An
English-speaking overseas businessman or -woman looking for
entertainment in an urban metropolis far removed from his or her
homeland might seek, or be tricked into shacking up with, a
sexual mate of his or her host country for an unforgettable,
overseas,
one-night stand. Neither of the two partners to this transaction would
have to speak the other's
language, because there would be an English-speaking bilingual pimp to
seal the deal and bring the two sides together. Once in bed
the dominant partner of either side would have his or her way, and an
asymmetric exchange of pre-existing sexual habits
influenced by the
nature of the global sex-trade and the cultural traditions of each
partner would occur. If the two sides were equally
matched, a more bilateral exchange of cultural and personal habits
would take place. In both cases the
primary medium of the
cross-cultural exchange would be corporeal, and in both cases a
cultural and pecuniary transfer would take place. In the end the
overseas businessman or -woman would return to his or her homeland with
a memory and a story that he or she could then relate to
others.
Of
course, such encounters are only one of a large variety of
different encounters that take place everyday the world over.
Whether
one is scaling to the top of Mt. Everest, bathing nude in a Japanese
hot spring, or merely ordering breakfast in any one of several hundred
prominent international hotels; it is these hundreds of millions of
small bits and pieces of cultural exchange that make the tourist and
English language industries two of the world's fastest growing global
industries. One could be riding down the Amazon river on a crocodile
safari, gazing up under a hot Hong Kong sun at the world's largest
Buddha, bartering in broken English for a cheaply produced, but
functional watch that bears a stolen trade mark in Tel Aviv, or
attending the wedding ceremony for the daughter of a prominent
government official as an honored guest in the Philippines. In each
case the traveler walks or rides away with a
memory or
an artifact that he or she eventually discards, or alternatively
preserves
in his or her conceptual collage of worldly experience. The cultural
and intellectual
fabric
that binds these bits and pieces of information together is that of the
traveller, not that of the society or culture where the memory or
artifact was first discovered. What of the traveller's collage is
understood by others is that
which
they have also experienced or can recreate in their mind's
eye
based on cultural values shared in common with the traveller.
Moreover,
no matter where it is encountered, each time the
traveler runs across a bit of news from the same part of the world,
where he or she has travelled, he or she renders judgment with regard
to that news
based largely on these collected bits and pieces of information. A
previous, favorable, overseas experience is likely to lead
to a subsequent
favorable judgement; a previous, unfavorable
experience to the opposite. In most cases the standard of
judgement for the news is not that of the culture in which it
arises, because the traveler has not, and could have
not, assembled enough bits and
pieces of information to know what that
standard is. Certainly something was communicated, exchanged, and
even understood, when he or she was last there, but the understanding
was -- more likely than not -- obtained through a
contextual prism very different from the one employed by those who
inhabit the cultural context in which the traveler acquired his or her
information. Reading books about the places one visits can certainly
broaden one's understanding, but just how many books does one read
about the places one has visited?
Those
who can understand the news and interpret it properly for the traveler
are those who know both the culture of the traveler and that of the
society in which the news arises; or alternatively, those
who have experienced sufficiently the cultures of several
different societies, so as to be able to distinguish easily among what
is
common to many, unique to most, and shared by all societies. Certainly
those who spend a good deal of time residing in international hotels
probably have a good grasp of what others, who spend similar time in
the same or other international hotels, are thinking. Their standard
for judgement, however, is that of other wandering globalists and
hosting local residents who desire their presence -- not the local
residents, who must deal with the problems that globalists bring with
them and their hosts usher in. As these latter often pay little
attention to the needs of their own society, the
misunderstanding can be substantial.
Even
those with more deeply rooted, multicultural experience find it
difficult to offer proper explanations for foreign news events without
good knowledge of the society in which the events take place. They can
surmise and even guess right, but can never know with certainty, until
others who know well the societies in which the events have taken
place,
confirm their judgement. Such interpretations also
risk being falsely interpreted, if the interpreters are not familiar
with
the culture and system of values of their audience. Moreover, most
third-party interpretations are provided in broad, over generalizing,
brush strokes so as to hold the attention of general audiences, who
would otherwise drown in a sea of detail and nuance only truly
appreciable by those who have spent many years in the cultures in which
the events take place.
The
facilitating role of the aforementioned bilingual pimp whose broken
English makes the cultural exchange possible, although distasteful to
some and perhaps even most, is both common and usual -- both in the
tourism and international education industries. One trades experience
and information for money across cultures, with the common
understanding that both sides benefit. The stated goal is
cross-cultural, mutual understanding, the underlying realised goal is
far
more often the experience of travel and all the excitement, service,
diversion, and adventure that accompanies it. It is this shallow and
entertaining exchange that broken English the world over services best,
and it is this kind of English that universal language requirements
encourage most. It does little to promote cross-cultural understanding,
and in most cases is probably even detrimental, because it can be used
by those who understand the limits of such knowledge to manipulate
popular belief and effectuate malign political and economic goals.
Tool of logical discourse
Another
important
role of limited English is
similar to that which mathematics plays in the world of science. It is
a language that once understood can be used by anyone of any culture to
move logically, not always swiftly, from an initial set of commonly
believed axioms to
irrefutable conclusions that yield positive, negative, zero, or
undetermined values. One has only to accept the basic assumptions,
entertain a
testable hypothesis, and follow a set of
logical rules. These rules can be expressed in any language and require
neither a profound understanding of language in general nor the
complexity of a single language in particular.
