|
By Lisa Houston “Tell me, is love still a popular suggestion Or merely an obsolete art? Forgive me for asking this simple question. I’m unfamiliar with this part, I’m a stranger here myself.” Ogden Nash (Lyrics to “Stranger Here Myself”, music by Kurt Weill) As journalists struggle to describe vast numbers of people moving across Europe, a panoply of labels decorates the headlines. Many of these words leave behind monochromatic impressions which are inherently false when applied to a such a large group of people, whose intentions and situations are often quite disparate. As always, word choice is playing a large part in our perceptions. Language has the power to direct our emotions, sculpt our opinions. And once language takes hold, it becomes a frame for our understanding, leaving things that lie outside its borders neglected or even denied. Consider Germany, which last year accepted about a million refugees (Flüchtlinge). Even as the chancellor wins international praise for this policy, a strong anti-immigrant movement is on the rise and some interesting German words are attaching themselves to the situation. Many of them, not surprisingly, are compound words. Fremdhass This word translates literally as a hatred of strangers, though it is often translated as xenophobia, which is a fear (phobia) of strangers. Fremdfeindlichkeit This means hostility to strangers, though it is also often translated as xenophobia. Überfremdung This is a rightwing word meaning “over-foreignization.” Side note: Spellcheck does not think that foreignization is a word. Actually, it is, but it refers to linguistic practices in translation. Namely: incorporating elements of the language of origin into a translation. Foreignization contrasts with domesticization. In the latter case, the translation adheres strictly to the secondary language. (Fortunately, language doesn’t respect national boundaries, and so-called "foreignization" is more or less the norm.)  Cesar Chavez: American Farm Worker and Activist, helped win rights for "migrant" workers. It is always the writer’s responsibility to consider what will be evoked in the mind of the reader. I don’t want to write about a “riot” when it was a “tussle.” But if I don’t know if it was a riot or a tussle, I might say it was a “disturbance,” even though that doesn’t convey much. Writers also have to keep an eye on word count, trying to cram as much information as possible into each word. If you can cram two facts into one word, even better. But which word? Which of these labels does the job best to describe these diverse masses? Before we pin down our thinking, let’s take a look at some of the most popular contenders. Some Definitions (Source: the oldest, hardest-to-lift dictionary I could get my hands on.) Refugee This noun comes from the French, refugie, which was first applied to the Huguenots, who migrated to Flanders and America. In 1685, the Edict of Nantes was revoked. Protestantism was, once again, illegal, and the Huguenots fled to avoid persecution. The first definition of refugee is “One who flees to a shelter or place of safety.” The second definition is more specific to its origins: “one who in times of war, political or religious persecution, etc. flees to a foreign power or country for safety.” Emigrant Noun. One who emigrates. From the Latin verb, emigrare, meaning to move away. To emigrate is to leave one country, state or region, and settle in another. The French noun émigré was used to describe the nobles who fled France after the revolution. Immigrant Immigrant is from the past participle of the Latin verb immigrare meaning to go into, or remove into. Specifically, it means to come into a new country, or region or environment in order to settle there. An immigrant is a person who immigrates. The word immigrant is being misused quite often in the news lately, or at least it’s being used prematurely. When someone is attempting to leave a region, he or she is an emigrant. Once they are in a new country, then he or she is an immigrant of that country. The choice between emigrant and immigrant has mainly to do with the point of reference. If you are speaking mostly about the country of origin, then you might use emigrant. If your point of reference is the new country, you might use immigrant. He is a French emigrant. (He left France.) She is an American immigrant. (She came to America.)  