulary, meanings, phonetics, morphology and even grammar of the Persian language from the Arab conquest of Iran (Al-Masri, 1992: 1
49; Farshidvard, 1968; Perry, 1991). Arabic was the language of the Qur’an (the Islamic Holy Book), the Hadith (the Prophet Muhammad’s traditions and sayings) and the Shari’ah (Islamic religious law). It was also adopted by some local Iranian dynasties in the post-Arab and pre-Mongol period (Eqbal, 1933
34, I, 4: 437; Bahar, n.d.: 164), and the language most representing knowledge and learning throughout the Muslim world (Sadiq, 1953: 39). Many Iranian poets composed poetry in Arabic in this era (Sadiq, 1953: 411), knowing Arabic was regarded in Iran as the hallmark of an educated citizen. The Shi’isation of Iran by the Safavids (1501
1736) entailed the entry into the country of many Arab Shi’i ulema (scholars in Islamic studies and religion), their families, and many others. This Arab influx left a deep impression on the language and culture of Iran (Shafa, 2003: II, 762). Although far less significant than Arabic in terms of influencing the Persian language, the Turkish linguistic legacy cannot be ignored (Gandjei, 1986: 67
75), on account of the Mongol conquest of Iran, but also the close political, social and cultural relationship between Turan and Iran. The dynasties that followed the Samanids (819
1005) up to the rise of the Pahlavis (1925
1979) were mostly of Turkish origin (Bosworth, 1967). In addition, a large-scale Turkish migration into Iran in the 11th
13th centuries brought with it Turkish tribes, which settled in many parts of Iran. Also Turkish slaves, who initially belonged to the lowest social strata and were commonly owned by kings, ministers, nobles and poets, gradually gained importance and steadily rose up the social scale; some came to wield political power and even founded their own kingdoms and empires (Lane-Pool, 1925: 285).

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History books written in Iran during the Mongol, Il-Khanid and Timurid periods (13th
15th centuries) contain dozens of Mongol and Turkish words and terms, many of which are still part of Modern Persian. Turkish remained an important and influential language during Safavid rule, but also during the Afsharid (1736
1747) and the Qajar periods (1796
1925) (Shafa, 2003: II, 765
766). Thus, by the end of the 18th century Persian had acquired a large number of loan words from a number of Eastern languages, Arabic primarily. Since then a series of events has led to increasingly extensive cultural and linguistic relations between Iran and the West.

Iran’s Encounter with English-speaking Countries Western influence wrought momentous change in the Persian outlook and set new patterns of thought and expression. From the linguistic viewpoint these events were significant, for they resulted in a large number of borrowings from sources hitherto not represented in the Persian lexicon. Persian continued to borrow vocabulary from Arabic well into the 19th century, but from the beginning of that century, Western languages gradually became the main source of borrowing. Arabic was no longer adequate to meet the new challenges posed by the West in the intellectual, political, economic, social and cultural life of the country. The necessity for modernisation and Westernisation, felt initially due to military losses to Europe, resulted in growing contacts with Western countries and the establishment of diplomatic relations with them. Domestically, this need brought about the acquisition of improved military techniques, which required a new bureaucracy. As the prevalent traditional educational system of maktabs and madrasehs (elementary and secondary religious schools respectively) did not satisfy the growing needs and demands, new schools, modelled after European schools, were opened. New generations of Iranians were taught in, and became familiarised with, Western languages and cultures. This in turn necessitated the adoption of missing words from Western vocabularies, in fields such as diplomacy, commerce, technology, education, culture and intellectual terminology. France, Britain and Russia were the Western countries most involved in and with Iran during the 19th century. French political involvement in Iran was brief, but was followed by a massive cultural penetration of the Iranian scene, which partly explains why French became the Western language most affecting Modern Persian (Deyhime, 1988
89: 39
58; 2001: 181
184; Giese, 1956: 69
77; Tabataba’i, 1982). It was the language

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of diplomacy and of haute couture, but was also used as a second language in European royal courts and aristocratic circles (Deyhime, 2001: 182). Persian borrowed words also from other Western languages too, English included, but to a much lesser extent. Many factors contributed to the process of adopting English loan words. These factors were the result of British and American relations with Iran, their growing interest in the region, and the Iranian need for modernisation. Contacts with Britain Strategic and commercial interests underlay British interests in Iran. Britain tried to enlist Iranian assistance against its enemies in Asia on various occasions: at the end of the 13th and in the 16th centuries these were the Ottomans, while at the end of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th centuries they were the Afghans, Napoleonic France and Tsarist Russia. Commercial ties began from the mid-16th century (1566), with Iran granting permission to British merchants to trade throughout the country, but they grew closer after the British East India Company began to trade in Iran (1616) and opened its factories there. In 1778 Bushehr became its headquarters, and the centre of British strategic, political and commercial activity in the Persian Gulf, a position it held until 1971, when the British completed their withdrawal from the Gulf area (Wright, 1977: 1
3, 200; 2001: 200). The growing Anglo-Iranian commercial contacts, together with the fact that Persian was used as a lingua franca on the Indian subcontinent, brought the British into closer contact with Iran and the Persian language (Alam, 1998: 317
349; Arberry, 1942: 8
14; Cohn, 1985: 284
295). Still, until the end of the 18th century Iranian contacts with English-speaking countries were slight. Strategic and commercial interests continued to be the main catalyst that approximated Iran and Britain at the beginning of the 19th century. The growing commercial attraction of India, in itself and as a bridge to the East, and the gradual intensification of power rivalry in Europe, caused the British much concern about the defence of their Indian possessions, and this drew them closer to Iran. During the first two decades of the 19th century the British concluded a series of defensive treaties with Iran against India’s regional (Afghans) and European rivals in the Middle East (France and Russia) (Ingram, 1992: 1
186; Yapp, 1980: 23
96) and opened a permanent British diplomatic mission in Tehran (1809). After 1815 Tsarist Russia became the main threat to Britain’s Indian possessions. This turned Iran into a field of intense Anglo-Russian

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rivalry, and ended with the Anglo-Russian Convention of 1907, which divided Iran into two spheres of influence
Russian and British
with a neutral zone in between (Kazemzadeh, 1986: II, 68
70). From the 1860s onward Britain became more interested in Iran, and this was expressed in intense commercial and political activities, such as concessions and the opening of many consulates throughout Iran (Sykes, 1915: 380). During WWI, British, Russian and Ottoman forces invaded Iran in spite of Iran’s declared neutrality. Britain even set up a local force, ‘The South Persian Rifles’, manned by a few thousand Iranians (especially from friendly tribes) and headed by British officers (Safiri, 1975). The 1917 Bolshevik Revolution in Russia brought about Russian withdrawal from both WWI and Iran. Fearing a Bolshevik takeover of a demoralised Iran, Britain supported a coup for the creation of a centralised state, both headed by Reza Khan (later Reza Shah Pahlavi) (Atkin, 1986: VI, 329
333; Fatemi, 1986: II, 59
61; Zirinsky, 1994: 44
77). But the continued British presence in the south of Iran, along with the 1932
33 friction over the oil concession, bitter memories of British intervention in the past and the occupation of Iran in 1941 (lasting until 1946) did not help to create friendly relations between the two states. Neither did the nationalisation of the Iranian oil industry in 1951, which marked the low point in the Anglo-Iranian relations. The settlement of this dispute in 1954 opened a new and friendly period between the two states. Contacts with the USA Until the 1953 coup the Iranian attitude to the USA was most positive, due to American assistance to Iran. A series of American missions (in 1911, 1922 and during WWII) were dispatched to shore up the administrative, financial, military and internal security of Iran. In late 1942 thousands of American non-combat forces entered Iran, and were mainly engaged in logistic operations and supplying food to the local population (Millspaugh, 1946: 40
42). During its WWII stay in Iran, the US Army employed thousands of Iranians in various operations and projects. American involvement in Iran grew much deeper during and after the coup of 1953, with Iran actually becoming an American satellite (Bill, 1988). The friendly period in Anglo-Iranian and US
Iranian relations was disrupted again in 1979 with the establishment of an Islamic Republic in Iran. The nadir of the latter relationship was the capture of the American embassy in Tehran (4 November 1979), and that of the former was the 1989 fatwa (religious edict) issued by Ayatollah Khomeini calling for the

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death of Salman Rushdie, the British author of The Satanic Verses. Diplomatic relations with Britain were restored in September 1990. US
Iranian relations, on the other hand, have continued to be generally tense and unfriendly, with no resumption of diplomatic relations to date (2006).

Factors Contributing to the Penetration of English Loan Words into Persian Although, as stated, Anglo-Iranian contacts began as early as the 13th century, English began to penetrate Farsi only in the 19th century (especially from the 1860s). A variety of factors contributed to the penetration of English loan words into the vernacular, and spreading into the technological, educational, cultural, economic, political and administrative fields. What is common to most of these factors is the fact that all of them stem mainly from a single process
modernisation and/or Westernisation
considered by some Iranians as the key to bridging the gap with the West. Under the Qajars this process was quite limited, but under the Pahlavis Iran managed to make big strides in certain fields, albeit insufficient to narrow the vast gap with the West, especially in the field of political reform. The situation grew worse with the establishment of an Islamic Republic in Iran in 1979 and the creation of a theocratic regime, ruled by conservative clerics, who wished to return to the classical era of Islam. Modernising steps continue to be taken by the state, the criterion being whether they serve the regime. From early 19th century, then, a stream of foreign words, including English, penetrated the Persian language, filling the blanks in its vocabulary. Military reforms At the beginning of the 19th century the British tried to convince FathAli Shah (r. 1797
1834) to ally himself with Britain against France and Russia, promising him military aid. Disappointed with the French and at war against Russia, the Iranian monarch consented. The Preliminary Treaty between the two countries provided Iran with a large annual military subsidy, as well as military instructors for the Iranian army. A series of British military missions ensued (1810, 1812, 1813, 1833 and 1836), through which stray English words
such as military ranks (e.g. ‘Lieutenant’, ‘General’, ‘Major General’, etc.) and Roman months
were the first to penetrate Farsi (Modarresi et al., 2001). However, in 1838, when Britain broke off relations with Iran over the First Herat Crisis (1836
38), all the remaining British military instructors left Iran (Wright,

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1977: 49
61). No other British military missions followed. After that, British military involvement in Iran was mainly during wars, with Iran as an enemy (the Anglo-Iranian War of 1856
57), as a satellite of the Russian foe (the two Irano-Afghan wars in the 1830s and the 1850s) or as a neutral force in the two World Wars. Until 1964 Britain remained one of the main suppliers of Iranian military needs. It continued to be an influential power in the Persian Gulf region until 1971. From the 1850s Iran also sought military assistance from the USA, but this was forthcoming only from the 1940s. Irano-American relations warmed in the aftermath of the 1953 coup, and grew firmer still after 1964, with massive American assistance to the Iranian military and security forces. This closeness ended with the establishment of an Islamic Republic in Iran and the takeover of the American Embassy in Tehran. Educational reforms and foreign education Through daily instruction and training by British officers, Iranian soldiers and officers learned professional English terms and words in related fields. Some of them became absorbed in the vernacular, mainly because no Persian equivalents for them existed. Education through foreign, especially American, military advisors, aided by translators, continued during the first Pahlavi rule (1925
1941), but during the second Pahlavi rule (1941
1979) it reached new heights, especially from the mid-1960s (Qa’em-Maqami, 1947; Ringer, 2001: 15
51; Zoka’, 1971). Since the establishment of the Islamic Republic foreign military advisors have come mainly from non-English-speaking countries. Sending young Iranians to Western countries to learn modern technology, science and foreign languages was another channel for the penetration of modern education into Iran. In 1811 two Iranian students were sent to England, and in 1815 five more, but afterwards (in 1845 and 1859) students were mainly sent to France. However, as Naser al-Din Shah (r. 1848
1896) grew increasingly fearful of the subversive impact of modern education, no more students were sent abroad until the end of the century. This trend was renewed in 1910, when the Iranian parliament (Majles) passed a law stipulating that 30 students would annually be sent to Europe on government scholarships, half of them to study education. In sum, from 1811 to the end of Qajar supremacy in Iran (1921) some 1000 Iranian students studied abroad, mostly in France, but also in Russia, Germany, England, Switzerland and the Ottoman Empire (Istanbul and Beirut). After WWII the balance shifted to the USA. The number of Iranian students studying abroad began to rise during the first

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Pahlavi kingship (1500 students from 1922 to 1938), and more drastically during the second (from 2000 in 1946
47 to 67,000 in 1978) (MahboubiArdakani, 1975: I, 122
188; Matin-Asghari, 1986: VIII, 226
230; Menashri, 1992; Ringer, 2001: 15
34, 44
51). These students took back to Iran European manners, but also new words and terms, most of which became immersed in Farsi. Modern education found its way into Iran also through the establishment of modern schools, initiated by the Iranian government, local religious minorities or foreign religious organisations. The first modern school established by the Iranian government was Dar al-Fonoun (the House of Crafts), a polytechnic college founded in 1851 in Tehran (Ekhtiar, 1994; Gurney & Nabavi, 1993: 662
668; Ringer, 2001: 67
108). According to Rouhbakhshan (1987: 33
54), Dar al-Fonoun had an important role in spreading the French language in Iran. Its foundation, together with that of Dar al-Tarjomeh (House of Translation) (Browne, 1914: 154
166), continually stimulated the foreign verbal influx. Several factors facilitated the borrowing process: the translation of European works, the writing of new textbooks, the need for new terms and the presence of European staff at the school. The publications of Dar alFonoun record this marked influx of the European loan words (Ahsan, 1976: 68
69). In addition, military schools opened in Tabriz (1858), Esfahan (1882) and Tehran (1884) (Mahboubi-Ardakani, 1975: I, 366
367). From the 1890s onward, when the winds of constitutionalism were blowing in Iran, more attention was paid to the expansion of modern education as a prerequisite for social and political progress. This was translated into the opening of a number of modern elementary and secondary schools in Tehran and other major cities. One of the first was Madreseh-ye Roshdiyeh, which was founded in 1898 and became a model for other modern schools, public and private. The foundation of two other colleges, for Political Science (Tehran, 1899) and for Agronomy (near Tehran, 1900), opened the way for the penetration of new nonmilitary loan words. More fundamental educational reforms were made after the Constitutional Revolution (1905
06). The constitutional government founded a Ministry of Education, passed laws aimed at expanding modern education throughout Iran, and opened new schools and colleges (for law and dentistry). These efforts helped to increase the number of pupils and students in Iran to unprecedented levels, but the vast majority of Iran’s youngsters still did not receive modern, and some not even traditional, education (Ashraf, 1986: VIII, 189
190; Ringer, 2001: 67
108, 145
206).

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The real change came with the rise of the Pahlavis to the Iranian throne. Reza Shah started an intensive and nation-wide process of modernisation in order to create a centralised, modern and secular nation-state. Reform of the educational system was at the core of these modernising efforts. Enlarged educational budgets enabled the government to build many new schools nationwide, to found the country’s first university, Tehran University (1935), to promote women’s education and to initiate an adult education programme. This increased enrolment at all levels substantially raised the literacy rate, from 10% (end of the Qajar period) to 20% (end of Reza Shah’s reign). This trend continued steadily, reaching 50% (end of Mohammad Reza Shah’s reign), and even 80% (20 years after the establishment of the Islamic Republic), despite the constant growth of the population. This expanding educational system prepared the ground for the widespread penetration of foreign words (English included) into Iranian society. The pioneers of founding modern schools in Iran were the American and European religious institutions. A first modern elementary school was founded in 1835 by the American mission in Urmiyeh (later known as Reza’iyeh) (Perkins, n.d., 1843; Presbyterian Church, 1936). By the beginning of the 20th century there were scores of foreign schools in Tehran and provincial towns, founded by Christian missionaries (mainly American, French and British), the Alliance Franc¸aise, the Alliance Israe´lite Universelle, local religious minorities (mainly Baha’is and Armenians) and secular educators. Until the establishment of a modern and secular national school system in the 1930s, these foreign and private schools were the preferred choice of thousands of Iranians from the middle and upper classes. But between 1932 and 1939 the government took control of all foreign educational establishments in Iran (The Encyclopaedia Iranica, 1986: VIII, 214; Ringer, 2001: 109
144). However, because foreign languages (mainly English and French) were the languages of instruction, and graduates of these establishments came to hold high posts in the state, knowledge of foreign languages became important for the Iranian elite and for upward social mobility. The use of Western loan words had thus become a fashion and a status symbol. All kinds of political social, and literary expressions were freely used as a mark of snobbery, even when native speech-material was available. Soon the elite became distinguished by adopting Western ways of life, as well as Western words. This practice started first at the royal court, was then taken up by the aristocracy, and then by the rest of the educated classes. In time it also moved people from lower classes to send their children to

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foreign schools or to those founded on a European model, resulting in foreign words taking root firmly in the vernacular. More extensive educational reforms were carried out during the reign of Mohammad Reza Shah (Eilers, 1978: 303
331; Menashri, 1992: 163
299). Many were influenced by the American educational system, such as using more analytical methods than memorisation, conducting seminars and workshops for new teaching methods, using audio and visual aids in teaching, publishing new textbooks, and opening new departments and courses (originally taught by Americans or American-trained Iranians). The study of new sciences, therefore, led to the adoption of many new foreign words, previously absent from Farsi, mainly by young Iranians. While the fields of study determined the number and variety of the ‘borrowed’ words, it was mostly the number of students and the academic institutions that helped to propagate them in wider circles. Economic concessions The weak Qajar monarchs could resist neither Britain nor Russia militarily. They managed to survive and prevent the partition of their country by these two powers mainly through adopting a balanced policy of granting similar concessions to both (from the 1860s). They maintained friendly relations with them (including state visits), and played one off against the other, while at the same time modernising their realm (Marashi, 2003: 89
112). The most important concessions given to Britain were in the field of telegraphic communication (1862), navigation on the Karoun River (1888), banking (1889) and oil exploitation (1901) (Ettehadieh, 1986: VI, 119
122; Ramazani, 1966: 63
72). As a result, a growing number of Britons, employed by the British government or by private companies, poured into Iran. There they met Iranians from the lower and upper classes, usually on a daily basis. These foreign employees in Iran brought with them their skills and equipment, but also new terminology, mostly absent from the vernacular. The concessions were also granted for long periods. For example, the telegraph concession lasted 70 years (1862
1932), banking for 42 years (1889
1931) and oil, by far the most important concession, for 50 years (1901
1951). The long years of foreign employees’ presence in Iran, and their constant daily contact with the natives, contributed to the modernisation of Iran, and also to the spread and assimilation of foreign words in Farsi. This British oil concession was important for its economic dimension, yet it also carried significant scientific, technical, social and even linguistic implications, especially for the area covered by the terms of

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the concession, namely southern Iran. From 1901 onward, this region became the most modernised area of Iran, and many Western facilities and amenities were introduced into it. These included electric power, natural gas, piped purified water, paved roads, schools (Groseclose, 1947: 113; Sadiq, 1931: 18), apprentice training shops, English classes, a technical institute at Abadan (Shadman, 1937: 171), telegraph, radio and telephone services, modern housing, hospitals, clubs, sport facilities and moving pictures. These comforts, together with the expanding oil industry, attracted many people from the various Iranian provinces, making the Anglo-Persian Oil Company (APOC) the largest single employer in the entire Middle East, with hundreds of British and thousands of Iranian employees (Caroe, 1951: 124). In fact, it was a mini modern state within Iran, where at the main centres of company activity everybody was somehow connected with it, depended on it or was affected by it. English was obviously the language of the company’s senior officials, who were exclusively British; but it began to penetrate all levels of Iranian clerks too, as knowledge of the language was regarded as a prerequisite for promotion. For half a century (1901
1952) English was the lingua franca of the educated population of southern Iran. This circle widened further during WWII (when British, Soviet and American forces poured into Iran), following the 1953 coup, and after 1964, when masses of American personnel began to enter Iran, enjoying capitulatory status. Financial reforms and other development programmes Along with economic concessions, the Qajar, and later the Pahlavi, kings sought to reform the ailing economy of Iran. Americans were the most active in this sphere. In 1911 William Morgan Shuster headed the first delegation of American financial administrators, who only managed to accomplish some preliminary work during their six months’ stay in Iran (McDaniel, 1974; Shuster, 1912). This delegation was followed by two more successful delegations, both headed by Arthur C. Millspaugh (1922
27 and 1943
45) (Millspaugh, 1946). During WWII other American advisors were employed by the Iranian government to reform the Iranian security forces, the ministries of health, food and many others. After the war several American non-government organisations (NGOs) began to operate in Iran, including the Near East Foundation, the Ford Foundation, the Rockefeller Foundation and the Iran Foundation. Cooperating with the relevant ministries of the Iranian government, these bodies helped and sponsored projects in sanitation, health, education and so on.

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The most extensive program was the so-called Point 4, a technical assistance programme for various educational fields, such as modelschool construction, organisation and operation; adoption of new teaching methods (such as audio-visual aids); technical, professional and teachers’ training programmes; preparation and publication of textbooks, pamphlets, bulletins, maps and educational films; and more (Warne, 1956). In addition to this American NGO activity in Iran, other international institutions, such as the various sections of the United Nations, operated there. These bodies used mainly English (besides French) as the language of communications with Iranians. As a result of British activity in Iran, the country made progress. For instance, APOC’s development projects in the south of Iran, though aimed at benefiting the company itself, yielded general benefit for the Iranians; so did British activities during the two World Wars, when British forces carried out large-scale construction programmes and maintenance operations at and between camps and ports. They improved and added railroads, highways and other communications lines. Also instrumental was the Middle East Supply Center during WWII (Murray, 1945: 233
247). To accomplish such projects, programmes and reforms, thousands of American and British individuals worked side by side throughout the country with tens of thousands of Iranian clerks, labourers, interpreters, translators, contractors, technicians, etc. In addition, many governmental or private British and American commercial companies operating in Iran also employed local Iranians in various positions. These daily contacts familiarised Iranians with new techniques, systems and so on, as well as with new foreign cultures and their vocabulary. Cultural influences Until WWII French was by far the predominant Western language in Iran. English was also studied, but much less than French. Yet a series of events changed this situation. Following the grant of the oil concession in 1901, southern Iran gradually became a British zone, although elsewhere in Iran French was still foremost. The main shift occurred during WWII; France was defeated and occupied by the German army, while Britain and the USA were the countries that managed to check and finally defeat Nazi Germany. As a result, the interest in English increased to such a degree that the state decided to replace French by English in most schools. Similar shifts took place also in the academic sphere, with growing use of English, rather than French, textbooks as well as

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literature. Nevertheless, French loan words have found congenial home in Iran (Ahsan, 1976: 85
98). In addition to the foreign schools, which taught English or where English was the language of instruction, this shift was also due to British cultural and educational activities in Iran, led by the British Council, which was active there from 1942. The Council focused on English language teaching and by 1948 its activities spread out of Tehran to other cities, where thousands of Iranian students studied English. The Council closed in 1952 as a result of the Anglo-Iranian oil dispute, but resumed its activities in 1955. These expanded later on, to cover linguistic activity as well as a variety of cultural activities: a lending library, lectures, plays, film screenings, parties, exhibitions and more. These efforts expanded cultural contacts between the British colony in Iran and numerous educated Iranians. Furthermore, between 1942 and 1978 the Council brought nearly 10,000 Iranian students and visitors to Britain. In the 1970s the Council became involved in a number of projects for the development of education and training in Iran. These included a major programme for teaching English to the employees of the Oil Services Company of Iran in the south; the development of a faculty of nautical studies for the University of (Iranian) Baluchistan, which was designed to train officers for the Iranian merchant fleet; and training in Britain, by the British Ministry of Agriculture, of veterinary surgeons for the Veterinary Organization of Iran (Vetrog). The Council’s Iranian branch was one of the most important branches worldwide. But with the 1978
79 Revolution the Council reduced its activity and finally closed down (The Encyclopaedia Iranica, 1990: 455
456). American institutions were also involved in educational and cultural programmes in Iran. Through these programmes, students, teachers, professors and leaders in various fields visited the USA for graduate study, practical training, research or touring. Concurrently, American academics and experts gave lectures in Iran, and American athletes, symphony orchestras, ballet companies, choirs and so on appeared and performed. Daily broadcasts in Persian over the BBC and Voice of America contributed to introducing Britain and the USA to Iranians, while their broadcasts in English helped to consolidate the ties with the expanding English-speaking part of Iranian society. Increasing interest in learning about Western culture and life stimulated the reading of Western literature and press; this in turn stimulated first the formation and later the growing number of translations, printing and publications in Iran (Browne, 1914: 154
166). The translators and translations tried to meet the growing demand for novels, poetry and gradually books in

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other fields too. With French losing its predominance as the main foreign language in Iran, translators and translations focused on English after WWII (Ahsan, 1976: 79; Deyhime, 2001: 183). The printing press, which was first introduced into Iran in 1816 (Browne, 1952
55: IV, 155; Deyhime, 2001: 7), made possible the publication of the translations, as well as original writings, which played an important part in the modernisation of Iran. The safarnameh (travel book) by Mirza Saleh Shirazi, one of the first students to be sent abroad, is the earliest work containing English words. During his stay in England (1815
19) Shirazi was constantly exposed to the vernacular, and the words he mentions in his book were indispensable, as they expressed new objects, ideas and practices, which had no Persian equivalent. An exemplary short list would include words such as ‘charity’, ‘coach’, ‘hospital’, ‘member’, ‘mile’, ‘museum’, ‘parliament’, ‘press’, etc. (Shirazi, 1968: 20, 191, 192, 195, 298, 380, 383). Travel books, written by the later Qajar Shahs (Qajar, 1990
91, 1998, 1982
83) during their European tours, had a special place in accelerating the entry of Western loan words. During these and other tours to Europe, Iranian travellers were frequently obliged to use the foreign words and terms to describe objects, experiences, practices and situations for which no Persian alternatives were available. Foreign loan words appeared also in books in Farsi in other fields, such as politics, history, intellectual life, literature, society and the like (Ahsan, 1976: 66
100). One of the most important products of printing was the newspaper, which played an important part in the movement toward modernisation. The first Persian newspaper was published in Iran in 1837
38 (Menashri, 1992: 70). In 1851 the first state-run newspaper, Rouznameh-ye Vaqaye’-eh Ettefaqiyeh (The Occurring Events’ Daily), was published. There were also other Persian papers, which were printed outside Iran and smuggled in. The latter enjoyed much greater freedom than those printed in Iran. Their writers were more familiar with Western thought and culture, and apart from providing news they were a source of inspiration to their readers in Iran. Films and cinema became one of the main media through which Western culture became widespread in Iran, first with the upper and middle classes, and later also among the lower class. Throughout the 1920s imported American films completely overshadowed the cinematic market, and this trend was also characteristic of the 1960s and the 1970s. Cinema, radio and later television facilitated the process of social change and eased modernisation and Westernisation in the country, especially among the educated and the young (Najafi, 1986: 74, 88; Villard, 1931:

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37). Another source of influence was Freemasonry, which, from the beginning of the 19th century, became another medium through which European powers, mainly Britain and France, sought to attract influential Iranians. They succeeded in drawing in members of the Iranian aristocracy, but also of the urban population (Algar, 1970: 276
296; 1993: 33
44; Ra’in, 1978).

English Loan Words in Farsi: An Exemplary List One result of these Anglo-Iranian and Irano-American contacts was linguistic borrowings. These borrowings were due mostly to ‘the designative inadequacy of a vocabulary in naming new things’, as well as new persons, places and concepts (Weinreich, 1953: 56
57). These borrowings could be roughly divided into ‘loan words’ (words or terms completely imported, e.g. Persian gol for English ‘goal’), ‘loan-blends’ (words or terms of which one part is completely imported while the other part is substituted by a Persian word, e.g. cake pokhtan for ‘to bake a cake’) and ‘loan-shifts’ (words or terms which have been completely substituted in Persian, e.g. bisim for ‘wireless’) (Haugen, 1950a; 1950b: 210
231; 1956: 761
769; 1958: 771
785). These borrowings mainly designate concepts that were new to Iranian culture. Although given as examples of English loan words, no full philological description, tracing a word’s entire etymology, is given here. Most of the words cited in the exemplary list below have their origin in Latin or Greek, or may have first been used in another language (especially French) before being borrowed by English. They may also have similar phonetics (especially French words in English, such as banque/bank, e´conomie/economy, mare´chall/marshal or police/police). English influenced Farsi linguistically only through the ‘export’ of loan words and terms in a variety of fields. These, of course, are written in Persian script and pronounced slightly differently, with a Persian accent. The two largest categories are science and technology and recreation. The list below has been compiled from a miscellany of sources, including books, such as Ahsan (1976: 99
100) and Jazayery (1958: 97
147), articles, newspapers, conversations with friends, as well as personal knowledge of Farsi. The first category, science and technology, includes English words such as ‘automobile’ (pronounced ‘otomobil’), ‘battery’ (‘batri’), ‘bomb’, ‘Braille’ (‘bereyl’), calibre, ‘charge’ (‘sharj’), ‘computer’ (‘kamputer’), ‘clutch’ (‘kelach’), ‘exhaust’ (‘egzoz’), ‘generator’, ‘jeep’, ‘jet’, ‘mechanism’, ‘medal’ (‘madal’), ‘microwave’, ‘million’, ‘nylon’, ‘officer’ (‘afsar’),

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‘ordnance’, ‘parking’, ‘patrol’, ‘plaster’, ‘post’ (for both ‘mail’ and ‘job’), ‘projector’, ‘rocket’, ‘radio’ (‘radiyo’), ‘screw-driver’, ‘switch’, ‘tank’, ‘tape’, ‘taxi’, ‘teleprinter’, ‘tire’ (‘tayer’), ‘tractor’, etc. Although some of these by now have Persian equivalents, many Farsi speakers, in and outside Iran, still use their original foreign form. For example, although there is a Persian word for ‘computer’ (rayaneh), the foreign word is still largely in use. The other category, recreation, includes English words such as ‘badminton’, ‘baseball’, ‘basketball’, ‘billiard’, ‘bingo’, ‘boy friend’, ‘bridge’, ‘cast’, ‘cinema’, ‘Cinerama’, ‘cricket’, ‘dancing’, ‘festival’, ‘film’, ‘football’, ‘foul’, ‘girl friend’, ‘goal’, ‘goal-keeper’ (changed to ‘goaler’), ‘gym’, ‘hockey’, ‘ideal’ (‘ide´al’), ‘jazz’, ‘joker’, ‘judo’, ‘penalty’, ‘poker’, ‘polo’, ‘pop’, ‘rock and roll’, ‘rugby’, ‘rummy’, ‘sandwich’, ‘selfservice’, ‘sexy’, ‘shampoo’, ‘shoot’, ‘show’, ‘skating-ring’, ‘squash’, ‘stadium’, ‘studio’, ‘supermarket’, ‘surprise’, ‘team’, ‘tennis’, ‘volleyball’, ‘water-polo’, etc. These foreign game names involve the specific terms used in each game. As in many other languages, brand names often denote the product rather than the name of the foreign company producing it (through hyponymy). The following are a few such instances: ‘Adams’ (originally a trade name, which came to be associated with chewing gum), ‘Cinemascope’ (originally a trademark, which became to describe a process of motion-picture), ‘Nescafe´’ (describing instant coffee) or ‘Scotch Bright’ (describing a dish cleaning product), etc. As an Islamic state, where the religion forbids alcoholic drinks, no Persian names exist for alcoholic beverages except ‘wine’ (‘sharab’, ‘mei’).1 Accordingly, these beverages retain their foreign original names, such as ‘brandy’, ‘cocktail’, ‘gin’, ‘soda’, ‘whisky’, etc. This could also be due, however, to the abovementioned hyponymic process. As mentioned earlier, a major role in the dissemination of English words in Iran was played by the British concessionary companies, the oil company in particular, which operated mainly in the south of Iran for a long period of time. These contacts transmitted words from a variety of fields, such as administration (‘bonus’, ‘certificate’, ‘circular’, ‘clerk’, ‘company’, ‘driver’, ‘file’, ‘first class’, ‘inspector’, ‘manager’, ‘office’, ‘offset’, ‘secretary’, ‘shorthand’, ‘typist’, etc.), communications (‘telegraph’, ‘telephone’, ‘post’, etc.), education (‘class’, ‘college’, ‘course’, ‘seminar’, etc.), technical words (mainly of the petroleum industry) (‘aircondition’, ‘bench’, ‘benzine’, ‘boiler’, ‘burner’, ‘chalk’, ‘check’, ‘cylinder’, ‘engine’, ‘engineer’, ‘filter’, ‘fuse’, ‘gallon’, ‘gear box’, ‘heater’, ‘leak’, ‘motor’, ‘pipe-line’, ‘plug’, ‘petrol’, ‘refinery’, ‘tank’, ‘test’, ‘tractor’, ‘volt’,

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‘wire’, etc.), medicine (‘clinic’, ‘doctor’, ‘hospital’, ‘nurse’, etc.), housing and the household (‘cooler’, ‘corridor’, ‘jacket’, ‘jersey’, ‘felt’, ‘furniture’, ‘globe’, ‘pull-over’, ‘toaster’, etc.), recreation (‘Christmas’, ‘club’, ‘garden party’, ‘sport’, etc.), banking (‘bank’, ‘credit’, etc.), food (‘chips’, ‘cake’, ‘sandwich’, ‘toffee’, etc.), and many others.