Expression
is, of
course, very different from comprehension, and one tires quickly
listening to the same linguistic patterns, however logical and
meaningful, repeated over and over again. Exceptions occur when the
substance of the communication is vital and the receiver's attention is
commanded by his or her desire to know the content of the message
-- not the communication itself. People who use English in this way are
air traffic controllers and airline pilots, computer
software engineers, diplomats, and a whole host of other teeny, but
important professional minorities, who
depend on pre-established institutional and linguistic frameworks
constructed and
sustained by truly bilingual people who cater to the
extra-institutional monolingual needs of their semi-bilingual users.
These needs are,
of course, not
only
substantial, but often ignored by the
arrogance of those who use these institutional settings to achieve
their goals.
At
higher levels of language competence, comprehension is often limited,
because words and expressions
like democracy, love, free enterprise, Asian values, competition,
nationalism, and race mean very different things to people living in
different cultures. Each term contains for one an entire life time of
contextual experience that someone from another culture may or may not
share. Nevertheless, each person uses these terms with a
firm conviction
about what they mean, and many with the belief that they mean, or
should mean, the same
thing to everyone who participates in the same dialogue. Moreover, the
higher one rises in our
world's institutional pecking order, the
more isolated
one becomes from those whom the institutions are suppose to serve, and the more pronounced the
resulting
distortion
becomes. This
is especially true of national organisations, whose jurisdictions cross
domestic ethnic boundaries, and regional and international
institutions whose authority crosses national political borders.
Scholars
from different countries have written entire books on the
meanings of these terms in their own local, national, and regional
contexts. A careful reading of each in translation yields a different
picture in most contexts; not because the translator has failed to
understand the concept behind the words, rather because there is more
than one concept for each
-- the concept used by speakers of the target language and the one used
by the culture of the author.
To
the extent that employing such words
and concepts repeatedly, in different contexts among the same people,
can
identify these conceptual discrepancies and remove them
from the dialogue, institution building is very useful.
Unfortunately, the problem reappears when those housed within
these
institutions seek to assert their authority outside of them.
Those who would profess scientific
objectivity
The
problem of
bounded institutionalism is not
limited to national and international political bodies exercising
authority over local and foreign interests. Scholars of one country
seeking to
promote their scientific prowess abroad often apply assumptions that
are valid only in their own society.
This is especially true in the social sciences. Scholars often depend
on literature written in their own language for knowledge about
societies whose language and culture they are only partially familiar.
As a result natural biases laden with
same-culture prejudices gradually develop, are difficult to avoid,
and are seldom overcome. Even
studies carried
out by foreign researchers in their target society are apt to err, if
the researchers have
not already lived in the target society for some time. This is because
on-site experts often consult bilingual locals, who often know the
scientific literature of their guest's culture better than that of
their own. This tendency is especially common among scholars of less
industrially advanced nations, who look to more advanced industrialized
nations for the latest advances in scientific methodology and the
opportunity to get published in world renown journals.
An
important reason for inviting foreign researchers to one's own
country is to receive invitations to visit the countries of their
guests, or alternatively,
to get published in the foreign journals on whose editorial boards
their guests so often sit. As a result
bilingual locals tend to flatter
their guests by providing them with what they want to hear, rather than
what they truly need to know in order to carry out objective
research. Telling someone what you know about their own country, and
showing only the good side of your own, makes for a very nice
international, but not entirely factual, international exchange.
Scientific
studies about the societies of others, that are rigorously
carried out, but whose
researchers enjoy only partial cross-cultural
understanding, are apt to err in both their initial assumptions
and the
interpretation of their conclusions. The best way to know a foreign
society is to learn its language and experience it directly. Such
endeavor is costly. Not only are the outlays in
time, effort, and money substantial, but there are local opportunities
that one forgoes during one's absence. People at home are not
idle while their overseas counterparts are collecting data and learning
the languages and cultures of their target societies. Thus, the
political
and social
environments that exist when researchers leave for overseas are
unlikely to be
the same upon their return. As a result their prospects for certain
appointments, determined just as much by whom one knows, as what
one has achieved, are diminished.
This
latter argument also applies to corporate executives who spend
long periods overseas setting up manufacturing
and
assembly plants, establishing overseas branch offices, and researching
foreign markets. In brief, much overseas investment is dictated not by
what
is best for the hosted firm and the hosting country, rather by the
foreign agenda of the local firm's bilingual hosts and their overseas
business counterparts. These latter cannot afford the time away from
home
learning the language and the culture of their hosts, and
local
governments in developing countries are often dominated by the special
interests of local entrepreneurs, who provide local government with
highly desired tax revenue. This is
globalization at its likeliest and worst.
The
language required under these circumstances requires little
cultural insight on the part of the foreign investor and a less than
sophisticated
level of bilingual expertise on the part of the host. The bottom line
is not cross-cultural understanding; it is profit and promotion. High
margins that exploit structural differences in markets brought about by
large differences in culture and local history permit high risk-taking
on
both sides. The obvious result is little consideration for the local
population that does not serve the pocket book of the hosting
entrepreneur.
Fortunately,
globalization also brings many positive things, but these are the
things most trumpeted in international news reports by those who
overlook local
interests, so we will not dwell on them here.