Andrew Carnegie, Scottish "emigrant", American "immigrant", Industrialist and Philanthropist. Migrate (and migrant) are from the Latin verb, migrare, meaning to move, but there is no inclusion in that word of an intention to settle. For some time “Migrant” was rarely if ever used in these news reports, perhaps because it is assumed that the people fleeing do not intend to return to their native countries. But was that a reasonable assumption? I would imagine many of these people are in crisis situations, and their choices are more based on immediate safety than long-term intentions. And now, certain news outlets seem to be favoring the word migrant, perhaps because it is relatively denuded of political implication. Asylum Asylum, for our purposes, means refuge granted by a sovereign nation, whether given temporarily or permanently. There’s a big argument going on in Germany, as some voices want to curtail the three years of asylum offered to just one year, (and other extreme voices have more violent suggestions.) It is from the Latin, Asylum, meaning sanctuary, and the Greek, Asylon, meaning refuge. Both have the meaning of protection. An asylum is an inviolate space. Its previous use for institutions of mentally ill people held that meaning as well, since the stated purpose of such places was to shelter those people from harm. I include it here because many news outlets are referring to people as "Asylum-seekers." Levantine. This word probably would have been ubiquitous had this crisis taken place a century ago, but these days is nowhere to be seen in the media. This word refers to someone from the Levant, meaning the east. One of the reasons the word “Orientals” went out of use is because it assumes a perspective. Its translations, “Easterners” implied a central point somewhere to the west. It came to be understood that the word was Euro-centric. That is my guess why we no longer use the word Levantine. Specifically, it refers to people from the regions of the eastern Mediterranean and Aegean seas, including Greece, and Egypt, as well as Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine, which now includes Israel. It may also refer to a black twill cloth, or a ship from that region, the Levant. Mark Twain used the word Levantine in his travel writings and Somerset Maugham uses it in his short story, Mr. Know-All. I first became aware of the root of this word because of a bread I like, called a Levant, which goes to the word’s origin: the Latin verb levare, to rise up. That’s how the word came to mean the Orient, because the sun “rises up” in the east. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if we referred to these people as Riser Uppers. We would at least be more aware of their incredible bravery and strength, instead of focusing solely on what we think (or fear) they want from us. Even the more accurate compound words that many media outlets have settled on, like “asylum-seekers” or “would-be immigrants” define the people by what they want instead of what they’ve been through, and the heroism many of them have shown in the face of terrible conditions. There is a host of other words that are for the most part not being used, perhaps because they are not descriptive enough. But they are not inaccurate, and I want to list them here, so you can read them and just feel how differently they land on your mind, compared with some of the words we’ve been talking about. We’ve been so inundated by the media’s preferred choices, we may not even be aware how those choices have been erecting frames of understanding in our mind’s eye. Consider this little exercise deprogramming. OK. Here we go. Forget everything you’ve heard or read, and just imagine… A stranger Foreigner Newcomer Visitor Guest Traveler...  "Exile" His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet, which is still under Chinese governance. His Holiness left Tibet in 1959, and runs the Tibetan Government in Exile from India. I believe we are asking more of our media these days, and that’s a good thing. We want them (us?) to be accurate, but we also want them to be humane. (Humane. Adjective. Having what are considered the best qualities of mankind; kind, tender, merciful, considerate, etc.) This is why I bristle when I hear the term “economic refugees.” It’s not compassionate to my ears. It makes it sound like a budgeting choice. And just what is a “political refugee” anyway? If someone is in fear for his or her life at the hands of a government, surely this is not about governance or political control of that person any more. It is a deeply personal, life-or-death issue and to be accurate, one must call that person persecuted or threatened. Questions: When my Jewish ancestors fled what is now Lithuania in the 1880's because Jews in that region were experiencing massive, organized brutality, were they “political refugees?” When people in Ireland fled The Hunger more than a century ago, were they “economic refugees?” And did you feel differently reading that last sentence because I called it “The Hunger” which was the name used by those who suffered through it, versus calling it “The Great Famine” or the “Irish Potato Famine” which were names assigned to it by historians? This brings us to what may be the most important part of the discussion: the right for human beings to define