Monday, November 18, 2013

362 – Greek To Me: Mapping Mutual Incomprehension



“When an English speaker doesn’t understand a word of what someone says, he or she states that it’s ‘Greek to me’. When a Hebrew speaker encounters this difficulty, it ‘sounds like Chinese’. I’ve been told the Korean equivalent is ‘sounds like Hebrew’,” says Yuval Pinter (here on the excellent Languagelog).
Which begs the question: “Has there been a study of this phrase phenomenon, relating different languages on some kind of Directed Graph?” Well apparently there has, even if only perfunctorily, and the result is this cartogram.
When a Hellenophone has trouble understanding something, his or her preferred languages of reference, as far as incomprehension is concerned, are Arabic and Chinese. And while for Arabs the proverbial unintelligible language is Hindi, for Chinese it’s… the language of Heaven.
For Romanians, the ultimate in incomprehensibility is Turkish, for the Turks its French and the French consider Javanese the acme in huh?
But it is Chinese that, according to this cartogram, is the incomprehensible lingo of (p)reference for almost a dozen other languages, from Greek and Polish to Dutch and Lithuanian. Spanish, Hebrew and Greek are also quite popular, understandably so in the case of the latter two languages (isolate, relatively small languages) but more inexplicably so in the case of Spanish – a world language in its own right.
Which begs the fundamental question: why is language X considered the summit of incomprehension by language Y? Doesn’t that at least require some passing knowledge(or to be more precise, an awareness of the existence) by Y of X?
Mutual incomprehension results from the right mixture of inter-lingual proximity and unintelligibility. In the Middle Ages, for example, when the monks’ knowledge of Greek was waning, they would write in the margin of texts they could not translate, in Latin: “Graecum est, non legitur” (“This is Greek to me, I can’t read it”).
Greek, an elite language even in Roman times(1), has remained the West’s most popular shorthand for gobbledygook throughout the time of Shakespeare, who coined the original expression “it was Greek to me” (in Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II).
In the comments section of Languagelog are listed a few examples of such close/distant language incomprehension pairs:
  • In Italian, one can ask: “Parlo italiano o turco ottomano?” (“Do I speak Italian or Ottoman Turkish?” It has a nicer cadence in Italian)
  • One reported German expression for something incomprehensible: “Mesopotamisch”. Another one: “Kauderwelsch” (possibly referring to the Rhaeto-Romance language spoken in Switzerland)
  • Older Taiwanese refer to youthspeak, internet slang etc. as sounding “Martian” to them.
  • Even Esperanto-speakers have been endowed with their own expression, pointing the finger at another constructed language: “Estas Volapuk al mi!” (“It’s Volapük to me!”)
  • In Finnish, “Siansaksa” (“Pig German”) is the word for incomprehensible gibberish. Notice the similar English expression “Pig Latin”.
  • In Icelandic, one could say “Þetta er latína fyrir mér” (“This is Latin to me”) or “Þetta kemur mér spánskt fyrir sjónir” (“This looks Spanish to me”).
  • “Das ist mir Böhmischer Dörfer” (‘That’s Bohemian villages to me”) – this Germanreference to the incomprehension (or at least impronouncability) of Bohemian (i.e. Czech) village names is mirrored in the Slovak expression “Je pre mňa španielska dedina” (“(That) is for me a Spanish village”), and in the Slovenian one “To mi je španska vas” (“This is a Spanish village to me”) . Other related expressions, not just dealing with incomprehension so much as just plain chaos, are “Czeski film” (“Czech movie”) in Polish, for a kafkaesque situation, for example in dealing with bureaucracy. German has “polnische Wirtschaft” (“Polish economy”) for a chaotic situation and “Fachchinesisch” for technical jargon.
(1) In Rome of course, not in Greece.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Why I’m Not a TEDx Speaker



Frank Swain in Futures Exchange

Last week I was invited to speak at a TEDx event, and today I turned that offer down. It’s not that I don’t like TED — I think the organisers have done a great service to popularise thought-provoking ideas in an easily-digestible format. And the subject of the TEDx event, centring on science and society, is definitely close to my heart. But the problem I discovered is this: TED doesn’t pay its speakers.

Not that the person who approached me is a skinflint. I like to think they’d pay me if they could. But they are bound by the rules of TED, which asks that they don’t pay me. None of the speakers — at TED or its little sister TEDx — get paid. This is despite the fact that tickets to a full-scale TED event cost something in the realms of $6,000.

TEDx events are much smaller affairs, limited to audiences of a hundred. The official line from TED is that these satellite events are there for individuals and organisations to run their own “TED-style” events, and “release TED free to the world”, as if the concept of standing on a stage delivering talks was some kind of incredible innovation that the TED organisers themselves invented. (Guys, trust me, it’s been around a little longer than that. I’m pretty sure the Ancient Greeks were into it.)

I think this makes TEDx quite an insidious effort. They’ve developed a strong brand, strong enough to get away with bullish ideas that “TED-style” events are somehow better and more worthy than unbranded conferences. And within that manifesto, TED pushes the philosophy that there is value in ideas, but not value in delivering them. What’s wrong with paying for speakers? Why not leave it up to the individual organiser to decide if they want to pay?

The defence that TED is a non-profit organisation doesn’t fly with me. I doubt this excuses them from paying the lighting guys, the camera operators, the venue hire, the catering. Why pay those staff but not the speakers? Just because you’re a non-profit organisation, doesn’t mean I have to be.

I’m not averse to speaking for nothing. I’ve done Cafe Scientifique, SciBar, Skeptics In The Pub. I’ve spoken at schools, colleges, universities. None of these were satellite events for a $6,000-a-plate conference. None of them wanted to brand my talk as theirs.

I know I’m supposed to swoon a little at the idea of being an Official TEDx Speaker, that doing this will rain down confetti and job offers and fame on me. But in the end it boils down to this: TEDx is just another organisation asking me to work for free.

Do I sound grouchy and cynical? Well, I suppose I am. I’m tired of being asked to work for free. I’m tired of the bullshit idea that exposure is somehow its own reward. I’m tired of the people who can afford to do it justifying this malignant trend.

I can’t pay my rent with exposure and goodwill. So farewell, TEDx, I won’t be speaking at your event until TED starts paying its speakers. Now there’s an idea worth spreading.
 
Frank Swain