Attempts to Purify Farsi Early attempts to coin Persian equivalents for foreign words and terms were made by private literary associations. Later, in 1924
25, an official body was established with representatives of the ministries of war, education, endowments and fine arts. Its main task was to propose Persian equivalents for foreign military terms, and during its existence it managed to coin some 300 new terms, most of which were in the fields of aeronautics, military engineering, artillery, military organisation, weapons and ammunition (http://www.persianacademy.ir/fa/History.aspx, accessed 29.11.07). With the creation of a modern nation-state in Iran in the 1920s and 1930s, the tendency to ‘cleanse’ Persian from foreign loan words and to find ‘pure’ Persian words to replace them intensified. The task was assigned first to the Dar al-Mo’alemin-e ‘Aali (Teachers Training College) in 1933, which by 1940
41 produced 400 new words and terms in Persian, replacing foreign ones (http://www.persianacademy.ir/ tarikhchech.htm). accessed 29.11.07 In 1935 Reza Shah Pahlavi founded the Farhangestan, the Academy for the Persian Language, which coined 2000 new words and terms in Farsi by the end of his reign (1941) (Atabaki & Zu¨rcher, 2004: 238
259; Perry, 1985: 295
311). This academy closed officially in 1954
55, but 14 years later, in 1969
70, it renewed its work, continuing until 1978, and for a short time also after the 1978
79 Revolution (Perry, 1985: 303, 310).2 In 1981
82 the Mo’asseseh-ye Motale’at va Tahqiqat-e Farhangi (The Institute for Cultural Studies and Research) was created through the amalgamation of 11 research centres and institutes, among them the Farhangestan. But in 1990
91 this was reconstituted, and it has been operating continuously ever since.3 During the institute’s existence thousands of foreign words and terms were gradually substituted by Persian ones. The major difference between the Pahlavi and the Islamic Republic periods in this respect is that while the Pahlavis’ efforts were mainly directed against Arabic loan words, the Islamic Republic has been trying to rid Farsi of its Western loan words. This difference is in line with the ideologies of the two regimes: the ideology of the Pahlavis sought to revive the glorious past of the pre-Islamic Persian empires and culture. They saw the common origin

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of Iranians and Europeans, and aspired to minimise the humiliation of the Arab occupation of Iran by ‘cleansing’ Farsi of its Arabic loan words (among other means). One important example is the Persian Khoda (God) for the Arabic Allah. Other examples are the following: Andisheh (fekr/ ‘thought’), armaghan (hediyeh/‘gift’), baha (qeimat/‘price’), bakhshayesh (rahm/‘mercy’), bastan (qadim/‘ancient’), bonyad (for asas/‘foundation’), dadestan (qanoun/‘law’), didgah/cheshm-andaz (noqteh nazar/‘viewpoint’), farmanrava’i (hokoumat/‘government’, ‘rule’), kas, tan (shakhs/‘person’), kish [mazhab/‘school’ (of thought)], mihan (vatan/‘homeland’), neshast (jalaseh/‘session’), pazhuhesh (tahqiq/‘research’), peikar (jesm/‘body’), peyravi (taqlid/‘imitation’), sogand (qasam/‘oath’, ‘ruth’), varjavand (moqaddas/ ‘holy’) and vizheh-gar/vizheh-kar (motekhases/‘expert’, ‘specialist’) (http:// www.iranianlanguages.com/sareh/index.htm). This trend has been somewhat reversed since the establishment of an Islamic Republic in Iran. With their Islamic ideology, the ruling Ayatollahs place greater emphasis on teaching Arabic and learning the Holy Koran at school, and give much higher priority to ‘cleansing’ Farsi of Western loan words. The following are only a few examples: bal-gard (helicopter), fanavari (technology), fanavari-ye ettela’at (information technology), khodrow (automobile), nama-bar or dour-nama (fax), payam-gir (answering machine), rah-kar/rah-bord (strategy), rayaneh (computer), razmayesh (manoeuvre), siman (cement) and taar-nama (network). In imitation of new English, the Iranian Academy of Persian Language and Literature (IAPLL) has coined new terms, such as rayaneh kardan (computerise), rayaneh-sazi (computerisation), savad-e rayaneh (computer literacy), etc.4 However, many English words are still in use in Farsi, whether because there is still no Persian equivalent for them or because the English words and terms are so deep-rooted that the average Iranian continues to use them instead of their Persian equivalent. Thus ‘computer’, which has a Persian equivalent (rayaneh), is still often used in the English form. The following is only an exemplary list of English words, or words used also in English: ‘acid’, ‘aluminium’, ‘ampere’, ‘antibiotic’, ‘antibody’, ‘Armadeil’ (‘armadillo’), ‘atom’, ‘bank’, ‘batri’ (‘battery’), ‘bite’, ‘character’, ‘consortium’, ‘Cubism’, ‘disc’, ‘diskette’, ‘dolfin’ (‘dolphin’), ‘ekspresiyunism’ (‘expressionism’), ‘energy’, ‘esperm’ (‘sperm’), ‘elektroniki’ (‘electronic’), ‘file’, ‘filter’, ‘gangester’ (‘gangster’), ‘internet’, ‘isotope’, ‘kontrol’ (‘control’), ‘microscope’, ‘motor’, ‘oxygen’, ‘panda’, ‘parking’, ‘pedal’, ‘pengou’an’ (‘pinguin’), ‘police’, ‘polover’ (‘pullover’), ‘protein’, ‘racoon’, ‘radar’, ‘rococo’, ‘short’ (‘shorts’; ‘underpants’), ‘shuttle’, ‘system’, ‘taxi’, ‘terminal’, ‘telephone’,

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‘telescope’, ‘terrorism’, ‘tire’, ‘tourist’, ‘traffic’, ‘uniform’, ‘video’, ‘villa’, ‘virus’, ‘vitamin’, ‘zip’, ‘zhakat’ (‘jacket’) and many more (Turner, 2004).

Conclusions One of the results of Iran’s multifaceted contact with the Englishspeaking world has been the import of English loan words into Farsi. Iran’s modernisation, which began as early as the beginning of the 19th century and continued more intensely well into the 20th century, exposed a linguistic problem: the lack of Persian words for the barrage of foreign words and terms, which formed the vocabulary of the various fields of modernisation. These foreign words and terms were imported almost entirely during the Qajar and the first Pahlavi rule, when the state lacked the necessary tools to provide Persian equivalents for them. This linguistic import was served by various channels, all of which could be categorised under ‘reform’ or ‘modernisation’. But in time these created other channels of import, mainly in the cultural sphere. From the 1930s onward there has been an on-and-off drive to ‘cleanse’ Farsi of its foreign loan words. Which foreign loan words are to be ‘cleansed’, however, very much depends on the ideology of the regime. While the Pahlavis laid greater stress on eliminating Arabic loan words, the Islamic Republic endeavoured more to replace Western ones. Despite these efforts many foreign loan words are still largely in use in their original form. Furthermore, in the age of globalisation, computers, Internet, satellite dishes, mobile phones, Western music, etc., new foreign (but mainly English) words continue to find their way into Iran and Farsi. The import and relatively quick assimilation of the new words apparently have much to do with the inclinations of Iranian youth, who constitute the lion’s share of Iranian society;5 at any rate, these words move in far faster than the speed at which the Iranian state is able to coin Persian equivalents for them. It is quite reasonable to assume that in the age of globalisation and hi-tech modernisation, and with the special and unique status of English as an international language, new English words will continue to enter Farsi (and other languages). This applies especially to the continuously modernising fields, where no Persian equivalent is available, and where no ideology (religious, secular or other) is capable of blocking their way into the vernacular.

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Notes 1. This exception is probably due to the pre-Islamic Iranian traditions. One of the main Iranian cities, Shiraz, became famous also for its wines, and the ‘Shiraz’ brand of wine is well known and produced all over the world. 2. At the beginning of August 1978, the president of the Farhangestan stated that Farsi needed one million new words; see: Keyhan-e Hava’i, 11 Mordad 2537/2 August 1978, as quoted by Perry (1985: 310). 3. On the Farhangestan see: Ahsan (1976: 111
130), Hinz (1937: 680
698); Lescot (1939: 75
96); Masse´ (1939: 17
74); Wilber (1975: 160 ff.); and http:// www.persianacademy.ir/tarikhcheh.htm. accessed 29.11.07 4. For the complete list of Persian words and terms coined by the Farhangestan for their foreign equivalents see: http://www.persianacademy.ir/fa/ wordspdf.aspx (accessed 29.11.07). 5. Roughly some 50% are under 20 years old and about 70% are under 30 (in 2004).

Chapter 11

Indian Languages: Hidden English in Texts and Society1 DENNIS KURZON

Introduction India is a multilingual country, whose multilingualism has been to a great extent institutionalised. In India, we find languages from four different language families. In much of Northern India, languages from the eastern branch of the Indo-European family of languages
the IndoIranian subfamily2
are spoken. This subfamily includes two of the most widely spoken languages in the world (after Mandarin and English)
Hindi and Bengali (which is also spoken in Bangladesh), as well as Marathi, Punjabi and many others. The second language family consists of the Dravidian languages, which are spoken in South India. The major Dravidian languages are Kannada, Malayalam, Tamil and Telugu (which in terms of the number of speakers comes close to Bengali). The other two language families found in India consist basically of tribal languages, each of which is spoken by a far smaller population. Here, we may enumerate the Munda languages of the Austro-Asiatic group of languages, spoken in Central and Eastern India, and the Tibeto-Burman languages spoken in the north and east (Shapiro & Schiffman, 1983). As for raw numbers, according to the 2001 Census, there were over 420 million speakers of Hindi (but see below), 83 million Bengali speakers and over 74 million Telugu speakers. This may be compared to about a quarter of a million Indians who claim English to be their first language. Of the multitude of languages, and dialects of these languages, 22 have been selected over the years since independence in 1947 as the official languages of India, for the most part because of regional affiliation. The status of languages in the independent Indian Union is set out in Part XVII (articles 343
351) of the 1951 Constitution. Below are extracts from the two sections, relating directly to the present discussion 208

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Section 343 from Chapter 1 on the official language, and Section 345 from Chapter 2 on regional languages: 343. Official language of the Union.
(1) The official language of the Union shall be Hindi in Devanagari script . . . (2) Notwithstanding anything in clause (1), for a period of fifteen years from the commencement of this Constitution, the English language shall continue to be used for all the official purposes of the Union for which it was being used immediately before such commencement. ... 345. Official language or languages of a State. – . . .the Legislature of a State may by law adopt any one or more of the languages in use in the State or Hindi as the Language or languages to be used for all or any of the official purposes of that State: Provided that, until the Legislature of the State otherwise provides by law, the English language shall continue to be used for those official purposes within the State for which it was being used immediately before the commencement of this Constitution. Section 343 of the Constitution, then, deals with the official language of the Union, which is categorically stated to be Hindi, written in the Devanagari script (based on the ancient script in which Sanskrit was written; see later in this section). Today, there are over 400 million speakers of this language. The second chapter of Part XVII deals with regional languages of the individual states of the Indian Union. The borders of the constituent states
apart from the Hindi belt in the north
roughly coincide with areas within which one particular language seems to be paramount. The list of official regional languages and others are given in Schedule VIII of the Constitution, which has been amended, over the last 50 or so years, by the addition of several more languages in the wake of constitutional changes and of agitation. For example, by an amendment passed by the Indian parliament, the Lok Sabh, in 1967, Sindhi was added. This language is spoken by over two million people living in various states in the north-west of the country, as well as by a sizeable part of the population of Pakistan, but is not an official regional language of any of the states of India. Konkani, the regional language of Goa, was the 18th language to be added; this occurred in 1992. Moreover, only recently have tribal languages been added to Schedule VIII, languages that do not belong to either of the two major language families. The remaining chapters of Part XVII of the Constitution deal

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with the language of the judiciary (to be in English; Chapter 3), and special directives (Chapter 4). But Sindhi is not the only language listed in Schedule VIII that is not a regional language. There are two others. The first of these two languages is the classical Indian language, Sanskrit, which is apparently spoken by about 14,000, and the second language is Urdu, which is spoken by over 50 million Indian Muslims all over the country (and it is the official language of Pakistan, even though just over 7% of the population speak it). Urdu is more or less the same language as Hindi, spoken by North Indian Hindus, and differences are found mainly in the script, and in the field of vocabulary (see the fourth section). This religion/language divide between Urdu and Hindi is very similar to the one that existed in Yugoslavia before its break-up in the 1990s
the Yugoslav national language was called Serbo-Croat, but Orthodox Christians would write in Cyrillic and call the language Serbian, while Catholics would write the language in Roman and call it Croatian. There are a number of scripts used to write the Schedule VIII languages (as they are known by). All the scripts are believed to have derived historically from an Aramaic form of writing, which led to the Brahmi script of India. This is true of both the scripts in which the IndoIranian languages of the north are written, and those of the Dravidian languages in the south. Although the form of script in these two families of languages may appear quite different, a closer look will show that there are many similarities, not necessarily in form, but more so in principles of combination. The Devanagari script is the one used to write the classical language, Sanskrit, and today is the official Indian script according the Constitution. It is used to write Hindi, Nepali, Marathi, Konkani and several other Indian languages. Languages such as Bengali and Punjabi have their own script but similarities with Devanagari are clearly noticeable. Similarities may be seen among the scripts used to write Dravidian languages, too. The script used to write the Indo-Iranian language Oriya (in the eastern state of Orissa, south of Bengal) is related to Devanagari, although on the surface it looks more like a Dravidian script. The Indian writing systems have been classified in a number of ways on the basis of their features. Each letter or grapheme represents a consonant, apart from a number of graphemes which represent vowels in initial position in a word. These vowel graphemes have variants (or allographs)
a type of diacritic
which are attached to the consonant graphemes. A consonant grapheme without a vowel grapheme attached has a following inherent vowel; in Hindi this is /3/. However, if the

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writer wants to indicate a consonant only, a sign is used to cancel the inherent vowel; this is the vira¯ma, which is placed below to the right of the grapheme (e.g. Hindi /k/, and not /k3/). Each grapheme, then, represents a syllable of the form CV or initial V. Hence, the Indian writing systems have been classified as syllabaries. However, many words in Indian languages end with a consonant, i.e. marked with a vira¯ma and therefore without an attached vowel grapheme. This means, therefore, that there are syllables of the form CVC using more than one grapheme. in An example of this is the Hindi name for ‘‘India’’ Bha¯rat, written Hindi. The second syllable rat ends in a consonant without the inherent vowel. As the system, then, is not strictly a syllabary, it has been termed ‘alphasyllabary’, as it both has features of a syllabary and allows for normal alphabetic use (Bright, 2000). Another term that has recently been introduced is abugida (Daniels, 1996). This term is made up of the first four graphemes of the Ethiopic (Amharic) writing system, which is built on the same principle as the Indian writing systems (and may have the same
Aramaic
origin). Another feature of Indian writing systems is the order of graphemes in recitation, and for lexicographers when compiling a dictionary. All writing systems begin with the vowels, then come
in rows of five
the velar consonants, followed by the palatal, then retroflex, dental and labial consonants. The remaining consonants follow, including semivowels, the /l/ and /r/, and the various forms of /s/ and /f/. Indian languages whose writing systems do not follow this all-Indian pattern are those that are written in an imported script, e.g. the Perso-Arabic alphabet (or abjad) used to write Sindhi and Urdu. And of course, this short list also includes languages that use the roman script. One language that is left out of Schedule VIII of the Constitution, but has been made conspicuous by its absence, is English. As we have seen, Part XVII of the Constitution deals with English in the judiciary, and in other administrative fields. In the first chapter of this part, which deals with the status of Hindi, there is also a proviso concerning English. Because of the hegemony of the English language in many official, educational and legal fields in India, the promulgators of the Constitution decided to give English an official status for 15 years
till 1965. When the end of this period was approaching, the Indian government saw that they could not function without English
it had been growing rather than declining in importance. In 1967 an amendment was passed to the 1963 Official Languages Act retaining English as ‘associate additional official language’ (Rai, 2000: 117). Moreover, three states have selected English as their official language or one of their official

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languages. These states are in the north-east corner of India
Nagaland (English only), Meghalaya (with Khosi and Garo) and Mizoram (with Mizo).3 English is the one language, too, that is written in the roman script.

The English Language in India Whenever the question of English in India comes up for discussion, two issues are constantly in the fore: (1) the dialect of English spoken in India (to be discussed in this section); and (2) the role of English in the country’s education, legal and administrative systems (in the third section; see, too, Agnihotri, 1999; Agnihotri & Khanna, 1997; Baumgardner, 1996; Kachru, 1983; Parasher, 1983; Tickoo, 1996). By Indian English dialect I am referring not only to the variety of English spoken and written by educated Indians, but also to historical phenomena such as Butler English
the varieties used by butlers and servants in the days of the British Raj, and other forms of pidgin English acquired by uneducated Indians. The pidginised form of Indian English had of course no standard form, but it may be illustrated by examples such as ‘I telling’, instead of standard ‘I will tell’, and ‘I done tell’, instead of ‘I have told’ (Yule & Burnell, 1902 [1996]: 133). In contrast, the educated variety of English used today is a form of British English. In written texts, it tends to follow the rules of standard English grammar and adopts the British spelling system. In spoken Indian English, on the other hand, apart from obvious differences in pronunciation, there may be some indications of American English especially among the youth (a subject for further research). Moreover, grammatical features typical of Indian English may be enumerated; many of these features would be considered prescriptively incorrect in standard English. Here are some examples: Tag questions: (1) You’re going, isn’t it? The same phenomenon has been found among South African speakers of English, probably through the influence of the Afrikaans is dit?. But this form in Indian English could be considered a simplification of the tag question, without taking the subject and verb into account.4 Progressive aspect with stative verbs: (2) I am knowing the answer.

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Different prepositions used with verbs: (3) pay attention on (instead of to in Standard English). Idioms such as (4) What is your good name? when being introduced to an Indian. This is a translation of the Hindi/ Urdu ‘a¯pka shub na¯m kya hai?’ (lit. ‘your good name, what is it?’). English words that have a specific meaning in India, such as (5) cantonment, originally military stations, but used today to refer to residential areas that were originally such stations (Yule & Burnell, 1902 [1996]: 158), e.g. the Cantonment in northern Varanasi. (6) tiffin, luncheon (usually associated with Imperial India), derived from to tiff eat, drink (Yule & Burnell, 1902 [1996]: 919). Lastly, Indian words are used in English, as would be expected, e.g. wallah ‘fellow’ as in rickshaw wallah (rickshaw driver) or, in the past, competition wallah (civil servant who entered the Imperial Civil Service through competitive exams (Yule & Burnell, 1902 [1996]: 239)). However, in this chapter, I shall examine a different aspect of English in India. Firstly, I shall be looking at texts that are written in one of the Indian scripts and therefore seem to be in the appropriate Indian language, but turn out to be a transliteration of English
these are instances of hidden English. Secondly, the pervasiveness of English is seen even in texts that are written in an Indian language. The appropriate Indian alphabet is not used; rather a transliteration in the Roman or English alphabet is found. But firstly, in the following section, I shall give a survey of the history of English in India.

The History and Status of the English Language in India English penetrated into the Indian subcontinent in the course of the 16th century when Elisabeth I was on the throne. The arrival of the English at that stage was part of the European movement of discovery and the opening up of markets. The Portuguese had already made their mark in various coastal regions of the subcontinent, e.g. Vasca da Gama’s landing near Calicut in modern-day Kerala in 1498, Albuquerque’s invasion of Goa in 1510. The English ‘East India Company’ was set up towards the end of Elisabeth’s reign in 1600, and became the main representative of English interests in India until 1858, in the wake of the Indian Mutiny, when the British government took over. This date also

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marks the official demise of the Mughal Empire, which was established in 1556 by Akbar; it began to lose power in 1707 after the death of Akbar’s great grandson, Aurangzeb, and was given a fatal blow in 1758 when Robert Clive, working for the East India Company, defeated the Mughal army at the battle of Plassey in Western Bengal. Some 20 years after the Indian Mutiny, in 1877, India became part
and the jewel
of the British Empire under Queen Victoria. For over a period of 250 years, the East India Company had not only been a trading company. It had become a highly influential body among the various political entities in India, be it the Mughal Empire ruled from Delhi or smaller princedoms around the country ruled by Hindu maharajahs or Moslem nazims. In 1665 Bombay, on the west coast, was given by the Portuguese king, Afonso, to Charles II of England as a wedding present on the occasion of the latter’s marriage to the Portuguese princess, Catherine of Braganza. Charles handed it over to the East India Company three years later (Alden, 1996: 165). Later, in the 18th century, the East India Company moved its main offices from Bombay to Calcutta in Bengal in the east. There, educational institutions were set up partly to encourage local research into Indian culture, language and literature. In the 1830s, when the English government was gradually taking over the administration of India, Lord Macaulay, member of the Supreme Council, produced a memorandum (or ‘Minute’) to the general committee on public instruction in which he argued for education among the Indians to be Western-, or more specifically English-, oriented. This meant education in English, and the pedagogical material to be used in schools and in colleges was to be similar to that found in institutions in England (including English literature). Education and research into Indian languages and culture were shunted to one side
to the detriment of both Indian scholars and Europeans who were studying Sanskrit and other Indian languages. Macaulay looked down upon the local culture
languages and literatures, as well as religion. In the Minute, he wrote that everyone on the committee, whether they were Orientalists or proEnglish seem to be agreed on one point, that the dialects commonly spoken among the natives of this part of India contain neither literary nor scientific information, and are moreover so poor and rude that, until they are enriched from some other quarter, it will not be easy to translate any valuable work into them. (Macaulay, 1972 [1835]: 240)

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The following passage from the ‘Minute’ illustrates not only the type of argument he put forward against the Orientalists’ approach, but also Macaulay’s condescending position: I am quite ready to take the Oriental learning at the valuation of the Orientalists themselves. I have never found one among them who could deny that a single shelf of a good European library was worth the whole native literature of India and Arabia. The intrinsic superiority of the Western literature is, indeed, fully admitted by those members of the [General] Committee [on Public Instruction] who support the Oriental plan of education. (Macaulay, 1972 [1835]: 241) All this is from an influential person who admits, without any shame, that he has ‘no knowledge of either Sanscrit or Arabic’, but he has done what ‘I could to form a correct estimate of their value’ (Macaulay, 1972 [1835]). Macaulay’s aim was to educate a class of Indians who could assist the British in the capacity of clerks in running the colony, and who would have a good enough knowledge of English to perform their appointed tasks. With Macaulay’s help, the pro-English lobby won the argument, and an educational system was set up to educate
in English ways
native Indians, who would eventually become the native Indian elite. What was important in the schools and colleges were not the Gitas, the Vedas and other Hindu texts, but the works of Shakespeare, of Milton, of Wordsworth. Even cricket, the English national summer sport, was introduced into India, and is today played and supported with enthusiasm by large parts of the population. It is a common scene to see crowds standing outside an electrical goods shop during crucial stages of a test match shown on television in the shop window. Therefore, for native Indians, to be educated meant, among other things, to speak English, and more precisely English as it is spoken in England. We find in the 20th century, even before independence in 1947, Indians going to England to study at British universities. Well known Indian leaders such as Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru and Mohammed Jinnah (the founder of modern Pakistan) all studied law in London, and Nehru was also a Cambridge graduate. After independence, in the 1960s, the Indian Ministry of Education put forward a language teaching programme known as the ‘three-language formula’ (Aggarwal, 1988; Kurzon, 2003a: 124; Shah, 1968). This policy lay down that pupils should learn three languages in state schools:

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the mother tongue or regional language; the official language of the Union or the associate official language so long as it exists; and a modern Indian or foreign language not covered by (1) and (2) (cited by Aggarwal, 1988: 290).

The aim of the educational policy was that all children learn (1) their own language (mother or regional language), (2) Hindi as the official language of the Union and (3) English as a foreign language (and as associate official language). In the Hindi belt, as Hindi is the regional language, and comes under the rubric of mother tongue, the third language to be taught in schools in the north, it was hoped, would be one of the southern, Dravidian languages. In fact, apart from difficulties concerning regional language instruction and mother tongue instruction, especially if the mother tongue is not the regional language (a perennial problem), there was no real desire in the north to learn one of the unrelated Dravidian languages. Many Hindi-medium schools opt for Sanskrit alongside Hindi and English, a move that fulfils the letter but certainly not the spirit of the three-language formula. In the south, on the other hand, there has been considerable resentment at the imposition of Hindi. Many schools either pay lip-service by having a minimal programme or simply ignore the need for a third language alongside the regional language (Kannada, Malayalam, Tamil or Telugu) and English. In all cases, English has been considered essential, and at times to such an extent that parents did not want any instruction for their children even in the regional language, and insisted on English as the medium of instruction throughout the school system. In 1999, in Chennai (Tamil Nadu), for example, parents demonstrated against the use of their own language, Tamil, as medium of instruction in schools, and in favour of English (Kurzon, 2003a: 6
7). It should not be thought that Indians on the whole speak English as well as their own language. That Indians tend to be multilingual is well known (Kurzon, 2003a), but this multilingualism tends to be reflected in a person speaking his or her own mother tongue, speaking the local language
if it is different from the mother tongue, speaking the regional language
again if different from the mother tongue and local language, and speaking any other language spoken in the environment of the individual. If the Indian is educated, at least up to secondary education, s/he can hold conversations in English, too. If s/he has gone through tertiary education, then the level of English should be even higher. Altogether, the number of Indians who speak English in the local native

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form is about 30 million (out of a population of over 1000 million; see Introduction). That is to say, English speakers
and especially readers of English
are a rare specimen. If we compare urban with rural areas, many more English speakers are found in urban areas. In the countryside, where the majority of Indians still live, the knowledge of English among the general population is likely to be almost nonexistent. English is then a language used for everyday communication among upper- and middle-class Indians within the educational, administrative, legal and business fields. English-language newspapers are sold all over the country, although the total sales do not reach the level of some of the Hindi-language newspapers (Kachru, 1983). In the 2002 Indian Readership Survey, the Times of India was the only English-language in the top 10, and gained 10th place. Among magazines, India Today took third place (http://www.thehoot.org, 2002). Proceedings in the high courts tend to be in English (unless there is one homogenous regional language, such as Hindi). Again, apart from some universities in the Hindi belt and elsewhere, the medium of instruction is in English. English is also the medium of instruction at secondary level in government schools in many parts of the country; again in the Hindi belt, Hindi would be more extensively used. English tends to be the sole medium of instruction in private schools from kindergarten to higher secondary level. Let us now turn to another indication of the status of English over the entire country. English is often the language written on plaques above the entrance to public institutions, on advertising hoardings, etc. English occurs frequently, then, on public signs with, and sometimes without, an Indian language. This is the subject of the next section.

Transliteration When we look at public signs
on government buildings, on road signs, on banks and other institutions, on advertising hoardings
we may find a variety of languages. What I would like to look at are those signs that are ostensibly written in one of the Indian languages. It is normally expected that the particular sign is not only written in the script of the particular language, but is written in that language, too. However, that is not always the case. I have taken a number of cases from around the country to show the type of transliteration that is found. This is then not a local phenomenon but one that is nationwide. It is seen in advertising and on many public and private buildings (see, for example, Ladousa, 2002, on the use of Hindi and English in school advertising in Varanasi). The most frequent location of these transliterated signs is in

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major urban areas, business centres, but of course not in villages (where over half the Indian population live). A language which has its own script written in a different script is of course a universal phenomenon. It may often reflect a bilingual situation, but it may also reflect the high status of that language in the society. In Israel, for example, the use of English written in Hebrew graphemes is fairly widespread in advertising. I noted an advertisement pointing to a clothes store with the following: which reads ‘Be good’. The English upper case B B
has a vocalisation point below it indicating the /i/ vowel, and the following word in Hebrew script spells /gud/. Moreover, not only is this an example of English in Hebrew graphemes, but it is also an example of an interlingual pun, for the Hebrew /bigud/ means ‘clothes’ in English. I shall be looking at public signs in a number of locations around the country and in a number of different scripts. The examples that follow in this section, and in the next, are only illustrations of a phenomenon found throughout urban India. I shall also give an example at the national level (for a semiotic approach, see Kurzon, 2003b). I start from Goa
this is where I saw the phenomenon for the first time
and then move north to Bombay (now called Mumbai) on the west coast in Maharashtra. We then move east to Calcutta (in West Bengal), and finally south to Chennai (or Madras, in Tamil Nadu) on the east coast of India. The following examples of transliteration cover three scripts, so each script
Devanagari, Bengali and Tamil
are discussed separately. Devanagari In the port town of Murmogao in Goa on the Arabian Sea coast, there are a number of oil tanks. On some of them is written
in English
‘Indian Oil’. On the other tanks, two words are written in the Devanagari script, the script used for many of the north Indian languages, e.g. Hindi, Marathi and Konkani, the regional language of Goa. On these oil tanks is written: (5) However, this is not ‘Indian Oil’ in Konkani or in Hindi, but a transliteration of the English in Devanagari. A similar example comes from Bombay. The language of Maharashtra, of which Bombay is the largest city, is the Indo-Iranian language, Marathi. It is, as mentioned above, also written in the Devanagari script. Outside a hotel, I found the following:

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5

(6)

If we give a broad transcription we may read /hotel primiyer/, which is of course the ‘Hotel Premier’, and the English ‘Hotel Premier’ is on the hotel sign to the left of the transliteration in the Devanagari script. The same phenomenon is found at the national level. The sign of the domestic airline company ‘Indian Airlines’ is written in two scripts
in Devanagari and in English. The Devanagari looks like this: (7) which spells out
letter by letter
Bı˜dyan eyrlains
that is, ‘Indian Airlines’. The first syllable, ‘in’, is written with the /i/ vowel and a diacritic that indicates nasalisation, hence /ı˜/. Bengali In Calcutta, the major city of West Bengal (East Bengal had been East Pakistan after independence in 1947, and then in 1971, after a war, it became Bangladesh), we see signs written in Bengali, which uses a script that to a certain extent resembles Devanagari. The following was seen above a bank in Park Street, close to the city centre. Three scripts appear, one in upper-case English: (8a)

THE BANK OF RAJASTHAN LIMITED

one in Devanagari: (8b) and the third in Bengali: (8c) We again find hidden English in both the Devanagari and the Bengali, for what they are not is Hindi and Bengali, respectively, but simply English in transliteration. A letter-by-letter rendition of the apparent Hindi and Bengali texts would be (8d) di bank of ra¯jastha¯n limithed Another example of the same phenomenon in Calcutta (Bengal) is the following placard placed outside a private nursery/kindergarten/ primary school. The Bengali reads: (9a) which, however, is simply a transliteration of the English

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(9b) CHILDREN’S HUT which appears above the Bengali. The apostrophe in the first word before the final , of course, has been added to the Bengali text, as it does not exist in the script. As private education is primarily in English (see the second section), the appearance of Bengali on the placard may be seen as an instance of lip-service paid to the regional Bengali language. This institution does proclaim, on the other hand, that tuition is in the ‘English, Bengali, Hindi medium’, but this piece of information appears only in English, as does the address of the school.