Tool of
knowledge
transfer and aquisition
Conventions, publications, and invitations
The
people who write
technical papers often write in such broken English that what they
write must be rewritten by a native speaker. Because the rewriter is
often unfamiliar with the author's subject matter, the paper must be
checked for
accuracy and proofread. Often the proofreader is the original author,
whose broken English is then reinserted into the final draft. When the
paper is technical in nature a solid understanding of mathematics is
often sufficient for the end-reader to blast his way through the poor
English.
As many technically inclined people are poor writers anyway, much of
what would be unacceptable in less technical journals gets
published as a result.
University
professors who wish to publish in
internationally acclaimed English language journals often attend
international conferences conducted in English. Their
attendance at these conferences has several objectives in addition to
travel and a paid overseas vacation. Not only do they improve
their chances of getting published, but they increase the likelihood of
their being invited to teach and perform overseas research. Moreover, a
well-written paper with multiple authors of little standing probably
has a better chance of being published, than one written by a sole
author of similar rank. This is especially true when the co-authors
emanate from different countries and can provide international
perspective that
local author's alone are unable. Furthermore, papers presented and
well-received at international conferences where referees from
prestigious
international journals are present have a better chance of being read
and published, than those submitted with no personal appearance. In short, charming people
with
bright ideas are more likely to find their way into well-known
journals, than people with bright ideas, but no identifiable
personality.
Professors
without prior overseas experience are thus
likely to find themselves at a disadvantage. For example, someone with
good
phonetic training but poor conversational ability will find it
difficult to
field
questions and thus make a
poor showing. Similar hurdles must
be overcome by professors
seeking invitations to teach overseas, as there are few
institutions interested in hosting researchers, who have little
conversational ability in the host country's
language. The obvious exception to this occurs when the professor
speaks a language that is in deficit at the host country's institution;
in East Asia the
usual candidates in this regard are native speakers of English. In this
case
language maintenance and acquisition on the part of the host
institution appear to be far more important than cross-cultural
exchange. In the end the foreign guest depends on his host institution
to get
around and mostly sees what his or her host institution wants him or
her to see -- everything else comes in bits and pieces with no
explanation.
Students, teachers, and textbooks
Grade school, college, and university textbooks employed in classrooms by bilingual speakers present still a different problem. Textbooks differ from technical papers in so far as they often assume little prior knowledge on the part of the reader. Thus, in order to stimulate the reader's interest and elicit understanding authors must provide examples that capture the reader's attention. What better examples are available than those drawn from the reader's own society and personal life-experiences? In other words, an author living in the United States writing for students living in the United States is unlikely to use examples that are well-suited for Hong Kong and other East Asian students.
East
Asian grade school, college, and university teachers that depend
on
textbooks written in English by authors from other cultures
short change their students in very much the same way that language
teachers, who teach English using literary works taken from cultures
with which they themselves are only partially familiar, fail to evoke
student interest. The purpose of textbooks is to give students the
opportunity
to learn on their own -- namely, to acquire knowledge that they are
unable to
acquire in the classroom for any large number of reasons.
Students confronted with examples
drawn from a culture with which they are only poorly acquainted are
likely to
misinterpret what they read or fail to comprehend it altogether. Even
if the author's examples are understood, maintaining a high level of
interest is unlikely, because both the author's language and his
culture are alien. Surely, it is better to pay a little more for
localized, translated textbooks, than to have a larger selection of
untranslated textbooks that go unread.
In
Hong Kong, university professors are provided with little or no
incentive to
translate textbooks into their own language. This is because
translation
work is not considered original research, seldom finds its way
into internationally acclaimed journals, and fails to increase
the world prestige of the institutions who support it. As a result
teachers
who rely on
English language textbooks -- likely the vast majority of Hong Kong
professors
-- compensate by lecturing in Cantonese and using
examples from their own society. Though students are better able to
understand, their incentive to exercise those language skills
acquired in primary and secondary school diminishes. Not only is there
less incentive to read, but students fail to acquire the English
language listening skills
appropriate for their field of study.
In
contrast,
professors, who lecture in English often do so, because it provides
them with an opportunity to hone their English language presentation
skills in an environment less intimidating than what they are likely to
encounter while overseas before their peers. As the goal of the
professor is to enhance his own skills, the
incentive to provide students with
local examples is not high. It takes time to develop and maintain
quality teaching material -- time that few professors are willing to
devote to their students while under pressure to publish. In such an
environment only those
students with the best English skills are likely to succeed. Students
who are able to choose their professors are thus left with a trade-off
-- more English or better understanding. Those with good English will
choose the former and those with bad English the latter. The end result
is further polarisation between those who know English and those who do
not.
Though
Hong Kong children are required to jump
many academic hurdles, the most difficult among these are probably the
HKCEE and the
HKALE.1 These are competitive
examinations whose primary function is to determine where a student
ranks relative to his peers. One's success or failure on these
examinations is not based on having achieved a certain level of
knowledge, rather on one's ability to outperform everyone else.
These are the floodgates to higher education that are opened and closed
according to the number of vacant seats available at advanced level,
local secondary and tertiary educational institutions.