themselves. In modern usage, to “self-identify.” More and more we recognize this as an important right. The anti-immigrant demonstrators in Dresden gather right outside of the opera house, which has beautifully decorated itself with banners and video messages of tolerance and inclusion. Even the inside of the program there is the message: Refugees are welcome here. On a recent visit, I attended a performance there and heard the quintessential German romantic opera, Der Freischütz. The conflict in this morality tale is resolved by the appearance of the Hermit. This enigmatic character is similar to the Wanderer in Wagner’s Ring Cycle. He is a stranger who keeps himself apart. In Der Freischütz, he appears only in the final act, when someone is about to be punished. As an outsider to the group, it is agreed that his presence as “the far and wide” honors them, and they agree to respect his judgment, which is one of forgiveness and inclusion. It is a beautiful moment in opera, the healing of a community by the forgiving wisdom of a broader perspective. In contrast, the demonstrators outside the opera house rail against “Überfremdung” while carrying flowers and chanting, “Wir sind das Volk!” We are the people. Its the usurping of a phrase that once carried a beautiful, peaceful message also on Monday nights in Dresden. In 1989, peaceful protesters chanted it as they gathered to topple the brutal East German regime. Now, those same words resonate on a different frequency, as the phrase is attached to anti-refugee, anti-immigrant, anti-other rhetoric that continues to escalate in violence. We are the people, they chant now. We. Implying, I suppose, that you are something else. That’s the word we’ve been looking for, by the way, the one that fits every single one of these refugees, emigrants, immigrants, and asylum-seekers. People. At a rally I attended this autumn in Berlin, this point was made poignantly by one of the speakers. All the major parties had a presence that night, which was the same night the anti-immigrant party had hoped to take its march through the historic Brandenburg Gate. The organized coalition (picture democrats and republicans sharing a stage!) prevented the anti-immigrant group from passing, and our shouts and whistles followed them as they were forced to take the long way around. As the sun set over the podium, an illuminated message appeared on the Gate: “Für ein Weltoffenes Berlin,” For a Berlin open to the world. Back to our choice of words: The speaker that night told the story of a young boy, who was asked by a reporter, “bist du ein Flüchtling?” Are you a refugee? “Nein,” the child answered, “Ich bin nur ein Kind.” No, he answered, I am only a child.  Writer and creator Julian Fellowes has chosen a helluva year in which to set the final season of Downton Abbey, at least from a literary perspective.
1925 saw the publication of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s masterpiece, The Great Gatsby, Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, and Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy. The New Yorker was founded in this year, which also gave us DuBose Heyward’s Porgy and Bess and Gaston Leroux’s Phantom of the Opera. Though not of literary importance, it would prove critical to world history that Hitler’s Mein Kampf was also published in this year. George Bernard Shaw was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature and authors such as T.S. Eliot, D.H. Lawrence, and Ernest Hemingway practiced their craft as well. Also in 1925, the Paris Exposition introduced the Art Deco style to the world, and silent film captured the world’s attention with Chaplin’s the Little Tramp and stars such as Rudolph Valentino and Mary Pickford, and directors like D.W. Griffith and Erich Von Stroheim. Meanwhile, in Tennessee, a high school biology teacher was on trial for suggesting that humans were evolved from other primates, to which Mary makes an oblique reference in episode four, saying, “a monkey will type the bible if you leave it long enough,” meaning she was bound to say something nice to Edith eventually, but only by chance. Kandinsky and O’Keeffe changed painting forever and Arnold Schoenberg, Alban Berg, and Louis Armstrong did the same for music. In episode two, when Mary tells a visitor who asks to see the agent, that she is the new agent for the estate, he replies, “Well it’s a changing world.” One is tempted to say, “no kidding!” I’m going to try to get caught up on the first five episodes at once, so here, grouped by type of reference rather than the chronology of episodes, are some literary and cultural references, along with some fun vocabulary and phraseology. Drinks before dinner. The Lord’s remark to Carson about his before dinner drink, “I know you don’t approve,” he says, “but it’s quite ordinary in London now,” reflects the fact