Democratic lanuguage

It must have been lunchtime in Washington because Andrew called me at work, which he seldom did. The office was a recently refurbished top floor of an old building in 75003, in the Marais. It combined old world elegance with bright halogen desk lamps and plasma screen monitors.

‘Do you think everyone should be made to learn English?’ he asked.

‘It depends who you mean by “everyone,”’ I said, looking at my watch and wondering if he’d delay our standing arrangement to go to a café after work. We had a long policy, established by Fabienne’s father and uncle, to close half an hour earlier than other offices, but to meet to discuss business informally at a café. It was a Thursday, a day we frequented a café that was not my favorite, so I let Andrew talk.

‘This is another of those things that you can’t talk about,’ Andrew said.
‘In land of the free and the home of the brave? Don’t you have freedom of speech anymore?’ I asked with some alarm.

‘Well, neither does Europe,’ he retorted.

‘It’s not in the European constitution yet,’ I said. ‘They’re working on it. Anyway, what can’t you talk about now?’

‘The English language. It’s impossible to say that you think that the English language is what holds this country together,’ he said. ‘Look at the problems of multi-lingual countries; time and again they collapse into tribalism. Hell, even Canada shows signs of coming apart when the French Canadians get worked up.’

‘I read that California is now more than 50% Spanish-speaking,’ I said.

‘It is,’ Andrew said. ‘Can you imagine what would happen if the prime minister of Spain came for a visit and did a De Gaulle?’

‘California libre viva?’ asked.

‘Exactly,’ Andrew said. ‘We could find ourselves losing states simply because Washington wasn’t able to communicate with them. I mean, suppose a Spanish-speaking senator was elected.’

‘Well, I guess the Senate would start to look like the United Nations, with simultaneous translators,’ I said.

I could hear Andrew sigh.

‘More than anything, it’s that we haven’t learned by the mistakes of others,’ Andrew said. ‘It’s one thing having signs in two languages like in Spanish and Catalan, in Spain; or English and Welsh in Wales, but here, Spanish is being used because English is not being taught.’

He paused.

‘That was the comment of my constituent,’ he continued. ‘This guy has a little boy who’s in his First Communion class down at the local Catholic church. The kid comes home and tells his father that he’s found out that are two First Communion classes, and will he have to go to both?’
‘Boys and girls?’ I asked, dimly remembering the 1950s.

‘No,’ Andrew said. ‘English and Spanish.’

It was my turn to be silent.

‘You’re joking?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Andrew said.

‘In Massachusetts?’

‘In Massachusetts.’

‘I thought if there were a second language there it would be Italian or French,’ I said, remembering the names of my former classmates in grammar school and junior high.
‘If the kids were segregated because they were black, or Serbian, or Chinese there’d be an uproar,’ Andrew said. ‘Why don’t people see this as the same ghetto-ization?’

‘Hasn’t the court already ruled that separate is not equal?’ I asked.

‘For some reason, it doesn’t seem to apply when discussing this.’

‘Is there some inalienable right not to integrate into mainstream American society?’

‘I guess that’s it,’ Andrew said.

‘I don’t expect there will be an amendment to clarify ‘freedom of speech’ to ‘freedom of speech as long as it’s in English.’

‘Not a chance,’ he said.

‘But the consequence – '
‘Indeed, the consequence,’ Andrew echoed. ‘The consequences are simple and predictable. The communities become isolated, then unemployed, then alienated, then discontent, then rebellious and possibly secessionist, then there’s a civil war.’

‘No doubt along the way, the government will pass legislation making it illegal not to hire something because they can’t speak English.’

‘That’s not even funny,’ Andrew said.

'Call me again soon,' I said.

'Next time I have something I can't talk about.'