Languages are the pedigree of nations. —Samuel Johnson
"The French language is a treasure," cries René Etiemble, professor of comparative languages at the Sorbonne. "To violate it is a crime. Persons were shot during the war for treason. They should be punished for degrading the language."
As purist and patriot, Linguist Etiemble has declared war against Franglais, the pidgin French-English that has flooded la belle langue with U.S. neologisms. French newspapers speak of call-girls, cliff-dwellers, containment, fairways, missile-gaps, uppercuts. French sociologists analyze le melting-pot, out-groups, ego-involvement. French business roils with words like boom, le boss, fifty-fifty, soft-approach and supermarket.
Calling for drastic fines against Américanolatres (America worshipers), Etiemble estimates that Frenchmen soft on English have allowed 5,000 common Anglicisms (and 30,000 technical ones) to divide Gaul. The august French Academy is so alarmed that it has decided to "unleash an offensive in favor of the defense of the French language." Mounting the barricades, the academy's dictionary commission will prepare a blacklist of "foreign" words that are impropres à la langue.
Planetary Phenomenon. All this may be the most quixotic war in French history, for English is currently the world's most irresistible language. In two world wars, British and American troops spread it to common people everywhere. The dynamism of U.S. culture and technology has sped the process. Flexible, expressive and relatively simple, English is circling the planet at a phenomenal rate.
Spoken as first language by 250 million people and as a second language by hundreds of millions more, widely dispersed English is becoming the universal tongue of trade, diplomacy, science and scholarship. Pilots of all nations use it for airways communication. Jazz teaches it to youth the world over. In emerging Asia and Africa, polyglot people take up English as the only way to comprehend their neighbors. The Chinese Communists speak English in propaganda broadcasts to East Africa. The Russians use it in broadcasts to the Far East, and stamp their Near East exports with the English legend, "Made in U.S.S.R."
Aber No Sweat. As a result, Anglicisms are now weirdly lodged in most major languages. Russian futbol fans cheer a fourvard's goal, jeer an offside penalty. Western-vowed stilyagi (Teddy boys) call themselves Tom, Dick or Harry, and breakfast on corn flakes.
In Japan, the mysterious East went West as soon as the G.I.s arrived with jiipu (Jeeps) and gamu (chewing gum). Every modan garu (modern girl) is now avid for nairon sutokkingu (nylon stockings), the hittu parado (hit parade) and the popular magazines sekkuso sutori (sex stories). In showbiz, which is naturally fantazikku, starlets grapple with ojishon, kamera tesuto and doresu rihaasaru (audition, camera test, dress rehearsal). "Aimu sori," says the Japanese businessman as he breaks a kakuteiru (cocktail) date with his garufurendo (girl friend). He has time only for hassaru (hustle) and greater purodakuchibichi (productivity).