that alcohol consumption habits changed in the early 20’s in Britain as American style cocktails became popular. Prohibition prompted the emigration of a gifted bartender by the name of Harry Craddock, who began his reign at the American Bar at the Savoy. Riding astride. Mary continues to be the proponent of current fashions as she sports handsome jodpurs to ride astride instead of sidesaddle on the hunt. Several years before, Coco Chanel (to whom we must attribute Mary’s hairdo, unless you prefer giving the nod to actress Louise Brooks) anyway, Coco made waves designing her own jodpurs. Mary remarks to her father that riding astride is less dangerous, and then takes a tumble (thanks to the blackmailing former hotel employee, boo hiss). We should all be grateful that she was not riding side saddle, as Mary’s comment was correct. Women who fell from their mounts while riding sidesaddle were often dragged to their deaths when their dresses became tangled. I for one am wondering if Mary will continue in Coco’s footsteps and show up from her summer vacation with a suntan. A direct reference is made to the Bloomsbury Group, or “Set” as Rosamund calls it when she visits the apartment that once belonged to Mr. Gregson. “I met Virginia Woolf in this room,” Edith says, “and Lytton Strachey.” Strachey was author of The Eminent Victorians. “Sic transit Gloria mundi” is a comment made on the visit of the estate sale of the neighbors, who have fallen on hard times. Translation: Thus pass the glories of the world. Britain’s longest running women’s magazine, The Lady receives a mention, when Spratt gloats over Denker, perhaps suggesting that she’ll need the want ads soon enough. The Lady was first published in 1885. Mary’s new beau speaks often of Brooklands, which was the home of British auto racing, but is also an important cite for British aviation, and now houses the Brooklands Museum. The first British Gran Prix took place in 1926, so perhaps the handsome Mr. Henry Talbot has a chance. Whether he has a chance with Mary or not, who can say? Hillcroft College, which boasts Aunt Rosamund for its board member, is still in existence, as a residential college exclusively for women. As the issue of Health Care Reform plays prominently this season, it is fitting that Neville Chamberlain showed up. Most famous for his role as prime minister (1937-1940), he signed the Munich Agreement in 1938, ceding a portion of Czechoslovakia to the Nazis, part of a policy of “Appeasement” which obviously didn’t work. Chamberlain declared war on Germany after their invasion of Poland, but resigned in 1940. Though he had lost popularity, he remained a part of Winston Churchill’s cabinet, however he died of cancer in November of that year. Back to the Health Care debate. Chamberlain’s time as Minister of Health (1923, 1924-1929, and 1931) was a time of reconsidering the effectiveness of the 1911 Health Insurance Act. A Royal Commission on National Health Insurance was appointed in 1924 and minor reforms were made under Chamberlain, but were mostly not effective. In 1926 a bill reduced the government’s contribution to insurance. Britain’s current National Health Service was founded in 1948. Opinion: The decentralization of medical authority is still a relevant topic, and though Lady Violet is somewhat vilified in this debate, she does make a good point about the importance of choice in personal health. Vocabulary: Almoner. The word seems to be important this season, with Mrs. Crawley and Granny feuding about the possible changes for the local hospital. If you remember the word “alms” you will see that the meaning of “Almoner” is “one responsible for the distribution of alms,” though in this case the alms are services for the poor rather than simple monetary donations. Scarpered. Barrows uses this word contemptuously referring to the former housemaid, Gwen. “I dedicated my life to service and I’m about to be thrown out on my ear,” he says, “when she scarpered away first chance she got and now she’s lunching in the dining room.” Wrong-foot. To put someone in an embarrassing or difficult situation. The rest of the staff try warn Barrows about revealing Gwen’s identity, suggesting, “His lordship won’t like it, your trying to wrong-foot her.” Sawbones. “Jumped up little sawbones” is how Denker refers to Dr. Clarkson. The term is slang for doctor, usually a surgeon who, well, saws bones. (I guess they had a skilled sawbones on hand for when the Lord’s stomach exploded. Crikey.) Sayings, Quips and Quotations: “All that is required for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing.” This is the line Mr. Molesley uses to try to persuade Miss Baxter to testify against the man who inspired her to commit theft. It is most often attributed to Irish orator and statesman, Edmund Burke, (1729-1797). “Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.” Said