The theme of the year, “Indigenous languages matter for sustainable development, peace building and reconciliation,” echoes the “Languages matter” theme of the 2008 International Year of Languages. It also seems to highlight connections with the Sustainable Development Goals and even the concurrent International Year of Moderation (which will be the subject of a separate post).
IYIL2019 was declared in the 2016 UNGA resolution on the Rights of indigenous peoples., based on a resolution of the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues.
A general statement of the purpose of the Year from the official webpage sets the theme:
Languages play a crucial role in the daily lives of people, not only as a tool for communication, education, social integration and development, but also as a repository for each person’s unique identity, cultural history, traditions and memory. But despite their immense value, languages around the world continue to disappear at an alarming rate.
With this in mind, the United Nations declared 2019 The Year of Indigenous Languages (IY2019) in order to raise awareness of them, not only to benefit the people who speak these languages, but also for others to appreciate the important contribution they make to our world’s rich cultural diversity.
The IYIL2019 has five (5) “overarching” objectives (taken from the CFP, below; the website has a slightly different set of 5 action areas):
Informing about the importance of indigenous languages for social development
Creating greater awareness about the critical status of indigenous languages around the world
Stimulating intercultural debate around indigenous languages
Imparting new knowledge on the importance of indigenous languages
Shaping attitudes of relevant stakeholders about indigenous languages.
CFP within the context of IYIL2019
As part of the Year, there is a call for research papers (deadline 1 March 2019) addressing one or more of seven key areas of intervention:
Humanitarian affairs, peace-building and national development plans
Indigenous education and life-long learning
Indigenous knowledge in science and health
Social inclusion and urbanization, ethics and civic engagement
Cultural heritage and diplomacy
Technology, digital activism, and artificial intelligence
On this World Religion Day, an international observance dedicated to interfaith dialogue begun by American Baha’is in the late 1940s, I’d like to spotlight Protestant-Catholic relations in two locations in the United States where a branch of my family once lived. The first is Fitchburg in northern Worcester County, Massachusetts, where the first Catholic church in that part of the commonwealth was built in mid-1800s. The second, is Kalamazoo, Michigan, which also had a young Catholic congregation in the same period. This article is prompted in part by a remark heard last year about anti-Catholic attitudes in the latter town.
St. Bernard Church, Fitchburg, Mass.
The first Catholic church in Fitchburg and northern Worcester County, Massachusetts was St. Bernard’s. According to the parish history, a growing Catholic population in Fitchburg had to hold mass in the street in summer 1845, due to lack of a house of worship and being prohibited from using public buildings.
In the US during this period – roughly 1840s to mid-1850s – there was both growing immigration of Catholics from Ireland and Germany, and a nativist, anti-Catholic, and anti-immigrant movement called the “Know Nothings.” For a brief time (1854-57) this group actually controlled the Massachusetts government.
So, it is of interest that in Fitchburg at least, notables of the city who were evidently mostly (or all?) Protestants – among whom was my great3-grandfather Joseph Warren Mansur – assisted the local Catholic priest, Father Gibson, in the efforts he and his parishioners were making to obtain land and build a church.
The Catholics were able to do this in 1848, but storm damage required them to rebuild in 1852, and it was that church that the then bishop of the Boston diocese, John Bernard Fitzpatrick, consecrated in that same year.
Bishop Fitzpatrick and his delegation apparently stayed with J.W. Mansur (who at about that time was a Senator in the Massachusetts legislature) and family.
“The Bishop and Clergy, during their stay enjoyed the frank and gentlemanly hospitality of the Hon. Joseph Mansur; his kindness and that of his amiable household cannot be easily forgotten.— Mr. Mansur, Alvah Crocker, Esq., and other Protestant gentlemen of the town, have, from the beginning, shown an active interest in the success of the Rev. Mr. Gibson’s efforts, to provide a fit place of worship for his increasing flock.”
