Feliĉan Zamenhofan Tagon!

The title of this post is “Happy Zamenhof Day” (and it’s pronounced “feh-LEE-chan zah-men-HOH-fan TAH-gohn”), in the constructed international auxiliary language (IAL) Esperanto. Zamenhof Day is celebrated in honour of the creator of Esperanto, and I thought I’d use the occasion to briefly introduce the language, its creator, its philosophy, and raise some broader issues about communication.

Dr. L. L. Zamenhof (1859–1917) was born in Białystok – which was then part of the Russian Empire, but is now part of Poland – to Lithuanian Jewish parents. Białystok at the time was a fairly cosmopolitan mishmash, with a Yiddish-speaking majority, sizable populations of Polish and Belarusian speakers, along with smaller groups that spoke Turkish, German, and Russian. You can probably guess that these linguistic barriers were sharply split along ethnic lines, and you probably wouldn’t be surprised to hear that there was quite a bit of strife. From this background, Zamenhof grew up speaking Russian natively, and, Yiddish, Polish, and German fluently, along with some some Belarusian and even Turkish, and he grew to believe that much of the bickering between the various groups could be simply avoided if only they could understand each other a little better.

Dr. L. L. Zamenhof

He started developing his “Universal Language” as a teenager – the first draft was finished as early as 1878 but there were a number of setbacks that prevented it from being finished, or published, until 1887. The raging antisemitism of the Tsar loyalists was a major factor in the delay. (During the delay, a German Catholic named Johann Martin Schleyer had a vision from God in 1879 that he should create a universal language, and in 1880 he published “Volapük”. Volapük was an immediate hit – by the time Esperanto was published in 1887, they were claiming a million adherents, and hundreds of clubs and textbooks. It was completely overwhelmed when Esperanto was released, so much so that by 1900 there were only 150 people left in the world still interested in the language. Today it is estimated that there are 20 Volapük speakers in the world.)

Zamenhof used the delays to fine-tune the language, and to translate a number of literary and poetic works to show it was up to the task. When it was finally published, Zamenhof had to make a number of concessions to appease the censors, such as including a translation of the Lord’s Prayer (to make the endeavour look less “Jewish” and more “Christian”). He also opted to publish the language under a pseudonym, to hide his Jewish identity. The language was published under the name “Doktoro Esperanto”, which, in the language he was publishing, means “Doctor one-who-hopes”. People started referring to the language first as “Doctor Esperanto’s language”, then just “Esperanto”.

It was a massive hit, with the introductory book soon republished in over two dozen other languages. There was actually a country – Moresnet, a small territory claimed alternately by Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands and Prussia at the time (with so many claimants, you can imagine why it’s no longer around now, after World War 1) – that considered adopting Esperanto as its official language. They were actually going to rename the place “Amikejo” (ah-mee-KEH-yoh), which is Esperanto for “place of friendship”. There was even an Esperanto currency – the spesmilo (₷1 ≅ CDN$40 today) – that saw some use.

After World War 1, there was even more interest in a universal auxiliary language, to avoid the horror of the Great War ever being repeated. The League of Nations – precursor to the United Nations – actually sent official delegations to Esperanto conferences, and there was even a vote to make Esperanto the official language of the League of Nations, which got 10 votes for and only 1 against. (Interestingly, it was the French delegate who vetoed the motion. He was upset that French was losing its standing as the international language of diplomacy. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose, eh?)

So if Esperanto was so widely accepted then, why is it so obscure today? The answer is mostly World War 2, which saw the destruction of the League of Nations, and millions of Esperanto speakers – after all, Esperanto had been most popular in places where there was the greatest likelihood of war, because of the sense of hope it offered. But even more generally the fascist dictatorships of the mid-20th century. Esperanto was brutally repressed. Stalin called it “the language of spies”, and Hitler had a special beef with it because it was invented by a Jewish guy – he actually mentioned it in Mein Kampf, holding it up as an example of a Jewish conspiracy for world domination. Esperanto organizations were outlawed, and many of the membership arrested. All of Zamenhof’s children were explicitly hunted down and murdered. One grandson escaped by hiding with his mother – he tells a story about a time when he was young, when a Polish labourer abruptly started speaking Esperanto and asked if the boy knew it, and he responded that not only did he know it, his grandfather had invented it, and how for months after he regretted doing so, fearing it would lead the Nazis to him and his mother. In many German-controlled areas, Esperanto only survived because concentration camp inmates taught it to each other, telling guards they were teaching Italian (which was Germany’s ally at the time). But the glory days for Esperanto were over.

