The case for monolingualism

Europe’s pride in multilingualism is misplaced. Just ask the French.

“The language of Europe is translation.”

That phrase, coined by Italian novelist Umberto Eco in 1993, is almost as old as I am and yet, like me, it still occasionally gets trotted out at parties in Brussels.

Given that societal trends rarely survive as long as healthy humans, it’s time to retire this old cliche and make way for a new reality: The language of Europe is English.

Whenever I say this, someone accuses me of being a lazy monoglot Anglo, so I feel compelled to point out that I speak fluent French, passable Spanish, and long-dormant Arabic and Persian. I say this not to show off but to demonstrate that, having invested thousands of hours in linguistic study, I benefit less than most English-speakers from our language’s rise to global dominance.

Those hours were not wasted. Speaking other languages has broadened my social and cultural horizons, introduced me to many friends, and probably improved my cognitive function. Living in the Middle East without a language filter profoundly changed my view of the region. I’d commend language study to anybody with a curious intellect.

So this is not a case for monolingualism in the individual, but rather in public life. For a nation, an empire or indeed a multinational trade-and-regulation club, the benefits of agreeing on a single official language far outweigh the downsides.

This idea has deep literary roots. In the Bible, humanity reaches a precocious level of development by gathering in a city, Babel, that speaks a single language – challenging the rule of their overlord. Threatened, the tyrant destroys the city’s tower and scatters the people, condemning them to centuries of division and servitude.

The Romans, too, knew the value of a lingua franca in creating a cohesive polity. But the best example from history is the French, if only because they are now the most determined deniers of English being the global language. Championing multilingualism is a new pursuit for France: Since the Revolution, its rulers have sought to crush minority languages within its own borders. If French rather than English had become the world language, one doubts they’d have the same zeal for diversity.

Cultural power

France’s Revolutionary language policy was repressive, but it did demonstrate that a government is most efficient when it is monolingual. A state that works in a single official language but stays out of people’s homes would seem to be a sensible balance. The same lesson applies to the EU if it is to act cohesively and represent its citizens’ interests on the world stage.

Among the EU’s 27 countries, by far the greatest resistance to English comes from France, whose diplomats often insist on speaking French – although many of them privately lament, in perfect English, the directives from Paris that force them to do so. This brings a requirement for interpreters and slows everything down. If France is serious about making the EU strong, it could begin by allowing its diplomats to work in the common language.

Multilingualism fails not only within the halls of power but also in communication to the public. Much is made in Brussels of the democratic need for the EU institutions to speak to citizens in their own language. And yet after decades of pursuing this policy, how many Europeans can even name the European Commission president, much less a member of the European Parliament?

Of course power in Europe is exercised largely through national governments, but what happens in Brussels still has a significant effect on our lives – a much greater effect than what happens in Washington, which most Europeans understand much better.

That’s because America speaks, politically and culturally, in a single continental language. Europeans share a cultural affinity with each other but we have no New York Times, nor a West Wing or House of Cards – despite our larger population and our comparable (if no longer equal) wealth. These are the vehicles of political communication. America’s linguistic unity, as much as its army or its economy, cements its global status.

This was a deliberate political decision. Americans are at least as ethnically diverse as Europeans. Many speak other languages at home; but as a political community they have agreed to speak just one.

The same can be said of India, which may well eclipse Europe geopolitically in my lifetime. Recent spasms of Hindification aside, much of India’s growth and cohesion can be put down to the leaders of its 36 states and territories agreeing to work together in English.

Many Europeans have come to the same conclusion, in culture and business if not politics. I was in Stuttgart over the weekend and the hotel staff spoke English to each other, as well as to me. A lot of people now just launch straight in, without an awkward – and increasingly redundant – “do you speak English?” to introduce the idea. Europe’s political institutions are lagging behind its people.

Eurobabble

The EU speaks in 24 languages but communicates in none. English may still be spoken by a minority of Europeans but that minority is growing fast; Eurobabble is accessible to a far smaller elite. For those of us who didn’t attend the College of Europe, deciphering a press release from the EU institutions can be like reading the Rosetta Stone.

This exclusive clique might have been appropriate in decades past, when attending elite institutions was more important and when France and Germany were collectively dominant enough to impose their will on the EU. It’s somewhat reasonable to expect elites to speak three to four languages if they’ve learned them from childhood.

But now we live in more democratic times and the EU comprises 27 countries, many of which have no tradition of learning French or German as a second or even third language. What they do all have, without exception, is a population that speaks better English with each generation.

There’s an emerging sense in Brussels of the EU institutions being elitist, resulting in a lack of ethnic or social diversity. A requirement to speak English would still be a barrier to entry, but it would be much less restrictive than requiring every civil servant to swim comfortably in the smug waters of multilingualism.

Whether we like it or not, the world has adopted English as its common language. Will Europe’s cosy establishment accept this fait accompli (sorry) and pave over its multilingual moat? Or will it continue to hurl thunderbolts like a vindictive god?