An interview about fleas in one's own and others' fur, or being surrounded by polished Latvian, with Dr. philol. Dita Liepa, a researcher at the Institute of the Latvian Language, a sociolinguist and lecturer at RSU

A phrase I noticed in the pre-election flickerings last August: “We live in truly interesting times and words and concepts no longer have any meaning, except for what you yourself give to a specific word at that moment according to your whim, rather than society’s mutual agreement on the meaning of the word.” What are your thoughts on this sentence?

I read it several times. On one hand, everything depends on the circumstances, the situation, and the surrounding context – when, who, and how something is said. We often blame journalists if something someone said has been taken out of context, misunderstood, or misinterpreted. But on the other hand, society has reached an agreement, and within its concepts and knowledge, there is an understanding of the respective word and the meaning it carries. Some years ago, a scandal erupted at a school where a pupil had called a teacher a bitch. It was very difficult to prove that the pupil had been thinking about his little dog at that moment rather than applying the word to the specific person.

After the usual – to some “guilty” party addressed – reproaches or verbal battles, it has become quite fashionable to say: “You misunderstood me” or “There was a communication error,” or to use other modern phrases as an excuse. Such expressions most often serve as an excuse for failed communication. Therefore, I do not agree that words or concepts in society's consciousness have no meaning. Of course, the meaning of words can change, it can expand, but the loss of meaning for words will deny both our previous experience and our accumulated knowledge.

A current trend is to misunderstand someone (often intentionally)...

Yes! It could be a certain negligence or carelessness when something has been said, but, sensing that “things aren't good,” the retreat begins. This can be noticed in the statements of officials.

Just as a person said it at the time, that is how it was, and that is how the speaker thought; perhaps the speaker had not delved into the situation. Usually, however, this work (preparatory work, gathering and summarizing information, etc.) is not carried out by the officials themselves, but by their staff or colleagues whose job duties include public relations functions. An official tends to specify and expand on questions and explanations. Any misunderstanding shows that we have a perception of the meanings of words, of the order of things, etc. I would write off misunderstandings as a result of insufficient communication between officials and those representing their views, as well as a certain carelessness.

It happens that politics, opinions (if there are any), or something very personal interferes with the understanding of words. For example, Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga still elegantly uses “katrs viens” [each one] instead of “ikviens” [everyone] or “katrs” [each] (a clearly understandable calque from the English “everyone”). By the way, the “finely borrowed” “katrs viens” has also remained in the everyday spoken language of a few others. In the speeches of Egils Levits, we often notice German sentence structures that sound different in Latvian. On the other hand, the indignation about Oļegs Burovs’ exclamation “Pagaidi, sieviete!” [Wait, woman!]... that had to be translated into Russian before expressing criticism. Can we reproach a person who has lived for a long time in a different language environment, who is sufficiently good at Latvian, for slightly different sentence structures, pretending that we do not notice and do not understand the influence of another language? It is not about language and its more or less successful use, but about deliberate pretense.

I tend to tell students: you can only reproach a linguist for language errors. Students often ask: “Did you hear how person A or B spoke on television yesterday? Is that even correct? What do you say about that?” or “Our lecturer C uses the word ‘principā’ [in principle] or the phrase ‘pa lielam’ [mostly/basically] all the time.” I reply: “I admit that these are stylistic errors. However, you can reproach a philologist or a Latvian language teacher for language usage, because that is their job and their bread and butter!” It would be unforgivable for Latvian language professionals to speak Latvian with English, German, or Russian sentence structures. One has to ask what you can teach your pupils if your own speech is unpolished.

Neither Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga, nor Egils Levits, nor Oļegs Burovs are Latvian philologists. Furthermore, Latvian is not O. Burovs’ mother tongue. When talking about officials, it is better to evaluate their work, their contribution to the good of society, the nation, and the state. Can you reproach Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga for a lack of Latvian spirit or patriotism? No other president has used so many folk songs and figurative means of expression in their speeches. Moreover, the joint contribution outweighs these small lice or fleas that Latvians unfortunately love to look for so much. And they can be found in the fur of every language user, including a philologist. Reproaches towards linguists also often concentrate on searching for tiny fleas, rather than the content of what is being said. A linguist is not a supernatural being who was born with a law book in their hands, who never makes mistakes, who never feels freedom in their language and expressions, who does not speak colloquial language. I liked it when a translator once said: “I relax by speaking incorrectly.”