Tamil Our last example is in Tamil Nadu, in its capital Chennai (formerly Madras). Here, we are in a state where the Dravidian language Tamil is spoken. Near the centre of the city is a mosque; there is a colourful signpost some hundred metres from it, pointing the way. On the signpost are three scripts
Tamil, Urdu and English. The top one is in Tamil script, and reads: (10a) Below the Tamil is the following in Urdu, or to be more precise, words in the Perso-Arabic script, which is used to write Urdu. (10b) As has been pointed out (see the first section), Urdu in fact is more or less the same language as Hindi, but while Hindi is spoken by North Indian Hindus, Urdu is spoken by many North Indian Muslims and by smaller pockets of Muslims elsewhere. The two languages differ in script (the Devanagari of Hindi as against the Perso-Arabic of Urdu) and, but to a limited extent, in vocabulary. Hindi has adopted words from the classical Indian language Sanskrit, while Urdu has adopted words from Persian, Turkish and even Arabic. An Indian Muslim speaking Urdu would say, for example, asalam alaikum (‘Peace to you’) as a greeting instead of Hindi namaste (‘Good morning’). Let us transcribe the Tamil first of all. It comes out as: (10c)

kavarnar pa¯Rika¯T paLLivaca¯l6

and the Urdu comes out as: (10d) masjid guwerener badigard

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In both cases, apart from the word for ‘mosque’, which in Tamil is paLLivaca¯l, and in Urdu masjid (from Arabic), we have again a clear example of English being transliterated into the scripts used in Indian languages, and not translated into the Indian languages themselves. Finally below the Urdu we find the English: (10e)

GOVERNER’S BODYGUARD MOSQUE

So, the apparent Urdu ‘guwerener badigard’, written in the PersoArabic script, and the apparent Tamil ‘kavarnar pa¯Tika¯d’ may now be read as straightforward English ‘governer [sic] bodyguard’, however without an indication of the possessive B’s
after the word that represents governor.

Indian Languages in Roman Script In the previous section we have taken a look at examples of English transliterated into several Indian scripts. We may also find the opposite: the use of the English (or Roman) alphabet to write an Indian language. I shall look at two cases. The first one is the use of the Roman alphabet by a sector of the population to write an Indian language, and the second case relates to rhetorical uses of the Roman alphabet to write texts which are normally written in one of the Indian scripts. Konkani The first case is the writing of the regional language of Goa, Konkani. The writing of this language is not to be considered a case of hidden English, that is, it is not the result of the presence of the British in India. After all, from 1510 until 1961, 14 years after India had won its independence, Goa had been a Portuguese colony. It was only when Indian forces moved in one December night in 1961 that Goa became part of the Indian Union. When the Portuguese ceased suppressing the use of Konkani as the language of heathens, the local religious orders, especially Jesuits, began to learn Konkani and then to write it in roman script in what today would be called a fairly broad phonemic transcription. The first printing press to be introduced into Asia was in fact in Goa in 1556, and of course it could print only in the roman script, and not in any of the Indian scripts. The literary revival of Konkani
at the end of the 19th century
was a movement among Hindus, and in Goa, Konkani writers began to use the Devanagari script to write the language, partly to distinguish themselves from the Goan Christian population. Hence, the use of the

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Roman alphabet to write Konkani is found today only among the Christians of Goa. There are several magazines published in Konkani in the roman script, and prayer books and translations of the Bible used in Goan churches are also written in the roman script.7 For example, ‘good news’ is translated into Konkani (11a) in Devanagari (pronounced /b3ri kh3b3r/), and in Konkani in the roman script: (11b) bori khobor However, as I have said, this is not the result of the penetration of the English language but of another European language, Portuguese. The influence of Portuguese spelling may be clearly seen, too, in the use of the letter Bx
to represent the phoneme /f/. So the Hindu deity ‘Lakshmi’ is written in Goa Laxmi. It may be argued that the ability to read in roman script may have resulted in many Christian Goans being able to read, write and speak English. While learning an alphabet is not the same as learning a language, prior knowledge of the alphabet is certainly a helpful initial stage in learning the language. Hindi The other case of an Indian language text written in English may be illustrated by advertisements on lampposts in downtown Calcutta. These advertisements are for the national English-language newspaper The Times of India (see the third section). The readership of this newspaper is of course those sectors of the Indian population that read and converse in English (as well as tourists and other outside visitors). On this advertisement for the English-language newspaper, we see the following lines (from a popular song of the 1970s): (12a) mere sapno ki raNo kab aayegi tu Although such a text cannot be read or understood by anyone who does not know Hindi, the poster is apparently for classified advertisements to be published in the matrimonial section of the Sunday edition of the English-language newspaper. In the original, i.e. in Devanagari script, it would have read (12b)

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and it means (12c) my dream girl (queen) when will you come? A similar example is the following, also found in a street in Calcutta. The advertising poster relates to a retirement plan. It reads: (13)

KUM KARO TAX, KAL KARO RELAX EASY LIFE RETIREMENT PLAN

Then it tells people to send a message by cellular phone to a given number. The first line is mostly in Hindi (and not Bengali), and means ‘Pay less tax now, tomorrow you can relax’. These examples reflect an almost ‘schizophrenic’ state of many English-speaking Indians. They not only speak English, and use it for family and business communication, but they also know the local language in order to communicate with local people, including people who work for them. In the north, in the Hindi belt, English-speaking Indians would also know Hindi. At least, they would have a spoken knowledge of Hindi, although they may not be able to read the Devanagari script fluently. Hence the advertisement is in Hindi, but in roman script, so that English-speaking Indians will understand the contents. Furthermore, I have been talking about the Hindi belt, but Calcutta is the largest city in Bengal, where Bengali is spoken (with over 83 million speakers, the second largest regional language in India). The question to be asked is why the advertisement is written in Hindi (in roman script) and not in English
the language of the newspaper. A further question may be why, if the advertisement is already in an Indian language, it is not written in Bengali (even in roman script) instead of Hindi. The reason is probably found in the national and international status of Calcutta, the second largest city in India after Bombay. The pervasiveness of English is not unique to Calcutta, but is found everywhere, especially in the major commercial and industrial centres. In Calcutta, advertisement posters in English are found on the way to and from the airport, as this is the way non-local and foreign business people reach and leave Calcutta. One would find, on the other hand, more signs written in Bengali in areas not frequented by foreigners. But in this case and in many other cases, we have a phenomenon at the national level
the occurrence of Hindi in English letters. This is indicative of the commercial contacts with people all over the country, and especially from the power centre of the country
Delhi and its environs, i.e. within the Hindi belt. The advertisement

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reflects an appeal to business people from the Hindi belt states to the west and north-west of Bengal. Another example of this type of transliteration
Hindi in English letters
may even be found in the south, in the areas where any sign of Hindi domination is fought against, sometimes even with violence. On the hoarding above a cinema in Chennai (in Tamil Nadu), I have seen the title of the Hindi language film written in Hindi, not in Devanagari script, but in English letters. Despite attempts, especially in the educational field, to ensure that Indians know Hindi as ‘the official language’ of the country, success has come to a certain extent from the area of public culture, so even non-Hindi speakers have absorbed elements of Hindi culture in the form of songs and films, and especially the songs and dance music in the typical Indian film (‘Bollywood’). The reader of the sign above the cinema may read a Tamil message in the Tamil script, and may read English. S/he knows Hindi only as a spoken language; hence the need to give the Hindi title in a script the local person would be able to read.

Conclusion It is not difficult to find the reasons for the ubiquitous use of English in India, even when it is hidden in Indian scripts. The factors discussed in other chapters in this collection relate mainly to the post-Second World War phenomenon of Americanisation, which means not only the establishment of fast-food restaurants, the local manufacture of carbonated drinks, but also, and of special interest to us, the widespread use of English. This means the use of English as an international language in interstate communication, at diplomatic meetings, at business meetings, at academic conferences and in more informal contacts between speakers of different languages. It also includes written English when it relates to international business contracts, and to many other walks of international life
commercial advertising, the entertainment industry, science, academic publications, instructions for use of electronic and electrical appliances, world news networks (e.g. CNN, Sky) and the whole world of electronic communication. Despite attempts, even sometimes through government action, in various countries to replace English by indigenous words (the unsuccessful attempt by the French culture minister in the mid-1990s to rid radio and television broadcasts of Anglicisms comes to mind), English words creep into other languages from many fields and remain there.

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What is true for the world at large is also true for India. Not only is English extensively used in commerce and industry, especially in the information technology industry, but it is still
despite over 60 years of independence
the primary language of the judiciary, of higher education, and in many parts of the country in secondary and primary education, of countrywide government administration, of interstate communication (within the Indian Union) and of many other facets of Indian life. However, as we have seen above (second and third sections), the widespread use of English in India cannot be attributed to postSecond World War Americanisation, as in many places in the world. The status of English in India is due basically to the long history of contact between India and Britain. This contact was asymmetric, with the English
and the English language
gradually taking over the country. The English language became the high language in a polyglossic situation, demoting Persian and then Urdu from that position in the course of the 19th century. Despite attempts at upgrading Hindi to a high language
and obviously in the Hindi belt this may be showing signs of success
the indigenous Indian languages were and are to a great extent still the low languages. Attempts to make Hindi more ‘scientific’ have been carried out; the words that are adopted follow the same wordformation pattern as the one that has been used to distinguish Hindi from its ‘sister’ language, Urdu. Hindi has adopted words from Sanskrit, while Urdu has absorbed Persian, Turkish and Arabic words. One example of this phenomenon is the scientific Hindi word for grit. The normal word for ‘particles of stone and sand’ in Hindi is kankari; the learned Hindi word konaya-balukama comes from Sanskrit, the Indian classical language. The phrase literally means ‘a small piece of sandstone’ (Kurzon, 2003a: 124). Scientific Hindi, as with formal Hindi in general, has become incomprehensible even to Hindi speakers. There is a high rate of failure among high-schools students in the matriculation exams in the Hindi language (Rai, 2000). This situation may be seen as one of the causes not only of the penetration of English vocabulary into Indian languages within the scientific field, e.g. it is easier to write and remember the short English word grit than the scientific Hindi word, but also of the use of English as the scientific language without the intermediate stage of an Indian language. English is considered, then, by the Indians themselves (apart from Hindu fundamentalist groups) as the lingua franca, and it appears in that role not only in the vast quantity of English-language publications, but also in a hidden form by way of transliteration in an Indian script.

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Notes 1. Much of the research for this paper was undertaken while I was Visiting Professor in 2004 at the University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia. I would like to thank the university, and especially the Linguistics Department, for giving me the opportunity to work under their auspices. 2. A frequent term used is ‘Indo-Aryan’ languages, but ‘Aryan’ is often avoided because of its negative connotations. 3. Mizo and Garo are Tibeto-Burman languages, and Khosi is an Austro-Asiatic language. 4. The English tag question is syntactically the most complex I know of, so it is not surprising that it is simplified in many non-standard forms of English. In other European languages, we usually deal with one formulaic phrase only, e.g. French n’est-ce pas, Russian pravda, German nicht wahr. 5. This is not an accurate representation of the original. The Devanagari font on my computer does not create construct characters. So, the second word looks , with a diagonal line slanting left under the grapheme The same like inaccuracy occurs in the Bengali Examples 8c and 9a. 6. Upper case letters indicate retroflex consonants. See also BN
in Example 12a below. Moreover, there are no voiced plosives in standard Tamil; hence original /g/ would be written as /k/. The grapheme Bc
(e.g. in the Tamil word paLLivaca¯l) indicates /t f/ in the transliteration of Indian scripts. 7. Other scripts have been used to write Konkani, notably the Kannada script, which is still used among Konkani speakers living in and around the Karnataka city of Mangalore, and the Malayalam script in Cochin and its environs.

Chapter 12

Chinese in Taiwan: Cooking a Linguistic Chop Suey and Embracing English SUFEN SOPHIA LAI

In the current state of accelerated globalisation and cross-cultural pollination, lexical assimilation of new terms, new products and new ideas is an inevitable and necessary process for any modernising society to undertake in order to participate in the expanding world community. The undeniable reality of English assuming the role of lingua franca of the world also accelerates the linguistic consumption of the dominating American pop culture and the ubiquitous electronic lingo. As Kowner’s proposal (2001) to the University of Haifa for this book project points out, ‘lexical borrowing and assimilation is an essential and natural process in any modernisation process and has long-term implications on the identity and position of cultures, both in the past and the present’. While etymology may provide us linguistic DNA and its mutations of foreign-born lexicon of a certain language, the study of lexical borrowing patterns gives us insights into how languages and cultures interact and affect each other. This chapter investigates the infiltration of English into Taiwan Mandarin, known as Guoyu (national language), and how it reflects Taiwan’s attitudes towards globalisation, nationalism and linguistic multiculturalism. After three decades of an official policy of promulgating Mandarin as the sole official language in Taiwan, on 12 February 2003, the Taiwan government quietly dropped the policy without public discussion or publicised announcement. Moreover, it is now entertaining the possibility of making English the second official language. At the same time, a bill of linguistic equality for all the recognised ethnic languages spoken in Taiwan has been passed by the Legislative Yuan (Taiwan’s equivalent of Parliament), now pending for implementation. Under such a climate of enthusiasm for English and linguistic democracy, 227

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Taiwan Mandarin, both spoken and written, is in an accelerated process of mutation. There is no denying that the current lingua franca spoken and written in Taiwan, the Taiwan version of Mandarin, is significantly different from the Taiwan Mandarin spoken and written just a decade ago. One only needs to open any newspaper, turn on TV or log on to the Internet to any Taiwanese mainstream media to see the amalgamation of foreign expressions (mainly English and some Japanese), electronic age lingo and local language varieties (mainly Minnan Hua, a language variety of Fujian province in China). Taiwan Mandarin has never been so fluid and in such a frenzy for assimilation, which I like to call ‘the cooking of a linguistic chop suey’.1 Apparently Taiwanese media no longer feel the need of linguistic restraint and self-censorship. On the contrary, there seems to be a playful enthusiasm to make the best use of a linguistic freedom that Taiwanese media have not had the luxury to enjoy for many decades until the political reform and transformation in Taiwan in the late 1980s and early 1990s. More and more people in Taiwan are carefree with codeswitching, lexical borrowing and subverting the integrity of the ‘National Language’, or Guoyu. It is as if a new political democracy has also launched a linguistic liberation movement in which many Taiwanese do not feel the necessary boundaries between languages. It is not uncommon that one sees a news headline with both English expressions such as WTO, DVD, SARS or Minnan expressions, or Japanese hiragana, ‘no’. If some Taiwanese expressions find no symbol in Han orthography, they can be expressed either in the English alphabet, or in bopomofo2 phonetic symbols. It seems that Taiwanese writing has expanded its script to include all the above three mentioned systems: Han characters, Roman alphabets and bopomofo phonetics. Given this current linguistic volatility in Taiwan, these are the questions that this chapter attempts to investigate and discuss: 1. How does the penetration of English affect the linguistic characteristics of Taiwan? In other words, what kind of role does English play in transforming Taiwan Mandarin into a new form of linguistic chop suey? 2. What kind of role does English play in the recent debate about the ‘National Language Equality Draft Law’? 3. What is the geopolitics behind the advocacy of making English the second official language besides the current Mandarin, and how is this advocacy of embracing English as a global language being exploited in the Taiwanese geopolitics?

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With the above three questions in mind, this chapter is fourfold. First, the chapter will look at Taiwan’s ethnic and linguistic profiles and the historical development of Taiwan’s linguistic past. Second, the chapter situates the lexical borrowing of Taiwan Mandarin in the historical context of lexical borrowings in Chinese. By putting Taiwan’s lexical borrowing in the historical context, we may be able to evaluate and speculate on the patterns and trends of current and future lexical borrowing, at the same time understanding the linguistic flexibility of the Chinese language. Third, the chapter outlines the borrowing patterns of Mandarin in the past and the new trends of borrowings in Taiwan. It will examine the current Taiwanese fashion of playing with English terms and scripts in the mass media. It will also investigate how this phenomenon is accompanied by a linguistic democracy that gives rise to all sorts of linguistic innovations that playfully adopt a hodgepodge of expressions from English, Minnan (also called Taiwanese) and Japanese in all aspects of Taiwanese media. Four, this chapter analyses the sociopolitical factors, geopolitics and linguistic policies that lead to the current enthusiasm for linguistic multiculturalism in Taiwan and what impact this linguistic democracy has on the status of Mandarin as Guoyu (national language) in Taiwan.

Taiwan’s Linguistic History and Ethnic Profiles With a population of more than 22.7 million (July 2004 est.), Taiwan is a multilingual and multiethnic society with four main ethnic groups (Huang, 1993: 21; The CIA World Factbook Website, 2004): Aborigines (speakers of Austronesian languages)
1.7%; Hakka
12%; Mainlanders (Mainland Chinese who came to Taiwan after 1949)
13%; and Taiwanese (Minnan speakers)
73.3%. The historical development of languages in Taiwan may be divided into six periods, each of which will be discussed below. The aboriginal period As Feifel (1994: 11) puts it, ‘Taiwan has had a very colorful history’, and so has its linguistic background. Before the European discovery of this beautiful island, and consequently named by the Portuguese as Ilha Formosa, the earliest inhabitants of Taiwan about whom historical materials exist were several tribes of Austronesian-Formosan speakers (Hsieh, 1964). Today, about 12 of these languages have survived, mainly spoken in the central mountains and along the east coastal villages (Hansell, 1989: 71; Hsieh, 1994: 405). These early Taiwanese aborigines

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never formed a centralised political government, and they were organised according to ethnically distinct communities and spoke a wide range of mutually unintelligible language varieties (Feifel, 1994; Hsieh, 1964). The main lexical contribution of the aboriginal languages to Taiwan is in the area of place names (Abe, 1987; Hansell, 1989). Dutch colonial period In 1624 the Dutch established its colonial outpost in Taiwan’s Southwest Tainan region. At that time the Dutch also introduced the Roman script to Taiwan. The subsequent Christian missionaries also introduced a Romanisation system for the aboriginal languages and translated the Bible into the aboriginal languages using the Roman script. During this period, a so-called Sinkang Romanisation system was introduced to the aborigines in Taiwan. As Chiung (2001: 15
18) points out, Sinkang writing was the first Romanisation and the first writing system in the history of Taiwan. It was devised by Dutch missionaries and employed mainly for the writing of Siraya, an indigenous language in south-west plain of Taiwan. Sinkang Romanisation was not well documented until the discovery of so-called Sinkang Bunsu, or Sinkang manuscripts, in the 19th century (Chiung, 2001). Because of the political and economic disintegration during the transition from Ming to Qing dynasty and the Dutch colonialists’ demand for larger labour forces, large-scale Chinese immigration to Taiwan also began around this same period. As a result of this Chinese migration into the south and west plains of Taiwan, the aborigine tribes of the western plain were either conquered by the Han settlers or intermarried with them. Consequently, aborigine languages and cultural identities were slowly eroded by the Han languages and culture (Feifel, 1994; Hansell, 1989; Su, 1980).




The Koxinga (1661 1683) and Qing Dynasty period (1684 1895) In 1661, after less than four decades of commanding Taiwan’s southwest outpost, the Dutch were driven out from Taiwan by the Ming loyalist commander Zheng Chenggong (commonly known as Koxinga in the West) after his failed resistance to the Qing regime. Consequently, Taiwan became a refuge for the Ming royalists and immigrants from the Zhangzhou and Quanzhou regions of Fujian province, right across the Taiwan Straits. During the two decades of Koxinga’s reign, wenyen




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(classical Chinese) and Han characters became the official writing system in Taiwan, while settlers brought with them their own spoken language varieties, which were mainly Minnan and Hakka. In 1684, Qing Dynasty declared Taiwan an administrative division of Fujian province after defeating Koxinga in 1683. Although initially the Qing government prohibited emigration from China, there was a steady flow of South Chinese settlers (mainly from Fujian) immigrating to Taiwan; in the 18th century, speakers of Hakka from the eastern Guangdong region joined the migration movement. After 1760, when the imperial prohibition of emigration to Taiwan was repealed, the migration of southern Chinese settlers into Taiwan accelerated. In 1885 Taiwan was given the status of a province, with Chinese comprising the overwhelming majority of the more than 2.5 million residents on Taiwan (Feifel, 1994: 12). Taiwan was eventually transformed into a Han-culture society. Han characters and wenyen (classical Chinese) were the official writing systems, while the majority of the residents spoke the Minnan language varieties of Fujian province and a small group spoke the Hakka. The aborigine languages and cultures were further eroded and marginalised. However, the Sinkang Roman scripts were still used by those plain tribes for some time (Chiung, 2001).




Japanese period (1895 1945) In 1895, after the Manchu government’s defeat in the Sino-Japanese War, Taiwan was ceded to Japan as compensation. This began Taiwan’s ‘Japanisation’ for the following five decades. With the assimilation of Taiwanese envisioned as Imperial Japan’s primary goal and colonial policy, Japanese became the medium for Taiwan’s development of infrastructure and modernisation. Japanese colonials implemented a modern educational system, and made Japanese the language of instruction. To further cement Japanese imperialisation, or kominka, policy during the war with China (1937
1945), in April 1937, Governor-General Kobayashi abolished the Chinese-language section of the colony’s newspapers and classical Chinese was removed from the elementary school curriculum (Lamley, 1999: 238
244). Japanese was proclaimed as the ‘kokugo’ (national language) of the island later that year, and the use of Chinese was discouraged. This language policy increased the number of Japanese speakers among the Taiwanese from 37% in 1937 to 51% in 1940 (Lamley, 1999: 240). Despite this imperialisation measure, Japanese could not replace Minnan as the preferred spoken language among Taiwanese for any other daily function besides the

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required usage of Japanese in government, administration, education and Japanese-controlled industry. However, it is safe to say that by the end of WWII, before Japan’s departure, Japanese had become the lingua franca among the literate and commercial sectors of the island’s population. The linguistic remnants of this colonial rule have remained strong and obvious among older Taiwanese and aborigines, where Japanese popular songs and many Japanese expressions (such as terms for parents, relatives and siblings) are still commonly used. Even today, many Japanese names for food items are part of the Taiwanese lexicon. Recently Japanese pop culture has made a comeback and rivals the popularity and influence of American pop culture among the Taiwanese youth. Some Japanese expressions and lexicon, such as ‘kawa-i’ (young, cute or pretty), ‘i-chi-ban’ (number one) and ‘sha-shin’ collection (photo album; the two kanji characters are pronounced in Taiwan as ‘xie-zhen’), have also been absorbed and appropriated into the Taiwanese lexicon.




The Chinese KMT period (1945 1989) On 15 August 1945, the Taiwanese heard from the radio the Showa emperor’s announcement of Japan’s unconditional surrender to the USled alliance. Japan’s 50-year colonial rule came to an end, and on 25 October that year, Taiwan was officially returned to the Republic of China ruled by the Nationalist KMT (kuo-ming-tang) government. The Nationalist KMT immediately began a process of decolonisation and reintegration. The transition from Japanese colonisation into the KMT Nationalist regime was neither a smooth nor a welcome one for the Taiwanese in many respects. At the beginning of Taiwan’s retrocession process, many of the Taiwanese elites and intellectuals were hopeful for Taiwanese self-government as a province of China, but instead a military and totalitarian government appointed by Chiang Kai-Shek and headed by Chen Yi was established in Taipei. The ‘February 28th, 1947, Incident’ marked the beginning of the so-called ‘White Terror’ era in Taiwan during which the core of the Taiwanese local political leadership and social and intellectual elites were rounded up and eliminated. In 1949, after the Nationalists were defeated in mainland China and retreated to set up a provisional government in Taiwan, the Taiwanese underwent another stringent language policy and cultural assimilation that was reminiscent of the Japanese rule. In April 1946, the Nationalist government established a committee for the promotion of Guoyu (national language), which was Mandarin,

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standardised and formulated after the Beijing dialect. By 1949, Taiwan would be the only territory left for the Nationalist government to execute its national language experiment. The Nationalist government successfully achieved the promotion of Mandarin and Chinese identity in Taiwan in three areas: education, mass communication and oppression of Taiwanese languages, which reduced them to the status of ‘vulgar dialects’. Politically, the KMT Nationalist government put Taiwan under martial law from 1949 through 1987, so the Taiwanese were not allowed to organise any opposition party, hold any national level election or have freedom of the press. During public events or in government offices, usage of native Taiwanese languages was not allowed. In education, usage of so-called ‘vulgar dialects’ (Minnan, Hakka and aborigine languages) was banned and penalised in school. Only Mandarin was allowed in the classroom and on campus; any students violating this rule would be penalised and shamed publicly. Students speaking Mandarin with heavy Taiwanese accents were often ridiculed. In the mass media, all Taiwanese newspapers, except for English ones, were exclusively in Mandarin. In electronic media, since the 1950s, programmes in ‘dialects’ were gradually replaced with Mandarin, and reduced to one hour a day in the 1970s as legislated by the Broadcasting and Television Law instituted in 1975. On television programmes, characters with heavy Taiwanese accents were often villains, uneducated working class, stupid country folks or gangsters. As Feifel (1994: 16) puts forward, in Taiwan ‘language became a means of discrimination as well as a means of justification for the separation [between the native Taiwanese and the Mainlanders] and the Mainlanders’ privileges’. Mandarin became the language associated with economic potential, social status and political clout. It was estimated that by the mid-1980s, about 85% of Taiwan’s population could speak Mandarin (Huang, 1987, 74%; Tse, 1982, 94%). Some would even assert that nearly 100% of people on Taiwan under 35 years of age can speak Mandarin (Hansell, 1989: 76). The success of the government’s propagation of Mandarin further eroded the aborigine languages and led to the invisibility of the Hakka identity and language. Minnan, on the other hand, has remained the preferred language for families, private sectors and even work places (Hansell, 1989: 77; Young et al., 1992).




Multiparty system (1989 present) In July 1987, Taiwan’s so-called Emergency Decree under martial law was lifted, and in 1989 the KMT government eventually recognised the

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legitimacy of the opposition Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) that was formed in 1986. The changes in political climate soon triggered changes in sociolinguistic climate. More and more Taiwanese people became assertive in reclaiming their native languages and cultures. Since 1990, bilingual education of both Mandarin and native languages has been gradually introduced as a way of reversing the previous neglect and suppression of Taiwanese ‘dialects’ and aborigine languages. In the meantime, the Ministry of Education formally abolished the penalty against school children speaking ‘dialects’ or mother tongues at school. On 14 July 1993, Taiwan’s Legislative Yuan (Taiwan’s equivalent of a Parliament) voted to officially abolish Article 20 of the Broadcast and Television Law, which restricted the hours of non-Mandarin programmes in the electronic mass media. This further accelerated the revival of native cultures. Since 1996, ‘dialect’ instruction (officially called ‘mothertongue’ education) was introduced as a formal part of public school curriculum by the Ministry of Education; however, school participation in the dialect-teaching programme was voluntary. In 2001, the Ministry of Education launched its 1st
9th Grade Curriculum Alignment Program as a scheme to maintain young students’ native tongues and embrace cultural diversity in Taiwan. Since September 2001, all elementary and junior high students have been required to elect a course in one of the 14 recognised native languages, while Mandarin has remained the mandatory language of instruction for the rest of the curriculum (Fanchiang, 2003). Like any society undertaking language policy reform, Taiwan’s mother-language education scheme has faced many obstacles from the start: shortage of qualified teachers, few resources for training teachers, inadequate teaching materials and lack of family support. Unanticipated by the Ministry of Education, dialect-speaking parents have not been supportive of this ‘mother-tongue education’ scheme. Most parents are concerned about the mother-language instruction taking away time from the regular curriculum. Foreign languages such as English and Japanese seem to make more sense to the parents for the enhancement of their children’s social and economic future. Professor Ang Uijin, from the Chinese Linguistics and Literature Department at Yuan-Ze University, explains in an interview with Taiwan Review (Fanchiang, 2003): ‘It is most common for indigenous people and Han peoples to prefer learning English, the international language, instead of learning mother tongues considered to add no values to their global competitiveness.’

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The influence of American English and American culture (1949 present)




Prior to 1949, the predominant foreign influence on Taiwan both culturally and linguistically was apparently Japanese because of its 50 years of colonisation. After the departure of the Japanese colonial power from Taiwan in 1945, Japanese influence lingered on, although it was slowly eroded by the KMT government’s retreat from China into Taiwan, which inaugurated the arrival of American influence on Taiwan. To eradicate Japanese influence and impose loyalty to the Nationalist Chinese government in Taiwan, the KMT government immediately banned the Japanese language from public life and the mass media; Japanese movies and TV programmes were banned and Japanese songs were not allowed to be broadcast on radio or television. Along with the KMT government’s arrival in Taiwan came the American military and political support of Taiwan against communist China. The American influence on Taiwan ensued. After the Korean War (1950
1953), on 2 December 1954, the Mutual Defense Treaty (MDT) between the USA and the Republic of China (Taiwan) was signed in Washington, DC; the Treaty was entered into force on 3 March the following year. The treaty’s Article 2 stipulated that Taiwan and the USA would ‘maintain and develop their individual and collective capacity to resist armed attacked and communist subversive activities. . . .’ (see Taiwan Documents Project Website). Consequently, the USA became Taiwan’s ‘protector’, supplying Taiwan with arms and aids, as well as placing troops and setting up military bases in Taiwan. Accompanying the military and political support was economic aid that helped cement a strong economic tie between the two countries. As Hansell (1989: 78) observes, ‘those were the years of the ‘‘Pax Americana’’ when US military, economic, and cultural influence were ascendant all over the world’, and Taiwan was a quintessential acolyte of such ‘Pax Americana-ism’. Since the 1950s, ‘the U.S. became the favored destination for Taiwan students studying abroad and Taiwan the destination for many US military personnel’ (Hansell, 1989: 78). During the Vietnam War period Taiwan was a popular destination for American soldiers’ vacations. Since the 1950s American products and popular culture became the staple of Taiwanese aspiration for modernisation and development. Consequently, as a national education policy to prepare Taiwanese citizens’ interaction with the international communities, English was instituted as the primary foreign language taught beginning in seventh grade in public schools. English is also a required subject for the college entrance exam.

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With globalisation and Taiwan’s economic advancement, many Taiwanese parents became more aware of the importance of English as a viable asset for their children. Since the late 1980s many private afterschool English education institutions mushroomed in Taiwan. From the early 1990s, English learning has become an essential criterion for parents’ selection of kindergartens. In response to the widespread demand for more English education, the Ministry of Education in Taiwan moved the beginning of English instruction in public school to fifth grade in 2001. However, many city and county governments were ahead of the central government’s response. In Taipei, for example, since 1998, elementary schools have been encouraged by the City’s Bureau of Education to offer English classes beginning in the third grade. Starting in 2002, English classes have been offered to all students from the first through sixth grades in Taipei city’s 150 public and private elementary schools (Her, 2002: 7
8). A report published by Taipei Times on 23 June 2003, showed that 81% of Taipei parents were happy with an early English education starting from first grade, and 53% would like to increase the number of classes (Wu, 2003). According to the press release of the Taiwan Government Information Office (21 May 2002, Taiwan Government Information Office Website): ‘The government of the Republic of China (ROC) has formulated the ‘‘Challenge 2008’’ comprehensive six-year national development plan as the latest effort to foster the creativity and talent Taiwan needs to transform itself into a ‘‘green silicon island’’.’ In this ‘Challenge 2008’ six-year plan, the emphasis on globalisation and mastery of foreign languages, especially English, was highlighted as most essential for Taiwan’s development, as in Taiwan government’s words (Taiwan Government Information Office Website): The first project of the 6-year national development plan is the cultivation of talent for the e-generation, since manpower is the basis of all development. To meet the future challenges of globalisation and internationalisation, the ROC should first enhance the abilities of its people. Concurrently, the government will establish an environment for internationalising learning. This project emphasises the ability to master foreign languages, especially English, and the use of Internet. Since English is the language that links the world, the government should designate English as a quasi-official language and actively expand the use of English as a part of daily life. (italics mine
S.S.L)

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It is fair to say that Taiwan is in a state of English learning frenzy. From the top levels of central government to the local administration, from retirees to nursery school-age children, learning English has become a national obsession in Taiwan.

