This post was written by Chris Rogers, a Humanities Center faculty fellow.
The first time I wanted to learn another language was because a new student, Edgar, had moved from Mexico into my fourth-grade classroom in Southern California. I asked my dad to teach me how to introduce myself to Edgar in Spanish (my dad had served a Spanish-speaking mission in Peru and Ecuador). This wouldn’t be my first interaction with Edgar—I had already met, talked (in English), and played with him (I remember tag being a favorite on the playground at the time). But I wanted to interact with Edgar in his native language. I learned “Hola, soy Chris” and committed it to memory, practicing it multiple times as I prepared for school, on the bus, and while the teacher was taking roll. Finally, after what I remember being an especially loathsome lesson on multiplication, it was time for recess. We all ran to the playground, and I immediately sought out Edgar.
“Hi, Chris.” Edgar was already in a group of other kids playing tag.
“Hola, soy Chris!” I responded with so much enthusiasm that “projectile greeting” would be an apt description.
“I already know that,” said Edgar as he began chasing another kid.
Looking back, I should have been a bit embarrassed—I was awkwardly (re)introducing myself to a friend, a boy I’d spent every day with for the last few months, playing, learning, and eating lunch. But I wasn’t embarrassed. I felt something like what I think Indiana Jones felt when he talked to a small community in India in their own language before fighting Mola Ram and returning the mystical Sankara stones (Temple of Doom was my favorite movie in the fourth grade). His multilingual skills made me believe he could accomplish anything by using language to personally connect with his new acquaintances. After using Spanish with Edgar, I felt like I could do anything and that I could use language to build a connection with others around me.
That was all I ever said to Edgar in Spanish. Within a few weeks, he was required to go to a “Speech Class” because even though he spoke English fluently, he had an accent (at least that is what my teacher said, I never noticed it) and he was having a hard time reading in this second language. So, we didn’t get to hang out as much anymore. Shortly before the end of fourth grade, his family moved, and I have no idea what happened to him. But I like to think of that experience as the beginning of my discovery of language, the value it has in my life, and the importance it has in developing our divine identities.
From my experience with Edgar and in my subsequent study of languages and their speakers throughout the world, I have learned that there are two primary influences that determine what languages we speak and how we use them: transmission and diffusion. Transmission is the term linguists use to talk about the patterns we are socialized into through interaction with our parents or primary guardians—in other words, we learn the language of our families. Diffusion, on the other hand, is the term linguists use to talk about the patterns we adopt from other social groups speaking the same or different languages outside of our immediate families. Throughout our lives, we subconsciously balance the influence of transmission and diffusion (resulting in inevitable individual and collective language change) as we mold our linguistic systems to our individual identities, needs, and uses. These are the core ingredients for what will become our “linguistic ecosystem.” A part of this ecosystem is represented in the following diagram:
We cannot predict the outcomes of the interplay between transmission and diffusion, but we can recognize their importance in forming our unique linguistic practices retrospectively. Through my professional experience as a linguist, I can confidently say that a healthy language ecosystem is essential for the use and function of every language in the world. From my understanding of the standard works of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I also believe that transmission, diffusion, and their consequential ecosystems are part of the intended experience we have while developing our eternal identities on earth.
Language structure—and I suppose the cognitive abilities to employ them—are explicitly mentioned as part of the creation of the world. Language was not mentioned as belonging to its own creative period (though I bet linguists in Heaven might have disagreed), but it is represented as part of the creation in all recitations of the event in the standard works.
In the King James Bible, Genesis 1:19-20, we read this:
19 And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.
20 And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; but for Adam there was not found an help meet for him.
Apparently, before Eve was created as “an help meet,” the Lord asked Adam to use his language ability to name animals. I don’t think the names of the animals are that important, since we can call the same animal by different names in each language (e.g., dog, perro, Hund, peelo’, etc.). I do think however that this shows that even the human faculty for language needed to be checked and determined “good” just like with other aspects of the creation. The same is found in Moses 3 and Joseph Smith’s inspired translation of the Bible, but interestingly, the sequence of events is partially reversed in Abraham 5: 20-21. There, God doesn’t check on Adam’s language ability until after Eve is created, perhaps reflecting the primary social and communicative functions of language. Whatever the exact sequence of events, both transmission (familial social inheritance) and diffusion (extrafamilial social interaction) are seen as determining factors of language use from there on out.
Later, while the prophet Enoch was preaching as a missionary, he indicated the balance between transmission and diffusion that was present in his society (see Moses 6: 5-6; 45-47). As expected, this balance was an essential part of a healthy linguistic ecosystem and resulted, as it does now, in significant linguistic changes with different groups speaking different languages (though we know much less about Enoch’s society than we do our own).
Similarly, in Genesis 10-11 (with additions from Ether, Chapters 1 and 2), we read about the Tower of Babel. The tower was built on the plains of Shinar by a group of people who were proud of their monolingualism despite the linguistic diversity around them (see Genesis 10). In effect, whatever other factors they were using to build “unity” in their society, they had decided to ignore linguistic diffusion as a necessary component of a thriving linguistic ecosystem, relying only on the value of linguistic transmission. The Lord, apparently, knew that this would never work and blessed these people with language change over time (see Stephens 2017 for more on the Blessings of Babel). However, at least one group of people knew about this ongoing change and prayed to be exempted from it. The answer to this was to become socially isolated from the people at Babel (see the book of Ether), though even their language was eventually changed through both diffusion and transmission.
Among other things, we can learn from these experiences that healthy linguistic ecosystems are built on both transmission and diffusion. This suggests that linguistic diversity was and is necessary individually and collectively for humanity. Referring to the Tower of Babel story, linguistic diversity (embracing both transmission and diffusion) was necessary for the people to be one. As a side note, confound as found in Genesis 11 does not mean confuse, but ”to mix up so as not to be able to identify the individualness.” What a blessing! A stronger linguistic alloy! We can see what seems to be another sign of a loving God toward His children. The people in the plains of Shinar wanted unity and stability, but after the flood, they only had half the ingredients for a healthy linguistic ecosystem: transmission. They had lost the benefits of diffusion. As a consequence, the Lord re-established/restored this flexible institution that had been part of the creation.
As we look around us and interact with people in other languages and from other cultures, perhaps we can be less intent on “getting it right” or suggesting that “we speak only one way in our communities” and more adamant about embracing the flexibility offered by both linguistic transmission and diffusion. Surely, the Lord is making a healthy linguistic ecosystem part of His last Restoration. As the Restoration continues to unfold, we should be encouraged to embrace our unique and constantly changing linguistic ecosystems built on the necessary multilingualism throughout the world.