In
1978 the number of candidates sitting for either of the HKCEE's two
English
language syllabi was 69,122; by 2002 that number had
increased to 74,732 -- an 8 percent increase. The combined failure
rates for both syllabi in 1978 and 2002 were 45.1 and 36.8 percent,
respectively. Thus, between 1978 and 2002 there was a 24.5 percent
increase in the number of students who passed.2 Since the percentage increase in the
number of passes more than tripled the percent increase in the number
of students sitting for the examination, either Hong Kong educators
were
doing a much better job, or the academic hurdles that Hong Kong
students had to jump were lowered. Certainly over the past
quarter of a century improvements have been made in the way language is
taught; notwithstanding, our previous examination of Hong Kong's educational
priorities
suggests
strongly that many of these improvements never found their way into
Hong Kong classrooms. Thus, it is unlikely that scientific and
technological enhancement alone can account for the dramatic increase
in the number of students allowed to pass. A close comparison of the
way in which grades were allotted for Syllabus B in 1978 and 2001
provides further evidence that the hurdles were simply lowered.3
Although
the motivation for lowering these hurdles was likely to fill
empty classrooms in an ever expanding tertiary sector, the motivation
for maintaining the barrier after 1997 requires far greater
explanation than that provided by the commonly recited myths of Hong
Kong's educated elite.
Of the 64,832 day
school candidates who sat for the HKCEE for the first time in 2002,
99.6 percent sat for either of the two English language syllabi.4
No other syllabus ranked higher in the number of candidates who sat for
it. This phenomenal interest in sitting for the English language
syllabi in a society composed of nearly 95
percent ethnic Chinese can best be explained by perceived, not
necessarily true, need for the English language;
governmental and commercial propaganda that reinforces this perception;
artificially created structural incentives such as the HKCEE and HKALE;
and high rates of
examination failure resulting in examination retakes. For the moment
let us concentrate on the last of these explanations.
In
2002 more than
55.5 percent
of all HKCEE syllabi administered by the HKEAA demonstrated failure
rates below that of the English language Syllabus B. Among
these syllabi were included mathematics (one of Hong Kong's Big Three),
economics, physics, biology, chemistry (50% of all subjects labelled College bound),
and geography (an important subject area on the HKALE). Thus, if a
student were able to pass
as many of these crucial syllabi required for entry into any large
number of senior secondary school programs, but not pass his English
language syllabus, it is unlikely that he or she was
admitted.5
Without entry into a senior
secondary program one's chance of passing the HKALE is
diminished, and entry into a Hong Kong university largely foreclosed.
Being unable to enter a Hong Kong university is not the only
consequence, however. For
many children the English language determines whether they remain in
school
or enter directly into the local work force. For still others it
represents an important parting of ways between long standing school
friends. A careful look at the classified ad sections of local
newspapers indicates that performance on both the
HKCEE and HKALE can affect one's ability to find work. Many job
openings are simply closed to Hong Kong workers who have not graduated
from
either
form V or form VII. Indeed, so
stressful is the preparation for the HKCEE and its English language
component, many parents find it
necessary to baby-sit their teen children just prior to the syllabi
examinations.6
Both
the HKCEE and
the HKALE are
administered by the HKEAA -- an independent arm of Hong Kong's
Education
and Manpower Bureau.7
Approximately 80%
of all
Hong Kong students between the ages of 16 and 18 sit for the HKCEE.8 In 2002
there were 122,098 candidates who sat for the examination. In 2001,
only one year prior,
75,718 students were enrolled in secondary form V day school programs.9 As recent
day school enrollment numbers do not change radically from year to
year, this large off-year discrepancy between the number of HKCEE
candidates and form V enrolment
suggests a large number of repeat candidates.
In
2002 only 37 percent
of
all candidates who sat for the HKCEE passed the minimum
requirements for entry into a senior secondary program. During the
same year less than half of all candidates who sat for the HKALE met
the requirements for entry into a Hong Kong university or other local
tertiary institution.10 In fact, there are
more students, who do not sit for either of these two examinations,
than there are
those who finally
make it into a local university having passed both the HKCEE and HKALE. The competition is both
severe and perverse.
This
enormous filtering effect is
clearly illustrated in Graphs 1c and 1d. Graph
1d is a pie chart indicating the average number of students for
each of five key stages of primary and secondary school education. At
the
primary level there are two stages (P1-P3 and P4-P6) consisting of
three years each; at the secondary level there are three key stages
consisting of one three-year period (S1-S3) and two two-year periods
(S4-S5) and (S6-S7). Each year corresponds to one form. For example,
the 5th key stage consists of secondary forms VI and VII. What should
be readily apparent is the disproportionate amount of the pie occupied
by the the first three key stages -- somewhat over 75%. If equal
numbers of
students were allowed to pass each grade, these first nine years would
account for less than 70% of the total pie. How the remaining portion
of the pie is divided between key stages 4 and 5 is even more
revealing; key stage five -- those who are permitted to prepare for
entry into a Hong Kong university -- accounts for only about a third of
all
students enrolled in secondary school beyond form III. The bar chart provided in
graph 1c
provides actual numbers for each grade level of 2001 day school
enrolment. Obviously, the English language is not the only criterion
for passage
through this filter; certainly it is the most important.
Also
obvious is that the English language has many practical uses; but
so do many
other subject areas. In a region of China composed of 95% ethnic
Chinese, the
vast majority of whom speak Cantonese as their mother tongue, it is
difficult to comprehend why English should be given such a high
priority. So let us not stop here.