The Historical Context of Lexical Borrowing in Taiwan Given the previous discussion of Taiwan’s linguistic history and sociopolitical background and climate, we may say that currently the following factors have contributed to the lexical fluidity of Taiwan Mandarin: first, the dominance of Minnan language variety; second, Japanese influence before 1945 and after the lift of ban of Japanese programmes in 1993; and third, English embraced as the global language. These three factors have compounded the lexical borrowing patterns that Taiwan Mandarin has inherited from the Chinese language. The following discussion will examine the lexical borrowing history inherited from the Chinese language and the current trends of lexical borrowing in Taiwan. Linguistic scholars have pointed out that the history of lexical changes in Chinese is very complex and still little understood. In the field of Chinese lexicography and etymology, extensive efforts were made at the turn of the 20th century to compile comprehensive dictionaries that provide the origins and development of words and phrases. The result was Ciyuan [The Origin of Words], published in 1915 in Beijing, now a widely used research tool for the study of classical and literary Chinese. Most of the comprehensive Chinese dictionaries today, such as the 12volume Hanyu da cidian [Great Chinese Dictionary], usually include an etymological component. As Chan and Tai (1999) suggest in their study on the periodisation of Chinese language, systematic studies of historical changes in the Chinese lexicon do exist; however, there are few comprehensive studies that examine important patterns of lexical changes extending through the history of the Chinese language. Lexical borrowing patterns of foreign languages into Chinese have also been observed and roughly charted out, yet very few studies focus on the cultural and sociolinguistic impact of those lexical borrowing patterns (Chen, 1999). New borrowing patterns are also emerging with the accelerating pace of globalisation and the easier multilingual input methods via the computer. Most scholars more or less agree that written Chinese experienced three waves of massive lexical borrowing. These three waves coincided with the extensive interaction between China and foreign civilisations mainly through commerce and religious activities, during which massive

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translation of foreign writings into Chinese was undertaken in order to accommodate foreign objects and concepts. The first wave of major lexical borrowing took place between the Eastern Han and late Tang dynasties (2nd
8th centuries CE), when active commerce with Central Asia through the Silk Road and the translation of Buddhist texts introduced hundreds of new words into Chinese vocabulary. In this first period of lexical borrowing during the Han and Tang dynasties, not only were new words coined (e.g. shijei [the world] and yishi [consciousness]), using already existing Han characters as morphemes, but many new characters were also created by combining or adding radicals to existing characters to convey new concepts, such as seng (short form of seng-ga, transliteration from Sanskrit sangha) for monk or community of monks, jia-sha (also transliteration from Sanskrit) for monk’s clothes and pu-sha for Bodhisattva. Some characters were created purely for use in transliteration, such as jia and ga, used only phonetically for transcribing foreign terms; those ‘phonetic characters’ do not carry semantic quality. After a few centuries of absorbing and appropriating new terms imported via the cultural and commercial contexts of the Silk Road, Chinese lexicon faced a second wave of foreign impact during the late Ming and Early Qing dynasties (16th
18th centuries) when Jesuit missionaries brought Western learning to China. Once again the Chinese lexicon expanded through their writings and translation of Western sciences; many new terms of basic modern learning were coined during this period (e.g. jihe for geometry and diqiu for the earth). The third, perhaps the largest wave of foreign word borrowing into Chinese, began after the humiliation of the Opium War when China realised its need to catch up with modernisation. The lexical borrowing process was further accelerated in the 1920s baihuawen [vernacular literary writing] movement, which advocated the usage of vernacular speech for literary writing, instead of traditional classical speech. This movement not only revolutionised Chinese literary writing but also energised the momentum of Chinese modernisation, which most intellectuals at the time equated with Westernisation. In the process, numerous foreign words were imported into the Chinese vocabulary with new terms being coined.

Patterns of Lexical Assimilation in Modern Chinese The following patterns are adopted and modified from the five patterns suggested by Chen (1999: 100
105). For an extensive discussion of each of these patterns, see also Masini’s (1993) monograph.

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(1) Borrowing from Japanese translations of foreign words coined with Chinese characters During the Meiji Reformation in the 19th century, Japan imported Western concepts and institutions extensively. Large numbers of new words were coined by the Japanese using kanji (Chinese characters) to translate new concepts. Many of these new kanji terms were later adopted into Chinese with the kanji being pronounced in Chinese. Examples:

English history science bank post office

Chinese li-shi ke-xue yin-hang yu-ju

Japanese rekishi kagaku ginko yubinkyogu

(2) Loan translation for compound words or phrases In this second pattern, the English terms are translated literally, with a morpheme-for-morpheme match between the two languages. mi-yue (mi honey, yue moon) mo-tian lou (mo to rub, tian sky, lou building) long-distance chan-tu (chan  long, tu journey, distance) democracy ming-zhu (ming people, zhu master)

Examples: honeymoon skyscraper

(3) Semantic translation Probably the most common form of borrowing, this pattern coins new words by using Chinese characters to convey the foreign concept as much as possible. Examples:

airplane fei-ji (feito fly, jimachinery) radio shou-yin-ji (shoureceive, yinsound, jimachinery) fax chuan-zhen (chuanto transmit, zhenreal)

(4) Pure phonetic transcription Chinese characters are chosen for their sound value to transcribe as close as possible the sound of the foreign words. The combination of these characters does not carry semantic meaning in Chinese. However, there is a tendency to select euphonic characters with positive or neutral connotations for non-negative concepts.

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Examples:

di-si-ke jue-shi ma-da xi-pi sha-la

disco jazz motor hippie salad

(5) Juxtaposition of (2) and (3)
phonetic transcriptionsemantic classifier A Chinese morpheme used as a semantic classifier is added to the phonetic rendering of the foreign word. Examples:

jeep ballet

ji-pu-che ba-lei-wu

(che vehicle) (wu  dance)

(6) Combination of (2) and (3)
ideophonetic This pattern tries to preserve as much as possible the original sound of the foreign word, while at the same time tries to use Chinese morphemes that also capture the meaning of the foreign word. Examples: vitamin lace laser cola hacker

wei-ta-min lei-si lei-she ke-le hai-ke

(wei sustain, ta his/her, ming  life) (lei flower-bud, si silk) (lei  thunder, she  shoot) (ke enable, le  happy) (hai terrify, ke  guest)

(7) Combination of phonetic rendering and semantic rendering This rendering pattern is particularly popular with new trends or new concepts. Examples: neo-Romanticism xin-lang-man-zhu-yi xinsemantic rendering of neo lang-manphonetic rendering of roman zhu-yisemantic rendering of ‘ism’ anti-trust fan-tuo-la-si fansemantic rendering of ‘anti’ tuo-la-siphonetic rendering of ‘trust’ X-ray X-guan (guanlight, ray) geometry ji-he jiphonetic rendering of ‘geo’ hesemantic rendering of ‘metric’

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From the above patterns, Chen (1999) observes two principles in the Chinese borrowing of foreign words. First, preference is given to loan translation and semantic translation over transliteration. Second, among variations of translation (such as variations among Hong Kong, Taiwan and China), preference is usually given to terms prevalent in Northern Mandarin areas over other areas. According to Chen (1999: 105), the explanation for the resistance to transliteration lies in the logographic nature of Chinese script, and the traditional importance attached to reading rather than speaking in the Chinese world. In addition to their sound value, most Chinese characters used in texts have their own semantic content. Chinese readers tend to pay more attention to the meaning conveyed by the graphic forms of the characters than to their phonetic values; it is not uncommon for Chinese readers to recognise the semantic content of characters without being able to pronounce them. To a large extent, Chen’s two principles do typify the trends of lexical borrowing in the past 150 years. However, new trends of lexical borrowing preference are emerging with the fast pace of globalisation and the advancement of multilingual word-processing technology. Before multilingual word-processing was easily available on the computer, which facilitates multilanguage publication, composing and publishing multilingual documents
using both English alphabets and Chinese characters
were complicated and cumbersome tasks. Mass communication media such as newspapers and magazines in the past rarely mixed English words in their texts. Therefore, most foreign terms and concepts were translated using the above-mentioned borrowing patterns. Since the last decade the mass media in Taiwan, perhaps also in Hong Kong and China, have broken many previous language taboos considered as safeguard against the Chinese language being contaminated. With the floodgate being opened, it is now quite common to find English words and expressions creeping into news articles or in a TV host’s reports. When entering any Taiwanese news media Internet sites, one is likely to be amazed by the amount of non-Han orthographic symbols used. The nature of the Chinese writing system being logographic makes Chinese lexical borrowing from a phonetographic language, such as English, a unique process. In contrast to Japanese, which uses Katakana to signal loan words, the above-mentioned Chinese borrowing patterns camouflage the loan words. Unlike many European languages, whose borrowing of English words is sometimes regarded as an ‘intrusion’ that

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threatens the integrity of the borrowing languages, the logographic nature of Chinese language does not face the same threat. No matter how the English words are borrowed or adopted, the borrowed words in Chinese remain logographic, i.e. physically and visually Chinese, though they may sound somewhat exotic. The lexical borrowing process in Chinese is thus both a lexical expansion and an appropriation process. However, new patterns of lexical borrowing are emerging with the advancement of new word-processing and printing technology.

New Trends of Lexical Borrowing in Taiwan Codeswitching has become a common phenomenon both in speech and in writing. As Professor Chen Su-Chiao (1996) of the National Hualien Teachers College reports in her study of codeswitching as a verbal strategy, recently, English has been functioning as part of the communicative repertoire among professionals, young adults, students, housewives, and under-educated workers in Taiwan. It is not surprising to hear housewives using some English words or phrases when speaking to family and friends (China Times, April 22, 1992), nor is it surprising for elementary school children to write messages in both English and Chinese in their autograph books (United Daily News, June 22, 1992). English words and phrases are now often used in daily interactions among Taiwanese people both in Mandarin and non-Mandarin interactions. As Chen (1996) points out, English is used as the ‘embedded language’ by the Taiwanese in both formal and informal situations, in speaking and writing, and this trend of inserting English expressions has been further reinforced by the mass media. Popular English words, such as ‘cool’, ‘party’, ‘lobby’, ‘spa’, ‘high’ (as ‘excited’), ‘in’ or ‘out’ (meaning ‘trendy’ or not), etc., are now mostly spoken and printed in English rather than translated, even though translations of these words have been in use for some time prior to the Internet era. Codeswitching occurs not just between Mandarin and English. With the new multiparty sociopolitical climate generating new awareness of ethnicity and cultural identity, codeswitching among Mandarin, English and Taiwanese mother tongues has been adopted both consciously and unconsciously as a verbal strategy to subvert the Mandarin-dominant culture. Today, it is not uncommon in Taiwan to see TV talk show hosts or variety show hosts conducting interviews with

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their guests using Mandarin with English and Minnan expressions frequently inserted. Unlike previous common practice of translating acronyms using their full names, in the mid-1990s the mass media began to introduce and use most acronyms without translation, except occasional translation in parenthesis for clarification. In such cases, the English alphabet and pronunciations are used as if they are regular elements of Taiwanese writing and speech. Examples such as CD (Compact Disc), DVD (Digital Versatile Disc), WTO (World Trade Organization), WHO (World Health Organization), DIY (Do It Yourself) outlets, the SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome) epidemic, MTV (Music TV), SUV (Sports Utility Vehicle), PC (personal computer), etc. are now part of many Taiwanese people’s common vocabulary. Like many native speakers of English, most Taiwanese do not know what many of these acronyms stand for. Technical and professional words tend to be translated semantically. However, commercial products, especially foreign foods, such as cola, hamburger, salad, tend to be translated ideophonetically if possible, or at least phonetically with Chinese characters that present positive meaning for marketing purposes. Ideophonetic and phonetic translation preserve the exotic sound and the foreign ‘cool’ flair for better marketability. With the influence of Internet and e-mail, it is becoming acceptable and popular both in speech and in print for Taiwanese speakers to use expressions such as ‘e-shangye’ (e-commerce), e-ka (e-card), Y-shidai (YGeneration), T-shan (T-shirt), e-zhengfu (e-government), e-Taiwan, etc., with the alphabet part preserved in English, and the other parts translated semantically. ‘e’ is also used by Minnan speakers as indicating possessive form similar to English ‘’s’ or Japanese possessive ‘no’; for example, ‘Taiwan ren e bi-ai’ (Taiwan people’s sorrow), ‘zhengfu e wunen’ (government’s incompetence) are common expressions of discontent. Less politically charged than Minnan ‘e’, Japanese hiragana ‘no’ is often used in advertisements, bulletin boards or commercial jingles. Not just English words, but three other kinds of non-Mandarin lexicons and scripts are also creeping into current Taiwanese speech and writing: Minnan, Mandarin phonetic symbols (bopomofo) and Japanese. Given the above new trends of lexical borrowing and codeswitching, I would like to propose a new classification of the periods of Chinese (including Taiwan Mandarin) lexical borrowing history as having the following three waves. The first wave (2nd
8th centuries): religion and commerce via the Silk Road were two major factors that contributed to China’s large-scale lexical borrowing. This first wave of lexical expansion

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was then followed by centuries of assimilation and appropriation in which Chinese absorbed and claimed the imported lexicon as its own. The second wave (16th
first half of 20th centuries): the introduction of Western sciences generated another major wave of large-scale lexical innovation in China. A third wave (during the second half of the 20th and beginning of the 21st centuries): advancement of information technology and globalisation triggered a new trend of lexical borrowing and codeswitching that includes adopting foreign orthographical symbols into the Han-character-based writing system. In the first two phases, not only did the Chinese lexicon expand, but new Han characters (new pictographs and ideograms) were also created to transliterate new terms and concepts phonetically; those newly created characters may or may not carry any semantic value. In the contemporary third phase we see a clear ‘paradigm shift’ of lexical borrowing among speakers of Mandarin Chinese. In addition to creating new Han characters or giving the existing ones new meanings, Mandarin Chinese speakers are adding ‘foreign’ alphabets into the Chinese speaking and writing system.

Factors Contributing to Taiwan’s enthusiasm for lexical assimilation Vogues, prestige and economic reality There are several obvious factors and some not-so-blatant political reasons for Taiwan’s enthusiasm for lexical borrowing and common codeswitching phenomena. The obvious factors
mixing English terms and lingoes in speech as fashionable and prestigious, or seeing English ability as economic solvency and skill currency for professional advancement
are perhaps universal factors shared by many societies under the similar sway of globalisation and American popular culture. As mentioned earlier, Taiwan is in an English learning frenzy. Consequently, codeswitching and mixing English phrases with local speech (either Mandarin or Minnan) have become acceptable and fashionable. Particularly, it is young people’s way of showing their worldliness in using English. After Taiwan gained membership in the WTO, it became even more urgent for many companies to demand employees with English fluency. Modernisation and high-tech infrastructure Another common factor contributing to Taiwan’s embracing of English (like many other societies) is the high level of modernisation and its ensuing high-tech infrastructure. According to the 2001
2002

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Global Information Technology Report released by the World Economic Forum and Harvard University in February 2002, Taiwan’s ability to use information and communication technologies (ICTs) effectively ranked 15th around the globe, ahead of Japan (21st) and South Korea (20th). The USA ranked first in the report, followed by Iceland, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the Netherlands, Denmark, Singapore, Austria and the UK (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, ROC, 2002). According to the statistics of the CIA World Factbook 2002 (The CIA World Factbook Website), Taiwan’s Internet users’ rate per capita (514.46/1000 users) was ranked 16th in the world, ahead of Japan (18th) and right behind Singapore (15th). The USA (590.78/1000 users) and the UK (573.79/1000 users) were ranked seventh and eighth respectively in this report. From these two statistics, it is obvious that Taiwan’s level of modernisation and high-tech infrastructure are on a par with most of the developed countries. As pointed out earlier, Taiwan government aspires to make Taiwan a ‘Green Silicon Island’ and therefore its ‘first project of the 6-year national development plan is the cultivation of talent for the e-generation’. If this vision is indeed fulfilled, Taiwan’s embrace of English will probably extend further. Taiwan’s optimistic attitude towards globalisation Another factor contributing to Taiwan’s embracing of English is Taiwan’s overwhelmingly positive attitude towards globalisation and its ramifications. After almost four decades of diplomatic ostracism and political isolation imposed by the People’s Republic of China, and unlike many countries facing the challenge of globalisation with ambivalent attitudes and doubtfulness, Taiwan warmly welcomes globalisation as a way of gaining recognition on the world stage. Moreover, it sees globalisation as a way of asserting Taiwan’s separate identity from Mainland China. Political climate and nationalism Since the lifting of Martial Law and the development of a multiparty political system in 1987, Taiwan has become a vibrant arena for political jousting and nationalistic debate between the prounification (with China) and proindependence camps. In Taiwan’s current political lingo, the prounification camp (pro-Chinese) is an alliance of KMT and People First Party, usually called the Pan-Blue Camp (associated with the blue colour of the KMT party flag and emblem). The proindependence camp is an alliance of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) and Taiwan Solidarity

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Union, usually called the Pan-Green Camp (associated with the DPP flag featuring a green Taiwan island). As the former Chairman of DPP Shi Ming-De observed and lamented in an editorial entitled ‘Mr. President, Please Loosen Up Your Fists’ published by Taiwan’s China Times, 7 January 2003, every aspect of Taiwan’s public discourse is politicised and Taiwan’s leading politicians seem to be in a perpetual presidential campaign. Every move the politicians make is calculated according to the party line and the Pan-Blue and Pan-Green divide. Because of such a political climate, every policy, project and reform the Taiwan government undertakes is exacerbated and driven by party-biased political ideology. Consequently, the subverting and appropriation of Taiwan Mandarin with Minnan language variety and English has also become the proindependence (Pan-Green) camp’s political tool to play out their nationalistic ideology in this political arena. The current mutation of Taiwan Mandarin reflects the volatility of Taiwan’s political climate. Multilingualism and linguistic democracy It is irrefutable that Taiwan’s political transition from a single-party totalitarian rule into a full-fledged and vibrant multiparty democracy with enfranchisement and civil liberty for all citizens is a remarkable achievement that leads the island into a new era of progressive reforms and democratisation. Unfortunately, like any revolution, Taiwan’s progressive transition also comes with ambivalent ramifications, one of which is the amplification of an ethnic
linguistic rift and the manner in which politicians exploit this rift. The exploitation and politicisation of Taiwan’s ethnic and linguistic diversity is currently manifested in Taiwan’s controversy regarding ‘mother tongue’ education and ‘National Language Equality Draft Law’. ‘Mother tongue’ education was initially intended as a measure to reverse the damage done by the Mandarin-only policy during the KMT era; however, it has now been exploited by the proindependence camp as a tool to promote Taiwanese identity and subvert the Mandarin dominance. In 2002, the proindependence camp went a step further to propose making the Minnan language variety (mother tongue of more than 70% of the Taiwan population) the second official language. According to an opinion poll conducted by Taiwan’s leading cable-TV news station, TVBS (published on 12 March 2002), overall about 48% supported the proposal, 37% were against and 16% had no opinion. However, if the statistics are analysed according to party line, up to 69% who supported the proposal were supporters of the Pan-Green camp, while more than half of those

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who opposed the proposal were supporters of the Pan-Blue camp. The poll also revealed that given the choice between Minnan language variety and English as the second official language, more than 60% of the voters chose English, while only 31% chose Minnan language variety (TVBS Poll Center Website). It seems obvious that many Taiwanese people see English as a neutral and non-political language that may better serve as a second official language than the politically charged Minnan language variety. The following recent controversies reflect Taiwan’s craze for multilingualism and linguistic democracy. 1. On 30 March 2002, President Chen Shui-Bian initiated the idea of making English the second official language. After responding to the Legislative Yuan’s inquiry regarding this proposal, Prime Minster Yu commissioned the Ministry of Education to establish a research and planning committee to investigate its legality and feasibility. It is envisioned to be implemented in 2009. 2. On 12 February 2003, the ‘Guoyu (Mandarin) Propagation Scheme’ (declared by the Republic of China on 9 June 1945) was abolished. Since the Nationalist Government retreat to Taiwan in 1949, this Mandarin Propagation Scheme had been the central language policy that dominated Taiwan’s educational system, mass communication and central administration. The unpublicised abolishment of the scheme reflects the political climate of Taiwan’s language policy. 3. In March 2003 the ‘National Language Equality Law’ was proposed and passed. Prime Minister Yu withheld implementation of this law because of its complexity and lack of practicality. Currently 14 national languages are recognised under the ‘National Language Equality Law’; however, only Mandarin is recognised and used as the ‘official language’.

Conclusions: Pan-Green versus Pan-Blue in the Geopolitics of Taiwan With the above social, technological and political factors, my speculation is that the English alphabet will be integrated into the Taiwanese writing system as Chinese integrates (Hindu-) Arabic numerals and the Western punctuation system into its writing system without thinking about them as being ‘foreign’. Unlike the Japanese, who use Katakana for transcribing foreign words, the tendency in Taiwan now is to integrate English expressions with all sorts of borrowing strategies, as mentioned earlier, while codeswitching is increasing in spoken and written forms. It

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shows that the Taiwanese are comfortable with integrating the English alphabet as part of its orthographic system. If English becomes the second official language after Mandarin, it is quite foreseeable that in a generation or two English as used in Taiwan will evolve into a distinctly Taiwanese English variety with lexicon and grammatical features that are borrowed from both Mandarin and other Taiwanese language varieties. Now let’s return to the three questions that I put forward at the beginning of this chapter. The first question was ‘how does the penetration of English affect the linguistic characteristics of Taiwan? In other words, what kind of role does English play in transforming Taiwan Mandarin into a new form of linguistic chop suey?’ From the above discussion, it is clear that English plays a leading role, and I would also suggest, a triggering role, in Taiwan’s current liberal and uninhibited attitudes towards codeswitching, lexical borrowing and wordplay. Taiwan’s ‘love affair’ with English and globalisation inspires and triggers Taiwan’s movement and endorsement for linguistic democracy. This consequently opens the floodgate for Taiwanese to integrate and appropriate boldly the language varieties that were classified by previous governments as either inferior (such as Minnan and Hakka) or forbidden (such as Japanese). Using Mandarin as the main ingredient, the Taiwanese are happily cooking up a linguistic chop suey that is spiced up with borrowed English lexicons and alphabets, local language varieties, Japanese Kana and lexicons, and bopomofo phonetic symbols. It is a very colourful and hearty dish indeed, but whether it is appetising or not, will depend on the individual’s palate. So ‘What kind of role does English play in the recent debate about the ‘‘National Language Equality Draft Law’’?’ After the ‘National Language Equality Law’ was passed in March 2003, the Taiwanese government realised the impracticality of implementing this law with 14 ethnic language varieties recognised as national languages. The implementation procedure has been withheld indefinitely, and Mandarin remains the only official language. A year earlier, when the ‘National Language Equality Draft Law’ was initially proposed, the Pan-Green (proindependence) Camp seemed to foresee this outcome. Therefore, immediately after the draft law was proposed, the idea of making English the second official language was initiated by President Chen Shui-Bian in 2002, as another channel to subvert the privilege of Mandarin, which is regarded as the Pan-Blue (prounification) Camp’s language. It seems obvious that English is seen as an alternative for the Pan-Green Camp to undermine the status of Mandarin. English has become not only a buffer language, but also political ammunition for subversion.

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‘What is the geopolitics behind the advocacy of making English the second official language besides the current Taiwan Mandarin? How is the advocacy of embracing English as a global language being exploited in Taiwanese geopolitics?’ The Pan-Green Camp’s advocacy of making English the second official language is apparently politically motivated. As making Minnan the second official language is currently not viable, the Pan-Green Camp is using globalisation as a front to promote English status in order to create a Taiwanese identity that is not associated with China or dominated by Chinese culture. English is seen as a politically neutral language that is acceptable for all ethnic groups in Taiwan. Although criticised by a few scholars and having generated moderate opposition from the Pan-Blue Camp,3 the Pan-Green Camp’s advocacy of English is generally unchallenged. The Pan-Green Camp’s agenda behind embracing English as the global language for Taiwan is to erode the dominance of Mandarin culture and its associated identity, and thereby gradually sever the cultural umbilical cord between Taiwan and China and assert Taiwan’s national identity and independence from China. Notes 1. Like fortune cookies, chop suey was invented in the USA and was popularised by the early Chinese immigrants in the Chinatowns during the mid-19th century. Derived from Cantonese pronunciation of the Mandarin term ‘za sui’, it literally means ‘miscellaneous chopped pieces’; connotatively, it may refer to the Americanisation of Chinese things. 2. Bopomofo refers to the first four symbols of the Mandarin phonetic system approved and promulgated by the Ministry of Education of the Republic of China in 1918. Similar to Pinyin used in Mainland China, bopomofo is the most common method for learning Mandarin pronunciation in Taiwan. The system consists of 5 tone symbols and 37 phonetic non-Roman symbols whose creation follows the similar principal of Japanese Kana by taking sections of Han characters. Each basic pronunciation of Chinese is made up of, at most, three phonetic symbols and exactly one tone symbol. 3. After President Chen Shui-Bian initiated the issue, the following day (31 March 2002) Taipei Mayor Ma Ying-jeou (belonging to the Pan-Blue Camp) was quoted saying that ‘It is not only unnecessary but also impossible to make English the second official language in Taiwan right now’. Ma’s argument was that Taiwan’s English education and government officials’ English proficiency were still too inadequate to make English an official language (Lin, 2002).

Chapter 13

Japanese: The Dialectic Relationships Between ‘Westerness’ and ‘Japaneseness’ as Reflected in English Loan Words ROTEM KOWNER and MICHAL DALIOT-BUL

A somewhat anecdotal yet revealing editorial in the Japanese daily Japan Times recently mentioned the linguistic sensitivity of Koizumi Jun’ichiro, then prime minister of Japan. Koizumi reportedly erupted in anger while listening to a presentation by his telecommunications minister, which was so full of English loan words that it became almost incomprehensible (Japan Times, editorial, 19 January 2003). A few months later the National Institute for Japanese Language (Kokuritsu Kokugo Kenkyuˆjo), affiliated with the Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology Ministry, established a Loanword Committee (Gairaigo Iinkai) designed to encourage the replacement of gaiaraigo [loan words] with native words (on this committee see http://www.kokken.go.jp/public/gairaigo/). Ironically perhaps, when Prime Minister Koizumi was asked how he hoped to implement such a reform he answered that he intended to utilise the masukomi [mass communication]
a very common term in contemporary Japanese, yet another English loan word (19 August 2002; NPR morning edition). Such expressions of personal resentment towards English loan words, as well as some institutional attempts to purify the Japanese language, are intriguing. Hitherto, extensive use of loan words in the governmentsponsored media and government publications in Japan suggested that even if postwar official policy on loan words was not targeted at promoting and actively encouraging their use, nothing was done to prevent it. English loan words, in fact, have become so prevalent in contemporary Japanese that an estimated one out of ten words used today in Japan are English loan words (cf. Stanlaw, 1992). 250

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Efforts at reform of the Japanese language sparked by an enraged prime minister provide an excellent opportunity to rethink the cultural position and the function of loan words in Japan. As we shall show, historical as well as political conditions have greatly affected the origin as well as the popularity of loan words. Nevertheless, we argue that the prevailing receptiveness in Japanese of loan words in general and English ones more specifically is also the result of linguistic practices shaped over many years of intercultural contacts. These practices do more than endow the speakers with technical tools to introduce and use loan words, as they mould, produce and then reproduce in a reciprocal feeding cycle an enthusiastic openness to loan words, while gracefully disarming the threat imposed by loan words to the unity and cohesion of the Japanese language. Linguistic practices regarding loan words in Japanese situate words of foreign origin as wholly available stylistic points of reference, and nurture an uninhibited seedbed for domestic creativity that sometimes reminds the observer of pure play (Goldstein-Gidoni & Daliot-Bul, 2002). This total availability, however, has its own rules. A semiotic differentiation of wago [Japanese words], kango [Chinese words] and gairaigo [foreign (Western) words] is resolutely maintained, providing protective cultural barriers between the ‘native’ and the ‘foreign’, even if the latter has been fully domesticated. Yet rather than yielding an authentic, unbiased description of the etymology of different words, this differentiation is highly manipulative because the cultural boundaries between Japanese, Chinese and Western words are continuously shifting (Tobin, 1992). Such manipulations exhibit a dialectical relationship between what is considered ‘Japanese’ as opposed to ‘foreign’ in Japanese language. More than anything else they seem to reflect an ongoing cultural construction and, indeed, efforts to cultural preservation of an imagined local identity and its boundaries against an imaginary ‘foreign’ (Befu, 1995; Goldstein-Gidoni, 2001). This sort of ‘strategic hybridism’ aims to discursively construct an image of an organic cultural identity, ‘Japan’, which absorbs foreign cultures without changing its cultural core (Iwabuchi, 2002: 53).

Linguistic Contacts: Historical Perspective The first Japanese encounter with English speakers was in 1600, when the illustrious navigator William Adams arrived in Japan (Corr, 1995). At that time, Japan had been exposed to Iberian trade and culture for more than half a century, so the effect of the few English mariners and

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merchants was rather limited, especially since England cut its commercial ties with Japan in 1623 (Loveday, 1986; Nish, 1994). Eventually, 17 years later, Japan sealed its gates to any European trade, except for the Dutch, who kept a trading station at the port of Nagasaki. During this initial contact with Europe the Japanese language borrowed a limited number of loan words from European languages, mainly theological concepts and terms for new foodstuffs, clothing and technological items that were introduced to Japan at the time. English lexical items, however, were very sparse in Japanese at the time, and the effect of Japanese on English was similarly slight (Cannon, 1996; Ogino, 1988). After the closing of Japan the Dutch legation in Nagasaki became the primary source of information in the country about recent events and scientific developments in Europe. An important school of thought known as rangaku [Dutch learning] evolved around the theoretical knowledge and scientific books the Dutch had brought (Goodman, 2000). Scholars of rangaku studied devotedly written Dutch, and became experts in European medicine, astronomy, botany and chemistry. Dutch loan words remained the most significant legacy of these contacts until the mid-19th century. The American forced opening of Japan’s ports in 1854 facilitated the reappearance of Western visitors and merchants, this time predominantly from English-speaking countries. English, or a form of it, soon became established as the lingua franca at the newly opened Japanese ports (cf. Fukuzawa, 1981). The re-encounter with the West demonstrated acutely the weakness of the shogunal regime and accelerated its demise. In 1868 Japan underwent one of the most dramatic events in its long history. In a revolution, known as the Meiji Restoration, a movement of samurai from the periphery managed to overthrow the military dictatorship of the Tokugawa shogunate. The spectacular Westernisation and modernisation project the government embarked on was highly motivated by the Japanese elite’s bitter feeling of inferiority to the Western world powers; a deep sense of discrimination combined with fear led to a new sort of nationalism (Coulmas, 1990; Ivy, 1995). In the eyes of those who strongly opposed the government policy, the growing cultural import from the West represented a threat to the cultural identity of Japan. Not long after, calls for balancing ‘Japanese spirit and Western technology’ [wakon yoˆsai] were heard. But this idea that foreign technology could be domesticated without affecting the integrity of the Japanese spiritual heritage was not altogether new. It was the same kind of narrative advanced by scholars a thousand of years earlier during the era of massive cultural importation from China.

