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@fantaghiro 2016-08-08T07:53:08.000000Z 字数 26769 阅读 12003

B2U1T1 A World Empire by Other Means

文本细读 商务英语综合教程

It is everywhere. Some 380 million people speak it as their first language and perhaps two-thirds as many again as their second. A billion are learning it, about a third of the world's population are in some sense exposed to it and by 2050, it is predicted, half the world will be more or less proficient in it. It is the language of globalisation — of international business, politics and diplomacy. It is the language of computers and the Internet. You'll see it on posters in Côte d'Ivoire, you'll hear it in pop songs in Tokyo, you'll read it in official documents in Phnom Penh. Deutsche Welle broadcasts in it. French business schools teach in it. It is the medium of expression in cabinet meetings in Bolivia. Truly, the tongue spoken back in the 1300s only by the "low people" of England has come a long way. It is now the global language.

Some 380 million people speak it as their first language and perhaps two-thirds as many again as their second.

A billion are learning it, about a third of the world's population are in some sense exposed to it and by 2050, it is predicted, half the world will be more or less proficient in it.

It is the language of globalisation — of international business, politics and diplomacy.

You'll see it on posters in Côte d'Ivoire, you'll hear it in pop songs in Tokyo, you'll read it in official documents in Phnom Penh.

Deutsche Welle broadcasts in it.

It is the medium of expression in cabinet meetings in Bolivia.

Truly, the tongue spoken back in the 1300s only by the "low people" of England has come a long way.

How come? Not because English is easy. True, genders are simple. But the verbs tend to be irregular, the grammar bizarre and the match between spelling and pronunciation a nightmare. English is now so widely spoken in so many places that umpteen versions have evolved, some so peculiar that even "native" speakers may have trouble understanding each other.

How come?

True, genders are simple.

But the verbs tend to be irregular, the grammar bizarre and the match between spelling and pronunciation a nightmare.

English is now so widely spoken in so many places that umpteen versions have evolved, some so peculiar that even "native" speakers may have trouble understanding each other.

As a language with many origins — Romance, Germanic, Norse, Celtic and so on — English was bound to be a mess. But its elasticity makes it messier, as well as stronger. When it comes to new words, English puts up few barriers to entry. Every year publishers bring out new dictionaries listing neologisms galore. The past decade, for instance, has produced not just a host of Internettery, computerese and phonebabble ("browsers", "downloading", "texting" and so on) but quantities of teenspeak ("fave", "fit", "pants", "phat", "sad"). All are readily received by English, however much some fogies may resist them.

As a language with many origins — Romance, Germanic, Norse, Celtic and so on — English was bound to be a mess.

But its elasticity makes it messier, as well as stronger.

When it comes to new words, English puts up few barriers to entry.

Every year publishers bring out new dictionaries listing neologisms galore.

The past decade, for instance, has produced not just a host of Internettery, computerese and phonebabble ("browsers", "downloading", "texting" and so on) but quantities of teenspeak ("fave", "fit", "pants", "phat", "sad").

All are readily received by English, however much some fogies may resist them.

English-speakers have not always been so angst-free about this laisser-faire attitude to their language. In the 18th century three writers — Joseph Addison (who founded the Spectator), Daniel Defoe (who wrote Robinson Crusoe) and Jonathan Swift (Gulliver's Travels) — wanted to see a committee set up to regulate the language.

English-speakers have not always been so angst-free about this laisser-faire attitude to their language.

In the 18th century three writers — Joseph Addison (who founded the Spectator), Daniel Defoe (who wrote Robinson Crusoe) and Jonathan Swift (Gulliver's Travels) — wanted to see a committee set up to regulate the language.

Fortunately, the principles of free trade triumphed. The success or failure of a language has little to do with its inherent qualities "and everything to do with the power of the people who speak it."

Fortunately, the principles of free trade triumphed.

The success or failure of a language has little to do with its inherent qualities "and everything to do with the power of the people who speak it."

English moved with the times, and by the 19th century the times were such that it had spread across an empire on which the sun never set. It thus began its rise as a global language.

English moved with the times, and by the 19th century the times were such that it had spread across an empire on which the sun never set.

**It thus began its rise as a global language. **

That could be seen not just by the use of English in Britain's colonies, but also by its usefulness much farther afield. When, for instance, Germany and Japan were negotiating their alliance against America and Britain in 1940, their two foreign ministers held their discussions in English. But however accommodating English might be the real reason for the latter day triumph of English is the triumph of the English-speaking United States as a world power. Therein lies a huge source of friction.

That could be seen not just by the use of English in Britain's colonies, but also by its usefulness much farther afield.

When, for instance, Germany and Japan were negotiating their alliance against America and Britain in 1940, their two foreign ministers held their discussions in English.

But however accommodating English might be[,] the real reason for the latter day triumph of English is the triumph of the English-speaking United States as a world power.

Therein lies a huge source of friction.

