I am a language teacher. I teach German as a foreign language. So I am well aware of the relevance of foreign languages. New languages open new doors for you, etc. I also live in Istanbul and work at an English-speaking institution. So my everyday life is shaped by conversations in which at least one side speaks in a language that is foreign to them. Of course, I also have a lot of conversations with friends, colleagues or family in which we all share the same mother tongue. So I’m used to both conversations in my mother tongue and conversations in foreign languages. And I know both: Conversations in which we can get along so well. Conversations that move us forward to new places. On the other hand, conversations in which two people speak, but not to each other. In which the words collide as if against an invisible wall between us. But — and this is the but of this text — whether we understand each other or not seems to depend on a lot, but in the rarest cases on the language we speak.
According to the legend of the Tower of Babel, we humans wanted to equate ourselves with God by planning the construction of a huge tower that would reach up to the sky, up to God. Of course, when God saw this, he couldn’t go without punishment. His punishment was different languages for us humans. So suddenly we could no longer communicate and thus no longer plan such nonsense.
And yet I think that our communication does not fail because of different languages. Arguments in which you desperately realize how much you talk past each other. Unspoken conflicts in the family that appear so banal from the outside but are so huge because of their unspoken nature. Repressed feelings that can be so hurtful. These are only a few examples from my own and certainly many other lives of a lack of communication, completely independent of the language. On the other hand, encounters in which we show ourselves with our words, in which we understand each other. Dialogues that move us forward, show new horizons or make existing horizons aware. Dialogues for which you want to say thank you, because you realize you are not alone with your thoughts or feelings.
Sometimes our words are just lost sounds in an empty room. But sometimes they create something, shape something, expose a reality that has always been there, but only becomes tangible for us through conversation.
If not because of the level of the language we speak, what are the reasons whether we can communicate or not? How do we manage not only to phrase beautiful words, but to express ourselves (very figuratively like the toothpaste tube)? How do we manage not only to hear each other, but to understand each other?
Language is only one of many levels on which we communicate. A very important one, but by no means the only one and language itself is never enough. An example that everyone knows: “I’m not stubborn” says the child and his irritating tone, his contorted face, his crooked posture, everything says the exact opposite. Facial expressions and gestures are such a crucial part of our understanding, much more meaningful than all the words that we can put together to sentences. What is an “I love you” compared to a look in love? What is “we get along so well” compared to a fit of laughter that infects us together. Emojis are such an great invention because they bring facial expressions and gestures into written language. Everyone knows it: misunderstandings based on chat messages without the appropriate emoji. Emojis are universal, and so are facial expressions and gestures. There may be cultural differences, the raised thumb may be an approval in one language and a gross insult in the other, but the basics are so natural to us that they are the same everywhere. Laughing, bright eyes, excited playing around with your own hands, holding hands, tears, flush of anger: we all understand this without having to think about it. We all have natural gestures and facial expressions with which we can express and communicate so well. As children, we laugh, scream and cry, or we smile up to our ears when we are happy. Over time we “learn” to behave more seriously, to show less of ourselves, to “behave”. We “learn” to cry less and not to show our feelings directly. We “learn” how to become like the gray men from Momo. How are we supposed to understand each other if we censor our very own language, the body language?
Secondly, and in my opinion this is an even more common and decisive cause of misunderstandings and lack of understanding: We are extremely bad at bringing up what we think and feel. Shame, fear, adjustment, social norms, they all very often prevent us from expressing our inner being. “If you had been silent, you would have remained a philosopher” is a beautiful saying that is often true. But isn’t there a lot more problem with things not being said? Doesn’t apply the following much more often “If you had said something, you could have changed something for the better”? Questions not asked out of fear of the reaction, apologies not expressed out of shame, unspoken criticism out of blind obedience. Unfortunately, I can find examples of all these speechlessnesses in my life. We prefer to remain a silent philosopher as every word is a risk. A risk of being misunderstood, crossing boundaries, hurting or being hurt. But isn’t every real word a beautiful word? Shouldn’t we all ask each other more questions? How are you? What are you proud of? What are you sad about? Shouldn’t we all criticize each other more? Nothing gets us further than constructive criticism. You could have done it that way, couldn’t you? Give it a try! Shouldn’t we all apologize more? Please excuse me for hurting you. Please excuse my unspoken words. Please excuse my unsecurity.
How about if we learn our very own language correctly instead of the fourth and fifth foreign languages? If we learn how to express what we think and feel? If we learn to listen and understand? What if we learn to laugh and cry again?
Then we might not be able to build a Babylonian tower (major construction projects are not cool anyway!), But it would certainly do us good. My resolution for now and for the future: No French, no Japanese, but less hiding and more expressing instead, I want to find my own language again.