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The modernisation process that Japan embarked on prompted the need for a new vocabulary as well. During the first decades after the Meiji Restoration thousands of Sino-Japanese words were added to the Japanese lexicon. Many of these were coined as loan translations (calques) of new concepts introduced from the West. So impressive was this ‘Chinese’ revival, in fact, that those responsible for language reform in China a few decades later resorted heavily to recently invented Sino-Japanese technical lexemes from Japan (e.g. Cousland, 1908). Meanwhile, the growing volume of intercultural contacts and international commerce enhanced still more the importance of English. Most Japanese leaders identified with the goals of modernization, and chose English as a means to achieve their goal. Already in the 1870s it was very trendy among students to ornament their conversation with English vocabulary. Examples are (Umegaki, 1975:76): sore ja, peiji toenti kara peiji saˆchi made kimi ni yaroˆ Well, we’ll have you prepare pages twenty to thirty.1 sore ni tsuite, jitsu ni ridikyurasu na hanashi ga aru no sa As a matter of fact, I know a really ridiculous [funny] story on that one. Some people found the process of acquisition of numerous loan words too slow and inadequate. In the mid-1870s, Mori Arinori, one of the leading educators and political figures of the Meiji era, who became the first Japanese education minister in 1886, asserted that the Japanese language allowed only a weak and obscure mode of communication. For this reason, he suggested, it should be replaced by English as the national language (Miller, 1977; Twine, 1991). Even certain members of the Meirokusha, an influential study group founded by scholar and educator Fukuzawa Yukichi in 1873, wondered if it was not in the best interest of Japan to give up its illogical and feudalistic language in favour of the more rational and modern English (Tobin, 1992). Their efforts were ultimately doomed, but they still represent an important indication of the mood of those times. During the 1880s many schools incorporated English language programmes [eigaku] in their curriculum, the process of adoption of English loan words was intensified and the concept of loan words (gairaigo) was coined (Howland, 2001). A report published by the Ministry of Education in 1874 stated that during that year 82 English schools operated in Japan. In those schools, attended by some 6000 students, English was taught by 254 Japanese teachers and 56 foreign teachers. Although these developments targeted the higher social strata,

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this new phenomenon attracted public awareness, as attested by a popular folk song from those days (Umegaki, 1975: 73): bunmeikaika no nihon de, sumoru boi ya gyaru made shikiri to, eigo wo benkyoˆ suru. kodomo no benkyoˆ minnate oyaji mo korekara e bi shi. In the opening civilisation of Japan, small boys and even girls Are earnestly learning English. Watching the learning children, From now on, fathers will start learning as well: A, B, C. English, however, was not adopted exclusively by the intelligentsia. In fact, before the institutional reorganisation took place to meet the growing demand to study English, contacts in the seaports between local people, mostly merchants, and foreign seamen produced a local pidgin based on a mixture of English and Japanese (Bolton & Kachru, 2006; Kinney, 1873; Leland, 1879). Those English words that were incorporated into the everyday language of the docks, such as kamensai [come inside], kamisho [commission] or uerukamu [welcome], were learned from hearing, and consequently involved many pronunciation mistakes. Some expressions originating in misunderstanding took root. One such amusing example is the naming of Western dogs kameya [come here] (Umegaki, 1975). At the beginning of the 20th century, mastering English became a status symbol, and had practical consequences too, especially when applied to international trade or politics. An increasing number of Japanese went abroad to study foreign languages and their knowledge was instrumental in further accommodation of English loan words (Stanlaw, 1992). Many loan words used earlier as means of selfdemarcation due to the special connotations they elicited became neutral and unmarked during the short Taishoˆ era (1912
1926). In 1926 the Ministry of Education published new guidelines for the transcription of loan words in Japanese that were devised to allow a better approximation of their original pronunciation (Umegaki, 1975). In accordance with the hedonistic spirit of the 1920s in urban Japan, many new loan words referring to sports, technology and fashion were introduced. During the first part of the Shoˆwa era (1926
1941), loan words nicknamed modaˆn go (modern words) were especially popular. These were actually English-inspired vocabulary items conceived and created in Japan,

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which were later to be known as wasei eigo [‘English made in Japan’] (Storry, 1987). The cultural dominance of the liberal left in the early 1920s, and the recent developments in mass communication, notably the radio and the printed media, contributed dramatically to the introduction and immediate spread of these new modern expressions. Many of them contained either gaˆru [girl] or ero [erotic] in them. Such were expressions like ero gaˆru [erotic girl] and ero ki [erotic atmosphere], or erebetoˆ gaˆru [elevator girl, namely a female elevator operator], ofisu gaˆru [office girl, namely a young woman employed in minor clerical tasks] and notably modaˆn gaˆru [modern girl, referring to an urban, up-to-date, stylish, and liberal young woman], which was soon shortened to moga. The ‘modern words’ phenomenon drew so much public attention that many dictionaries for modern words, as well as special supplements to popular magazines on modern words, were published and snapped up by an excited readership (Umegaki, 1975). The early Showa era (1926
1941) held the all-time record of gairaigo introduction to Japanese until 1972, with a skyrocketing number of loan words from English. Yet, the popularity of English was not unanimous. At the height of the modern words phenomenon an enraged opposition was calling for ‘eigoka haishiron’ [abolition of English language studies] as a move to block the influx of English words and Anglo-Saxon culture into Japan. Still, it was only the Pacific War (1941
1945) that succeeded in suppressing effectively the enthusiasm for Western ideas, fashions and words. Before and during the war the government exerted much effort to ban the use of English
the language of the enemy. English loan words that were already part of colloquial Japanese were replaced by SinoJapanese words (Stanlaw, 1992). The radio news broadcasts, for example, known since the late Taishoˆ era as nyuˆzu [news], were thereafter announced with the kango word hoˆdoˆ. Radio broadcasters, called until then anaunsaˆ [announcer], were renamed hoˆsoˆin. All signs in English were removed from train stations. English inscriptions, such as ‘WC’ and ‘Post’, were removed from public toilets and mailboxes respectively. Ironically, while linguistic censorship went immediately into effect in radio broadcasting, the word ‘radio’ itself
the most important mass-communication medium of those times
remained rajio (Umegaki, 1975). The purge of English vocabulary from Japanese did not survive long. Japan’s surrender in August 1945 transformed this tendency instantly. During the subsequent Occupation era (1945
1952) official as well as non-official channels of intercultural communication were re-established.

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In addition to many new technical words in English that were introduced into Japan by the occupation forces, two pidgin versions of the so-called ‘Bamboo English’ were invented. One served the communication between the American soldiers and the shop owners and government employees with whom they came into contact, while the other served the communication needs of GIs with local women who entertained them. These two pidgin forms withered after the end of the Occupation era and the Korean War, leaving behind a few expressions such as mama san [a woman owner of a bar or the woman in charge of a bar’s hostesses] (Stanlaw, 1992). In postwar Japan English quickly regained its prewar status. In 1947 the study of English became obligatory in schools (Obata-Reiman, 1996). Moreover, during the 1950s the Far-East American Military Radio broadcasts, as well as American movies and later on American television, performed an important role in the introduction of material and popular American culture to Japan, to the point that it became the rage of Japanese popular culture (Tobin, 1992). A survey of the usage of words in English, as well as the practice of codeswitching in Japanese popular songs since 1931, indicates a steeply rising tendency from the Pacific War to the present (Nishimura, 1997; Obata-Reiman, 1996). The outstanding economic achievements of Japan during the 1960s and the Tokyo Olympics in 1964 in particular marked the complete recovery and international readmittance of Japan. With the emergence of a full-scale consumer culture in the mid-1970s, globalisation, and the technological developments in the communication industries of the late 20th century, a popular culture saturated with Western, mostly English, loan words has emerged in all areas of daily life in Japan. At present the ratio of gairago has probably surpassed 10%, of which about 90% of the words are from English. English loan words are even more prevalent in the mass media, and their omnipresence in advertisements is not matched, perhaps, in any language other than English itself (Haarmann, 1984, 1986, 1989). The above ratio is a great increase over the 1.4% of gairaigo in the Genkai dictionary published in 1859, the 3.5% in the Reikai Kokugojiten dictionary published in 1956, and even the 7.8% in the Shin Meikai Kokugojiten dictionary published in 1972 (Carroll, 1991; Shibatani, 1990). In absolute terms the omnipresence of gairaigo seems perhaps even more impressive. The 1972 Sanseido gairaigojiten [Sanseido Dictionary of Loan Words] contained approximately 33,000 entries, the 2005 third edition of Sanseido konsaisu katakanago jiten [Concise Dictionary of Katakana Words] contains 45,000 entries and 7,500 acronyms. Some scholars predicted, in fact, that gairaigo may gradually

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replace all the Chinese vocabulary in the Japanese language (Ishino, 1977; Passin, 1982).

Attitudes to English Loan Words in Contemporary Japan The use of gairaigo vocabulary, particularly words originating in English, has a special connotation in contemporary Japan. It often denotes prestige, and has an additional connotation of modernity, open-mindedness, internationalism and the Western lifestyle. The mass media use gairaigo to appeal to readers’ and viewers’ feelings of attraction, arousal and self-esteem rather than to transfer information (Haarmann, 1989; Stanlaw, 1992). Further, the present use of English loan words symbolises modernity rather than modernisation, and expresses one’s level of acquisition of Westerness (Loveday, 1986, 1997). In spite of the torrent of gairaigo in present-day Japan, the number of fluent speakers of English is relatively low, so the effect of gairaigo on acquisition of foreign languages and even the openness to foreign languages seems very limited (Inoguchi, 1999). One partial explanation is that the frequency of usage of gairaigo by laymen is lower that that of native words (Shibata, 1989), but it is probably similar to use of loan words in many other languages. The ambivalent attitude to English as a whole might be better understood if we examined the discourse of national identity in contemporary Japan and the role language plays in it. Since the 1960s Japanese society has been in quest of a cultural redefinition of its identity, together with exhibiting a strong need for the invention of tradition. This is reflected in the vast literature about ‘Japaneseness’ known as nihonjinron, whose volume swelled significantly from the 1970s onward (Minami, 1994; Befu, 2001). In this literary genre ‘Japaneseness’ is defined and located as the inverse image of an imaginary ‘Westerness’, attesting to the importance of a culturally constructed ‘West’ in the ongoing invention of a Japanese identity. The Japanese language has become a major component for nihonjinron proponents and many of them use supposedly indigenous Japanese linguistic terminology as prototypical concepts around which they develop their theses about ‘Japanese uniqueness’ (e.g. Kindaichi, 1957; Watanabe, 1974). A large number of writers contrasted Japanese with English, using extreme dichotomies such as vague versus clear and intuitive versus logical (e.g. Araki, 1986; Tobioka, 1999). These comparisons often set English as a superior language, but remote, cold and inappropriate for use by Japanese (cf. Dale, 1986). Tsunoda (1978) went farther, in suggesting that the Japanese process their language in a

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unique manner due to a shift in brain lateralisation. In his pseudobiological theory, Tsunoda also attempted to account for the notorious Japanese incompetence in mastering foreign languages, English in particular. For those operating within the nihonjinron tradition, any semantic element in the native lexicon, as opposed to loan words from Chinese or Western languages, could be brought to bear on arguments for the uniqueness of inherently Japanese characteristics (Dale, 1986). Thus, subjected to an extraordinarily avid public interest, the national language becomes a means of collective self-examination and of soul searching but also of creating a strong distinction between ‘us’ and ‘them’, Japanese and Westerners in particular (Kowner, 2002, 2003; Miller, 1982).

Language Policy and Its Influence on English Loan Words One of the principal factors that may explain the ubiquity of English loan words in modern Japanese is Japan’s language policy. Japan does not have any national institution specifically in charge of the organisation and planning of linguistic borrowing. In fact, during the early stages of modernisation the flow of English loan words was so widespread and uncontrolled that a genuine though temporary Japanese-based pidgin developed and undoubtedly affected the mainstream language (cf. Goodman, 1967; Loveday, 1986; Miller, 1967). Consequently, certain loan words penetrated the language with only a fraction of their semantic scope, while others acquired new meanings, and still others received more than one phonological structure. Today the influx of loan words from English into Japanese remained without official control although dictionaries and almanacs provide some guidance by functioning inter alia as containers of any recent genuine linguistic acquisitions. The successive reforms of the Japanese language in the 20th century were the joint product of pressure groups that stimulated public interest and the resultant government committees that took over and finalised the suggested reforms. The need for new vocabulary items has led, as often is the case elsewhere, to ideological debates between purists and reformers. During the Meiji era there were various levels of opposition to reform. The General Style [Futsuˆbun] Movement, for example, opposed the use of a colloquial style in Japanese, as well as the unification of written and colloquial styles. Instead it pressed for modifications in the existing style (Twine, 1991). As for the adoption of loan words, some critics argue even today that massive borrowing instead of creating an indigenous lexicon is a symbol of cultural backwardness and threat to the

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language (Burling, 1992). Others contend that enlarging a vocabulary using words which few understand reinforces the indifference or ambiguous attitude of the Japanese public to the meaning of words (Ueno, 1980). In contrast, supporters of loan word adoption argue that they enrich the language and make foreign languages more accessible (cf. Kawamoto, 1983). Established toward the end of the 19th century, linguistic societies, such as the Society for Unification of Speech and Writing [Gembun no Itchi Kai] and the Language Association [Gengo Gakkai], prodded consistently for reforms in writing style, standardisation of the language, as well as the establishment of a national language advisory body (Twine, 1978; Yamamoto, 1969). Eventually, in 1900 the government, through the Education Ministry, established the National Language Inquiry Society [Kokugo Choˆsakai], which was replaced in 1902 by the larger National Language Inquiry Board [Kokugo Choˆsa Iinkai]. The following years were characterised by continuous linguistic reforms. In 1900 the shape of the kana (a general term for the two indigenous syllabaries, the katakana and the hiragana) letters was standardised; in 1901 the Education Ministry determined the practice of a standard form of Japanese, namely the variant used by the Tokyo upper-middle classes, and a year later the National Language Inquiry Board published the first official normative grammars (Maher, 1995). The wave of linguistic reforms also affected the use of loan words. In 1902 the Ministry of Education issued the first official guidelines for the transcription of foreign names (locations as well as personal names) with katakana syllabary, thereby acknowledging their growing importance. However, in the reforms instituted in the primary schools’ education programme in 1910 and 1911 those guidelines were not followed. It was only in 1926 that a temporary National Language Inquiry Society [Rinji Kokugo Choˆsakai] was established by the Education Ministry, and it proposed reforming the rules of loan-word transcription. Subsequently, a public report on the transcription of foreign languages was issued and accepted as a regulatory document. As attested by the written legacy of the popular culture of those days, several conventions that were added to the script to allow better approximation of the original sounds of the loan words were indeed implemented. At the same time, little attention was paid to the spoken language, and the amazing adaptation of Japanese to contemporary conceptual and technological development was achieved almost without institutional intervention (Umegaki, 1975). After many transformations, in 1934 the Education Ministry established the National Language Council [Kokugo Shingikai], which seven

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years later issued a new report on the transcription of foreign words. The main policy advocated by this report was to avoid using writing conventions that represented foreign phonemes nonexistent in Japanese. This was a substantive regression from the previous report published in 1926, which may be interpreted as part of the institutional efforts during the Pacific War to purify the Japanese language. The regression was so considerable that the new report was not very different from the first official guidelines for the writing of foreign names, issued in 1902 (Umegaki, 1975). The Japanese defeat in 1945 opened the way to another set of reforms. The National Language Council focused mainly on script reforms of kanji (Gottlieb, 1995; Seeley, 1991; Unger, 1996), but in 1954 it issued new guidelines on the proper written rendering of loan words in a special policy report (Umegaki, 1975). Seeking a compromise between the desire to standardise the transcription of loan words while conscious that many loan words had already been nativised to the point where changing their spelling was impossible, the report was to dictate the official guidelines for loan-word transcription for the next 37 years. In 1991 an up-to-date, amended policy document on the writing of foreign loan words was published, which outlined the usage of katakana (Kokugo Shingikai, 1991). This document manifests a desire to turn Japanese into a more communicative and international language, as can be observed in an concentrated search for a pronunciation closer to the original words, including the introduction of new non-native phonemes (Carroll, 1997; Gottlieb, 1994). Having started back in the 1920s, this linguistic effort to sustain some of the original sounds of English loan words by constructing new phonemes with letter compounds based on existing letters (e.g. di, ti, fi) was implemented only for katakana. Nevertheless, it has already affected the sound system of modern Japanese as a whole, and may still enhance further transformations (for a table of contemporary spelling, see Loveday, 1997: 115). In 1948 the National Japanese Language Research Institute [Kokuritsu Kokugo Kenkyuˆjo] was established as an affiliate of the Education Ministry to implement the policy adopted by the National Language Council (Gottlieb, 1995). Since then it has conducted research in the area of linguistic structure, linguistic change and Japanese language teaching. Among the approximately one hundred volumes of scientific research published by the institute until the end of the century, there was one setting forth guidelines on teaching loan words (Kokuritsu Kokugo Kenkyuˆjo, 1990). For many years the activities of the institute, did not focus on lexical modernisation, and its contribution to planning or to

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moderating the adoption of foreign words was minimal (Grootaers, 1983). Following the previously mentioned intervention of Prime Minister Koizumi in 2002, however, a special committee composed recommended guidelines for the replacement of ‘‘difficult to understand loanwords’’ which are currently widely used by public channels of communication, with easier to understand Japanese words (gairaigo iikae teian: wakarinikui gairaigo wo wakariyasuku suru tame no goitukai no kuhu¯). In 2006 the committee published its recommendation for the replacement of about 60 such loanwords (see: http://www.kokken.go.jp/public/gairaigo/). Japan’s public broadcasting organisation, NHK [Nippon Hoˆsoˆ Kyoˆkai], also has had a significant role in language planning in general, and controlling the usage of loan words in particular (Carroll, 1995). Through its two research organs, the Committee on Broadcast Research Language [Hoˆsoˆ Yoˆgo Iinkai] and the Research Group on Broadcast Research Language [Hoˆsoˆ Yoˆgo Kenkyuˆhan], NHK has served since the Pacific War as the single most important institution in defining the standard language and in disseminating it throughout Japan. Since the first radio broadcast in 1925, NHK has been instrumental in controlling and promulgating the use of loan words. It even published a book regarding, inter alia, the correct katakana spelling of loan words (NHK, 1987). This contribution, however, has been overwhelmed in recent decades by the growth of commercial TV and radio stations. Not only are they more popular than NHK, they tend to use and introduce more Englishinspired words due to more liberal attitudes and various commercial needs. In the absence of substantial official guidance, the role of tracking, cataloguing and standardising the massive penetration of foreign words in Japan was undertaken partly by compilers of dictionaries. Since Japan’s early history, dictionaries have been an integral and influential part of Japanese intellectual life, and in the last century a special genre of professional dictionaries and lexicons [senmon jiten] has developed. This type of dictionary
a strong indication of a society that cherishes knowledge and information
consists currently of several thousands of specific volumes covering almost every field. They include dictionaries of recently coined words, dictionaries of slang and dictionaries of loan words (e.g. Arakawa, 1977; Motwani, 1991; Saito, 1985). Most of them are published by non-state organisations and companies, such as the annually issued Gendai Yoˆgo no Kiso Chishiki [Basic Knowledge of Contemporary Terminology], which deals with new terms, most of which are loan words, classified according to subjects (e.g. Jiyuˆkokumin, 2004). Others are the outcome of an enterprise of the Ministry of Education,

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Science and Culture. Together with the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science and the similar Scientific Association, it has compiled, since the 1950s, scores of dictionaries of scientific terms [gakujutsu yoˆgo shuˆ] in all the major scientific disciplines (e.g. Ministry of Education, Science and Culture, 1986). Evidently, language policies in Japan have focused mainly on the written language. In contrast to the spoken language, it is relatively easy, as Carroll (1997) argues, to codify, set standards for and monitor the written. Yet even here, most attention was paid to the kanji and least to katakana. The official assignment of katakana to the writing of loan words can be interpreted as official legitimisation of loan words. The small number of katakana reforms, as well as the attempt in most of them (except the one initiated during the Pacific War) to formulate a smoother, more flexible and more adequate transcription of loan words, suggests that the government has been adopting a liberal, supportive noninvolvement policy in regard to loan words. This laissez-faire attitude to loan words (except for a short interlude during the Pacific War) may be an acknowledgement of the government’s inability to control the penetration of foreign vocabulary, enhanced by the implicit view that the uninhibited acquisition of loan words is an important tool in the ongoing process of modernisation. Nevertheless, this policy, or its absence, has been a crucial factor in the influx of gairaigo, English loan words in particular, into Japanese (Kowner & Rosenhouse, 2001).

Linguistic Features and Practices of Loan Words in Japanese Although linguistic features and practices may be altered by institutional language policies, they are in fact the result of complex, historical, multidimensional and often even coincidental influences. In the following, we offer an analysis of certain linguistic features and practices in Japanese that reflect as well as mould cultural receptivity to loan words. As we shall show, various linguistic practices express the dialectical relationship between the cultural constructs of ‘Japaneseness’ and ‘foreign’ in Japan. Although many in Japan express their resentment towards the influx of gairaigo into Japanese, in an odd way the presence of loan words enhances the unity and integrity of the ‘Japanese language’ and consequently of an ‘original’ Japanese culture. The domestication patterns of kango have affected the domestication patterns of gairaigo. As we pointed out above, loan words in Japanese are categorised in two groups. The first includes words that derive from

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Chinese and are called kango; the second includes all other loan words that are termed gairaigo. Certain scholars have argued that this sociolinguistic differentiation between kango and other loan words is not justifiable from a purely linguistic point of view, as the patterns of domestication of kango influenced the patterns of domestication of loan words from other languages centuries later (e.g. Ishiwata, 1991). In the 7th century kango were incorporated into Japanese in great numbers, along with massive cultural importation from China that started a new era in Japanese history. The official support that it enjoyed from the Japanese court and aristocracy ceased in the 10th century. Nevertheless, with the help of merchants, pirates, artists and clerics the cultural domestication of many aspects of the Chinese culture still had a prominent effect at least until the 18th century (Pollack, 1986). The cultural legacy of those centuries leaves no doubt as to the prevailing liberal attitudes to the incorporation of new and foreign repertoires and modes of behaviour, which changed the Japanese culture dramatically. A more critical inquiry into the ways Japanese represented their culture to themselves at that time, however, results in a complex interpretation of the inner-cultural debate that took place on the influx of Chinese culture. During the early stages of the Japanese emulation of Chinese culture, things ‘Japanese’ [wa] had to be considered in relation to what was considered ‘Chinese’ [kan]. In this manner, ‘Japanese’ and ‘Chinese’ did not exist as objective identities but as antithetical cultural constructs of a uniquely Japanese dialectic known as wakan [Sino-Japanese] (Pollack, 1986). The importance some intellectuals gave to the maintenance of the boundaries of Japanese culture under such circumstances is well expressed in the 9th-century slogan ‘wakon kansai’ [Japanese spirit, Chinese technology]. This slogan is attributed to Sugawara no Michizane (845
903), who advocated the introduction of Chinese elements as long as they did not harm the integrity of Japanese cultural identity. From a linguistic viewpoint, in addition to the influx of kango, the agglutinative and analytic elements prevalent in contemporary Japanese (but originally absent in the languages of the Altaic family, including Japanese) were created during those years in order to smooth the introduction of Chinese vocabulary items (Nishikawa, 1988; Umegaki, 1975). Furthermore, as no script existed in Japan until then, the Chinese kanji character system was also imported en bloc. At first, the political and intellectual elite of the rising kingdom of Yamato (Japan) was content to speak Japanese and write in Chinese, and all official documents and theological writings were written in Chinese. It was only in the 8th

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century that the Chinese script system was domesticated and adapted to Japanese. Originally each Chinese character was an ideograph that symbolised a single idea (logograph), but during its evolution much of the Chinese vocabulary came to comprise of words made of more than one character. When adapted to Japanese, some characters were read in Japanese according to their original meaning, others were read as Chinese loan words that had been changed phonetically in accordance with Japanese pronunciation, while yet others were used phonetically as a syllabary script regardless of their original meaning. Chinese characters were also used as building blocks for the creation of new words in Japanese. This new form of linguistic adaptation facilitated the introduction of SinoJapanese words, that is, Chinese ‘made in Japan’, into Japanese. During the 9th century, under the influence of Sanskrit studies of Buddhist monks and their knowledge of the alphabets of India, two original purely phonetic syllabary scripts, the hiragana and the katakana, were developed in Japan. The method was to simplify certain Chinese characters used in the first syllabary script (Seeley, 1991). During centuries of intensive linguistic importation from China, linguistic tools facilitating the smoother introduction of loan words were created. Furthermore, during those years linguistic practices that allowed great creativity with loan words and even legitimised disconnecting form and sound from content (or signifier from signified), while vigilantly maintaining a wakan dialectical discourse, were established. In the following centuries, and, as we shall see, to the present day, these sociolinguistic resources have been reappropriated in new contexts. Written form The modern Japanese writing system consists of three independent scripts (Chinese kanji ideographs, hiragana, katakana) that are used together, although each could theoretically represent the language’s entire phonological range (Habein, 1984; Seeley, 1991). In addition, Latin letters are frequently used, usually for acronyms, commercial names and numbers (on the increasing use of English or Latin-based text in the public space of contemporary Tokyo, see Backhaus, 2007a, 2007b). Nonetheless, the backbone of Japanese writing is the Chinese kanji character system. In modern standard Japanese, Chinese characters are used for conceptual words (mainly substantives, verbs and adjectives) and indigenous names. Alongside the Chinese script, there are two indigenous phonetic scripts known as kana. The first, Hiragana, is used

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for writing inflectional endings of conceptual words (written in the Chinese kanji characters), particles, as well as words previously written with rare Chinese characters, whereas the second, katakana, is used chiefly to write loan words of non-Chinese origin, non-Japanese proper names, native onomatopoeic words and the names of some plants and animals. The latter is also used to write cables, to indicate the phonetic reading of difficult Chinese characters (known as furigana) or for special poetic effects and emphasis (Rebuck, 2002). The complexity of the contemporary Japanese script transforms the characters in use from mere arbitrarily agreed conventions to being part of the communicated message. Thus, the possibility of exchanging one script for another becomes a means for sophisticated written communication (see for example, Ivy, 1988: 25). Originally, katakana was used by men only, to punctuate and facilitate the reading of documents in Chinese. Thereafter it was used in combination with Chinese characters in the writing of official documents (Shoshashidoˆ, 1994). It is not clear when katakana started to be used for writing loan words, but Christian priests arriving in Japan from the 16th century may have been the first to study the rules of transcribing foreign languages with kana. They began by trying to translate religious concepts into Japanese, but because of the many misunderstandings they decided to use the original words transcribed phonetically (Umegaki, 1975). Although inadequate, transcription rules formulated by Father Joa˜o Rodrigues in his book Arte da Lingoa de Japam (Nagasaki, 1604
1608) were adopted by the Japanese intelligentsia throughout the Edo era (1600
1868). This does not mean that using katakana to transcribe loan words into Japanese was common practice. In fact, although some intellectuals, such as Arai Hakuseki (1657
1725), had already been doing so, most translators used kanji, and only sometimes hiragana or katakana. Institutional efforts to standardise the transcription of loan words with katakana began only in the early 20th century, suggesting that by that time it had already become customary. Today, katakana is so identified with loan words that they are sometimes referred to as katakanago [katakana words]. One of the main reasons for the current prevalence of English loan words in Japanese is arguably the existence of a separate script for writing foreign words (Honna, 1995). The option of using katakana carries immense advantages for smoothing the process of domesticating foreign words, even though it is not impossible to write loan words in Chinese characters. The word koˆhii [Dutch: koffie], for example, is still often . Nevertheless, the phonetic use of written in Chinese characters:

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Chinese characters (known as ateji) is much less convenient than using a simple phonetic syllabary, such as the katakana. Writing loan words with katakana seems convenient also because it is conspicuous in the flow of a sentence written in Japanese, and immediately betrays the origin of loan words, which eases, in turn, the process of recognising and deciphering them. Compare, for example, the transcription of ‘club’ into [kurabu], and the French capital ‘Paris’ into , as was the custom and , respectively. during Meiji period, to the modern But there is more to writing in katakana than this. Official encouragement to write non-Chinese loan words with katakana can justifiably be regarded as institutional approval of loan words. The government’s initiative to assign a special syllabary to loan words, and to continuously improve and elaborate on it, allowing better phonetic transcription, can be regarded as part of a language policy that accepts and actually encourages the importing of loan words. This policy is more sophisticated than it seems, as while providing linguistic devices to assimilate loan words better into Japanese, it simultaneously keeps loan words permanently in the special status of foreign words.

Phonology Although phonetic adaptation of loan words in Japanese follows certain rules, it is rather complex and also has many exceptions to the rules. It is difficult to offer a fully adequate and comprehensive account here (for a more detailed description, see Ishiwata, 1991; Ohso, 1991; Umegaki, 1975). A general description of the more important rules may suffice: 1. In principle, all phonetic domestication of loan words in Japanese is based on the sound of the original words rather than on their script. Nevertheless, due to the phonological constraints of Japanese (i.e. limited number of phonemes and vowels (Miller, 1967), and almost all syllables being open phonetically), loan words sound quite different from their original pronunciation (Lovins, 1975; Vance, 1986). 2. Phonemes that do not exist in Japanese such as /l/ or /v/ as in ‘love’ are replaced by existing phonemes, in this case /r/ and /b/: ‘rabu’. 3. Nonexisting vowels, and nonexisting combinations of consonant vowel, are approximated according to their original sound. Thus, ‘cheese’ is pronounced chıˆzu; ‘pair’ is pronounced pea, ‘water’ is pronounced uoˆtaˆ, and ‘silk’ is pronounced shiruku.