Tool of
allure and social discrimination
Exploiting
the Western image
As a Western
newcomer to East Asia
one cannot help but wonder about the
frequency with which one is confronted with one's own image on public
display. Indeed, one is far more likely to confront the image of a
still-life
Westerner on a commercial billboard, placard, or magazine
cover, than one is to meet a living Westerner in the street. How
one
explains this apparent contradiction in marketing demographics should
certainly be of interest to anyone seeking to bridge the East-West
cultural gap. Crucial here is that the Western image serves
as an important tool of commercial exploitation for many East Asian
and non-East Asian
advertisers in East Asia, and that the English language is the language
most frequently
associated with Western images in the minds of East Asians.
The best
evidence for this is, of course, the English words, phrases, and
captions employed as decorative ornaments on the same billboards,
placards, and magazine covers that display Western images, as well as
those on the packaging of many manufactured products bearing either
Western or East Asian trademarks and labels. Clothing,
other bodily adornments, and hand-held accessories, on which it is more
difficult or less appropriate to display images of Western others, are
especially vulnerable to this latter form of exploitation.
The commercial
intent of this use of English becomes obvious
and even painful, when one tries, as a non-speaker of one's host
country's language, to learn from the English advertising text
important information about a manufacturer's product. For example, one
knows that the product "leaves a beautiful sheen", but one cannot know
whether the product is floor wax or shoe polish, unless there
are other recognizeable floor- or shoe-related products sold on the
same shelf. One
knows that the product has "a fragrant scent that will fill the room
with the freshness of spring", but one cannot know whether the
fragrance is that of roses, daffodils, or lilacs. One knows that the
product is "effective and brings long-lasting relief", but what
non-native can
know whether the relief is from nagging hemorrhoidal tissue or a
similarly nagging runny nose? If you want to buy a dental product
that guards against the build-up of plaque, how can you know that you
are not buying an abrasive teeth-whitener, that probably does more to
destroy your teeth than improve their appearance? After all, the
pictures on the tubes of toothpaste, like many icons on a computer
screen, are only truly understood after you have clicked -- in this
case, have
purchased -- at least once and discovered their true function. Even
then
one cannot always be sure.
Do you want to buy a product that is "bio-degradable" or "contains no preservatives"? The chances of finding these words in English are nearly zero, as these and other product attributes important to consumers must be rendered in the local language to insure sale. What advertiser would waste scarce advertising surface on a product's packaging simply to cater to the more important functional and moral needs of teeny foreign minorities who do not understand the local language of their host countries? Moreover, how many East Asians are ever examined about English language text that even relates to their daily lives? After all, English is the language of East Asia's elite -- those, who fight their way upward through the many layers of East Asia's English language educational hierarchy in order to obtain advanced social ranking. Indigenous commoners have their own language that the elite understand, and foreigners with money buy what they need in posh, up-scale, commercial centers built just for them. Are Shakespeare and Poe not enough?
Although
it is unlikely to get a Hong
Konger to hold a door without your having to ask, it takes almost
zero effort to get one to speak some form of English with you. You
have only to
ask someone in broken Cantonese about directions to a particular place,
and if he or she does not reply to you in English his neighbor surely
will. This is especially true, if the person you ask has trouble
providing you with clear directions in Cantonese; or alternatively, you
demonstrate the slightest lack of understanding about the directions he
or she has given. If you want to identify the most confident speaker of
English
in an
anonymous group of Hong Kongers, do the same but with a slightly
elevated voice. If the confident speaker is within earshot of the
conversation, you are almost
guaranteed an answer in English -- not necessarily accurate or correct
-- to your
question. Try asking the Cantonese name of a
Chinese fruit or vegetable while shopping in a local supermarket, and
see if
the clerk does not provide you first with its English name. If the
clerk does not know the English name and kindly provides you with what
you asked; just wait and see, if he or
she does not then want to be taught how to call the same fruit or
vegetable in English. Do not bother to provide the name in your mother
tongue, if it is not English, because no one is interested.
Try to put
yourself, for
example, in the shoes of a Hong Kong woman who spent more than a
decade learning a language that was supposed to one day
provide her with a better job and access to greater knowledge, but who
now works as a saleswoman in the vegetable section of a local
supermarket or the menswear department of a local department store. Not
only is the chance very small that she will meet a non-ethnic Chinese
foreigner,
who is not a teacher of English at a school in her neighborhood, but
the likelihood that she will speak English with that
foreigner is even smaller. Then too, most native English
instructors are unlikely to purchase food that they do not already know
and will probably have purchased their clothing before they arrived or
while on vacation in their native homeland. In any
case one does not have to be proficient in either Cantonese or English
to read the numbers on a scale or in the digital window of a cash
register.
What if the
mother selling vegetables in the local
supermarket has a child, who attends a school where one of the several
native English teachers, who pass through her store several times a
week, are teaching? Just like her mother some years before, the child
will spend close to 20% of her classroom hours and an approximately
equal percentage of her homework time studying English. Although the
child's mother will surely want her child to obtain the job that she
could not, the likelihood that her child will obtain it is little
better than that of her mother's, if not worse. After all, the mother
can now see where she has ended up with similar effort.
Nevertheless, the mother will push her child to learn English, because
the school and many employers require it, and the mother wants her
child to receive the
highest level of education possible. Knowing that the child will have
every bit as
much difficulty as she in learning the language, she will
encourage it whenever it is convenient to do so.