All of this transpired, of course, before the electoral victories of the Know Nothings in 1854. While the apparent comity around the creation of St. Bernard’s tells us something about Fitchburg, one wonders whether these events could have played out similarly under a radically different Massachusetts government.
J.W. Mansur’s wife, and my great3-grandmother, Anna Fitzpatrick (no known relation to the bishop) was Irish-born and evidently a Catholic. In a small way, perhaps, their marriage added another dimension to the Protestant-Catholic relations in Fitchburg of that era.
St. Augustine Cathedral, Kalamazoo, Mich.
Fast forward to a summer 2018 visit to St. Augustine Cathedral in Kalamazoo, Michigan (which by coincidence also had a preceding smaller structure completed in 1852). I was seeking some specific information concerning the Mansur family, who moved there when J.W. bought the Kalamazoo Gazette in 1862.
I knew that Anna Mansur was connected with that parish from a mention of a gift she gave on the occasion of a celebration of the 25th anniversary of the ordination of its then priest, Rev. Isadore Antoine Lebel (c. 1864):
“Mrs. J.W. Mansur presented a rich antique vase, of foreign manufacture, and also a set of knife racks.”
Although I did not find the particular information in Kalamazoo that thought I might (which itself was useful), one of the take-aways was an unexpected mention in conversation of prejudicial attitudes of some Protestants towards Catholics in local interfaith gatherings.
So in this regard, Michigan and Massachusetts shared some trends. On the other hand, there did not seem to be as much civic support in Kalamazoo for St. Augustine’s as there was in Fitchburg for St. Bernard’s. (From descriptions, it seems that Father Lebel had to carry most of the load himself, while Father Gibson had some well-placed allies.)
One of the things I like about World Religion Day is the opportunity for people of different faiths to come together on an equal footing. Interfaith dialogue during the rest of the year is where the work gets done, I suppose, and maybe it is in those settings that residual and deeper prejudice might seep out. In any event, it was a bit jarring to hear of such attitudes between denominations, or towards one denomination, within one faith in the 21st century US. How common is this elsewhere in the country?
The initial intent of this article was to highlight what seemed like the more positive story from Fitchburg in 1852, but I found that the more vexing issues raised in Kalamazoo, as well as the later ones in Massachusetts as a whole, belonged in the same discussion.
So what does this say about the potential for ongoing dialogue among religions when even denominations may harbor negative attitudes? Of course we are aware that it was not that long ago that Northern Ireland had open conflict between Protestants and Catholics, and that in several countries, there is frequent violence between Sunnis and Shi’as, etc. So it is a measure of how much work there is to do for religious understanding more broadly.
Also, I was coming at this from the viewpoint of genealogical research. That is the process that led to focus on these particular locations, and in the telling, it’s another thread to connect the two. Bringing it back to that point, I am wondering how Protestant attitudes towards Catholics in Kalamazoo (and perhaps the other way too) in the 1860s compared with those the Mansurs, as a denominationally mixed family, experienced in Fitchburg a few years earlier.
J.W. Mansur sold the Gazette in 1865, after the end of the Civil War, and the Mansurs left Kalamazoo. The few cursory mentions of that portray it as a business decision, but was there more to the story?
As a sophomore at Willowbrook High School in 1971, I penned a short piece entitled “They” for the holiday edition of the school’s newspaper, The Skyline. It is republished below with 3 minor copyedits (!). There is a lot I’d word differently if I were to write this today – after lots more education and life experience. Such as it is, however, the article reflects an emerging awareness about formation of attitudes (and prejudices) towards groups different than our own, and about what we call today, othering. And sadly, its theme is still relevant almost a half-century later.
It is “they!” Are “they” coming? No, they’re here. Are “they” invading us? How could they, we created them. Then who are “they”?
Most every day, each one of us, to differing degrees uses a stereotype or generalizes about some group(s) of people. “They” are the objects of generalization and often degrading stereotypes. “They” can be those of any group, as seen by someone from the outside. “They” are nobody in particular, but everybody in general.
