Foreign language acquisition and multilingualism have been influential human phenomena for centuries, with the most popular and supposedly successful methodology being a combination of formal study and cultural-linguistic immersion.  As any foreign language learner can attest, the statement “in order to really learn a language, you must live where it is spoken” is a common one.

In recent decades, though, because of globalization and international business, among other factors, multilingualism has risen.  Now, multilingual speakers outnumber monolingual speakers, and their means of acquisition are becoming increasingly diverse.  Now, for instance, a native Spanish speaker in Mexico City is able to practice her Russian with a native Russian speaker in Moscow.

The Internet’s influence on multilingualism is obvious, for it is an easily accessible, seemingly unlimited realm of many languages.  Traditionally, using the Internet would foster passive language learning, i.e. reading, above all English, which is used exclusively on nearly fifty-seven percent of websites.  But many have begun to utilize the realm in some innovative ways, forming online communities of like-minded learners, yielding impressive results.

One such learner who’s had particularly impressive results is 17-year-old polyglot Timothy Doner of New York, who’s become fluent in several languages, and has a working knowledge of more than 20, mostly thanks to his conversations with native speakers around the world.  Although he supplements these conversations with traditional book-study, he attests that the most useful method has been speaking with native-speaking friends, who he slowly acquired after posting several YouTube videos of himself speaking in the particular language(s) he had been focusing on at the time.

The phenomenon could completely change the way foreign languages are learned and taught. If one is able to speak with native speakers—and furthermore, watch them speak—how necessary is it to actually be physically close to them, let alone in the same region of the world?  What’s more, applications like Skype make it possible to speak with multiple native speakers simultaneously.  Many language institutes have already harnessed the technology, and now offer classes—one-on-one- and group-style—through Skype.

But perhaps it has deeper implications still, as evidenced by Doner in a 2012 video interview.  “I don’t necessary see language as being first and foremost about communication”, he says, “You can almost see it as studying a sort of math.”  Although many would argue that math is a sort of language as well, Doner’s statement/motivations suggest that the nature of language acquisition and its relationship to foreign cultures and experience is changing.  Sure, it may be easier to learn foreign languages now, but does that somehow cheapen the process, and by extent, foreign cultures as we traditionally understand and seek to better understand them?

What do you think?  Is the new phenomenon an ultimately good thing, or it does what is inevitably lost outweigh the benefits?

Twitter, an exclusively written forum of language with fixed parameters and functions, is propelling a linguistic phenomenon.

The phenomenon involves lexis, grammar and voice (i.e./e.g. hashtags): how information is made and communicated, among other things.

“Speaking” of the hashtag: it is one of Twitter’s key functions—a term which has been almost universally adopted.

And regarding universality, the forum has just about achieved it, for it might be described as transcending both space and language.

However, it may be limited, for a tweet cannot exceed 140 characters.  Although, every link/article/word above was found using Twitter.

A parameter and function: search the hashtags #language and #Twitter to find the articles above.

A question: how will Twitter’s influence extend beyond its limits, beyond its (seemingly) exclusively written composition?

Another: how has it already affected modern language—both spoken and written—as we know it?

One of the most common reasons to learn a language is travel, for knowing the native language of a new place can undoubtedly deepen one’s experience while there, whether it’s reading about the place’s history or contemporary culture, conversing with the locals, or hearing passing voices in the street.  For many, in fact, the relationship is actually inverted: travel is predicated by a desire to learn a foreign language.

That said, the majority of travelers to foreign places are not motivated by such desire, and have little interest in learning the language beyond in the most basic communicative sense. As many such travelers will attest, travel of this nature can be exciting, confusing and funny—sometimes, simultaneously.  It can also be, unfortunately, quite frustrating: from asking directions to ordering food in restaurants, this negative aspect often deters would-be travelers from going to places where unknown languages are spoken.