The words spoken in public are guarded by the watchful eye of the people (in this case, the watchful ear), which monitors, records, and then... at the necessary moment, reminds us. Of course, the public speaking skills of presidents are carefully monitored, for example, on 4 May, 18 November, at the Song Festival, on New Year's Eve. We want the highest officials of the state to be the best and an example everywhere, including in language. Logically, because often the phrases used are repeated, referred to, and quoted. People known in society have many advisors and assistants, and if we want their language to be impeccable, that could be precisely the task of the assistants, which would need to be sorted out or changed in the person's speech – support staff should follow such nuances and note them. For example, Valdis Zatlers once worked a lot on language and performance issues, and by the end of his presidency, no one reproached him for awkwardness of speech, errors, or rough patches.

If I, a Latvian language teacher, had to read a paper on jurisprudence or economics, I would possibly make mistakes too. You can reproach someone for something in their field of expertise, not for what they do not know. It will become increasingly difficult to find ideal Latvian language users in the future society.

For example, several years ago, while talking with lawyers, I allowed myself to say: “This is provided for by the Latvian ‘likumdošana’ [legislation]...” From the audience, it was correctly pointed out to me: “We do not use the word ‘likumdošana’ in this sense, because ‘likumdošana’ is a process. Legislation [the process] happens in the Saeima.” I had not delved into the word “likumdošana,” but I took the reprimand into account and do not say it anymore.

Another example: about five years ago, the words “ekrānuzņēmums” [screenshot] and “ekrāna izgriezums” [screen clip] “entered” the language, which many (it happens) did not know (and, unfortunately, still do not know). At a conference, we were talking about “ekrānšāviņi” [screen-shots]. LU Professor Māris Vītiņš, hearing this, remarked collegially after the lecture: “We have had a new term since last year, so please do not use any ‘šāviņi’ [shots].”

Yes, we have fields where only professionals are well-oriented, because there is no system to summarize new words! There is no possibility to get and learn, for example, all the new words and terms of 2020. It is a work of “following” on portals, websites, databases; it is understanding and cooperation. I still very often hear both “ekrānšāviņi” and the phrase “to paredz likumdošana” [this is provided for by legislation]; that is how people, including officials and civil servants, speak. Are officials loners, and do they work alone? Why don't they have someone to help and tell them, or fix the respective slip-up? Are they waiting for the angry and harsh linguist? You won't place a censor next to everyone – and also – should you? Are those the functions of a linguist?

Over time, having met lawyers and spoken to them more than once, it has been explained to me that there are lawyers who categorically object to the use of “likumdošana” in the mentioned sense, but there are also “users” of this word. It is similar with philosophers: there are proponents of “filosofija” [philosophy], and there are those who, upon greeting, say: “I am that philosopher who writes this word with a ‘z’.”

How do you look at the word combinations often used: “likums nosaka” [the law determines] and “likums sargā” [the law protects]?...

I don't feel anything bad... “The law protects,” however, I understand less. But “the norm of the law determines: this is allowed and this is forbidden”... The law protects... Yes, the norms of the law protect us from this or that thing!

Why is “šis te” [this here], “šie te” [these here] heard so much (especially on the radio)? It seems it wasn't that bad 10–15 years ago.

I cannot say if “šis te” is the only unnecessarily used sequence of words. “Tā” [that] thought, “tas” [that] joy, “tas” [that] broadcast are also unnecessary and calques from the German language. Parasite words creep into our speech, whether we are Latvian language specialists, politicians, or foresters. Very often this happens in live radio or TV. Why? In live broadcast, while thinking about what to say, while thinking about what needs to be said, awkward pauses often form. Then there are two options: “er...”, “well...”, or using certain phrases to maintain communication, saying: “Well, in this here case...” or “This here opinion...” That is my explanation.