in context of putting on a boutonnière for Carson’s wedding, meaning, “go for it!” “All right, Madame Defarge, calm down and finish that mash.” Mrs. Padmore, referring to Daisy as Dickens’s famous French revolutionary character in A Tale of Two Cities. Mrs. Padmore also teases Daisy for her anti-classist views, asking, “I wonder if Karl Marx might finish the liver pate?” Eating out casually was becoming more common in the 20’s, but previously health reasons were given often cited as grounds for preferring to dine at home. The Lord shows this attitude in his remark to Tom, who has eaten sandwiches at the station after dropping Mary and Anna off for their off-hours trip to London. The Lord says to Tom, “You’re a braver man than I am, Gunga Din,” slightly misquoting the last line of Rudyard Kipling’s poem, which reads, “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.” In episode five, Mary is referred to as “La Belle Dame sans Merci” which is a famous lyrical poem by John Keats. Keats wrote the poem while deeply in love, and having lost both his mother and brother to tuberculosis, which would kill the poet two years later. It is Mary’s lack of romantic interest in Evelyn Napier that earns her this label. Mary enjoys a date with Mr. Talbot at the Café de Paris, which had opened in 1924 and become a place to be seen when the Prince of Wales chose it as one of his preferred haunts. Badly bombed during the blitz in 1941, it reopened after the war and is a trendy nightspot to this day. Bright Young Things. It’s the visit to the Café de Paris and watching the race at Brooklands that inspires the comment that Mary and Tom are “all members of the Bright Young Things.” The Bright Young Things was a social set of decadent bohemians in London in the 20’s, and included many writers, such as Nancy Mitford, Evelyn Waugh, and Edith Sitwell. It was famously photographed by one of its members, Cecil Beaton, who began photographing for Vogue in 1927 and went on to win two academy awards for costume design (Gigi 1958 and My Fair Lady 1964). He also won the academy award for best art direction for My Fair Lady. The genius behind the hats at the Ascot racing scene, Beaton was also a noted diarist. It was Evelyn Waugh’s 1930 novel, Vile Bodies that served as the basis for the film Bright Young Things (2003, dir. Stephen Fry). Jane Eyre. Mary makes a reference to Charlotte Brontë’s novel, Jane Eyre, saying, “’Mrs. Carson.’ It’s like Jane Eyre asking to be called Mrs. Rochester.” Jane Eyre was a governess who married her master and I thought perhaps the comment was meant to reveal some jealousy on the part of Mary, losing her beloved Carson to Mrs. Hughes, as the comment does have an implication that Mrs. Hughes has married above her station. Dogs of War. Doctor Clarkson informed Lady Violette of Denker’s ill-manneredness on the street, prompting Lady Violette to give Denker her notice. When Mrs. Crawley suggests that Dr. Clarkson wouldn’t have wanted her to lose her position, and Lady Violette says that he shouldn’t have sent the letter if that were the case. I believe it was Mrs. Crawley who replied, “When we unleash the dogs of war, we must go where they take us.” The popular expression “the dogs of war” has its origin in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Brutus has just instructed Antony that in his upcoming eulogy, Anthony should praise Caesar, and not blame his murderers. Left alone, Antony ponders the horror of the murder, and bemoans the fact that he is “meek and gentle with these butchers.” He then gives a prophecy that “a curse shall light upon the limbs of men.” It is Caesar’s voice, looming over the earth which will, in a sense, supervise these horrors. As Anthony wraps up the monologue: “In a monarch’s voice, Cry ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the dogs of war.” Anthony doesn’t comply with Brutus’s instruction in the following scene, using sarcasm to undercut his line “and Brutus is an honorable man” in his famous “Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears” oration. A few more good lines: “A problem shared is a problem halved.” “A peer in favor of reform. It’s like a turkey in favor of Christmas.” As usual, my favorite lines have been from Lady Violette, who urged Spratt to get to the point by saying, “If you were talking in Urdu, I couldn’t understand you less.” And when Denker says that she shouldn’t be friends with Dr. Clarkson now that “he’s turned against you!” Lady Violette replies: “If I withdrew my friendship from everyone who had spoken ill of me, my address book would be empty.” More fun stuff: Brooklands Museum Side saddle costume demonstration Video Cecil Beaton Slideshow Brando as Marc Anthony Video |
Archives
December 2024
CategoriesBlogStuff that's on my mind about books, movies, opera, dogs, and life. |
RSS Feed