Generalization is lumping all people of one group in one category (“all blacks are lazy,” “people over 30 are untrustworthy,” etc.) without regard to the fact that sub-groups and more importantly, individuals within each group are different.
A stereotype is an image tagged on to a group. For example, the typical stereotype of a Mexican is a man taking a siesta sitting against a wall, with a big sombrero pulled over his face. Like generalization, stereotypes are unfair, because they put one label on each individual of a group.
Generalization and stereotypes usually are caused by lack of understanding about others. In turn, they promote more misunderstanding among people. But, an even worse problem is that unfound[ed] prejudice or hatred also give rise to stereotypes and generalization. Whatever their cause, it is incumbent on us to strive to eliminate these two promoters of misunderstanding in order to keep alive the hope of “Peace on Earth, Good Will Towards Men.”
“They,” by Don Osborn, The Willowbrook Skyline, 16 Dec 1971, p. 2
A quick note of remembrance for my journalism teacher at the time, and the longtime advisor for the Skyline, John M. Rowley, who passed away in 2012. RIP.
Mr. Rowley, as we knew him, was patient, generous with advice while not imposing his solutions, and had a good sense of humor (which more or less he had to). His lessons about concise headline writing I particularly remember, as they turned out to be transferable many years later to writing 140 character tweets!
A recent blog article on difficulties China’s president Xi Jinping had with some literary references in Chinese bring to mind two separate but intersecting issues: the cultural depth of languages; and language as one indicator of the human fallibility of even the most powerful leaders.
The article, “Xi Jinping’s reading errors multiply,” which was posted on Language Log by University of Pennsylvania professor of Chinese, Victor H. Mair, notes three literary expressions misread by Pres. Xi during a recent major address (the one mentioned above is one of them1). And worse, this apparently isn’t the first time for such mistakes.
The 1 easy & 3 difficults of learning Chinese
In my limited study of and exposure to use of Chinese (Mandarin), I came to understand the language as hving 4 dimensions for the learner:
The grammar and structure of the language are relatively straightforward (perhaps it helped me to have previously studied West African languages).
The tones take work for someone like me who grew up with languages that are not tonal.
The writing is complicated – no way around that, even when one understands how radicals work.
The cultural dimensions of expression are quite deep.
It is this last category, as I interpret it, that proved problematic even for Pres. Xi.
For a language learner it is scant comfort to know that a native speaker of significant learning and rank can have difficulties – if they get tripped up, what hope is there for most learners of the language?
Of course, every language has some variation on the four points I suggest above: how the language works; how to speak / pronounce it; how to write it; and the cultural content. A native speaker will pretty much “get” the first two, and hopefully have the chance to learn the third to a high degree of proficiency.
The fourth seems to be acquired through a combination of acculturation and study. Perhaps because Chinese has been written for so long, the amount of expressions, proverbs, etc. to learn is considerable. Such that it is evidently possible for individuals even in high positions to come up short.
Heights of inarticulation
China’s Pres. Xi is hardly the first country leader to run into problems with language. Former US president George W. Bush, for example, was known for his malapropisms. And run of the mill verbal miscues are almost inevitable when one’s every word is potential news.
Of course nobody is perfect, and we all can produce less than ideal turns of phrase. But we tend to expect people in leadership positions to do better – say the right things at the right time, and perhaps speak with a little eloquence.
The fact that they don’t always or can’t all the time (or ever in some cases?) should be a reminder that we can’t invest too much hope in any single individual to meet all our expectations. And that in turn should be a caution regarding how much power we concentrate in the hands of people who – like any of us – are fallible in other ways too.