I agree that from time to time words return to circulation or come into fashion again and again... For example: in the 90s, they tried to eradicate the words “mazskaitlīgs” [small-numbered] and “daudzskaitlīgs” [large-numbered], and it even succeeded. Now I look and listen: these words have returned. “Daudzskaitlīgs” is even included in the Modern Latvian Dictionary. Currently, that does not worry anyone! Another word often used is: “esošais” [existing]. “Klātesošais” [present], “līdzāsesošais” [alongside-existing], “blakus esošais” [side-existing], “spēkā esošais” [in-force existing]. “Piedalījās” [participated], “bija visur klāt” [was everywhere present] would be much more appropriate than “klātesošais.”

I really do not like the use of the word “ietvars” [framework] and “ietvari”. For example, “in the framework of our conversation...” or “This was the last news within the framework of the news.” I would say: “In our conversation” and “This was the last news in our programme”! Formally, nothing has been violated, because the word “ietvars” is undoubtedly in the language, but there are standardized and wordy phrases that are so sticky and are often spread wider... That is how (we often hear it) long-winded sentences that express nothing are born.

Do you feel a threat to the Latvian language at work?

Personally, and at work, I do not feel it, because (in a narrower sense) I teach Latvian language culture, language, stylistics, editing, and in both my pedagogical and research work, I do not feel such a problem, because I work with the best part of the youth – students who study, who have chosen this path consciously, and moreover, most are very motivated because they are paying for their studies. Students in their requirements and wishes are very curious and interested, they want to learn the Latvian language well, we talk with them similarly – as we are now in the interview: why like that, I was taught that way, what is correct, etc. They eagerly grasp knowledge. I can say – at work, I am surrounded by polished Latvian.

But, as I mentioned, that is looking narrowly. In a broader sense, I do understand the threats to the language, because one must distinguish – who wants to speak and speaks Latvian, who does not speak because they do not know how, or because they do not want to speak. In several studies, it has been emphasized more than once: the point is not about the Latvian language or the attitude towards it, the question is about its non-use or the unwillingness to use it. And then there is the expansion of the English language! Do you understand that Latvian-English being spoken by the younger generation, which you often hear on public transport? In this regard, threats to the Latvian language are felt.

Is language teaching in schools going on in a modern way, or should it be changed?

I do not work in a school; I work in the 13th and 14th grade – with 1st and 2nd-year university students. However, as much as I have visited schools, talked with teachers and pupils, I feel: pupils like the Latvian language, they are interested, proud of it, ask questions that also relate to language culture. I would gladly like to learn in a modern school.

You receive the results of the schools' work!

That is true! The results are very different, I have very many (this year even several hundred in one semester) and different students. I will repeat: I work with the best. If we talk about minority students who have chosen to study in the Latvian stream, I respect them very much and I am proud of them. It is not easy, they struggle, they learn, the results are good. In their daily lives, they are in a very Latvian environment, where the Latvian language sounds and education takes place in it. I do not have students who do not speak Latvian. I am protected from a non-Latvian environment.

“Mērnieku laiki” and modern writers. Do schools get too carried away with the classics, leaving new-age literature on the sidelines?

Your question contains an old but still very relevant myth. For over a dozen years, it has not been mandatory in school to read “Mērnieku laiki” [Times of the Land Surveyors] and “Zaļā zeme” [Green Earth]. Yes, there have been students who have admitted – the Latvian language teacher really liked these works, and they were read in class; but there are students who have not read these works because their teachers chose other works by both classic and contemporary Latvian authors. For example, the historical novel series “MĒS. Latvija, XX gadsimts” [US. Latvia, 20th Century]. The reading literature depends on the school and the teachers; it is a free choice of the school and the teacher. Although recently, in the family, we watched the restored film “Mērnieku laiki” with great interest, which my daughter commented on: “It's a pity I didn't see such a film during my school days! I would have read it with different interest.” But let us evaluate the novel not from the point of view of the land surveying processes, but from the point of view of the language. The language of “Mērnieku laiki” is stylistically very rich because everything intertwines in it: the so-called old Latvian of the 19th century, the new Latvian, the “kārkuluvācieši” [a derogatory term for Germanized Latvians; nowadays one could say – “kārklangļi” (anglicized Latvians)], and simply empty-worded speakers – like Pietuka Krustiņš. Doesn't this magnificent bouquet remind one of modern society? Back in the day, schools were diligently taken to the National Theatre to see the production of “Mērnieku laiki” so that the book wouldn't have to be read – the performance was a successful compromise between the curriculum and the teacher's choice.