When the child
sees that the mother never reads an English book, always
buys a Cantonese-language magazine, and rarely watches an English
language television program, the child soon realizes what a hypocrite
her mother truly is, and will soon lose interest.
Now consider the Hong Kong mother
standing before an elevator and speaking to her pre-schooler child in
Cantonese. A male foreigner approaches from behind, and only
after mother, child, and
foreigner have entered into the elevator do the mother and child become
aware of his presence. What so often occurs is that the mother's
conversation suddenly turns to broken English. Why the abrupt change?
This
instinctual we-they
mapping of
language, race,
and appearance in the mind of East Asian parents is motivated by
several factors. In a recent report
published by the Hong Kong government's Standing Committee on Language
Education and Research the three most popularly cited reasons among
Hong Kong primary and secondary students for wanting to learn English
were, in order of descending importance, to "find a good job in the
future", "learn and acquire new knowledge", and "communicate and make
friends with people from different countries or of different races".11 These
reasons and their ranking are obviously not the kind that primary and
secondary students accidentally stumble upon while in pursuit of
English at school; rather, they are the kind that children learn and
recite in an effort to please parents and teachers, when they are very
young. In any case the
priorities are clear and match well those suggested by the other tools
already mentioned above. What is particularly disturbing is the nature
of
international friendships that can arise from this prepubescent and
pre-school programming of race and language.12
Well, if
learning English meant that all Hong Kongers would someday go
abroad and live for several years in an English speaking country, then
all would be good, because all Hong Kongers would learn what it is like
to live in a foreign country, and could return to their native land as
enlightened world citizens, ready and able to accommodate their foreign
guests as something more than money-toting investors and buyer-beware
tourists.
Obviously this is not what occurs. Rather,
the majority of Hong Kongers never leave Hong Kong, or only leave it
for brief vacation trips to an international hotel or resort area,
where they can order their breakfast in English, if the items on the
menu are not already written in Chinese anyway. Crucial is that they do
not view their English language training as a
lost decade or just another failed scholastic hurdle that once
prevented them from attending a local university.
Thus, when Hong
Kong advertisers provide Hong Kong's hapless polyglots with an
opportunity
to make use of their English as a decorative ornament on their clothing
or a reminder of Hong Kong's international reputation as a gateway to
East Asia, their self-esteem is lifted and the their painful,
educational past
forgotten. When this same Hong Konger can then further assist a wayward
foreigner back to his mother ship, what a feeling of joy and goodness
it must bring. Not only has he helped a fellow human-being in distress,
but he has also helped to preserve Hong Kong's image as a major
East
Asian tourist attraction!
Though
exploitation is hardly something new to Hong Kongers, one cannot
help but wonder, if they understand the true nature of their own
exploitation. See Hong Kong's Window Dressers (pdf document
-
40KB).
Emerging
nations and the international arrivistes
Of course, the
consolation prize
that Hong Kong advertisers provide the
majority of Hong Kongers is only the larger part of the story -- not
necessarily its most crucial.
Economic
incentive:
Commercial access to the overseas markets
of industrially advanced countries is an important key to
economic growth, because it insures a steady inflow of capital with
which to purchase machinery, technological know-how, energy, and other
crucial raw material inputs necessary for industrial and commercial
development. Equally important to development and growth is making
one's domestic labor and capital markets
sufficiently attractive to foreign investors, who bring this knowledge
and technology with them. Resulting from this combined strategy
domestically produced
goods flow out of developing nations into more industrially advanced
nations at bargain prices, and advanced foreign technology and
scientific know-how that stimulate domestic industrial and commercial
development and growth flow in. As there are many nations seeking entry
into the
markets of industrially advanced nations, the competition is
considerable;
only those who capture the attention of these nations' consumers are
able to
sell their goods. Moving in the reverse direction the competition is no
less severe, as there are a limited number of global manufacturers on
the one hand, and many nations -- both industrially less and more
advanced -- seeking
their capital, machinery, and technological know-how on the other.
Though
eager to expand, large multinational
corporations are
constrained by local labor market conditions. In order to operate,
maintain, adapt, organize, and even develop advanced technological
inputs local workers must first be trained. Without the classroom
discipline,
study habits, basic knowledge, and work skills, so often acquired in
primary and secondary school, few local workers are able to meet global
corporate requirements. As large corporations tend to sell in
many markets, and hire local people to manage their local overseas
operations, where they produce is much more a matter of pricing,
convenience, security, location, and local macroeconomic conditions,
than a firm understanding of the cultures and societies of the people
whom they employ. Thus,
national governments, who can provide overseas firms with a ready-made
work force, significant tax incentives, guaranteed loans, physical
protection, access to roads, harbors, and airports, and a friendly and
amenable international social environment -- namely, upscale foreign
ghettos -- are likely to succeed in
attracting overseas investment.