Globalization, though, and other forces, are motivating travel hotspots to work toward limiting this sense of frustration, to bridging the communication gap.  Besides the arguably preferred method of travel industry workers learning the most popular language(s) of their clients, cities and governments (above all) employ methods not rooted in traditional language.  We experience the most popular of these everyday, regardless if our location is domestic or foreign—that is, pictographs.  Ranging from road signs to product instructions, these seek to communicate information without words.

US National Park Service Pictographs

Some have suggested that pictographs, in fact, could have larger implications beyond an improved level of communication between speakers of different languages, that the rising use of visual units of communication might complicate future language predictions. This positions pictographs as rather innovative in nature.

But, two things to consider: first: pictographs have existed for thousands of years—they predate written and spoken language, according to many experts; and second: globalization in general and specifically some of its most integral tools—above all, the Internet—are not exclusively rooted in language.  What’s more, the language used is almost always brief. Like travelers who encounter foreign languages, so too are Internet users’ encounters with foreign languages necessarily fleeting and functional.  The language exposure may be wider, sure, but usually it is very shallow.

The Internet as a tool is notable here above all because it has become such a dominant one when researching and planning travel—and likewise while traveling, as both a reference and communication tool, for most.  It, along with pictographs and other travel tools that seek to limit foreigners’ linguistic frustrations, might be considered contradictory to foreign language acquisition.

Are these speculations extreme, unfounded, or does the increasing influence of non-language-rooted communication tools and methods indeed threaten whatever foreign language travel traditions existed before?

As any person who’s traveled outside of his or her native country (or often dines in foreign-food restaurants) knows, the translation of food items names can vary widely, producing a diverse range of responses—excitement, confusion, humor and fear, among others.

Free image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

For foreign restaurants, it seems there are above all three options when it comes to written item translation.  The first and undoubtedly least common is to make little to no effort to translate item names and descriptions.  You’ll most often see this in restaurants that view translation as unnecessary, above all because of the restaurant’s location, i.e. its patrons, who ostensibly understand the foreign language or are familiar-enough with the items to not need translations of them.  Occasionally, though, you’ll encounter untranslated menus in particularly posh restaurants as well, motivated by something like staunch authenticity.

The second most common option is similarly extreme: every name and description is translated as literally and thoroughly as possible.  The most obvious motivation for this is to reach a wider audience, for with a complete lack of translation, patrons unfamiliar with the language and dishes might be less open to try the food.  Of course, this isn’t universally true, but it’s understandable that many people prefer to orient their food choices around ingredients/items they already know they like.  As a result of such exhausting translation, though—especially if the original language is erased completely—these restaurants will often retain a minimal sense of authenticity, and even repel those seeking a genuine meal from whatever region or culture supposedly represented.

Finally, there’s the moderate and most common option of providing translations in addition to the original menu language.  This may be considered an effort to both encourage and reciprocate the sort of open-mindedness the foreign patrons will demonstrate in dining at the restaurant.  There is no formula on how to appropriately achieve this balance, and the efforts undoubtedly vary, sometimes with hilarious results.  Whether by providing completely bilingual menus or simply retaining the original names of the dishes, these restaurants seek to provide authentic cuisine to as many people as possible.

This final option, though, raises some questions that go beyond the translation of food items, extending to the crux of translation in general: that is, above all, how does linguistic distance affect our understanding and experiencing of authenticity? Does translation in some ways work against true authentic experience?  An example: an Italian restaurant decides to start calling its manicotti Noodles Stuffed with Cheese and Meat and Covered with Tomato Sauce, but you know the recipe had been left completely untouched: would you feel as though the meal/restaurant/your experience had changed? If so, would that decrease the possible of your returning to the particular restaurant?

As a translator—regardless of what kind of texts—, are there are certain parts of language (besides names, perhaps) that you simply won’t translate? If so, what are they, and why do you refuse? Is it because you view it as impossible, or because doing so would cross some boundary of authenticity?