“Ieteikums” [recommendation]. Can it be understood as something mandatory?

No! ...and yes... Looking at the explanations of the word meanings in the “Modern Latvian Dictionary”: “ieteikt” [to recommend] – to give advice, to encourage; “noteikt” [to determine] – to decide and announce. “Noteikums” [rule] – already a requirement with stated conditions. By using the prefixes “ie-” and “no-”, a certain play on language is formed. Just because “it is a recommendation,” it (document, regulation, etc.) is not followed! Rules must be followed, recommendations – no, because they are not mandatory! In the Latvian language, there are several nuances that free us from mandatory observance. Such is also the optative mood (it would be desirable or it is not desirable, therefore I am allowed to break it), and the passive voice also frees one from mandatoriness!

On the other hand, it is difficult for me to explain why often rules that would be important and undoubtedly should be followed are called recommendations. I allow that the “adopters” do not want to impose or force their mandatory or compulsory fulfillment on us and politely say “recommendations” (though not counting on the consequences). I will add that those who have experienced and remember the period of totalitarianism will follow rules, not recommendations.

“Izaicinājums” [challenge]. Glove in hand and in the faces of interlocutors – I challenge you.

Used too much and out of place! “Izaicinājums” is everything right now! A new job, winter, frost, a slippery road, duties, flu, a virus, a project, etc. In a TV interview, a journalist asks: “Which challenge tickles your nerves?” What to use instead? In each case, a different word is usable. Frost and winter will be a test and, for someone who has not prepared once again, a surprise. A new job will be a joy and responsibilities, one must fight with and against a virus, and one can get involved in a project with interest and joy as a new adventure! Grading at the end of the semester for a teacher and lecturer will be hard work and a duty.

One must search and find the most appropriate word. The speaker or writer lacks the time to choose precise, beautiful, and suitable Latvian words. It is easier to speak in general or fashion phrases. “Izaicinājums” is one of the buzzwords.

I also consider “konsolidācija” [consolidation], “optimizācija” [optimization], “harmonizācija” [harmonization] to be buzzwords, which flicker in the speeches of officials. If we add “ietvars” [framework] and “izaicinājums” [challenge] to these three, a fancy speech without content will be ready in three minutes. Preparation for a precise and clear speech takes time; it is easier to continue wearing down phrases. To each their own level. Whoever has a poorer vocabulary, they scream about everything: “Forši!” [Cool!], “Cik forši!” [How cool!], “Bet forši!” [But cool!]. And then again a reproach to the teacher that they do not want to speak modern language, because they reprimand the pupil for using one “poor” little word “foršs.” But if for the pupil everything is “forši” and there is no other word? It's not about one “poor” little word, but the poverty of the vocabulary as a whole. And from this point of view, maybe it wouldn't be bad to read “Mērnieku laiki,” because everything wasn't quite so “forši” there – they spoke in many different ways.

“Izcirst” [to clear-cut/fell] or “cirst” [to cut/fell]. In front of you is a bush or a forest plot. What now?

I want to “cirst” in general; I can “izcirst” one hundred percent (“pa tīro” [completely], entirely). Prefixes in the Latvian language have a very great meaning! They, by the way, as we saw, also change the meaning of the word and often create wordiness. For example, I want to “sākt” [begin] something, not “uzsākt” or “aizsākt” (“aizsākt” means to start and abandon – is that what we want?)! I want to “lietot” [use], not “pielietot” [apply/use]. “Konsultēt” [consult], not “nokonsultēt” [fully consult].

A colleague once mentioned an example at a conference from police reports, which said: a “pircējs” [shopper] had been detained in a store for “nokodies” [biting off]... a sausage. Laughter in the hall, you can't immediately understand why. It turns out the word “nokosties” also has another meaning – to drink (usually in large quantities) alcoholic beverages. Or a phrase on a hot summer day: “Iedod nodzerties!” [Give me some to drink!]. And then someone wants to claim to me that you cannot express yourself in Latvian, that the Latvian language is poor? You just have to be able to think along, where some “izaicinājums” (this time the word “pārsteigums” [surprise] will be more appropriate) is buried!
Photographs by Toms Grīnbergs and zemeunvalsts.lv used