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4. Closed syllables are changed into open ones by addition of vowels. The vowel /u/, the shortest in Japanese, is the one most frequently used, unless another habit has formed through several years of usage. Therefore, while ‘Spain’ is pronounced supein and ‘bus’ is pronounced basu, ‘brake’ is pronounced bureˆki. However, after /t/ and /d/ the vowel /o/ is usually added since /t/ /u/ in Japanese is pronounced /tsu/, and /d//u/ is pronounced /dzu/. Here again, this rule is implemented only provided another habit has not become common practice. Thus, while ‘pocket’ is pronounced pocketto, ‘shirt’ is pronounced shatsu. 5. When the consonant /r/ is not followed by a vowel, it is usually omitted and replaced by stretching the previous vowel, as in car pronounced kaˆ, ‘heart’ pronounced haˆto, or ‘sport’ pronounced supoˆtsu. 6. Stressing of consonants by doubling them has many exceptions to the rules. Generally in loan words, consonants that come after short vowels are doubled: ‘top’ becomes toppu, and ‘snack’ becomes sunakku. Interestingly, this rule not only has several variations, for example, according to the number of syllables in the word, it is also not consistent with Japanese phonetics. Unlike in loan words, in Japanese phonetics only voiceless consonants following short vowels are stressed. For this reason, pronouncing loan words in which voiced consonants are doubled is difficult for Japanese speakers, so they change them into voiceless consonants. ‘Bed’ becomes betto, and ‘big’ becomes bikku. All English loan words undergo a process of phonetic ‘Japanisation’. Phonetic domestication in Japanese is so systematic that even in codeswitching to English, words that are not categorised as loan words, but as English idioms or parts of whole English phrases, are usually also pronounced after being phonetically Japanised. During an official visit to ground zero in New York, Prime Minister Koizumi Junichiro, for instance, made a statement to the accompanying Japanese press incorporating a number of Japanised phrases such as: uıˆ masuto fuaito terorizumu [we must fight terrorism] (Rebuck, 2002). Though being a full independent grammatical sentence in English, the prime minister still pronounced it according to Japanese phonology. This tendency, which is ever-present in Japanese popular culture, can be interpreted from a pragmatic point of view as playing with the ‘foreign’ on familiar Japanese grounds. This suggests a dual approach, comprising almost

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aggressive domestication while maintaining the communicative-markedness of the ‘foreign’ versus the ‘native’. Morphology In the process of domesticating loan words in Japanese, several patterns of morphological adaptation are noteworthy. We note two of the more common morphological transformation only: 1. English loan words are occasionally shortened by omission of their first or last parts, as in ‘blanket’, which has become ketto, and ‘dynamite’, which has become maito; or as in ‘demonstration’, which has become demo, and ‘department store’, which has become depaˆto. Sometimes, imported nouns formulated originally from more than one word are shortened by one or more syllables to become a new single integrated Japanese lexeme. Thus, ‘personal computer’ becomes pasokon, ‘mother complex’ becomes mazaˆkon and ‘sexual harassment’ becomes sekuhara. The license to treat syllables as carriers of meaning, rather than the whole word or at least its original root, is attributable to the influence of Chinese (Ishiwata, 1991). As we briefly described earlier in this chapter, after their adaptation to Japanese, Chinese characters that represent phonetically one syllable as well as a semantic meaning became the building blocks for newly coined words in Sino-Japanese. What allows the application of this linguistic tool to English words is that unlike in Chinese, syllables in English do not have an independent meaning. Furthermore, arbitrary shortening of words does not comply with the patterns of coinage of new words in English. Nevertheless, though shortening loan words creates many homonyms, for example, ‘sentimental’ and ‘centimetre’ both become senchi, or ‘home’ and ‘platform’ both become hoˆmuˆ, uninhibited omission of syllables is very common practice with English loan words in Japan. 2. The Japanese language is characterised by intricate politeness systems that depend on sociolinguistic factors. These systems distinguish between formal and informal styles, and numerous options of honorific language [keigo] (see Harada, 1976). Japanese speakers need to choose from several alternatives, which express the same message, while usually referring to the listener in a ‘respectful’ (‘honorific’) mode and to oneself in a ‘humble’ manner (cf. Hill et al., 1986, Ogino, 1986). To create a politer register, the honorific prefix ‘o’ is attached to some nominal loan words. A bartender states to a customer that he is about to serve o-biru [beer] or o-koˆhii [coffee]. The prefix ‘o’ is

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also used to produce euphemisms, ‘cleaner language’, to denote somewhat embarrassing things. The word ‘toilet’, for example, itself a euphemism used to avoid the local terminology, is first shortened and then prefixed with a formal ‘o’ resulting in the word o-toire (Miller, 1967). The morphological changes some loan words undergo reflect a carefree and liberal attitude to them. They are treated like building blocks, just as Chinese-like morphemes are used, in the innovative ongoing creation of the Japanese language. Here too, as with the phonetic adaptation of loan words, the dual approach of domesticating loan words to the point of detaching them altogether from their original context, while maintaining their culturally constructed foreignness as a communicative attribute, is prominent. Semantic features As with many other host languages, the absorption of foreign words into Japanese language leads to certain semantic phenomena that can be summarised as follows. Semantic deficiency

Many of the English loan words fill semantic voids in Japanese, mainly in the modern technological domain. In certain domains the vast majority of terms are loan words (mechanical terms, computer terms, automobile parts). English terms have even replaced certain indigenous nomenclatures, and by the mid-1970s 52% of flower names, 35% of vegetable names and 24% of animal names are based on English words (Morimoto, 1978). Semantic redundancy

The existence of many loan words leads to lexical redundancy. The borrowed adjectives biggu (big) and kyuˆto (cute), for example, sometimes replace the local adjectives oˆkii and kawaii, respectively. The noun miruku [milk] is at times used instead of gyuˆnyuˆ. Often this redundancy can only be explained in terms of the functionality of loan words as stylistic devices for self-presentation or as a response to external cultural influences. A closer look suggests that in many other examples this redundancy is only apparent. The loan word and the local one denote roughly the same notion, but with a certain semantic variation or qualification. While ikebana, for example, denotes a Japanese style flower arrangement, furawaˆ areˆnji (flower arrangement) denotes a Western-style one. While daidokoro denotes a Japanese-style kitchen, kicchin [kitchen]

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denotes the modern Western variation; and, while maguro is the name of tuna fish served Japanese style, tsuna [tuna] always refers to canned tuna fish meat. Many ‘redundant’ loan words are used only in compounds: sukuˆru [school] is used in a number of compounds such as bijinesu sukuˆru [business school] and sukuˆru basu [school bus], but never independently. Likewise karucha [culture] and peˆpaˆ [paper]. Semantic extension

With the introduction of new loan words, semantic shifts are very common. Often when an indigenous word did exist, its English counterpart evolved to express only a specific part of its original meaning by narrowing its original semantic field. Thus kıˆ [key] denotes car keys only, and rıˆzonaburu [reasonable] is used only to describe reasonable prices. This semantic form enables speakers to achieve a particular flavour, and greater linguistic precision. Another common form of semantic shift is the extension of the original semantic fields of certain loan words. The loan word kamera man [camera man], for example, rather than denoting a professional ‘cameraman’ only, signifies any person holding a camera; and while in English the word ‘feminist’ denotes a person aspiring to achieve opportunities for women equal to those of men, in Japanese the word feminisuto refers also to a person who treats women kindly. Semantic distortion

Sometimes the original meanings of a loan word are replaced altogether by new original local meanings. The word ‘companion’ in English, for example, denotes a friendly escort. In Japanese the word kompanion refers to a woman employed as a translator or a hostess at a social or professional gathering, or to a sale-promotion stewardess; and while the English words ‘wet’ and ‘dry’ denote the physical condition of an object, the loan word ueto [wet] describes a sentimental person, as opposed to a dorai [dry], a non-sentimental one. Many of these semantic shifts may have originally occurred due to some misunderstanding, but today public awareness of the discrepancies between the original meanings of those loan words and their Japanese meanings is growing. Contrary to what might have been expected, this awareness frequently results in a certain amused admiration for the creativity and originality of the Japanese language and its speakers. Although after undergoing phonological, morphological and semantic changes a loan word is often completely unintelligible to English speakers, it is still considered a loan word rather than a word in Japanese or even an ‘English made-in-Japan’ word.

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Indigenous coinage of English-inspired vocabulary [wasei eigo]

Nowhere is more creativity and originality expressed than in the locally coined English-like words and expressions. ‘English-inspired vocabulary items’ often have meanings in Japan that are inventive, playful and uniquely Japanese (cf. Tobin, 1992). Several such expressions are so indispensable and deep-rooted in Japanese daily life that their usage has become unmarked, while other expressions are amusing enough to retain their special marking despite their long history. A few examples of such words may suffice: ‘base-up’ pronounced beˆsu appu [a raise in basic salary]; ‘salaried man’ pronounced sararıˆman [male whitecollar employee]; ‘nighter’ pronounced naitaˆ [a night-time baseball game]; ‘skinship’ pronounced sukinshippu [physical contact usually between mother and child]; ‘engine stop’ shortened and pronounced ensuto [stalling of a car engine]; ‘my car’ pronounced mai kaˆ [one’s private car]; ‘high miss’ pronounced hai misu [an unmarried woman aged over 30]; and ‘body-conscious’ pronounced bodikon [bodikon girls formed a subculture during the late 1980s until the beginning of the 1990s. They were characterised by their figure-hugging dresses]. The combination of a loan word with a native Japanese word or with a Japanese word of Chinese origin is a popular pattern for producing loan translations or original local expressions. Haiki gasu [exhaust gas] and ha burashi [tooth brush] are loan translations, while denki sutando [electricitystand combined to mean an electric lamp stand] and karaoke [emptyorchestra combined, to mean the now universally popular entertainment in which amateurs sing their favourite songs with recorded orchestral accompaniment] are local original expressions. Acronaming of English-inspired vocabulary items is also very frequent. Thus, OL, pronounced oeru, is the acronym for the Japanese original expression ‘office-lady’, referring to a female clerk. The acronym LDK, pronounced erudikei, stands for ‘living-dining-kitchen’, indicating Western-style apartments. Sometimes words in Japanese or Sino-Japanese are also made into Latinate acronyms. The noun hentai, for example, which denotes sexual perversion, is often acronamed as H, pronounced eichi. The three characteristics of the most unattractive jobs are kitanai [dirty], kiken [dangerous] and kitsui [tiring], usually referred to as 3K, pronounced sankei. Many of the more inventive wasei eigo expressions are coined as slang. The original obaˆtarian, for example, is a pejorative for a pushy middleaged lady. It is actually an integration of the English nominalisation pattern: XXX rian as in ‘vegetarian’; here it has the Japanese noun for an elderly woman, obaˆsan. The same formation pattern produced the

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amusing expression jibetarian, from jibeta (earth or ground)ian, denoting a juvenile lazy bum squatting on the pavements. Another fun expression is anshinjiraburu. In this expression, the English adjective pattern unXXXable as in ‘unreasonable’ has been applied with the Japanese verb shinjiru [to believe] to form the semi-loan translation of ‘unbelievable’. The Japanese media are very quick to absorb and spread many of these newly coined expressions that evoke a youthful mood. Sometimes the media themselves are responsible for the invention of new terminology as a means of attracting a young audience or readership. This is why, for example, the publishers of a popular magazine targeting young men chose to call it Gainer as a local marked variation on the English expression ‘winner’. Similarly to the public enthusiasm for modaˆn-go [modern words] in prewar Japan, nowadays too wasei eigo are often treated as a highly enjoyable linguistic phenomenon. While the interesting case of wasei eigo demonstrates the uninhibited cultural
linguistic approach to foreign lexemes, it also exhibits conspicuously the ongoing cultural construction and invention of Japanese identity through the categorisation and cultural treatment of loan words. The ambiguous identity of wasei eigo, which does not comply with either of these categories, is resolved by defining these words as both foreign and Japanese at the same time. This third culturally constructed categorisation complies well with yet another cultural narrative created for legitimising the incorporation of foreign elements including loan words while preserving the integrity of the Japanese culture. The hidden agenda of this narrative, as Brannen (1992) puts it, is that the Japanese, despite their numerous encounters with other cultures, remain a unique people as cultural artefacts brought to Japan from foreign lands are introduced as seeds to be planted in Japanese soil. From these seeds the original and unique Japanese culture evolves. While this narrative describes adequately and universally all intercultural encounters and exchanges, the interesting thing is that in Japan it is further developed as part of an ongoing cultural debate about Japanese identity that may, as Brannen shows, have quite unexpected public exposures. Grammatical adaptation Grammatical licence in the adaptation of loan words in Japanese is also common (cf. Tranter, 1997). The most common in regard to English is the dropping of English suffixes such as -s, -ed and -ing. ‘Sunglasses’ is sangurasu, condensed milk is kondensu miruku, and frying pan is furai pan

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(cf. Kawamoto, 1983). The Japanese language, however, provides its speakers with some grammatical possibilities that seem especially convenient for the introduction of loan words. While Japanese displays to a certain degree the characteristics of an inflecting language, it also has agglutinative and analytic characteristics. In Japanese, in most cases, a change in gender, number or case is not effected grammatically in nouns, and this facilitates the introduction of nominal loan words. Moreover, suffixes like ‘da’, ‘na’ and ‘ni’, or independent morphemes like the verb ‘suru’ [to do], are added to loan words, transforming them into nouns, adjectives, adverbs or verbs, and incorporating them into Japanese. For example, the English ‘best’, as an adverb, is transformed into a Japanese adverb through the suffix ‘ni’, resulting in ‘besuto ni’; the English noun ‘hiking’ is transformed into a Japanese verb through the Japanese verb suru, resulting in haikingu suru. In the same way, the English nominal idiom ‘hit and run’ is transformed into the Japanese verb hitto endo ran suru. Certainly, as we know from other languages, inflecting characteristics do not prevent or limit the possibility of importing new vocabulary items from other languages. Japanese too offers a few examples of loan words that were originally verbs or nouns and were assimilated into Japanese as inflecting verbs or inflecting adjectives thanks to their phonetic structure in the original or after being adapted to Japanese. The verb ‘to double’, for example, became transformed into the Japanese inflecting verb daburu (past form dabutta), and the adverb ‘now’ became transformed into the Japanese inflecting adjective naui (past form nautta). The transformation of the verb ‘to neglect’ into an inflecting Japanese verb, however, was much more complex. First it was made into a Japanese verb with the addition of the verb suru to produce negurekuto suru. Then it was shortened to negusuru, and ended finally as the Japanese inflecting verb neguru (past form negutta). Still, the scarcity of loan words that became transformed into Japanese inflectional verbs or adjectives suggests that adding suffixes or independent morphemes in order to assimilate new loan words into Japanese is much more simple. The Japanese language features an apparatus for ‘instant adaptation’ of loan words, and this has greatly facilitated the import of loan words throughout the centuries. The ease and simplicity of this process have certainly influenced the uninhibited cultural attitude to the borrowing of foreign words and to their ever-ingenious assimilation into the local language.

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Conclusion Modern Japanese is characterised by an extreme penetration of English loan words. This penetration is notable particularly because of the large linguistic distance between Japanese and English, as well as the ongoing ethnocentric discourse which focuses on the singularity of the Japanese people and their language. Despite these obstacles, English loan words have become exceptionally popular under certain favourable historical and political conditions. The penetration of English loan words into Japanese was fostered by a long tradition of emulating the values and technology of a chosen leading civilisation. Since the end of the 19th century, Britain, and later the USA, were regarded as the bearers of civilisation. Consequently, lexical borrowing from English was not only considered indispensable for Japan’s modernisation but it was also accompanied by high prestige. At the same time, Japan has avoided almost any institutional control over this borrowing, and the attraction to English loan words in the widely available media eased the process of dissemination of new vocabulary. Finally, the use of a writing system designed in modern times specifically for Western loan words enforces their modification and thereby reduces the cultural sense of identity loss. This chapter suggests that Japanese cultural receptiveness to English loan words does not reflect a passive cultural environment subordinated to the acknowledged superiority of the ‘West’. This receptiveness, in fact, is possible as it is constructed within an ongoing dynamic inner cultural reinvention of ‘Japaneseness’ and ‘Japanese identity’. Despite sporadic attempts to restrain the spread of loan words and to protect the purity of the Japanese language, such as that launched by Prime Minister Koizumi, the prevailing practices in Japan in regard to loan words exhibit a more sophisticated cultural strategy which protects the ‘Japaneseness’ of the Japanese language. It is a strategy in the broader sense of providing speakers with cultural
linguistic possibilities that were created over many centuries as result of multiple influences and coincidences. Even from a purist point of view, loan words are used in Japanese as an antithetical representation of the essence of ‘Japaneseness’, and only through comparison with them, through the construction of their (foreign) image, can Japanese identity be defined and affirmed. Paraphrasing Swidler’s (1986) notion of culture and adapting it to language, we maintain that language is a ‘tool kit’ of linguistic features, linguistic practices, symbols, values and worldviews, which people may use in various configurations. They use it to solve problems that go

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beyond straightforward communication, namely to metacommunication and the creation of a personal and a collective identity. Language provides its speakers with linguistic components used to construct persistent ways of ordering action, or ‘strategies of action’. In the interpretation of sociolinguistic phenomena, the significance of specific linguistic practices should be understood in relation to the strategies of action they sustain. At the dawn of the 21st century, globalisation processes and technological progress certainly enhance and influence the speed and proportion of the phenomenon of gairaigo in Japanese. Yet in rather ingenious sociolinguistic ways, after being fully domesticated
often to the point of being totally reinvented
these words become bearers of the wayoˆ [Japanese
Western] dialectical relations in contemporary Japan that are crucial to the contemporary construction of ‘Japaneseness’. By dramatising the difference and opposition to the Other, the sense of self is accentuated. The culturally constructed categorisation of ‘loan words’ as opposed to ‘Japanese words’ or to words in ‘English made-inJapan’, become proof of the unity and integrity of the ever-changing Japanese language. Note 1. All translations from Japanese sources are by the authors.

Chapter 14

Conclusion: Features of Borrowing from English in 12 Languages JUDITH ROSENHOUSE and ROTEM KOWNER

This volume was conceived to study the determinants of and motives for contemporary lexical borrowing from English, the world’s lingua franca, which since the second half of the 20th century has been playing an increasingly vital role in global politics, economy and culture and enjoys exceptionally high prestige. The foregoing chapters analysed the penetration of English loan words, mainly from American English, in 12 languages representing a wide variety of language families, political systems, economic developmental stages and historical relations with the English language and the Anglo-American world. In all of the countries under discussion (except for India to some extent), English remains a foreign language and does not enter the informal realm of full usage in private life, although it exerts an influence in the sphere of borrowed lexicon and is used to various degrees in codeswitching. The process of borrowing words from English can be considered at least from two viewpoints: a psycholinguistic angle, reflecting the needs of individuals, and a sociolinguistic angle, reflecting the needs of communities. Personal attitudes to English vocabulary are among the psycholinguistic factors that affect and modify the individual’s motivation for or against borrowing from it, whereas communal attitudes represent sociolinguistic aspects of language development through borrowing. Both are affected by linguistic and non-linguistic factors. Linguistic factors include all the structural elements of the examined languages, that is, elements and linguistic rules which are similar to or differ from the English ones. Non-linguistic factors, such as those related to economics and politics, exert their influence in various manners, according to the specific political and social structures in each language community. Each language has its own seasoning of the above ingredients, including a unique history and contacts with a particular set of foreign 276

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languages. In Ch. 1 we divided these needs into three classes of elements that form the borrowing phenomenon: motives, determinants and media. In the languages portrayed in this volume, three motives for borrowing keep recurring: the need to coin new terminology and concepts, the tendency to emulate a dominant group and the tendency to create a special jargon in closed groups. These motives can hardly be isolated from the primary determinants necessary when borrowing is to occur: modernisation and economic development, prestige, ethnic and linguistic diversity, nationalism, cultural threat, national character, and the existence of regulatory linguistic establishments. We regard these motives and determinants as representing the (above-mentioned) basic dichotomy of psycholinguistics and sociolinguistics, thus moulding the structure and development of languages. These motives and determinants form our model for contemporary borrowing from English. The actual spread of English loan words in the absorbing languages has been found to proceed by three major routes: direct communication, mass media and the education system. All these routes can be also considered within the psycholinguistic
sociolinguistic dichotomy, and thus complement the model.

The Main Motives and Determinants of Lexical Borrowing This study indicates that one of the primary determinants of borrowing English loan words, as well as a major source of variability in our sample, is ethnic and linguistic diversity. Several of the 12 countries examined, such as Russia, Hungary, France, the Netherlands, Japan and Iceland, were traditionally composed of relatively homogeneous populations, at least linguistically; other countries are more heterogeneous in these respects (e.g. India, Ethiopia, Iran, Taiwan and Israel). This division has become more complex since the beginning of the 20th century, as even countries with basically homogeneous populations have witnessed increasing influxes of immigrants from different parts of the world. Thus, the prediction that greater heterogeneity will lead to greater use of English and its loan words is more or less relevant for all the languages we studied. However, the political and ideological background which exists in various countries is apparently more effective than simply the population make-up of a country as to borrowing from English. In Iran, for example, the strongly negative attitude to the USA entailed official cessation of teaching and learning that country’s language and disallowed the use of its vocabulary in borrowings, for a certain period. This

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fact goes hand in hand with the reverse prediction (see prediction C10 in Chapter 1) that the weaker the nationalist beliefs and policies, and the weaker the cultural threat to the absorbing language (prediction C11 in Chapter 1), the greater the propensity to borrow English loan words. Moreover, the stronger the national government, the less democratic the regime, and the more obedient the population (predictions C12, C13 and C14 in Chapter 1), as we see in Taiwan, Iran and Ethiopia, as well as in Soviet Russia, the easier it is for the official government to sway the population towards or against English borrowings. We also found that when a country is in conflict with some part of the Anglophone world or becomes connected to another cultural power it tends to avoid lexical borrowing from English, despite its high prestige. As examples of such processes we consider Japan in the 1930s, Hungary during the cold war and Ethiopia during the military regime at the end of the 20th century. The linguistic control exercised by language academies and other institutions is often ambiguous. On the one hand academies compete with English borrowings by coining new lexical items in their languages, but on the other they accept and ratify the use of various English borrowings or deliberately adapt them to their languages. This activity, nonetheless, lags far behind the penetration of English borrowings into communication within the absorbing language community. Language academies and educational systems are the formal institutions concerned with English borrowings either as part of their official task (the academies) or as by-products of their official educational activities (schools). Some of these academies are more strict and influential (or ‘successful’) than others, as indicated in Figure 14.1. In countries where language academies exist, the attitude to borrowing from English is usually rather negative. Not all the language communities have language academies, however. Such countries may have some other official or semi-official institutes to deal with this issue (e.g. Iceland, Hungary, Japan and Taiwan in our sample). Being the most organised agent for this task, educational institutions, from elementary schools to high schools and universities, are often the most important agent for the dissemination of the English language throughout the world, at least as a foreign language. All the countries studied in our volume teach English as a foreign or second language, although they diverge in the quantity and quality of this effort. Some language communities started teaching English at school only relatively recently, e.g. Hungary, Russia and Ethiopia. Some have fluctuated along the years between various foreign languages due to the social and

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political situation, e.g. Taiwan, Japan, Iran and Ethiopia. Yet in certain countries, such as the Netherlands, India, and even Israel, English has long been treated at least as a second language, whether officially or not. A common denominator among countries where English was not taught in the 20th century, such as Russia, Hungary, Ethiopia and Iran, is their more complicated economic situation, usually involving lower gross national product (GNP) as well as a lesser level of democratic rights. As implied in Chapter 1, some of the determinants we and others (e.g. Fishman, 1996b; Rubal-Lopez, 1996) have proposed are perhaps confusing and their effect is complex. Not every parameter which relates to borrowing is necessarily also a determinant. The parameter of GNP per capita, for example, is linked to lexical borrowing in a complex way. Countries still at a low stage of modernisation, and consequently with low GNP per capita, have a greater need for lexical borrowing to facilitate modernisation. By contrast, countries with high GNP per capita usually enjoy a relatively higher stage of modernisation, and often have a capitalist economy and high degree of democratic rights. Nevertheless, these very traits correlate with various factors that enhance borrowing from English, such as open borders, frequent travel abroad, access to mass communication and high consumption of the products and popular culture of Anglophone countries. Although the former case concerns the need to borrow and the latter actual inclination, GNP is clearly not a direct determinant of lexical borrowing (and is therefore not on our list) but might moderate it. Similarly, the prevalence of high education tends to encourage lexical borrowing as it is often associated with broader lexical needs and greater use of English-laden jargon. Nonetheless, in certain political circumstances high education may stimulate purism (e.g. Iran, prewar Japan), as such a tendency requires an educated, albeit reactionary, elite. Education in itself is not sufficient to enhance borrowing from English, however. The combination of generally high education in a community with a high GNP tends to intensify linguistic borrowing because of the easy access to English, greater needs for additional vocabulary and the mere fact that high GNP is related, at least at present, to strong economic, cultural and political contacts with the Anglophone world. This picture can be seen in the case of Japan, Taiwan Chinese, Dutch, French and Israeli Hebrew. The role of schools in influencing speakers’ language habits should not be underestimated. One facet of this role was demonstrated in Poplack and Sankoff’s (1984) study of Spanish-speaking Puerto Rican students. Tested in naming familiar pictures of objects typical of the American cultural milieu, these students displayed several phenomena

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of Anglicisation in their speech. These phenomena were more stable and much stronger than the same features in the speech of their parents. These findings also imply that the integration of these students in the English-speaking American environment (including both its language and its culture) was faster and deeper than that of their parents (see also Gonza´lez, 2001). Such a state can, in due course, lead individuals (and later on, even the whole community) to desert their first language (the classical three-generation state of immigrants’ language). Critically, this picture is relevant for our study of lexical borrowings from English to other languages, since in this age of literacy and increased schooling, generations of semi-bilingual and bilingual students learn this language all over the world. The means of dissemination of English borrowings have proved to be of the same nature in all the language communities studied here: following school education, the first and foremost are the mass media, which developed immensely in the 20th century. These media include the written, the visual and the audio devices of newspapers, radio, cinema, TV, and most recently the computer, principally the Internet. The great scope of contact with English language and culture through all these means indeed creates for speakers the opportunity to learn and use English, and to borrow from it. The processes and basic factors that enhance lexical borrowing from English are common to the 12 languages studied above. In the following sections we elaborate on the findings of the chapters of this book. We examine, summarise and discuss the major common phenomena of borrowing English loan words and the differences between languages in borrowing from English in the setting of the above main motives and determinants.

Major Common Phenomena of English Borrowings The major common phenomena of English borrowings are not new in terms of the literature on this subject. The lexical items borrowed from English by another language refer to objects, concepts and terms originating from mainly two English-speaking countries: the USA and Great Britain. For this process to start, at a certain stage at least some contact had to take place between one or more of the Anglophone countries or their speakers and the other social, political or national entity (community, ethnic or linguistic group, country). The process of borrowing from English does not differ in principle from the process of lexical transfer from any source language to any other recipient language (and see Thomason & Kaufman, 1988: Ch. 4). Usually, borrowing

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involves phonetic and morphological modifications of the borrowed word as part of its adaptation to the receiving language system. An example of such a process is adding prosthetic, epenthetic or paragogue vowels to ‘open’ closed foreign syllables, as in isˇmanto for ‘cement’ in Colloquial Arabic, linkolen for ‘[Abraham] Lincoln’ in Colloquial Hebrew, and Japanese raisu for English ‘rice’. Later on, or sometimes even simultaneously, it may be fully integrated in the phonology of the recipient language. Such processes have been described extensively in earlier literature on borrowing (e.g. Suleiman, 1985) and contact languages (Thomason & Kaufman, 1988). The absence of phonetic adaptation or ‘nativisation’ of a borrowed word to the phonetic system of the receiving language (e.g. in the pronunciation of the English /r/) may indicate that the recipient language community is undergoing a stage of imitating the phonological system of the source language community’s culture with its language. This may be due to self-denial, snobbishness, cultural admiration of any external expression of English culture, etc. (see in Chapter 1). Absence of phonetic adaptation may lead in the long run to changes in the phonological (phonemic) system of the absorbing language, as seen, for example, in the emergence of the new consonants /p/, /v/, /g/ in many colloquial Arabic dialects, and the addition of new sounds and letters (e.g. /di/, /ti/, /fi/) in the katakana script in Japanese. Phonological word length (number of syllables in a word) is a common psycholinguistic factor in borrowing, as short words tend to be borrowed more than long words due to the ease of perceiving and producing them. This is probably one of the incentives to borrow English words, with their short and often mono- or bisyllabic (Germanic) words; e.g. Hebrew lehitra’ot for English ‘see you’ or ‘bye bye’, or French fin de semaine for English ‘weekend’. Lexical borrowing is not limited to the spoken modality of a language but is usually also integrated into the written mode of the absorbing language. Sometimes this fact increases the discrepancies between spelling and pronunciation, which normally develop independently. The writing system of the recipient language may be inadequate for the structure and phonology of the borrowed word; in such cases, the alphabet of the recipient language may be spontaneously (or ad hoc) adapted to the borrowed words. This has been found to be common to Taiwan Chinese, Japanese, Modern Hebrew and Arabic in our language sample, as their alphabets differ from the English Latin-based alphabet. An additional feature is the absorption of the borrowed word with its English spelling and pronunciation, although the English spelling rules

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differ from those of the recipient language. This leads to ambivalent letters and pronouncing manners. For example, the Hungarian letter ‘c’ is normally pronounced in Hungarian as the affricate /ts/ (e.g. ‘citrom’ /tsitrom/ ‘lemon, citrus’). But in words borrowed from English, the pronunciation of this letter ‘c’ is /k/ or /s/ in different environments, e.g. aktimel ‘Actimel’, the commercial name of a yoghurt type, and siti ‘city’ leading to three different ways of pronunciation of this letter (for more examples in Hungarian, see Chapter 5 in this volume). Another common feature of English loan words in the present study is that not all of them refer to completely new ideas or objects in the absorbing language, but may refer to familiar elements. In such cases the borrowings may be used as synonyms of original words at least for a certain period or for some of the contexts they are used in. This situation creates semantic doublets, which often split into different semantic domains. Doublets can be also formed in the recipient language when new lexemes are coined in it (often by the official language institutions) to refer to newly introduced notions. Doublets may survive side by side for some time, but if they do not split semantically, generally one of them gets the upper hand and is used more frequently, while the other becomes redundant and may fall entirely out of use (see examples in the chapters on Russian, Hebrew and Icelandic above). The English loan words reported in this book (as in other references) are mainly nouns, whereas borrowed verbs or adjectives are fewer. At a still lower rate of borrowing we find adverbials, particles and vocatives. Because of the type/token contrast this classification does not reflect the frequency of use of each of these word classes, although nouns in general are definitely the most frequently used word class. Many borrowed particles and vocatives often replace those of the absorbing language due to discourse (pragmatics) preferences, for instance, ‘OK’ or ‘hi’, so often used in many of the studied languages. In addition, borrowed phrases, idioms and whole sentences, not discussed in this volume, may contain all the mentioned parts of speech (e.g. ‘just a minute,’ ‘see you’ or ‘good afternoon’). Lexically speaking, many of the modern electrical appliances and communication devices that became widespread before and soon after World War II in North America and subsequently in Western Europe are among the most popular borrowings in all the languages studied here. Words taken from the computer or business world are often used in their original form (e.g. Arabic disk is English ‘disk’), as stems for morphologically adapted words in the absorbing language (e.g. Hungarian brainstormingoltunk means ‘we had a brainstorming session/activity’

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where ‘brainstorming’ has become a verb by attaching to it the proper suffixes) or as loan translations (e.g. Icelandic sto¨ð ‘station’ means both the physical location and the establishment of a radio or television broadcasting). Although the English lexicon is huge and deals with hundreds of thousands of concepts and lexical items, which enlarges the range of borrowing domains, the borrowing process appears to be discriminatory. Most of the borrowed words can be classified at present into two domains: the professional realm of economics, science and technology, and the realm of personal needs, including culture, entertainment and material products. Consequently, these domains can also be generalised into macro- (i.e. social, communal, state) and micro- (i.e. personal, individual) categories, parallel to the sociolinguistic and psycholinguistic fields discussed above. The use of English loan words in all the studied languages relates to academic, industrial, communicational and entertainment areas. As noted, however, languages vary in the pace of lexeme borrowing in each area, usually in parallel with their economic and cultural stages: the more developed they are economically and technologically, the more English borrowings their languages use. In fact this tendency may be attributed to modernisation and Westernisation more than to pure economics. The example of Iran is illuminating. Although Farsi has absorbed mainly technological, scientific and specific recreational terms (borrowed during the Shah’s rule in the first half of the 20th century), it has borrowed less ‘popular’ loan words since the recent rise of the Islamic Republic. This borrowing pattern can be explained by the clash that Farsi speakers face between their ideological stance and the English language, its speakers and what they symbolise in the modern world.

Differences in Borrowing from English in the Studied Languages Our 12 case studies share many features in their borrowing from present-day English, but they display some conspicuous differences too. Figure 14.1 summarises and compares four features of borrowing from English as revealed in the sample of languages studied in this volume. These features are: Need, Tendency, Institutional Control and Attitude to Borrowing (defined in Chapter 1 in this volume). Let us recall them briefly: ‘Need’ describes the need for new terms from English due to the sociopolitical, economic and cultural state of the language community.