To what extent must ready-made include knowledge of the English
language appears to be an unanswered question for which many local
governments and workers only
assume they know the answer.13
Political
and ideological challenge: Though not the richest nation
on a per capita basis, the United States is by far the world's
wealthiest, and thus an important target for overseas investors and
domestic manufacturers seeking large, penetrable, overseas markets for
their exports. US technology is also highly competitive, and its
tertiary schools are both well-endowed and very accessible.14
Moreover,
as a former British colony the United States shares with many nations
of the world, both industrially advanced and industrially less
advanced nations, a common language and political heritage. Finally,
as the heroic victor of the Cold War, the United States now wields
enormous political and military power throughout the world. Donned with
ties, credit cards, and brief cases, if not khaki uniforms,
leather boots, and automatic weapons, USAmerican business people,
government officials, academicians, students, and soldiers cover the
globe as ideological missionaries of human
rights,
political democracy, free enterprize, individual freedom, Christian
theology, and of course
the English language. In return, not a few aspiring students of
economic growth and political power attend US universities to become
learned in the ways of commercial exploitation. Because of
its
sophisticated financial markets, industrial size, commercial
complexity, relative openness, and market discipline the economy of the
United States
also demonstrates extraordinary stability. As a result its currency
remains
the global standard for trade and investment.
Until President
Bush declared war on world terror and invaded Iraq, no
where
in the world was the concentration of US armed forces outside the
United States so large, as it is in East Asia. The United States has
several tens of thousands of troops stationed in South Korea and a
similar number based in Japan. It has bilateral defense treaties with
South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, and even Singapore, and provides direct
military
assistance to the Philippines. From Singapore to Okinawa there is
hardly an important port-of-call that does not regularly receive US
warships. Not only do these ships patrol the shipping lanes so critical
to the economic survival of the United States' Northeast Asian allies,
but they engage in capture and search, as well as war maneuvers, with
various
navies of the
region. Finally, it is far easier
to count those East Asian governments that do not purchase US armaments
than those that do. Australia regularly sides with the United States in
political matters extending from Pyongyang to Yangon.
In short, it is
difficult to live in East Asia without always seeing
"America in your face". Add to this the British colonial legacy, and
the Anglo-saxon political challenge is simply unavoidable. First it was
the British and now it is the "Americans", and in the Middle East it is
both at once and together.
The call of freedom: Let us put aside politics, human rights, democracy, and free enterprise for a moment and consider family life in the modern world. As there is hardly an urban teen and his or her parents, who do not find themselves caught in the contradiction between family and society, the constant drumbeat of personal
freedom emanating from the United States is particularly seductive. On
the one hand, youth feel bound to their parents who nurture and support
them; on the other hand, these former are under constant pressure to
prove themselves outside the
family. This conflict of interests is no less
burdensome for parents who invest so much in their
children's future only to see them follow life-paths so very different
from their own. In today's
world professional career,
social standing, intellectual interests, lifestyle, sexual proclivity,
and even religious and political beliefs vary widely from one child to
the next. Many of these differences cut squarely across family ties and
weaken, what is by far, humanity's strongest social bond.
In East Asia many parents and teachers are additionally caught between national calls for rapid growth and development and a more immediate desire to enjoy a life beyond the daily drudgery of work that allows them to answer those calls. Life viewed by both them and their children on television, in books and magazines, at the cinema, and online can be phenomenally different from their own. Thus, when they see their children aspiring to the freer personal lifestyles of citizens of industrially advanced nations, many parents relent, if only tacitly, to their children's desires. Alternatively they drive their children so hard in the opposite direction, that these latter become torn, resentful, and fail. What neither parent, nor child appear to understand, is the social, cultural, historical context in which these images have been wrought.
Violent racial
tension, single-parent families,
urban ghettos, sporadic, but frequent acts of civil terror, drug busts,
and a whole host of other socially
unappealing events and data turn both parents and children away from
modernization, and both seek ideological
shelter in
the wisdom of ancient traditions and philosophies. With all due
respect, those who protect the old ways are often just as
ignorant and afraid as those who seek shelter in them. As a result many
look to those who have traveled and lived overseas for guidance.
Unfortunately, these latter
are often no more knowledgeable about modern society than the former,
because
the
time they spent overseas was in search of language, technology, and
Ph.D.s related to that technology -- namely, the causes of today's
problems, not necessarily their solutions. Only when these same
pernicious social effects begin to
strike at home,
do East Asian parents realize that East Asian values are not
impervious to the social ills of modernization, and that
technology, like money, is not a neutral player in the determination of
human relationships, social organization, and our biological and
physical environments. Alas, emerging economies slowly, or not so
slowly, join the ranks of
industrially advanced nations as full-players, and their
leaders are called upon to account for their hitherto unchallenged
pursuit of power, wealth, and fame. Ironically, but not unforseeably,
the political means
to bring these leaders to account are largely absent, and parents
realize they have been duped, are verily trapped, and yearn
with their
children for positive social change. Unfortunately, all their leaders
can offer is newer and better technology, taller buildings to inspire
more awe and fealty, and further allusions to historical
legacies that arose under archaic economic systems with little or no
relevance in today's society.
So everyone
pushes blindly forward to keep pace and never
again be
subjected to the technological advancement of others and the colonial
exploitation that naturally resulted....
Although global
problems often require local solutions, it is rare that
local problems can be solved globally. No matter their origin, in order
for ideas to manifest themselves locally, they must be applied in a way
that is both understood and acceptable to those who are affected by
them. In order to achieve this understanding the ideas must be
disseminated in a language easily understood by everyone. With the
exception of Hong Kong's international community -- those who depend
directly on
the English language for their livelihood -- the English language is
ill-suited for this purpose. This is because, as a tool
of exclusion and social filter, the English language has a built-in
social dynamic, that moves contrary to local community. Better English
means, better jobs, improved social status, and a general migration
toward more affluent neighborhoods and social environments that can
better afford the technologies required to cope with biological and
social environmental degradation brought about by rapid economic
development. Thus, where community is needed most, English is the least
available and of little worth.
