This essay was written by Chris Rogers, a BYU Humanities Center faculty fellow.
I think, write, and teach about language diversity a lot. In my classes students are asked to analyze the similarities and differences between languages from all over the world, how they have independently developed, and what they uniquely represent for the people who use them. I teach my students that the injunction to share the gospel with “every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people” (Revelation 14:6; D&C 42:58) does not entail a homogenization of the language structures, meanings or uses from around the world. Instead, it is about the proliferation of individual languages used by people from all corners of the world, each created from the needs and preferences of these people. My students are taught that the myths of “correct” or “standard” languages are old and false notions, but that each social circumstance calls for a particular set of language behaviors; and it is the individual who creates their linguistic responses to the circumstances according to the authenticity and authority of the communities they belong to. Language diversity, in this way, is not a representation of a social problem, but a sign of progression and collective adaptation, and divine individuality. From the perspective of the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ, language diversity is a reflection of individual progression and is a blessing.
Language diversity is not something that can be merely quantified and kept catalogued as a passing curiosity, destined for a future game of Trivial Pursuit. It is something much more intimate and personal. It is something that humanity cannot live without. In fact, it is so essential that if we were to somehow lose it, people would immediately start creating it afresh, modifying and adapting their linguistic systems to fit their needs, as reflections of their individual lived experiences.
Yet, despite all this study, thinking and training, one thing consistently surprises me: some people insist on reducing this blessing to hobbyist language learning, algorithmic translation/interpretation, the rhetorical beauty of constructing well-worded sentences, or, more recently, a stochastic model for text extrusion. This is not the core of language diversity. Perspectives like these miss the point, they miss the human creativity in language structures, they miss the social, collective nature of what it means to be human.
It would be a mistake to find fault with those who hold his perspective, but who have yet to experience and understand the value of linguistic diversity firsthand. These people are in store for a wonderful, awesome, expansive experience, and a world-shattering connection to the divine, when they inevitably do. However, there are others—in positions of social responsibility and institutional development—who, despite being witness to the essential importance of linguistic diversity, suffer from a sort of self-imposed amnesia, wrongfully insisting that language diversity is not connected to social, economic, and individual physical, intellectual, emotional and spiritual health.
This seemingly purposeful ignorance is unfortunate because, since the Sumerians started exploring language (ca. 3200 BCE) up to today, we collectively have learned a lot! We have learned there are cognitive foundations for the similarities and differences in the world’s languages; we have learned that all languages are equally complex, and that all languages fit into the linguistic ecosystem where they are used in a way that makes them more valuable than any other language in that context. We have learned that the common assumption that all languages behave just like the more well-known European or Classical languages is false; and that each language is a representation of a unique version of humanity—which in turn is a unique version of the divine. Any action that downplays the rigorous study of language, and the valuing of language diversity, is incomplete and does not prepare us to meet the individual and collective challenges of our everyday lives —lives which are full, almost to bursting, of people who speak many languages in an advantageous creative process that allows them to adapt to their unique lived experiences.
Take for example, one of the languages that I am currently researching: Kiribati (spoken all over the world but most clearly identified with the I-Kiribati people of the Republic of Kiribati). In this language, there is evidence for a distinction between what is traditionally called a noun and what is traditionally called a verb. This distinction is based on different morphological, syntactic and semantic behaviors of words.
But adjectives? These are not so clearly differentiated. What we might think of as adjectives behave structurally like intransitive verbs but can additionally behave semantically like nominal modifiers—but only in a subordinated clause!
At best, we can say that, for Kiribati, adjectives are a subclass of intransitive verbs; and it would be completely inaccurate to insist on a unique group of words called “adjectives”.
This is entirely unlike more commonly studied European languages (such as English, German, Spanish, Portuguese, French, or any of the others spoken in continental Europe—though the differentiation between nouns and verbs in English is not straightforward either). Kiribati speakers have created a linguistic system that is not organized in the same way as these (perhaps) more familiar languages. But one of the things that calls my attention most about this language is how adaptive speakers have been since the English language (and a few others) have colonialized their culture. These speakers have created new words, and transformed words borrowed from other languages, to fit their linguistic system which matches their individual and collective identities. Unfortunately, there continues to be a strong external influence (often subtle and subconscious) to drop this unique system in favor of one of the “great and spacious” colonizing languages, such as English. There is a place for English, of course—but there is equally a need for a unique Kiribati response to life and perspectives.
This is a very small illustration of what language diversity really means. It is reflected in different languages and in different dialects of every language. It is the advantage of the individual linguistic actions that individuals perform everyday whether they are monolingual or not. This is why language diversity is so prominent a feature in my classes. Any practice, policy, or perspective (educational, social, or political) that does not value an accurate understanding of language diversity is problematic. Language is a fundamental component of understanding human development and is one of the things that acts like the cement for human societies. Without studying language diversity, perspectives on the value of the individual and society becomes flat, uninspired, and impotent to help others.
In my understanding of the Tower of Babel story, I do not see language diversification being inflicted as a divine punishment on humanity, but as a way to overcome the myth of the fallacy “unity = homogeneity” (see my 2025 blog post). In a very real way, one single language for everyone is a problem that humanity needs to avoid; or as my fellow colleagues in grad school used to say—rather tongue-in-cheek: “monolingualism can be cured.” Perhaps more ecologically minded, this can be rephrased as “let’s celebrate how our languages are an advantage for us all individually and collectively”.
So learn a language. Learn to analyze a language’s structure. Learn to appreciate the beauty of other languages and what they represent to the people who use them. Learn to value linguistic diversity as an adaptive advantage for you in whatever way you live. Learn to avoid thinking about changing another’s language into your own, but learn to value the changing needs of the speakers who create the world’s language systems. Insist that younger generations are taught to value language diversity and that understanding it is a core component of their education. Expect yourself and those you care for to not just dream about “every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people,” but to get out there and witness this blessing firsthand.
If you want support on this journey, please send me a friendly email and I’m happy to help you get started.