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Language

Need

Tendency

Institutional Control

Attitude to Borrowing

Total Score

Icelandic

3

3

2

10

Dutch

2

3

2

French

2

2

1

Hungarian

3

3

2

2 (Mainly indifferent, positive, officially against) 2 (Relatively positive, pro-; weak objection) 1 (Officially: against, nonformally: indifferent) 2 (Indifferent, enhancing but officially also against)

Russian

3

3

2

10

Amharic

3

2

1

2 (Officially: indifferent non-formally: positive) 2 (Officially: enhancing, non-formally: indifferent)

Hebrew

3

3

2

10

Arabic

3

2

1

Persian

3

2

1

Indian languages

2

3

2

Chinese (Min)

3

3

2

Japanese

2

3

3

2 (Positive, but officially: against) 1.5 (Officially: against, but non-formally: indifferent) 1.5 (Officially: against, but non-formally: indifferent) 2 (Indifferent, enhancing, not against) 3 (Positive, enhancing, not against) 3 (Positive, enhancing; officially not against)

9 6 10

8

7.5 7.5 9 11 11

Need: describes the need for new terms from English (small-medium-great) Tendency: describes the tendency for spontaneous borrowing from English (small-medium-great) Institutional Control: effects of a state academy of language where it exists (small-medium-great) Attitude to Borrowing: describes official/non-official attitude to borrowing in speakers of the language (without numerical evaluation)

Figure 14.1 The 12 case studies and their propensity for borrowing English vocabulary (the higher the score the greater the propensity)

It refers to the lexical gap between the existing vocabulary of a language and the incoming English vocabulary. ‘Tendency’ is related to the individual and/or communal inclination towards or aversion to another language (here: English) due to the human tendency to emulate prestigious elements of a dominant group. ‘Institutional Control’ means the presence or absence of a general language policy practised by some kind of an official language institution, one role of which is to control

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borrowing. Finally, ‘Attitude to Borrowing’ refers to the recipient language speakers’ official and non-official attitudes to borrowing lexical items as a result of sociopolitical, economic and cultural conditions (as already described in Weinreich, 1953). As there are no specific statistical indices or figures available for these features, we assessed their functions using three levels (little
medium
much). These criteria are thus relative (and cf. the borrowing scale in Thomason & Kaufman, 1988). We assigned to each feature (including both official and non-official aspects) the same three-point scale, and the number in each slot of Figure 14.1 stands for the average of the two (official/non-official) aspects. When comparing the 12 languages examined in this study (see Figures 14.1 and 14.2), we see two extreme attitudes to lexical borrowing from English. On the one hand, French, with the lowest score of six points, seems to be the least receptive, and on the other hand, Japanese and Chinese in Taiwan, with the highest score of eleven points, seem to be the most receptive to such borrowing. The French case seems fairly straightforward. The French Academy has traditionally regulated a rigid language policy and an independent, well developed modern vocabulary for modern English terminology; in parallel, French speakers have tended to display conservative and nationalistic attitudes regarding their language. By contrast, Japanese and Chinese in Taiwan are affected by different factors. Although the political circumstances, historical background (especially in the 20th century) and the attitude to the West in the two language communities are different, both languages share fundamental and deep propensity from modernisation and Westernisation. Arabic and Farsi (Iranian) form another subgroup of limited reception to English loan words with 7.5 points. Although these languages belong to different language groups, they share certain historical and social similarities which play an important role in shaping their attitude to Languages Taiwan Chinese, Japanese Icelandic, Hungarian, Hebrew, Russian Dutch and Indian languages Amharic Arabic, Persian French

Number of Case Studies 2 4

Score 11 10

2

9

1 2 1

8 7.5 6

Figure 14.2 Propensity for borrowing English vocabulary
ranking order

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lexical borrowing, particularly from English. Close to them is Amharic with eight points. The expansion of this language has also been crucially affected by politics and social development that in turn affected lexical borrowing. Based on the other chapters in this volume, Dutch and Indian languages form another subgroup, each with nine aggregate points, though each language reflects a different internal array of factors. Dutch speakers have been in contact with the English language and its speakers for longer periods than speakers of other languages, and they generally display a positive attitude to it. The described case of India reveals a special language policy which considers English an official agent for educational and government needs, which additionally goes hand in hand with the speakers’ daily communication needs. Thus, for Indian and Dutch speakers, perhaps unexpectedly, English is psychologically probably not as foreign as elsewhere, as they seem to accept it as part of their daily multiglossia. Four other languages (Hebrew, Hungarian, Icelandic and Russian) reveal a much more intense need for and tendency to borrowing, with ten points each. The attitude that each linguistic community manifests to borrowing in general is significant for its borrowing tendency from English in particular. This attitude varies on a scale beginning with indifference in the lay public and ending in support by the educated and academic circles, including official institutions. Where the linguistic institutions are strong, their policies tend to conflict with public indifference to the whole issue of borrowing and loan words and the academics’ succumbing to the borrowing process. French, on the one extreme of the continuum, has a vigorous, influential and respected language academy, and its population evinces robust linguistic awareness and sensitivity, shaped in part by the activities of that academy. These features notwithstanding, Chapter 3 in this volume demonstrates that English borrowings penetrate French freely nowadays. The public attitude to English varies, and ideologically at least it tends more to the negative than to the positive. Still, English borrowings have penetrated French relatively freely, at least since the last quarter of the 20th century (for a somewhat similar situation, see also the cases of Iceland, Iran and Israel). The case of Hungarian is different. After a long period of German cultural and linguistic impact during the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Hungarian was only little affected through much of the 20th century by Russian, due to the Russian control. Since the fall of the Soviet Union in 1989, English has been rapidly and increasingly gaining a foothold in this language, not only through school education but also in daily communication (mainly on the Internet and in written ads on billboards,

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newspapers, products, etc.). Hungarian and Russian are only partially similar in respect of the effect of English on them: both were weakly influenced by English before the 20th century, and old borrowings (from the 18th and 19th centuries) have long been absorbed and integrated into them, while new borrowings are still on the way to such integration, with Hungarian having probably started this process somewhat more energetically than Russian. Also Japanese and Taiwan Chinese had alternating periods of official enhancement and inhibition of the spread of English influence, according to fluctuating government policies. In light of the analysis above, the differences are evident not so much in the processes these words undergo as in the quantity and tempo of the borrowing process in each individual language, as well as the actual selection of the lexical items borrowed from English and their fate in the borrowing language. By quantity (or rate) we mean the total number (and relative share) of borrowed words in the recipient language; by tempo we refer to the time it takes for each loan word to be integrated in these languages. The combination of quantity, tempo and selection creates the specific borrowed vocabulary of each of the languages we have studied. The case studies presented in this volume suggest that there is a great variation in these aspects not only between languages, but also within each language. That is, the borrowing process within a language is not uniform and may differ in quantity and tempo throughout time, as the circumstances and attitudes vis-a`-vis borrowing from English may change, sometimes even dramatically. These features of the borrowing process are partly dependent on extralinguistic factors, such as the availability of English words to the borrowing speakers, due to factors which include the duration of English learning at school; the frequency in which the speakers read English books and journals, watch English-speaking movies or TV, or form contacts on the Internet; the quantity of products of English-speaking origins they encounter in their surroundings, etc. Thus, countries that have only recently become acquainted with the English language and its culture have been able to borrow fewer items from it than countries where English has accompanied or competed with the national language for a longer time. Our case studies suggest that Russian, Hungarian and Amharic, for example, differ from Dutch or even from Israeli Hebrew in this respect. Further, the languages of Japan and Taiwan China, where speakers of American English had close contacts with the local population for several years (with or without the support of the local government), show a torrent of borrowings from English, although the tempo of the borrowing process fluctuates in different periods due to

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governmental control of these relations with English. The vocabulary for certain basic consumer items used daily, such as imported garments, foods and beverages, and home appliances, is usually borrowed according to the habits and needs of the recipient language community. Climate, eating customs and accommodation habits are extralinguistic factors that distinguish different language communities and affect the lexical items borrowed in each language and language community, as unnecessary objects will tend not to be borrowed quickly, if at all. The quantity and tempo of borrowing depend also on psycholinguistic and linguistic features, such as the semantics (relevance and importance) of the borrowed lexical items for the speakers of the absorbing language and the relation between the phonological and morphological structures of English and the recipient language. For important words, the lack of certain phonemes and differences in articulation of similar phonemes in the absorbing language compared with English does not prevent speakers of the recipient language from using those words. But this often follows morphophonological adaptation, which varies according to the rules in each language. For example, the difficulty of pronouncing English /l/ and /r/ by native Japanese and Chinese speakers, /p/ by native Arabic speakers, /w/ by native Russian speakers, as well as /h/ by Chinese and French, leads to the creation of easily pronounced versions of the English words in the recipient language. Hence, the morphophonological or phonotactic rules of the English loan words which differ from those of the recipient language lead to various strategies of morphophonological adaptation of words; examples are xipi for ‘hippy’, e-ka for ‘e-card’, sha-la for ‘salad’ or ma-da for ‘motor’ in Taiwan Chinese. (For an analysis of consonant cluster reduction in several English varieties see Schreier, 2005.) Moreover, the actual modifications of the original English item in the recipient language vary according to the structure of that language and yield different forms in different languages. An illustration is the variety of the following adaptations, translations and coined words for English ‘helicopter’ which may be used as a loan word, too: Hebrew masoq (from the root n-s-q meaning ‘ascend, levitate’), Arabic mirwa’a (derived from the root r-w-’ ‘wind’) and Farsi bal-gard (derived from ‘wing circulate’, operate in circles, which is an accurate loan translation of the English term). The terms for English ‘battery’ are another example: in addition to the English form in some adaptations (e.g. Hebrew baterı´ya, Hungarian ba´teria), Hebrew solela´ (lit. a mound, an embankment), Hungarian vı´llanyelem (lit. electronic element), Literary Arabic ’a:sˇida (lit. filler) and Colloquial Arabic bat t a:riyye, Farsi batri, and Japanese denchi (lit.

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electrical pond, but see also batteri cha-ja for ‘battery charger’ and batteri koˆritsu for ‘battery efficiency’). To sum up this section, our considerations are set out in Figures 14.3 and 14.4, which present the main factors and processes of English loanword integration as found in our study. They also show the stages involved in this process. It starts with psycholinguistic and sociolinguistic factors on the one hand and non-linguistic (extralinguistic) and linguistic factors on the other. The various factors can lead to several outcomes, as shown at the end of Figure 14.4. Some illustrative examples are mentioned in Figure 14.3. As noted, the actual outcomes depend on the specific conditions in each receiving language and in this sense they are unpredictable. We actually view the whole process as leading to four possible results, which may occur diachronically, and in varying distributions, in different languages: some languages may present only a limited number of borrowing processes, while others may pass all the four stages. The last stage (full integration) may be reached in some borrowed words of a certain language more quickly than in other words. These four stages engender many combinations of borrowings in the different languages, as indeed we find in the real world. One contribution of our volume is in organising these combinations in a coherent structure of sociolinguistic and psycholinguistic factors, parameters and devices within the scope of time and linguistic space.

Invasion or Enrichment: Attitudes to English Loan words and Language Growth Each of the languages discussed in this volume has a unique historical, cultural and economic background. Nonetheless, they all share rapid expansion in the 20th century. Most of them had to take long strides in order to reach their current economic, technological and cultural state. Even Dutch, which is the closest to English genetically and has had many contacts with the English language and people long before the 20th century, has undergone linguistic and sociolinguistic processes not unlike those in other languages. The attitude to borrowing seems to differ in each language community but the underlying motives are similar. Speakers’ attitudes to the English ‘borrowing invasion’ lie between two poles: wariness and ideology (‘How will this language affect and change the purity of my own language?’) and instrumental interest (‘How important is this language for me in work, business, fun and leisure?’). They are moved by the desire to acquire it as a global tool of communication, and if not master it

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Nonlinguistic factors

Sociolinguistic factors Politics Economics Culture

Linguistic factors

Related language Non-related language

Motives & determinants

Status and prestige in community, tendency to emulate a dominant group, tendency to create a special jargon in closed groups, modernization and economic development, ethnic and linguistic diversity, nationalism, national character, cultural threat, existence of regulatory linguistic establishments Education

Contact point: English Language X/ Media Sociolinguistic factors Direct Communication Result: stages of Linguistic borrowing

Examples War, peace, conquests, etc. Trade, import/ export, value Social morals, High culture: arts, literature, literacy Easy word integration Difficult word integration

Psycholinguistic factors Attitude to English, viz. mother tongue (as symbol of culture, model for imitation, conquering power, etc.) (Few vs. many phonological differences, morphological categories, etc.)

Attitude to English (speech sounds, difficulty of acquisition, liking/dislike, etc.)

Need to coin new terminology and concepts, tendency to create a special jargon in closed groups, ethnic and linguistic diversity, the existence of regulatory linguistic establishments

School, higher education, adult courses, etc. newspapers, radio, TV, cinema, Internet

Education Media Direct communication

1. “As is” 2. Phonetic adaptation 3.Morphological adaptation 4. Complete immersion

In “easy” words In words with new phonemes In nearly immersed words In words whose foreign origin is not felt or known

Figure 14.3 Main factors for borrowing English vocabulary

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Sociolinguistic factors

Psycholinguistic factors

Nonlinguistic factors:

Linguistic factors: Related language Nonrelated language

Attitude to English (speech sounds, difficulty of acquisition, liking/ dislike, etc.)

Motives & determinants

Contact point: English

Language X

Politics Economics Culture Etc.

Attitude to English, vs. mother tongue (a symbol of culture, model for imitation, conquering power, etc.)

Outcomes: Stages of Linguistic borrowing: 1. “As is” 2. Phonetic adaptation 3. Morphological adaptation 4. Complete immersion

Figure 14.4 Motives, determinants and outcomes of English loan-word integration in borrowing languages

fully at least to know some of it for their functional advantage, either psychologically for snobbery or as a tool for communicating with native English speakers and others. From a sociolinguistic perspective, the use of English in another language has been described as a quintessential example of neocolonialism (Fishman, 1996b); that is, the exploitation of a colony even after it is no longer occupied. In the 20th century, among the linguistic communities

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we examined, this description is applicable only to India and to pre-Israel Palestine, which were occupied or administered directly by the British for significant periods (the Indian subcontinent for about two centuries until 1947 and Palestine from 1918 to 1948). In addition, it may be applicable also to Japan which was occupied by American forces for nearly seven years after World War II. In a neocolonialist view, the ongoing ‘English invasion’ carries certain advantages for English-speaking countries and English speakers in such communities to this very day (cf. Tsuda, 1986). Viewing this linguistic advantage as deliberate exploitation, as Fishman (1996a) suggests, is undoubtedly judgmental and does not reflect the common public attitudes to English in our sample languages. In fact, in many of our case studies the majority of the population are either unaware of this supposedly exploitative nature or, if asked, do not regard it as such. This unawareness or even positive regard to English does not mean, of course, that native English speakers do not benefit from a neocolonialist effect. The opposite is true
and therefore, it could be argued, this attitude to English only proves how pervasive and internalised this effect is. (See, for example, the study conducted by Fisherman, 1986, for Hebrew, quoted in Chapter 7 in this volume. See also the description of the attitudes of Russian speakers to English in Chapter 6, and the descriptions of the attitude to English in France and the Netherlands in Chapters 3 and 4, respectively.) These positive attitudes to English explain the success of English but also serve as a warning for its future, which is the topic of several studies (Crystal, 2003a; Graddol, 1997). The negative attitude to Russian, the lingua franca of East Europe during the cold war era, is an example of the swift decline of the influence of such a language as soon as the mother country disintegrates. This was the case with the Soviet Union after 1989, ironically only a short time after linguist William Gage (1986: 379) had predicted that ‘the world balance could shift, leading to the eclipse of English by Russian’. Lexification processes, and even relexification processes (Horvath & Wexler, 1997), which apply in non-Creole and Creole languages alike, seem an attractive explanation for the ease of English penetration into world languages. Certain differences exist between this process in Creole languages and in the languages examined in this volume. One such difference is that most of the countries whose languages were studied here were not physically ‘subdued’ by English or English speakers. The term ‘subjugation’ could be used metaphorically, however, as the abovementioned term ‘neocolonialism’ suggests, as the effect of English also involves cultural changes. Thus viewed, the penetration of (American) English elements into any language could be perceived also as a material

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and conceptual invasion which affects (subdues) the (independent, original) spirit of the native speakers of that language. In the same vein, even snobbery
an oft mentioned motivation (in this volume and elsewhere) for the use of English
could be considered such a ‘mental subjugation’ process. Considering the above hypotheses, should the languages and processes we examined be compared to those of Creole languages in the long run? Superficially, this question is interesting to follow, for borrowed words constitute a part of Creole language structure. Creole languages have been defined in various manners (e.g. Bickerton, 1986; Chaudenson, 1992; McWhorter, 1998; Thomason, 2001; Thomason & Kaufman, 1988), but in principle they involve several source languages and usually their phonology and grammar are closely related to one source language at least (cf. Holm, 2004). Still, borrowed words in themselves do not change the nature of a language so extremely, although lexical borrowing often coincides with other contact phenomena, such as loan translation. Hence we may hypothesise that in the very long run, say a few centuries, borrowed words from English, combined with grammatical (morphosyntactic) features, which penetrate these languages through calque (loan translation), might at least alter the recipient languages substantially. Creoles, however, differ from this vision as they develop usually very quickly (see e.g. Thomason, 2001). Horvath and Wexler (1997) suggest another feature of relexification in Creole languages with relevance to borrowing processes in non-Creole languages, that is the relative speed of the spread of the foreign words within the recipient language. The English loan words in the languages discussed in this volume usually also spread very quickly in the borrowing languages, especially due to the global encroachment of the Internet system and the other mass communication media; this phenomenon has developed in particular within the period of the last quarter of the 20th century. In the borrowing process we may be observing a ‘slow motion’ version of Creole relexification (see, e.g. the discussion on Arabic in Horvath & Wexler, 1997: 56; and on the time element in creolisation in Holm, 2004: 144
146). In time, the effects of the English language may gradually depart from such a process of lexical change and encompass increasingly more parts of the grammar of the absorbing language. Ultimately it may change them into new varieties which will then be structurally more similar to Creole languages. This would lead to a change of the nature of the recipient language. Holm’s (2004) definition of ‘partially restructured languages’ could be adequate also for this situation. This process has probably happened many times over in the

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history of languages, as Holm (2004: 146) also notes, although at present we have no knowledge of it. The developing branch of contact linguistics is apparently heading toward this kind of research. We are uncertain about future outcomes of these processes. Unexpected extralinguistic forces may intervene and change linguistic and social structures in the future, as the case of the Russian language with the fall of the Soviet Union has recently demonstrated (cf. Crystal, 2003a). A borrowed element can reach the stage of being entirely integrated into the absorbing language so that its origin is no longer noted (or even known). This state is assumed to have taken place after a relatively long time, as we see in the absorption of Greek and Persian words in Arabic, Egyptian and Acadian words in Classical Hebrew, Chinese words in Japanese, French words in Middle English, German words in Hungarian, or English words in Russian. We can only speculate how long it may take for English loan words to reach such a state in other languages in our modern ‘global village’. Depending on the ratio of borrowed words to native words in a recipient language, it seems that at least in some cases it should not take more than a few decades to reach a similar stage. Several scholars have sought to assess the duration of similar processes, for example, creolisation in Creole languages, using various methods. In such situations demographic factors (such as the ratio of native language speakers of both languages, as well as Pidgin language speakers) are crucial, but they are not the only ones. Time, namely duration of contact and usage of foreign lexical items, and linguistic factors are equally important (cf. Holm, 2004). Although lexical borrowing is a less complex process than creolisation, the same basic sociolinguistic factors should be relevant for the fate of borrowed words in their new environments.

Coda Overall, the English lexical ‘invasion’ is revealed to be a natural and inevitable process, driven by psycholinguistic, sociolinguistic and sociohistorical factors. It may be even considered part of the processes of universal linguistics. Morphophonological adaptation features of lexical expansion through borrowing and lexical use of borrowed words are found in the speech of L2 learners at any age and in codeswitching, in addition to Pidgin and Creole languages. The processes described above relate to sociolinguistic and psycholinguistic aspects of language use on both the diachronic (developmental) and the synchronic (current) levels.

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Our sample of 12 different languages at the beginning of the 21st century, with the borrowing phenomena they manifest, has helped us take a step toward understanding linguistic and extralinguistic forces that affect the development of languages in general and even their diachronic development. The magnitude of lexical borrowing from English in each of these languages is the result of interaction between a number of enhancing and inhibiting factors (see Figures 14.3 and 14.4). Viewed together, these factors may explain the current pattern of borrowing from English, and demonstrate the prevalence of a number of determinants that underlie this process probably in any language. Not all the questions that merit serious discussion could be answered in the present framework due to methodological constraints discussed in this volume. Ideally, the topic of English borrowings in other languages calls for an examination of the structure of the whole lexicon of each studied language in all world languages. In addition, it might be possible to weigh the relative value of these determinants using statistical methods (as used by Bickerton, 1984, and Owens, 1998, 2004, in different contexts), and thereby analyse to what extent they affect the discussed languages. Nonetheless, the focus of our examination was on the cultural, historical and social background of the encounter of each language with English in this linguistic process, and on the inventory of lexical elements in each of these languages. Although speakers of certain languages tend to regard English loan words in their language as an invasion, with time this usually ends in silent reconciliation, when the loan words are nativised and completely integrated in the recipient language. In sum, contemporary lexical borrowing from English is revealed in the fast spread of its items in different languages and their speaking communities, mainly through material consumption items and the media, particularly among the younger generation. The motives, determinants and processes described in Chapter 1 of this volume appear to be active and thus pertinent to all the case studies presented above. Still, the results of these factors in several cases are not simple to derive, because of the countless combinations of the determinants within each language community, as indeed ‘anything is possible in this domain’ (Thomason, 2001: 68). As human language is inherent to humans, its fundamental development is bound to be universal and common, at least when viewed from a generalising perspective. We therefore assume that studies of other languages where English lexical borrowings are found will be able to reveal in them the determinants defined here and facilitate further analysis and generalisation of these characteristics.

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Index Abbreviation 54, 94, 95, 114, 115 Abjad 168 Académie Française 63 Academy of Ethiopian Languages, see also Ethiopian Language Academy 180, 183 Acadian French 65 Accadian 5, 189, 294a Accent 22, 31, 67n, 79, 202, 233 Acronyms – Amharic 177 – French 54, 65 – Hebrew 133, 140 – Hungarian 95 – Icelandic 30, 35 – Japanese 256, 264, 271 – Russian 114 – Taiwanese 243 Adams, John 5-6 Adams, William 251 Adäre, see Harari Addis Ababa – Dialect 165 – University 15, 173 Adjectivalisation 182 Adjectives 12, 21-22, 37, 51, 53, 61, 62, 66, 78, 80, 90, 94, 108-109, 112-115, 126-127, 128, 129-131, 137-139, 143, 155, 156, 158, 160, 166, 168-170, 174, 182, 184, 264, 269, 272, 273, 282 Adoption processes of English – into Amharic 174-175 – into French 44, 46, 52, 54, 66n – into Hungarian 83, 85, 86-87, 88 – into Iranian 190, 197 – into Japanese 253, 258-259 Adposition 168 Adverbs 12, 22, 51, 78, 113, 126, 168, 273, 282 Advertisements 63, 67n, 72, 93-94, 125, 128, 131, 143, 144n, 147, 177, 218, 222-223, 243, 256 Afghans 191 Afonso (Alfonso), King 214 Afrikaans language 78, 212 Afro-Asiatic language group 2, 164

Agäw 166 Agglutinative languages 90 Agriculture 84 Albuquerque 213 Alexander The Great 5 Alliance Française 196 Alliance Israélite Universelle 196 Allochtonen 72 Alphasyllabary 211 Altaic language group 2, 18, 263 Älvdalska 22 Alveo-palatals 166 America Online 7 American culture 16, 25, 117, 118, 119, 131, 235, 256 American English 26, 44, 80, 82, 85, 124, 133, 138, 143, 150, 159, 161, 212, 235, 276, 287 Americanisation 224, 225, 249n Americanism 44, 117, 119, 120n Americanophobia 48 Amhara region 173 Amharic language 2, 16, 18, 144n, 164-184, 185n, 211, 284-286, 287 Amharic Language Academy 173 Amharic Science and Technology Dictionary 172, 174, 180 Amharic-English Visual Dictionary 172 Amsterdam 69, 70, 72, 79 Anaptyctic vowels 155 Ang, Uijin 234 Anglicisation 44, 46, 47, 50, 62, 63, 64, 100, 280 Anglicism 11, 44-47, 48-50, 54, 57, 66n, 72, 76, 81, 98-100, 102, 117, 119, 120n, 224 Anglo-American imperialism 8 Anglomania 48, 63 Anglo-Persian Oil Company (APOC) 198, 199 Anglophobia 48, 63 Anglophone countries 11, 15, 278, 279, 280 Anglo-Russian Convention of 178, 192 Antilles 69 Arabic – Bedouin dialect 146, 151 – Beirut dialect 155

326

Globally Speaking Index

Index – Dialects 146, 149, 155, 157, 159, 161, 281 – Galilee dialect 134 – Language 2, 4, 5, 18, 38, 42n, 43n, 67n, 83, 124, 144n, 145-162. 162n, 163n, 165, 175, 185n, 188-190, 204-205, 206, 211, 215, 220, 221, 225, 281, 282, 294-285, 288, 294 Arabisation 161 Arai, Hakuseki 265 Aramaean 189 Aramaic 5, 149, 210, 211 Argobba 165 Arte da Lingoa de Japam 265 Assyrian language 188 Aurangzeb 214 Australia 8 Austria 74, 82, 84, 245 Austro-Asiatic language group 208 Austro-Hungarian Empire 84, 96, 286 Austronesian languages 8, 229 Avestan 187 Axumite Empire 168, 170 Ayatollah Khomeini 192 Azeris language 188 Baha’i, 196 Bahrain 161 Baihuawen [vernacular literary writing] movement 238 Baluchis 190, 200 Bamboo English 256 Battle of Plassey 214 BBC, see British Broadcasting Corporation Bedouin dialect, see Arabic Bedouin dialect Beijing 237 Beijing dialect 233 Beirut Arabic, see Arabic (Beirut dialect) Bengali language 121, 208, 210, 223 Bengali script 218-220, 223, 226n Bergþórsson, Páll 35 Bible 70, 222, 230 Biblical Hebrew, see Hebrew (Biblical) Bilingual communication 9 Bilingual language acquisition 9 Bilingual speakers 9, 121, 280 Bilingualism 12, 48, 76, 77, 98, 162n Bjarnarson, Björn 37, 38 Bokmål 21 Bolshevik Revolution 6, 192 Bombay 214, 218, 223 Bonaparte, Napoleon 59, 179 Bopomofo 228, 243, 248, 249 Borrowing, see Lexical borrowing Bosnian crisis 73 Brahmi script 210

327 Britain, see Great Britain British – Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) 7, 14, 200 – Council 200 – British English 123-124, 159, 161, 212 – Mandate 123, 133, 148, 159 – Ministry of Agriculture 200 Broadcasting and Television Law 1975 (China) 233 Broken English (Steenkolen Engels) 76-77 Broken plural 156-157 Buddhism 238, 264 Butler English 212 Cable News Network (CNN) 7, 72, 224 Calcutta 214, 218, 219, 222, 223 Calicut 213 Calque 20, 24, 27, 41, 42n, 44, 46, 47, 91, 107, 109-110, 122, 126, 139, 141, 161, 253, 293 Calvinist Protestantism 69 Canada 5, 61, 157 Catherine of Braganza 214 Central Asia 238 Central Europe 2, 92, 96 Central India 208 Charles II, king 214 Chen Shui-Bian 247-248, 249n Chen Yi 232 Chennai (Madras) 216, 218, 220, 224 Chiang Kai-Shek 232 China (People Republic of China) 101, 228, 231, 232, 235, 237, 238, 241, 243, 244, 245, 249, 249n, 252-253, 263, 264, 287 ChinaTimes 242, 246 Chinese language 2, 5, 18, 28, 35, 36, 37, 40, 227-249 Chirac, Jacques 52 Christian Missionaries 25, 196, 230, 238, 265 Christianity 31, 70, 84, 198, 221, 222 Ciyuan [The Origin of Words] 237 Clive, Robert 214 CNN, see Cable News Network Codemixing 8, 9, 117, 244 Code switching 4, 8, 9, 65, 66n, 91, 93, 121, 162n, 172, 228, 242, 243, 244, 247, 248, 256, 267, 276, 294 Cognate 33-34, 70 Collocation 109, 122, 182 Colloquial Arabic 145-162, 163n, 281, 288 Colloquial Hebrew 124, 281 Colonialism 6, 8, 10, 16, 230, 231, 232, 235, 291-292 Commissions Ministérielles de Terminologie 63

328 Committee on Broadcast Research Language [Hôsô Yôgo Iinkai] 261 Communist party 54, 56, 98 Compound nouns 109, 111, 115, 116, 180, 181 Compounding 20, 30, 168, 181 Concise Amharic Dictionary 180 Consonants 32, 69, 84, 127, 139, 140, 155, 156, 161, 166, 167, 168, 169, 210, 211, 226n, 266, 267, 281, 288 Consonant gemination 167, 183 Constitutional Revolution (Russia, 1905-06) 195 Contamination 46, 48 ,241 Copenhagen 23 Création populaire 40 Création savante 40 Cree language 78 Creole 292-194 Croatia 70 Cross-cultural pollination 227 Culture – Cultural dominance 8, 255 – Cultural impact 18 Cushitic 165, 166, 170, 183 Cyrillic script 210 Danish language 21, 23, 25, 26 Dano-Icelandic language 23 Dar al-Fonoun 195 Dar al-Mo’alemin-e’Aali 204 Dar al-Tarjomeh 195 Dari 175-176 Dative 21 Délégation Générale à la Langue Française 50, 63 Delhi 214, 223 Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) 234, 245-246 Demographic criteria 146 Dental – Dental fricative 22 – Dental suffix 22 – Dentals 166 Derivation 20, 21, 29, 33, 39, 40, 53, 62, 63, 114, 115, 130, 137, 146, 168, 174, 179 Devanagari script 209-210, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 226n Dialects – Addis Ababa dialect (Amharic) 165 – Arabic dialects 146, 149, 155, 157, 159, 161, 281 – Bedouin dialect (Arabic) 146, 151 – Beijing dialect (Chinese) 233

Globally Speaking – Beirut dialect (Arabic) 155 – Galilee dialect (Arabic) 134 – Gender-based dialect 146 – Gojjam dialect (Amharic) 165 – Gondar dialect (Amharic) 165 – Menz dialect (Amharic) 165 – Nederduits (Lower German) dialect 69 – Vulgar dialects (Chinese) 233 – Wello dialect (Amharic) 165 Dialectology 7 Dictionarium 71 Dictionary 11, 29, 39, 79, 81, 124-125, 185n, 186n, 211, 261 Dictionary of Foreign Words in Hebrew 124 Diffusion 7, 44 Diglossia 145, 161 Diphthong 22, 39, 69, 89, 126, 133, 156 Dissemination 10, 12, 13, 14, 16, 178, 203, 274, 278, 280 Dominant language 121, 150, 159, 160, 188 Doublet 104, 109, 119, 282 Dravidian languages 208, 210, 216, 220 Druze 146 Dubbing 72 Duits 70 Dutch 28, 68-81, 99, 230, 252, 265, 279, 284, 285, 286, 287, 289 Dutch Language Union (Nederlandse Taalunie) 68, 81 Dutch Language Union Report (Rapport Werkgroep Europa) 76 Dutchification 79 East Asia 5 East Europe 2, 92, 292 East Germany 5 East India 208 East India Company 191, 213, 214 Eastern Han dynasty 238 Echoing word-formation 19 Economy 10, 11, 20, 69, 82, 85, 88, 97, 99 Education – Amharic 165, 166, 171, 172, 173, 175, 178 – Arabic 146, 147, 148, 150, 159, 161, 162n – Dutch 73 – Hebrew 150 – Hungarian 87, 93, 97 – Indian 211, 212, 214, 215, 216, 217, 220, 224, 225 – Japanese 250, 253, 254, 259, 260, 261, 262 – Persian 190, 193, 194-197, 198-199, 200, 204 – Russian 99, 117 – Taiwanese 231-232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 246,