Tool
of political and commercial deception
It is probably
not a
coincidence that the leader of the English language drive in Hong Kong
is also the head of a successful local clothing store chain. This is
because the English language in East Asia is often used in much the
same way that clothing is worn -- a decorative cover of
self-expression, collective solidarity, social role, personal
aspiration, and deception. See Hong Kong's Window Dressers (pdf document -
40KB).
One has only to
attend a local business conference where people from
Hong Kong's international business community are likely to be in
attendance.
After a well-prepared speech given by a prominent Hong Kong government
official in
English, the guests turn to food, drink, and conversation. With the
exception of the few foreign-looking businessmen and women in
attendance and
their local English-speaking counterparts, everyone else is speaking
Cantonese. Alternatively, attend a public consultation conducted in
English. Interpretation is provided from Cantonese into English, but
not vice versa. Is this because no one in the audience, other than
foreign-looking attendees are offered headphones at the entry? Should
one be surprized that more than nine-tenths of the dialogue that
follows the presentation is
conducted in Cantonese? Can
it be true that local attendees
are so much better English listeners than they are speakers? Clearly, this is English for show. It is a way to dress-up a social function by making it appear international and thus socially upward and mobile.
If this is not
convincing, attend a
presentation given by Hong Kong's Department of Health to warn local
residents about the hazards of atypical pneumonia (SARS). Once again
foreign-looking attendees are provided with interpretation, but the
presentation is given entirely in Cantonese. Is there not
an
implicit understanding that the majority of Hong Kongers do not have
sufficient command of spoken English to be able to understand, and that
commercial and political theatrics cannot be entertained when it comes
to controlling and possibly eradicating a highly contagious and deadly
disease?
Tool of escape and political diversion
Among
the world's top tourism earners in 2000
only the British, Germans, Canadians, and Hong Kongers spent more on
tourism than they earned -- nearly 60% more.15 (See graph 37b)
What is perhaps less obvious is the number of Hong Kongers who are able
to take advantage of this travel opportunity. Sixty percent of all Hong
Kongers do not receive even 25 percent of Hong Kong's annual income
from all economic activity. In
contrast, over 40% of what Hong Kongers earn goes to only one out of
every ten Hong Kong residents. (See graph 35a and table 35 for a
more detailed picture.) Those who argue that learning English is
necessary to satisfy Hong Kongers' penchant for travel might do well to
consider just what proportion of Hong Kongers actually leaves Hong Kong
on a regular basis.
Of course, the
story does not end with who can afford both the time and
money to travel, it also matters where one goes. Is it not likely that
there are far many more Hong Kongers traveling to the mainland than
such exotic places as London, England, New York City, or Paris, France?
If Hong Kong's
income distribution does not already provide convincing evidence, then
consider what happens the world over, when travellers are confronted
with the choice of making a long overseas trip to a distant land or a
shorter overland journey to a neighboring country. Graphs 40b and 41 suggest
strongly that
the shorter journey is generally preferred. There are of course many
reasons for this including vacation time, cost of travel, level of
risk, and even physical hardship. If crossing the Great Pacific in
economy-class seating is not one of the more convincing reasons for
preferring a much shorter and more scenic economy-class train ride to
the Chinese mainland, then nothing is likely to persuade you. Even when
business-class seating is affordable, and one has the time for the long
haul, the amount of English one requires to complete a successful
journey varies with one's airlines, the targeted country or
countries, one's overnight accommodations, travelling companions, and
local itinerary. English is not always essential or even very
useful, though you can find it in abundance along most most major
tourist routes.
Then too, brief
escapes from the dull rhythms of daily routine, are not
the only form of escape popular among Hong Kongers. Just prior to, and
even after 1997, when Hong Kong's sovereignty exchanged hands, many
Hong
Kongers were concerned about their political, economic, and social
fate. As a result many
moved to Vancouver, Canada. Since then, many local Hong Kongers travel
overseas to give birth to their
children, so as to provide them with dual nationality. The current
one-nation, two-systems arrangement enshrined in Hong Kong's Basic Law
is a fifty-year contract at the end of which many Hong Kongers will
likely face a dilemma similar to what their parents and
grandparents faced in 1997. Compelling every Hong Kong child to spend
20 percent of his formative years in pursuit of the English
language can easily be perceived as an attempt on the part of
government officials to insure that all Hong Kongers retain dual
allegiance: one, de jure with the Chinese mainland, and the
other, de facto with Hong Kong's Western trade partners. Thus, it is not just a matter of learning a language, that one may or may not use, to insure Hong Kong's economic future, but also a strategy to preserve a political and cultural mind-set that differs from that of the mainland.
Of course, the
political logic employed here is no better than the
faulty cultural and economic logic already discussed above. If the goal
is to
inculcate Hong Kong children with virtues of political democracy and
common law, then it would be much more effective to teach these in a
language that is accessible to, and easily understood by everyone --
namely, Cantonese. But then, according to Hong Kong's democratic elite,
Hong Kongers are not yet ready for democracy. See Understanding the
nature, cause, magnitude, and direction of English language attrition
in Hong Kong society, p.8, footnote #4 (pdf document -
1MB)