Divided by Two Languages

The truism that the UK and the USA are two countries divided by a common language formed a leitmotiv of my working life, since I spent a good half of my time in publishing in North America. I must confess that I rather shamelessly used my exotic accent and formal suit and tie, to ensure that a visit from Ian Jacobs was a memorable affair. But I still had to make sure that I used terminology that was readily understood. In my last job at Thames & Hudson, I regularly referred to Vincent Van Go (in Japan I learned that he is Gogo), and had to remind myself that he was Van Gogh whenever I had a meeting in London.

Jokes abound of ignorant Brits in the USA failing to ask for an eraser or looking for a lift. But, of course, the differences are not simply a question of linguistics. I recall an urbane music publisher who was from the Deep South, explaining to me and our Yankee colleagues that where he came from, the polite way to accept an invitation is to reply “I don’t care to at all”. The phrase had the opposite meaning to that understood in New York City. Behind the language differences are real, and often profound differences of culture, even within the same country. Yankees may have fought a Civil War, but folks from Tennessee or Texas valiantly defended their homes against rapacious northerners in the War Between the States.

 

The pledge of the Children of the Confederacy defines the War Between the States

Last year, while on holiday in Spain, we sheltered from a downpour in a shopfront in Valencia and got into conversation with a Spanish couple who were also waiting for the storm to abate. I did not hear one remark and used the standard Mexican phrase that means “Excuse me”: mande usted (literally, “instruct me” or “give me orders”). In Spain a more direct ¿Cómo? or ¿Qué? (”what?”) is used. Our Spanish acquaintances explained to me that my Mexican phrase is considered to be servile. I could have replied that, to my ears, Spanish directness smacks of plain rudeness, but we did not pursue that topic of conversation any further.

Just as a Brit has to re-learn his native language in the USA, when I arrived in Mexico proudly speaking Castilian, my friends suggested that it would be much more agreeable if I were to speak like a Mexican. There are probably considerably more differences of vocabulary between Mexican and Castilian Spanish than there are between British and American English. A drinking straw is a popote not a pajita. You catch a  camión (literally a truck) rather than an autobús, and the verb you use for to catch is never coger (English f**k) but agarrar ("grab"), conseguir ("get hold of") or tomar ("take").

 

A road sign to the Central Camionera, officially known as the Central de Autobuses

It is perhaps in the social graces that a foreigner first notices that the differences are far more than merely linguistic. Mexicans retain the use of the formal usted (derived from the antique phrase vuestra merced, or “your honour”) and the familiar tu to say "you", a distinction shockingly abandoned in contemporary Spain. In addition to learning whom to address as usted, the newcomer soon learns to litter his speech with titles and honorifics. You do not ask for señor Sánchez, but for licenciado (a person with a first degree), arquitecto, ingeniero, doctor, maestro (somebody of superior education), señor director and the like. The use of first names is for friends and close colleagues, rarely for new acquaintances unless permission is explicitly or implicitly given, and certainly not to address social superiors. In other words, language expresses quite an elaborate social hierarchy.

At this stage you might agree with the Spaniards that all of this is much too servile. But these language conventions are an integral element of a society in which politeness, respect, consideration and an instinctive generosity towards, and desire to please, new acquaintances is quite profoundly and sincerely felt. Of course, in crowded and stressful urban environments, an elbow in the ribs to get on a bus, or a rude remark if displeased with someone, is quite common, but nevertheless a visitor is much more keenly aware of courtesy than in Spain.

In fact, in the days of the Spanish empire, Spaniards had a phrase: “As courteous as a Mexican”. I think that there are quite profound historical reasons for this rhetorical and social formality. In Aztec Mexico a ruler was known as a huey tlatoani (“the man who speaks” or “orator”) and rulers were depicted in ancient manuscripts with speech signs coming out of their mouths. Mexican society began to take shape when prehispanic ritualized behaviour met Spanish social and rhetorical norms in the 16^th century. Some colonists accumulated fabulous wealth. Those who did not had to find positions in the households of the wealthy or seek government appointments. In either case, seeking favour required plenty of deferential forms of address to people of higher social status, while maintaining one’s superiority to indigenous people or African slaves. So, ingratiating yourself was important and adequately deferential forms of address were keys to success.

 

Ahuitzotl, tlatoani of Tenochtitlan. Note the speech symbol

Today, if you are invited to a Mexican’s home for the first time, when you arrive you will be addressed with a phrase such as Aquí tiene su casa (“Here is your home”) or Esta es su casa (“This is your home”). Such phrases are a social ritual, but they reflect sincere pleasure and pride that you have agreed to enter the home. I was told a joke about this language. A Mexican says to an American acquaintance “It would be a great pleasure to have dinner with you where your home is” (Sería un gran placer cenar con usted donde tiene su casa). A date and time is agreed. That day the Mexican host devotes many hours to preparing a sumptuous dinner. But his guest never arrives, because he is at his own home spending many hours preparing an American dinner for his new friend. The American is also disappointed that his expected guest fails to show up.

Commemorative stamp of the Abrazo de Acatempan

Artist's impression of the abrazo de Acatempan

Then, of course, there is the Mexican abrazo. Every year in the small town of Acatempan, Guerrero, the locals celebrate, with great pageantry, perhaps the most significant abrazo in Mexican history. On 10 February 1821 two military leaders met in Acatempan. On one side was general Vicente Guerrero, leader of the rebels seeking independence from Spain. On the other was the royalist general Agustín de Iturbide. The two generals reached an agreement to consummate Mexico’s independence (Iturbide became Emperor Agustín I, although he did not last long as emperor) and sealed the deal with an embrace.

 

The reenactment of the abrazo de Acatempan

I must confess that as a reserved Englishman for whom a handshake was intimate, liberally embracing men took some getting used to. But upon arrival at a party, or a business meeting, embrace one must – repeatedly until all other men have been embraced. The right arm goes over the shoulder of the other man, the left under his right arm, and both pat one another’s backs. They say that the patting was originally a way of checking whether the other man was armed. I can remember social occasions when it took a good few minutes to kiss all the women and embrace all the men. Then another guest would arrive and another few minutes were spent kissing and embracing.