The merit of English as a global language is that it enables people of different countries to converse and do business with each other. But languages are not only a medium of communication, which enable nation to speak unto nation. They are also repositories of culture and identity. And in many countries the all-engulfing advance of English threatens to damage or destroy much local culture. This is sometimes lamented even in England itself, for though the language that now sweeps the world is called English, the culture carried with it is American.

The merit of English as a global language is that it enables people of different countries to converse and do business with each other.

But languages are not only a medium of communication, which enable nation to speak unto nation.

They are also repositories of culture and identity.

And in many countries the all-engulfing advance of English threatens to damage or destroy much local culture.

This is sometimes lamented even in England itself, for though the language that now sweeps the world is called English, the culture carried with it is American.

On the whole the Brits do not complain. Some may regret the passing of the "bullet-proof waistcoat" (in favour of the "bullet-proof vest"), the arrival of "hopefully" at the start of every sentence, the wholesale disappearance of the perfect tense, and the mutation of the meaning of "presently" from "soon" to "now". But few mind or even notice that their old "railway station" has become a "train station", the "car park" is turning into a "parking lot" and people now live "on", not "in", a street.

On the whole the Brits do not complain.

Some may regret the passing of the "bullet-proof waistcoat" (in favour of the "bullet-proof vest"), the arrival of "hopefully" at the start of every sentence, the wholesale disappearance of the perfect tense, and the mutation of the meaning of "presently" from "soon" to "now".

Others, however, are not so relaxed. Perhaps it is hardest for the French. Ever since the revolution in 1789, they have aspired to see their language achieve a sort of universal status, and by the end of the 19th century, with France established as a colonial power second only to Britain and its language accepted as the lingua franca of diplomacy, they seemed to be on their way to reaching their goal. As the 20th century drew on, however, and English continued to encroach, French was driven on to the defensive.

Ever since the revolution in 1789, they have aspired to see their language achieve a sort of universal status, and by the end of the 19th century, with France established as a colonial power second only to Britain and its language accepted as the lingua franca of diplomacy, they seemed to be on their way to reaching their goal.

As the 20th century drew on, however, and English continued to encroach, French was driven on to the defensive.

French-speakers are far from alone. A law went into effect in Poland last year obliging all companies selling or advertising foreign products to use Polish in their advertisements, labelling and instructions. Even Germany, now the preeminent economic and political power in Europe, feels it necessary to resist the spread of Denglisch.

French-speakers are far from alone.

A law went into effect in Poland last year obliging all companies selling or advertising foreign products to use Polish in their advertisements, labelling and instructions.

Even Germany, now the preeminent economic and political power in Europe, feels it necessary to resist the spread of Denglisch.

In India some people see English as an oppressive legacy of colonialism that should be exterminated. For the Indians, the pain felt at the encroachments of English may be tempered by the pleasure of seeing their own words enriching the invading tongue: Sir Henry Yule's 1886 dictionary, Hobson-Jobson, lists thousands of Anglo-Indian words and phrases. But for many peoples the triumph of English is the defeat, if not outright destruction, of their own language. Of the world's 6,000 or 7,000 languages, a couple go out of business each week.

In India some people see English as an oppressive legacy of colonialism that should be exterminated.

For the Indians, the pain felt at the encroachments of English may be tempered by the pleasure of seeing their own words enriching the invading tongue: Sir Henry Yule's 1886 dictionary, Hobson-Jobson, lists thousands of Anglo-Indian words and phrases.

But for many peoples the triumph of English is the defeat, if not outright destruction, of their own language.

Of the world's 6,000 or 7,000 languages, a couple go out of business each week.

Yet the extinction of most languages is probably unstoppable. Television and radio, both blamed for homogenisation, may, paradoxically, prolong the life of some by narrow-casting in minority tongues. And though many languages may die, more people may also be able to speak several languages: multilingualism, a commonplace among the least educated peoples of Africa, is now the norm among Dutch, Scandinavians and, increasingly, almost everyone else. Native English-speakers, however, are becoming less competent at other languages: only nine students graduated in Arabic from universities in the United States last year, and the British are the most monoglot of all the peoples of the EU. Thus the triumph of English not only destroys the tongues of others; it also isolates native English-speakers from the literature, history and ideas of other peoples. It is, in short, a thoroughly dubious triumph. But then who's for Esperanto? Not the staff of The Economist, that's for sure.

Yet the extinction of most languages is probably unstoppable.

Television and radio, both blamed for homogenisation, may, paradoxically, prolong the life of some by narrow-casting in minority tongues.

And though many languages may die, more people may also be able to speak several languages: multilingualism, a commonplace among the least educated peoples of Africa, is now the norm among Dutch, Scandinavians and, increasingly, almost everyone else.

Native English-speakers, however, are becoming less competent at other languages: only nine students graduated in Arabic from universities in the United States last year, and the British are the most monoglot of all the peoples of the EU.

Thus the triumph of English not only destroys the tongues of others; it also isolates native English-speakers from the literature, history and ideas of other peoples.

It is, in short, a thoroughly dubious triumph.

But then who's for Esperanto?

Not the staff of The Economist, that's for sure.

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