Why is the US so scared to adopt one? Who cares what the world, or new immigrants think; this is our country, and you should speak our language, or leave! (this includes people who have been here a while). If you can’t do that, don’t come to me for help. I don’t speak your language, and I don’t use sign language, except for the deaf. If you can’t communicate with me in my language
Well, I think you’re correct in your implied assumption that the US has a right to adopt an official language if the citizens want one. But there are a number of historical and political reasons why we have never had one and probably won’t have one for some time.
First of all, we see ourselves as an egalitarian society in which we don’t exclude people from our country unless we have a very good reason. It fits in with out perceived image that we’re all fairly equal on a human value basis.
Secondly, we have a sort of myth that we’re a nation of immigrants, although one could legitimately ask how long people have to be here before they are not considered as immigrants. For example, my ancestors on my mother’s side have been here for over ten generations—at least since 1740. Really, where am I an immigrant from? I don’t consider myself as having any connection at all with any country other than the United States.
With the vast influx of immigrants, especially illegal ones, who have a strong resistance to being integrated into our language and cultural society, I think it may be time to require a certain facility with English before citizenship is granted. I know of people who have been here for fifty years and still can’t speak English. Some are not even citizens after all of that time. That, to me, indicates that these people want the financial benefits of being in the United States but reject it as a nation worthy of their loyalty.
I will be interested in seeing how other people feel about these issues.
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About a third of the world’s nation-states have official language provisions in their constitutions. But few of these designate a single language for government. Some do so at enormous cost to civil liberties – Turkey, for example, has criminalized minority language usage in many contexts. Others elevate a single national language for purely symbolic, ceremonial purposes. But a larger number of constitutions include explicit provisions for minority rights, giving official status to more than one language. In practice, some of these guarantees are faithfully observed; some are ignored. Elsewhere language laws serve a planning function, for example, in post-colonial nations that remain linguistically diverse. Or they may seek to mediate ethnic rivalries.
In sum, it is impossible to generalize about the meaning of an official language. Political contexts vary enormously. It would mean one thing for a small “unilingual” country – Iceland, let’s say – to declare an official language as an emblem of national pride. It would mean quite another for the United States to do so, where the political impact would be to restrict and denigrate minority tongues that already are subordinate to English. And recently, it meant something else again when the colony of Puerto Rico ended its official bilingualism, imposed by military force in 1902, in favor of Spanish as its sole official language. (The new policy lasted barely two years, an indication of its unique political subtext: combat between Puerto Rico’s statehood and “commonwealth” forces.)
All this is not to say the United States should have no language policy. Quite the contrary. Now more than ever we need a comprehensive plan for managing language resources and ensuring language rights. But such a policy involves much more than simply designating an official tongue.
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