Tiān & aduna
Unfolding the cultural dimension a bit more, a cross-cultural comparison came to mind, and that actually is another reason why I post on this topic. The expression highlighted in the caption of the image in the header – transliterated as tiān xíng jiàn, jūnzǐ yǐ zì qiáng bù xī – is translated variously:
Heaven, through its motion, imparts strength; the superior man accordingly steels himself to ceaseless activity. (Prof. Mair)
Just as the celestial bodies never run out of energy to orbit round and round, so should we always strive to better ourselves. (Wiktionary)
The first part, shown in the image above – 天行健 (tiān xíng jiàn ) – caught my attention as it reminded me of part of a line in a religious poem in Fulfulde (by Ndyîdo Kaudo Tamboura2) which I used once in writing: “Aduna kala yo bayna bayna…” (the whole world is vicissitudes). From what I could tell of the meaning of 天行健, it seemed that the two were talking about different kinds of motion, in the Heavens and here on Earth.
There is of course a danger in assigning precise meaning – or in this case translation – to snippets from literary or poetic expressions. Nevertheless, I went there. Google Translate however, couldn’t help with 天行健, producing a toneless transliteration. Systranet, on the other hand, just translated each character: “the day line is healthy” (天 [tiān] also means day). The “heavens in ceaseless motion” meaning I suggest based on the translations of the whole expression above may simply be wrong, but hopefully not too far off.
In any event, looking at the complete line from Tamboura’s poem – “Aduna kala yo bayna bayna, kanaa tawee baawɗe Laamɗo” (≈ In this world, everything is vicissitudes, save the powers of the Lord) – the comparison with the full Chinese saying discussed above is interesting. This Fulfulde verse contrasts the unpredictable changes of the world with the constancy of the Divine. The Chinese expression, on the other hand, sees the constancy of motion in the Heavens as an inspiration for our efforts here on Earth.
This is not to draw any wider conclusions about the cultures behind the expressions, although such a limited side-by-side might be an opening to wider comparisons of these non-Western worldviews (not necessarily mediated by Western language or culture as I’m doing here).
The main lesson I propose here, however, is the depth of languages and richness of cultural expressions in them show the limitations any one of us has in mastery of them. That inevitably includes people of high rank, which should help us keep rank and the human fallibility of individuals occupying high positions, in proper perspective.
When cross-cultural (and cross-language) comparisons are added – as they should be in the interests of both equity and improved understanding in an ever more interconnected world – the equation becomes more complicated. In that dynamic context, the limitations of individuals to understand all, the need for humility, and the potential for collaboration all should be apparent.
The other two expressions are 金科玉律 (“golden rules and precious precepts”) and 颐指气使 (“order people about arrogantly with gestures”). (Translations from Prof. Mair’s article; links here to Wiktionary.)
From Christiane Seydou’s compilation, Bergers des mots : poésie peule du Mâssina (Classiques africains, 1991, pp. 190-1). My English version relies heavily on her French translation.
According to a recent article in the New York Times on “The Allure of Vertical Forests,” cities currently cover about 3% of the Earth’s land. However, some forecasts say that population growth and migration could push that proportion up to about 10% by 2030. And it’s pretty certain that almost all of that will go into sprawl of existing urbanization over surrounding woods and fields. No amount of vertical forests or inside gardens, no matter how good, can compensate for the loss of such green space and arable land.
So what is the possibility of building new cities – including vertical forests – in marginal lands where food crops and shade trees aren’t otherwise so easy to grow? Even in the middle of the Sahara – perhaps surrounded by expanses of solar panels and wind turbines, and pools of desalinated water, if we are to accept the feasibility of some schemes?
The vertical forest, which is the idea of architect and urban planner Stefano Boeri, is actually intended to help offset some of the intense use of resources and production of carbon dioxide in urban centers – while improving the living environment for people. Such towers have been built in or conceptualized for existing cities, each project unique to its location.
So on a very Earth-bound, practical level, should we encourage more green tower concepts for new cities in deserts like the Sahara – concepts that could in effect help “green the desert” through sustainable urbanization?
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