The latest attempt by the Kunsill Nazzjonali tal-Ilsien Malti regarding loan words seems more reasonable and open than the earlier deċizjonijet (decisions) quite unnecessarily changing long-established orthography and grammar. What we seem to have here are proposals rather than decisions and less dictatorial ones. This is more in the spirit of the original 2005 law setting up this council to offer guidelines (linji ta’ gwida) concerning the writing of Maltese.
Some respect is also shown to the autonomy of the author in his/her writing when it comes to certain choices and preferences.
No language worthy of the name can ignore, much less dismiss praxis, corpora, the use of words and idioms made by its greatest authors such as Dun Karm, Rużar Briffa, etc., by such means as proof reading courses in the ‘new’ Maltese to influence newspaper editors and the like. This is a minefield.
As Nels Anderson wrote: “Compared to other types of social conflict, those concerning language are of a special order. They are painful and harsh in the most intimate sense. Such an issue touches people vitally and completely” (Europe and Empire, Midsea, 2012, p. 41).
So there are still various contradictions or assumptions, which the language used by authors – poets, novelists, historians, philosophers, broadcasters and others – will clear up in time. For example, must a flashcard henceforth be called a leħħa, which is a term associated with lightning (leħħa ta’ berqa) or simply a flashcard? Contrary to what some may prefer to think or say, languages are not created, dominated or controlled by ‘linguists’.
Contrary to what some may prefer to think or say, languages are not created, dominated or controlled by ‘linguists’.
Some important principles should also be readily accepted, such as the distinction between written and spoken language. Colloquially speaking in some areas, such as Birkirkara, one might even say skonti or skontha, whereas the standard Maltese preferred by our litterateurs has always been skond jien or skond hi. There is no need for having recourse to loan words where authentic words or expressions in Maltese already exist.
For niskrinjawone could say all the more naturally nuru or nipproġettaw; for ċansijiet one could say opportunitajiet, okkażjonijet or similar words. Presumably, one does not exclude the other, depending on contexts. Skorja should certainly not mean that one can no longer use sab ix-xibka, so much more expressive; or more idiomatically using isuq for jispidja; inixxi for jillikja; ipaċpaċ for jiċċettja, or even jipprenota for jibbukja, or skwadra for tim, or both, and so on. I still have some nagging reservations as to what makes this council for the Maltese language ‘national’. Who elects it? Whom does it actually represent?
What spectrum of disciplines feature in it, with what track records and competences? What is its legitimacy and bearing? To what extent do authors need its ‘regulating powers’, prescriptive rather than advisory? By and large, we have had a working orthography and a grammar for a century, taught, learned and transmitted from one generation to the next. Of course, even living languages change but slowly and not without respect for profound sensitivities relating to etymology and semantics. Continuity, affinity and identity are at stake.
The 2005 law, instigated as it was by a couple of zealots, is hazy about such points. In the public interest it is about time that, in full consultation with all stakeholders, existing legislation be revisited, liberally keeping in mind serious warnings such as those made as early as 2008 by the late Peter Serracino Inglott (‘a can of words’).
Education Minister Evarist Bartolo’s appeal for calm, reason and convergence, and support for the rights of publishers, are also very well taken and deserve to be commended by those who choose to continue writing in Maltese.
On the whole, this rather less tight-fisted, less domineering attitude by ‘tal-kunsill’ would seem to be a step in the right direction, responding to the scores of articles and letters of criticism of new rules, regulations, assumptions, pretensions and prohibitions that have been appearing over the past years ad nauseam.
The last thing we need is a generation illiterate in both Maltese and English, which is our window to the world.
Or authors who feel their literary conscience is being offended if and when they opt to still write under constraint.
Henry Frendo is director of the University’s Institute of Maltese Studies