“Думи мої, думи мої/ Ви мої єдині/ Не кидайте хоч ви мене/ При лихій годині.”
Years before becoming a cultural icon, world-renowned Ukrainian poet Taras Shevchenko composed these words in 1847—setting the stage for a legacy of literary innovation. The love he felt for his homeland was more powerful than any struggles he faced during his time in exile. While not a happy ending, his story etched a mark on each Ukrainian heart—serving as a marker of personal and cultural identity for many. I memorized his works as a child. Though I struggled to establish an emotional connection with the text, I did sense the beauty in his use of language.
To those of you who are curious, the translation reads: “Thoughts of mine, thoughts of mine/ You are all that is left for me/ Don’t you desert me, too/ In this troubling time.”
Now imagine for a second the possibility of this all disappearing; poof, into thin air this language goes. The physicality of those copies would prevail, but without existing knowledge of the language, we’re left to ask—who is Taras, anyway? Sure, historians would put in their two required seconds about what sort of impact he’s had on Ukrainian literature and what makes him such a brilliant icon. Yet, the real magic lies in the authenticity of his words being studied in their originally intended language.
The world is changing, and with each generation, we are losing one very precious cultural facet—language. It might not seem like it to those of you reading, but the truth of the matter is that you are, in fact, reading in English—as opposed to any other language. We’ve come to realize that the world is more interconnected, and as a result, more accessible to each of us. Technology has provided a gateway to information from across the sea, has allowed us to communicate with people from thousands of miles away, and has even handed us tickets to travel to other hemispheres for an affordable price. Tourism has developed into one of the most accommodating industries; it is rare to explore the globe and not encounter the influence of this tongue. The need to communicate has become increasingly vital and thus progressed the ever-increasing use of English.
Today, almost all American schools require students to study a foreign language. If we’re being honest, sitting through hours of grammatical drills (“estoy, estás, está, estamos, estáis, están, and repeat”) is not the highlight of our day. For all we know, we will have forgotten conjugations within a year. We simply don’t need to use them. Why learn another language if everywhere we go people speak English? In our eyes, speaking in a different tongue is a luxury, not a necessity. But while we’re counting down the days until the end of our single semester of a foreign language, students all across the globe are studying English—not for a semester, not for two, but for years.
Languages are such an intricacy of the human race. Over centuries, we have generated rules for the ways in which we use our oral anatomy to produce meaningful sounds. We have learned to express thought not only through picture, dance, and hand gestures, but through the use of voice as well. And we haven’t stopped. Languages are fluid; they adjust and expand with time and outside influences, but those that do not, unfortunately, become obsolescent. Approximately 3,000 of the world’s languages are no longer taught to children, which is an astounding half of the total number of languages on Earth. On top of that, most of these languages have fewer than several thousand speakers. It’s only a matter of time until this number is cut in half as well.
According to Robert E. Owens Jr., Ph.D., this century may see the extinction of most languages. Even some of the languages that have contributed to our English vocabulary are already gone (e.g. Dharuk, an Australian aboriginal language, gave us “koala”). Each language is a distinctive instrument for the transmission of thought; when we lose even just one, we lose a crucial component of human complexity. When a language ceases to exist, its associated rich culture solidifies. The study of it is no longer limitless, confining so-called “experts” to only translated information.
Languages are adaptive and develop as their cultures do. English, in particular, has proven to be most fluid, reaching over 700,000 words in its vocabulary. Today, one billion people speak English as a secondary language. Because of linguistic histories and differences, people have been able to enrich the English language by adding elements from their native speech. Soon, we all may be considering English as “a family of similar languages.” Essentially, English will no longer belong to the English.
Sentenced to exile and banned from producing any works, Taras Shevchenko still managed to mark up scraps of paper and hid them in his shoes. He thought, he wrote, and his loyalty to his homeland and native language ultimately precipitated the growth of Ukrainian national cognizance. To Shevchenko, his thoughts—his pure Ukrainian, anti-Soviet thoughts—were all he had left, and he pleaded for them not to desert him. Just as he stayed faithful to his own language, so should the world. An interconnected English-speaking planet provides efficiency and ease, but a multilingual future ensures the life of rich history and the exploration of untapped intellectual reservoirs.