People have been saying Esperanto is dead for two generations now, but not only is it still around, the 2000s and 2010s have seen a massive boom for the language. The Internet has allowed Esperanto speakers to find each other all across the world, and there are now third- and fourth-generation native speakers of the language. Esperanto has been recognized by the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (CEFR) since 2007, Google added Esperanto to Google Translate in 2012, and there have been very successful pilot projects to introduce Esperanto as a “starter” language, before teaching more complex foreign languages. (By sheer coincidence, because my playlist is like two weeks long, just as I was writing the sentence about native speakers, my music player actually started playing an Esperanto song called “Mia Muziko” by the German group Tutmonda Muziko.)

“La verda stelo”, or “the green star”, is a symbol of Esperanto.

But history aside, you’re probably curious about the language itself. What does a constructed language look like? What does it sound like?

I once heard someone boast they could write the entire grammar of Esperanto legibly on a 3”×5” index card, and that’s not an idle boast. I myself have taught people to become CEFR A1 level proficient in an afternoon. It is a very easy language to learn, especially if you’re already familiar with linguistics.

You can find plenty of YouTube videos of people speaking or singing in Esperanto – even cartoons – if you want to hear what the language sounds like. There are even Esperanto movies – there was a famous one from 1965 named “Incubus”, starring William Shatner.

Here are some handy phrases you might find occasion to use:

(Note: in the pronunciation guides, syllables in braces (“{}”) should be mushed together as much as possible – “kaj” should pretty much rhyme with “aye” (as in “aye-aye, sir”).)

Zamenhof was not an atheist, but he was a proto-humanist. In fact, he actually invented his own “religion” – a reformation of Judaism that ditched all the silly rituals, dress codes and purity nonsense, and really kept only the ethical teachings. He called it “Homaranismo”, which is an Esperanto-ish word that could be translated as “Humanism” (technically, it means something like “the ideology/doctrine of one who is of humankind”). Check out the fundamental doctrines of Homaranismo… sounds pretty darn humanistic, doesn’t it?

And, really, the entire Esperanto venture, and the philosophy behind it, is very humanistic. Esperanto was never intended to replace any languages – it was designed as an auxiliary language. The idea is that Spanish people would still learn Spanish, Japanese people would still learn Japanese, and Canadians would still learn English and/or French (and/or Inuvialuk, etc.)… but they would all also Esperanto for mutual communication – just as we all learn the same mathematical symbols. Everyone would still have their own culture, but now they would have a means to share it with everyone else.

I don’t think most atheists generally appreciate just how divisive language barriers can be, but don’t doubt for a moment that religions have figured it out. The Babel legend highlights that even the ancient clerics realized how dangerous free and open communication really is. Many religions deliberately foster their own “private” languages to isolate them from the rest of the world. Popular examples are Islam and Judaism, which use archaic forms of Arabic and Hebrew as “official” languages. Criticisms of the nonsense or brutality in the Quran or the Tanakh are frequently dismissed by saying “oh, you’re not understanding the nuance that exists in the original language”. (Catholicism maintains Latin for similar reasons, though not as strictly.) Clear and honest communication is and has always been the enemy of religion, and of tyranny.

We should be able to see that particularly clearly, not just as atheists, but as Canadians – our country is sharply divided down linguistic lines, and if you’ve followed any of the disputes you have surely heard one side or the other accusing the others of missing some nuance present in their own language. (In fact, I half believe the PQ’s official stationary has the phrase “Anglophones are just misunderstanding the nuance of the French we used – their objections are based on their ignorance.” printed right on there, and they just write the rest of their public releases around it.) Here’s a challenge – think of the most vehemently anti-anglophone or anti-francophone people you’ve ever met (not counting politicians who are opportunistically stoking the bigotry for political gain)… how many of them are bilingual? I’d bet not many. Understanding really does foster tolerance and respect.

So I encourage you, on this Zamenhof Day, in recognition of Esperanto, to reflect on language, its place in a secular, humanist world, and the role it plays both in dividing people, and in bringing them together.