Index 247, 249n Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology Ministry (Japan) 250 Egypt 157, 139, 161, 162n, 163n, 294 Eighty-Year War 71 eigoka haishiron [abolition of English language studies] 255 Ejective consonant 166 Elamites 189 Electronic communication media 14 Elfdalian 22 Elisabeth I, Queen 213 Elision 167 Elitism 49 Emperor Menelik II 165, 171 Enclitic suffix 22 English – Alphabet 139, 140, 143, 213, 228, 241, 243, 247 – as a foreign second language 7, 216, 278 – as a second language 14, 279 – Culture 148, 281 – Language 15, 16, 17, 25, 68, 62, 63, 75, 78, 93, 118, 125, 147, 209, 211, 212, 213, 222, 225, 276, 278, 280, 283, 286, 287, 289, 293 – Language Teaching (ELT) 7 – Script 1139, 140 English World-Wide: A Journal of Varieties of English 7 English-Amharic Science and Technology Dictionary 172, 174 Engrew 125 Enlightenment 24 Epenthetic vowel 84 Esfahan 195 ESTEL 65 Ethiopia 2, 16, 164, 165, 166, 168, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 184, 185n, 277, 278, 279, Ethiopian – Empire 165 – Jews 165, 171 – Language Academy, see also Academy of Ethiopian Languages 174 – Languages Research Center 174 – Orthodox Church 165, 171 – People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) 166 – Revolution of 1974 176 – Script 168, 185n Ethio-Semitic languages 164, 168 Ethnic heterogeneity 17 Etymological 32, 33, 35, 36, 122, 237 Euphemism 269 Eurasia 5

329 Eurocrats 74 Europe – European Commission Action Plan 86 – European Community (EC) 62 – European Constitution 74 – European Song Festival 72 – European Union 72, 74, 83, 85 Even-Shoshan monolingual Hebrew dictionary 124 Exoticism 110, 111, 119 Expanded Dictionary 124 Ezana, King 168 Farhangestan (Academy for the Persian Language) 204, 207n Faroese 21 Farsi language 187-206, 207n Fashion 12, 13, 18, 45, 56, 60, 62, 100, 101, 108, 109, 114, 119, 127, 131, 143, 196, 229, 244, 254, 255 Fath-Ali Shah 193 Finnish 26, 40 Finno-Ugric language group 2, 89 Flanders 68, 69, 75 Flat stress language 167 Flemish Belgian language Ford Foundation 198 Formal hybridity 15 France 2, 10, 15, 44, 49, 50, 51, 58, 61, 65, 66n, 67n, 71, 72, 73, 190, 191, 193, 194, 199, 202, 277, 280 Francophone 48, 49, 50, 58, 66n Franglais – Crisis 62 – Interlanguage 45-49, 57, 60, 63, 65, 125 Franglomanie 48 Franks 69 Freemasonry 202 French – Academy 50, 285 – Dialects 65 – Franbreu 65 – Language 2, 44, 195 Fujian province 228, 230, 231 Fukuzawa, Yukichi 253 Furigana 265 Gafat 164, 165 Gairaigo, see Loan words Gairaigo Jiten [Dictionary of Foreign Loanwords] 256 (as Gairaigojiten) Galilee dialect. see Arabic, Galilee dialect Gaza Strip 146 Ge‘ez language 164, 165, 166, 168, 169, 170,

330 171, 173, 179, 180, 183, 185n Gembun no Itchi Kai [Society for Unification of Speech and Writing] 259 Gemination 167, 183 Gendai Yôgo no Kiso Chishiki [Basic Knowledge of Contemporary Terminology] 261 Gender 22, 61, 62, 79, 112, 156, 161, 168, 169, 273 Gender-based dialect 146 General Style [Futsûbun] Movement 258 Generalization 95, 295 (as generalisation) Genitive 21, 31, 39 Gentile 126 German language 70, 84 Germanic languages 20, 69, 149 Germany 5, 10, 72, 73, 194, 199 Glasnost 100 Global lingua franca 1, 4, 7 Globalisation 24, 44, 64, 67n, 81, 85, 95, 97, 143, 206, 227, 236, 237, 241, 244, 245, 248, 249, 256, 275 Glottal 166 Goa 209, 213, 218, 221, 222 Gojjam dialect, see Dialects Gondar dialect, see Dialects Google 7 Gorbachev, Mikhail 100 Grammar 24, 48, 61, 65, 71, 79, 144n, 168, 185n, 189, 212, 293 Grammatical interference 44 Graphemes 210-211, 218, 226n Graphic borrowing 47 Great Britain 59, 280 Greece 149 Greek language 4, 5, 33, 42n, 47, 116, 122, 149, 166, 202, 294 Green-Left party 73 Grimm, Jacob 5, 6 Guangdong region 231 Guoyu 227, 228, 229, 232 – Guoyu (Mandarin) Propagation Scheme 247 Gurage 165 Gylfi þ Gíslason 39 Haarlem 69 Habsburg dynasty 84, 96 Hadith 189 Haifa 128, 144n, 147 Hakka 229, 231, 233 Halldórsson, B.’s Icelandic dictionary 39 Han orthography 228 Hanja 28

Globally Speaking Hanyu da cidian [Great Chinese Dictionary] 237 Harär 165 Harari see Adäre Hebraised 128 Hebrew language – Biblical 38, 123, 130 – Language Academy 123, 142 – Language Committee 123 – Medieval 123 – Mishnaic 33 – Modern 122-130, 133, 137, 138, 141, 142, 148, 162n, 281 – Script 139, 218 – Slang 124, 125, 143, 151 Hedendaags Nederlands 79 Hegemony 6, 211 Hellenisation 125 Herat Crisis, first 193 Hið íslenska lærdómslistafélag (The Icelandic Society for Learned Arts) 23, 31 Hidden English 2, 213, 219, 221 Higher education 16, 73, 93, 172, 173, 178, 225, 290 Hindi belt 209, 216, 217, 223, 224, 225 Hiragana 228, 243, 259, 264, 265 Hirohito, Showa emperor 232 Holland, see also Netherlands 69, 70 Hong Kong 241 Honorific language [keigo] 268 Hungarian – Language 2, 18, 82-97, 282, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288, 294 – Ministry of Education 87 – Ministry of National Heritage 87 – National Marketing Research Institute 86 Hungary 82-88, 96, 97, 277-279 Hunglish 91 Hybrid-neologism 47 Iceland 20, 21, 24, 25, 27, 32, 37, 38, 39, 245, 277, 278, 286 Icelandic – Language 19, 20, 23-26, 31 – Language Council Íslensk málnefnd 24 – Language Institute (Íslensk málstöð) 24 – Lexis 24, 40 – Saga 21 Ideology 100, 102, 121, 125, 179, 204, 205, 206, 246, 289 Ideophonetic 240, 243 Idiom 54, 70, 74, 76, 100, 120n, 122, 139, 141, 157, 164, 182, 183, 213, 273, 282

Index Il-Khanid period 190 Immigrants 67, 70, 124, 126, 144, 147, 157, 159, 188, 230, 249n, 277, 280 Imperfective forms 113, 115 India 2, 15, 121, 191, 208-215, 218, 221-225, 264, 276, 277, 279, 286, 292 Indian (sub-continent) – English language 212 – Ministry of Education 215 – Mutiny 213-214 – Subcontinent 6-7, 191, 213, 292 – Subgroup of languages 187 – Union 208, 209, 221, 225 Indo– Indo-European language group 2, 18, 33-34, 82, 187, 208 – Indo-Germanic 69 – Indo-Iranian language group 187, 208, 210, 218 Infinitive formation 181 Inflexion (Inflection) 21, 31-32, 37, 78, 112, 114, 167, 168, 174, 265, 273 Information Technology (IT) 174-175, 177, 205, 225, 244, 245 Insertion 54, 66n, 98, 110-111, 118 Institutionalisation 10 Insular Scandinavian languages 21 Interlingual comparison 18 International Standard English 7 Internationalism 26, 30, 33, 35, 37-38, 42n, 257 Internet 6-7, 14, 20, 25, 26, 51, 57, 75, 83, 85, 98, 115, 118, 128, 150, 174, 175, 184, 206, 228, 236, 241, 2422, 243, 245, 280, 286, 287, 290, 293 Iran 2, 187-206, 277, 278, 279, 283, 286 Iran Foundation 198 Iranian – Academy of Persian Language and Literature (IAPLL) 205 – Language, see Farsi – Ministry of Education 195 – Subgroup of languages 187 Iraq 59-60, 67n, 147, 149 Ireland 5, 73 Iron Curtain 85 Islamic Republic 192, 193, 194, 196, 204, 205, 206, 283 Israel 2, 11, 15, 21, 27, 33, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 42n, 67n, 123-126, 128, 140, 143-144, 145-151, 155-156, 157, 158, 159-160, 162n, 163n, 165, 185n, 218, 277, 279, 286, 287, 292 Israeli Hebrew language 21, 27, 33, 40, 279, 287 Istanbul 194

331 IT, see Information Technology Italian language 4, 33, 34, 35, 42n, 149, 155, 160, 171, 175, 178, 184, 185n Italy 73, 149, 171, 184 Jaffa 147 Japanese – Language 250-275 – Ministry of Education 253, 254, 259, 261, 262 – Society for the Promotion of Science 262 Japan Times 250 Japaneseness, see Nihonjinron Japanisation 231, 267 Jargon 13, 24, 79, 94, 100, 106, 143, 151, 160, 277,279, 290 Jazayery 202 Jerusalem 123 Jesuits 171, 221, 238 Jewish 147, 148, 162n Jews 122, 126, 142, 146, 147, 165, 171 Jinnah, Mohammed 215 Jordan 151, 159, 161, 162n, 163n Jospin, Lionel 52 Kana 248, 249n, 259, 264, 265 kango 251, 255, 262-263 Kanji 28, 232, 239, 260, 262, 263, 264, 265 Kannada 208, 216, 226n Karoun River 197 Katakana 241, 247, 256, 259-262, 264, 265-266, 281 keigo, see Honorific language Kerala 213 Kharazmian 187 Khotanese 187 Khuzi 187 King James Bible 70 KMT (Kuo-ming-tang or Guomindang) 232, 233, 235, 245, 246 Koizumi Jun’ichiro 250. 261, 267, 274 Kominka 231 Konkani 209, 210, 218, 221-222, 226n Koran (Qur’an) 189, 205 Korean language 28 Korean War (1950-1953) 235, 256 Koxinga (Zheng Chenggong) 230-231 Kremlin 108 Kurds 188 Labial 166, 211 Labio-velar 166 Language – Death 8

332 – Economy 100, 103, 105 – Families 2, 11, 17, 18, 208, 209, 276 – Intertwining 78 – Shift 65, 73 Language Association [Gengo Gakkai] 259 Language Problems and Language Planning (LPLP) 9 Laryngeals 166, 169, 170, 183 Latin 2, 5, 39, 47, 71, 83, 84, 89, 92, 111, 114, 122, 149, 202, 264, 281 Law 84, 163, 194, 209, 228, 233, 234, 245, 246, 247, 248 Laxnes, Halldór 36 League of Nations 147 Lebanon 35, 149, 159 Legislation 24 Legislative Yuan 227, 234 Lehnclipping (loan-clipping) 29 Lexeme 28, 35, 36, 37, 161, 268, 283 Lexical – Assimilation 227, 238, 244 – Borrowing 1, 4, 11, 12, 13, 15, 17-18, 30, 88-89, 96, 122, 174-175, 176, 227-229, 237-238, 241-242, 242-244, 248, 274, 276, 277-280, 281, 285-286, 293-294, 295 – Substitutions 46 Lexicon 1, 9, 12, 44, 46, 64, 83, 84, 170, 183, 190, 227, 232, 237, 238, 244, 248, 253, 258, 276, 283, 295 Lexicopoietic 32 Lexis 20, 24, 26, 40, 101, 103 Lingua franca 1, 4, 5-6, 7, 72, 76, 77, 82, 86, 96-97, 145, 148, 166, 183, 191, 198, 225, 227, 228, 232, 252, 276, 292 Linguist 5, 6, 23, 78, 188, 292 Linguistic – Borrowing 2, 83, 85, 97, 188, 258, 279, 290, 291 – Diversity 15, 17, 246, 277, 290 – Heterogeneity 10, 15 – Hierarchy 8 – Impoverishment 48 Literary Modern Arabic 145, 147, 148-150, 155, 159, 161, 162, 162n, 163n, 288 Loan words, see Loan noun, Loan translation, Loan verbs, Loan-shift Loan noun – Amharic 174, 182 – Russian 109, 116 Loan translation – Amharic 178, 179, 181, 182 – Arabic 288 – Hebrew 126, 128, 139, 141 – Icelandic 283

Globally Speaking – Japanese 253, 271, 272 – Persian 288 – Taiwanese 239, 241 Loan verbs, Amharic 174 Loan-blend – French 45, 50 – Persian 202 Loan-shift – French 45 – Persian 202 Loanword Committee (Gairaigo Iinkai) 250 Logical semantic association 31 Lok Sabh 209 Low Countries 70, 81 Low German 69, 70 Low Lands 68-70, 71 Lurs 188 Luxembourg 73. 74 Macaulay, Lord 214-215 Madrasehs 190 Madreseh-ye Roshdiyeh 195 Maharashtra 218 Mahatma Gandhi 215 Maktabs 190 Malayalam 208, 216, 226n Manchu government 231 Mandarin language 4, 28, 36, 208, 227-229, 232-233, 234, 237, 241, 242-244, 246-249, 249n Marathi language 208, 210, 218 Marxist-Leninist ideology 179 Mass communication 97, 233, 241, 247, 250, 255, 279, 293 Mass media 11, 14, 16, 24, 104, 117, 123, 124, 147, 165, 166, 178, 186n, 229, 233, 234, 235, 241, 242, 243, 256, 257, 277, 280 Meaning – Change 157-158 – Expansion 29, 207-108, 157 – Narrowing 107, 157, 270 Media, see Mass media, Mass communication Medieval Hebrew, see Hebrew (Medieval) Mediterranean 4, 123 Meghalaya 212 Meiji Restoration 252, 253 Meirokusha 253 Menz dialect 165 Metaphor 3, 12, 43, 76, 91, 109, 114, 117, 141, 292 Metatext 105, 118 Middle Ages 12, 49, 71, 122 Middle East 5, 146, 147, 149, 160, 191, 198, 199

Index Middle languages (Iranian) 187 Migratory words 46 Millspaugh, Arthur C. 192, 198 Ming dynasty 230, 238 Minnan Hua 228 Mirza Saleh Shirazi 201 Mishnaic Hebrew, see Hebrew (Mishnaic) Mizoram 212 Mo’asseseh-ye Motale’at va Tahqiqat-e Farhangi (The Institute for Cultural Studies and Research) 204 Modernization 12, 14, 16, 122, 148, 164, 171, 187, 190, 191, 193, 196, 197, 201, 206, 227, 231, 235, 238, 244, 245, 252, 253, 257, 258, 260, 262, 274, 277, 279, 283 Mongol language 190 Mongolia 5 Monosyllabic 22, 30, 57 Mori, Arinori 253 Morocco 157 Morphemes 22, 30, 39, 116, 127, 139, 155, 156, 161, 169, 238, 239, 240, 269, 273 Morphemic structure 22 Morphology – Morphological adaptations 115, 143, 156, 268, 290, 291 – Morphological classification 126, 128 – Morphological structure 21, 288 Morphosyntax 45 Mosaic Word 95 Moscow 98, 110 Mother tongue 10, 11, 13, 24, 81, 86, 89, 93, 121, 122-123, 125, 160,165, 170, 172, 188, 216, 234, 242, 246, 290, 291 MTV, see Music Television Mughal Empire 214 Multilingual language acquisition 9 Multilingualism 76, 208, 216, 246, 247 Munda language 208 Music Television (MTV) 72, 243 Muslims 146, 210, 220 Nagaland 212 Nagasaki 252, 265 Napoleonic wars 5 Naser al-Din Shah 194 National Institute for Japanese Language (Kokuritsu Kokugo Kenkyûjo) 250 National Japanese Language Research Institute [Kokuritsu Kokugo Kenkyûjo] 260 National Language Council [Kokugo Shingikai] 259-260 National Language Equality Draft Law 228,

333 246, 248 National Language Equality Law 247-248 National Language Inquiry Board [Kokugo Chôsa Iinkai] 259 National Language Inquiry Society [Kokugo Chôsakai] 259 Nationalism 15, 26, 30, 33, 35, 37, 38, 42, 122, 227, 245, 252, 257, 277, 290 Native Americans 78 Native speakers 7, 14, 40, 77, 82, 88, 89, 90, 122, 124, 150, 158, 183, 243, 293 NATO 54, 85 Near East Foundation 198 Nederduits (Lower German) dialect 69 Nederduitse Orthographie (Dutch Orthography) 71 Nehru, Jawaharlal 215 Neologism 28, 32, 35, 37, 40, 41, 44, 45, 47, 51, 53, 57, 62, 64, 65, 66n, 67n Nepali 210 Netherlands 2, 68-71, 72-74, 75, 77, 81, 81n, 159, 245, 277, 279, 292 Newton, Isaac 5 NHK [Nippon Hôsô Kyôkai] 261 Nicholas II, Tsar 6 Nigeria 157, 161, 163 Nigerian Arabic 157, 163n Nihonjinron 257-258 Nilo-Saharan families 164 Nominative 21-22, 112 Normans 12 Norse language 23 North Africa 5, 147, 149, 159 North America 6, 8, 165, 282 North Germanic (Scandinavian) 69 North Germanic languages 20 North Holland 69-70 Norway 21, 25, 245 Norwegian language 21-22 Nouns 22, 32, 39, 53, 66n, 77, 79, 90, 91, 94, 102, 103, 104, 108, 109, 112, 114, 115, 116, 127, 130, 137, 138, 139, 140 156, 166, 169, 174, 176, 180, 181, 182, 184, 269, 271, 273 Nynorsk 21 Occupation era (1945-1952) (Japan) 255-256 Office of Technological and Scientific Terminology 123 Oil Services Company of Iran 200 Ólafsson, Ólafur M. 37 Omotic language 165 Ontario French 65 Onze Taal 75 Opium War 238

334 Orissa 210 Oriya language 210 Oromo 173 Orthographic 46, 241, 244 Orthography 47, 71, 139, 228 Ottoman Empire 124, 147, 149, 194 Pacific War (1941-1945) 255, 256, 260, 261, 262 Pahlavi, Mohammad Reza, Shah 196, 197 Pahlavi kingship, first 189, 193, 194, 195, 196, 198, 204, 206 Pakistan 209, 210, 215, 219 Palatal consonant 166 Palatalisation 167, 170, 183 Palestine 123, 159, 292 Pálsson, Pálmi 21 Pamir region 187 Pan-Blue Camp 245, 247, 249, 249n Pan-Green Camp 246, 247-249 Pannonian plain 83 Paragogue vowel 281 Parthia 187 Particles 160, 225, 265, 282 Pashto language 188 Patagonia 5 Pax Americana 235 People First Party 245 People’s Republic of China 245 Perestroika 98, 100, 102, 117 Perfect tense 22 Perfective form 113, 115 Persian language 2, 18, 83, 149, 187-206, 207n, 220, 225, 284, 285, 294 Persian Gulf 191, 194 Persian script 188, 202 Perso-Arabic – Alphabet (abjad) 211 – Script 220, 221 Peter I, Tsar 99 Pharyngealisation 155 Phonemes 20, 32, 39, 40, 41, 47, 90, 126, 133, 140, 155, 166, 175, 222, 260, 266, 288, 290 Phonetics 22, 45, 89, 189, 202, 228, 267 – Phonetic rendering 240 – Phonetic rendition 219 – Pure phonetic transcription 239 Phonology 22, 31, 45, 84, 133, 155, 166, 266, 267, 281, 293 – Phonological adaptation 112, 155, 288, 294 – Phonological borrowing 47, 175, 184 – Phonological vowel harmony rules 91 – Phono-logographic 28 – Phonosemantic Matching 2, 19, 26, 28, 29, 36, 38

Globally Speaking Phrasal borrowing 182 Phraseological unit 109, 111 Pidgin 4, 40, 294 – Pidgin English 212, 254, 256, 258 – Pidgin Hungarian 91 Planned vocabulary building 88 Pluralisation 156 Polish language 123, 138, 144 Politics 64, 72, 73-74, 84, 88, 92, 96, 101, 102, 103, 108, 128, 174, 179, 187, 201, 228, 229, 247, 249, 254, 276, 286, 290, 291 Polyglossic 225 Polysemantic words 107 Polysyllabic 30-31 Pop culture (popular culture) 13, 14, 227, 232, 235, 244, 256, 259, 267, 279 Portugal 73 Postcolonialism 8 Prefix 53, 139, 268 – Productive prefix 92 Present tense 127 Principia 5 Programming language 6 Pronouns 12, 78, 168, 185n Pronunciation 11, 24, 67n, 69, 79, 95, 111, 112, 120n, 212, 243, 249n, 254, 260, 264, 266, 281, 282 Prosthetic vowels 176, 281 Provisional Military Administrative Council (PMAC) of Ethiopia 173 Pseudo-anglicism 47 Pseudo-loan 47, 182 Psycholinguistics 3, 9, 125, 142, 276, 277, 281, 283, 288, 289, 290, 291, 294 Punjabi 208, 210 Purism 9, 10, 15, 24, 25, 26, 70, 75, 96, 99, 100, 279 Qajar period 190, 194, 196, 198, 206 Qing dynasty 230, 231, 238 Quadrilateral 53 Quadriradical 169 Quanzhou region 230 Quebec (Québec) 61 Québécois French 65 Quinquiradical 169 Qur’an, see Koran Radio 14, 30, 34, 41, 60, 72, 83, 85, 123, 124, 198, 201, 224, 232, 235, 255, 256, 261, 280, 283, 290 rangaku [Dutch learning] 252 Rasmus Rask 23 Rederijkers 70, 71

Index Reikai Kokugojiten dictionary 256 Relexification 121, 292, 293 Religion 5, 69, 84, 188, 189, 203, 210, 214, 243 Renaissance 70, 71, 145 Reproduction 19, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 30, 31, 33, 35, 40, 188 Republic of China (ROC), see China Republic of Iceland 20 Research Group on Broadcast Research Language [Hôsô Yôgo Kenkyûhan] 261 Research Institute for Linguistics of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences 87, 96 Revolutionised Turkish 27 Reykjavik 23 Reza Shah Pahlavi 192, 204 Reza’iyeh 196 Rockefeller Foundation 198 Rodrigues, João 265 Roman script 140, 211, 212, 221-222, 223, 230, 231 Romance languages 4, 78 Romania 82 Romanisation 230 Root consonant 127, 156 Rouznameh-ye Vaqaye’-eh Ettefaqiyeh 201 Rovás 83 Rushdie, Salman 193 Russia 98, 99, 100, 117, 149, 190, 191-192, 193, 194, 197, 277, 278, 279 Russian language 2, 5, 87, 97, 98-120, 120n, 123, 125-126, 138, 144n, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288, 292, 294 Sabir atlantic 47 Safavid 189-190 Samanid 189 Samaria and Judea 146 Sane plural 156 Sanskrit language 209, 210, 214, 216, 220, 225, 238, 264 Sassanians187 Saudi Arabia 161 Scandinavian languages 21-22 – Scandinavian languages (continental) 21 Science and Technology Dictionary – Science and Technology Dictionary of Amharic 172, 174, 180, 183 Second Sound Shift 69 Semantics 27, 31, 40, 45, 108, 119, 140, 157, 288 – Semantic development 119 – Semantic doublets 104, 109, 282 – Semantic extensions 47, 109, 270 – Semantic rendering 240

335 – Semantic shift 27, 33, 51, 270 – Semantic translation 239, 241 Semitic (Afro-Asiatic) language group 2, 164 Serbia 82 Serbian language 210 Serbo-Croat language 210 Shakespeare, William 80, 215 Shari’a 189 Shi’i 189 Shi’isation 189 Shin Meikai Kokugojiten dictionary 256 Showa era 255 Shuster, William Morgan 198 Silk Road 238, 243 Sindhi language 209-211 Sinkang Bunsu (Sinkang manuscripts) 230 Sinkang Romanisation system 230 Sino-Japanese War 231 Sino-Tibetan language group 2, 18 Siraya 230 Six Day War 124, 148 Slang dictionary 124, 125 Slavic 2, 116 Slovakia 82 Slovenia 82 Sociolinguistics 3, 7, 9, 30, 125, 142, 150, 164, 184, 234, 237, 263, 264, 268, 275, 276, 277, 283, 289, 290, 291, 294 Somali language 173 Source language (SL) 25, 28, 30, 89, 110, 114, 122, 129, 157, 280, 281, 293 South America 69 Southern Nations, Nationalities and Peoples Region (SNNPR) 173 Soviet bloc 5 Soviet Union 85, 96, 125, 188, 286, 292, 294 Spain 71, 149, 267 Spanish language 212, 222, 260, 261, 281 Spelling 11, 38, 71, 80, 85, 89, 90, 92, 111, 120n, 125, 139 Srebrenica 73 St. Petersburg 98, 106, 108, 111, 116 Stalin, Joseph 100 Standard Chinese 35, 36, 37 Standard Mandarin 36 Standardization 9, 21, 37, 95, 259 State Duma 118 Statenbijbel (States Bible) 70 States General 70 Stem 31, 33, 37, 127, 156, 169, 170, 174, 180, 182, 183, 193 Stichting Nederlands 75 Sturlunga Saga 31

336 Stylistic stratification 119 Subdued language 17 Sub-Saharan language 168 Subtitles 72, 172, 173, 185n Suffix 22, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 47, 53, 57, 62, 90-91, 103, 113, 114, 127, 129, 137, 138, 139, 143, 144n, 156, 157, 161, 180, 272, 273, 283 Suffixation 156, 180 Sumerian language 189 Superstratum language 17, 28, 78 Suriname 69, 79 Suryani (Syriac) 187 Sweden 22, 27, 73, 245 Swedish language 22, 26, 27, 42n Switzerland 194 Syllabary 167, 18, 185n, 211, 259, 264, 266 Syllable 22, 30, 31, 40, 112, 126, 140, 155, 156, 167, 168, 176, 188, 211, 219, 266, 267, 268, 281 Synchronic Amharic 169 sýndarsamsetningar (pseudo-compounds) 31 Synonyms 34, 53, 141, 282 Syntactic relationship 94 Syntax 18, 45, 65, 78, 79, 89, 166, 170, 183 Syria 35, 147, 149, 187-188 Tabriz 195 Taipei 232, 236, 249n Taipei Times 236 Taisho era 254-255 Taiwan – Government Information Office 236 – Mandarin 28, 227-229, 237, 243, 246, 248-249 – Ministry of Education 234, 236, 247, 249n – Taiwan Review 234 – Taiwan Solidarity Union 245 Taiwanese 228-229, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235-236, 241, 242-243, 247, 247-249 Tajiki language 188 Tajikistan 188 Tamil – Language 208, 216, 220-221, 226n – Script 218, 220, 224 Tamil Nadu 216, 218, 220, 224 Tang dynasty 238 Täramaj Mäzgäbä Qalat (Progressive Dictionary) 179 Target language (TL) 28, 45, 88, 89, 92, 108, 110, 114 Taxonomy 19, 29 Teaching English as a Foreign Language

Globally Speaking (TEFL) 7 Teaching English as a Second or Foreign Language (TESL-EJ) 7 Technion (Israel Institute of Technology) 38, 144, 151 Technology 12, 24, 41, 42n, 84-85, 88, 97, 103, 150, 160, 164, 172, 174, 174-175, 175-177, 182, 184, 189, 190, 194, 202, 225, 241, 242, 244, 245, 250, 252, 254, 263, 274, 283 Tehran 191, 192, 194, 195-196, 200 Tehran University 196 Tel Aviv 147 Television 14, 16, 25-26, 34, 41, 51, 52, 54, 58, 60, 61, 72, 82, 83, 85, 93, 102, 118, 123, 141, 144, 149, 150, 175, 201, 215, 224, 228, 233, 234, 235, 241, 242, 243, 256, 261, 283, 280, 2287, 290 Telugu language 208, 216 Terminology 12, 13, 14, 16, 24, 49, 50, 57, 59, 66n, 86, 88, 91-94, 95, 101-102, 103-104, 123, 125, 142, 148, 149, 161, 190, 197, 257, 261, 269, 272, 277, 285, 290 Tewodros II 171 The Times of India 217, 222 Tibeto-Burman languages 208, 226n Tigre language 165 Tigrinya 165, 168, 173, 185n Timurid period 190 Tourism 11, 13, 16, 93, 141 Transitional Government of Ethiopia (TGE) 173 Transliteration 120, 213, 217-218, 219, 224, 225, 226n, 238, 241 Triconsonantal 139 Trilingual language acquisition 9 Triphthong 140 Triradical 169 Truncated loan 47 Turanian languages (Turan) 189 Turkic languages 83 Turkish language 4, 5, 27, 40, 41, 149, 189-190, 220, 225 TV, see Television TVBS 246-247 Typology 19, 30 Ukraine 82 Umlaut 22 Unification 95, 144, 258, 259 United Daily News 242 Universalizing complex 7 Urbanisation 147 Urdu language 121, 210-211, 213, 220-221, 225

Index Urmiyeh 196 Varanasi 213, 217 Vedas 215 Velar 176, 185n, 211 Velarisation 155-156 Verbs 32, 37, 55, 61, 62, 85, 90-91, 113, 115, 127, 130, 156, 157, 166, 167, 169-170, 174-179, 183, 212, 272, 273, 283 Viazemsky, Yuri 118 Victoria, Queen 214 Vietnam War 235 Vilmundur, Jónsson 37, 39 Vocabulary 1, 4, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 45, 46, 65, 71, 78, 79, 80, 83-86, 88, 88-90, 92, 93-94, 97, 99, 102, 108, 117, 120n, 121, 122, 123, 126-127, 128130, 141, 143, 145-146, 149-150, 158, 159-162, 163n, 178, 184, 189, 190, 193, 199, 202, 206, 210, 220, 225, 238, 243, 253, 254-255, 257, 258-259, 262, 263-264, 271, 273, 274, 276, 277, 279, 284-285, 287-288 Voice of America 14, 200 Vowel 22, 69, 84, 89, 91, 127, 138, 140, 155, 156, 166-167, 168, 169, 183, 185n, 210-211, 218, 219, 266-267, 281 Vulgar dialects (Chinese) 233 wago [Japanese words] 251

337 wakan [Sino-Japanese] 263-264 wakon kansai [Japanese spirit, Chinese technology] 263 wakon yôsai [Japanese spirit, Western technique] 252 wasei eigo [English made in Japan] 255, 271-272 Welfare 20 Wello dialect 165 Wenyen (classical Chinese) 230-231 Western Europe 6, 13, 85, 165, 282 Westernisation 85, 190, 193, 201, 238, 252, 283, 285 Word-building 119 Word-formation 19-20, 24, 26, 28, 29, 40-41 World Englishes 7 World War I (WWI) 1, 2, 6, 14, 30, 72, 100, 147, 162n, 192, 194, 198, 199, 201. 232 World War II (WWII) 123-124, 282, 292 World Wide Web 14 Yamato 263 Yiddish language 123, 126, 141 Youth culture 79 Yuan-Ze University 234 Yugoslavia 15, 210 Zhangzhou region 230 Zhirinovsky [Zhirinovskii], Vladimir 118