Janīna Kursīte-Pakule: Where does the surname Tīrons come from?

Uldis Tīrons: Possibly from the Estonians.

Kursīte-Pakule: I had a suspicion of that.

Tīrons: But I prefer to think it comes from an 18th-century French lawyer; there is a street named after him in Paris, and he is also mentioned in a Proust novel. And a Roman Christian martyr also had that surname.

Arturs Hansons: There was some kind of scribe...

Tīrons: Yes, for Cicero. Today you can choose almost anything, and if I could choose, I would choose not the Estonians, but something else.

Kursīte-Pakule: Why not the Estonians? Although I understand; it was likely Johann Kohl who toured the Baltics at the very beginning of the 19th century and said that in the borderlands, Latvians considered Estonians—and Estonians considered Latvians—to be the absolute worst. Such is the way of neighbours.

Tīrons: Yes, such is the way of neighbours. But we should start talking about inclusive language, and I would begin with a reference to Wittgenstein: language is rather a certain way of life. Therefore, people who have a different way of life are unable to understand one another. What do you think: to what extent can language influence the creation of an inclusive society, the avoidance of offending groups, and the development of openness? And what could be the goals of inclusive language?

Aiga Veckalne: On one hand, language is always linked to what is happening in the community, but on the other hand, we must also talk about language itself, because it is language that shapes how we speak and how we think. If we look, for example, at how hate speech and the pyramid of hate in general are formed, it always begins with language.

Tīrons: But is hate speech not an expression of attitude? For instance, calling someone—I apologise—a 'poof' shows an attitude towards a particular person or social group.

Veckalne: The majority of stereotypes that we have and that create non-inclusive language usage are, most often, unconscious. We do not always intend to offend someone by saying 'invalid', 'deaf', or 'blind', or, for example, 'gypsy' or 'jew'. Causing offence is not our primary goal. However, hate speech is an extreme case, where there is often also a conscious aspect—the desire to do harm.

Ivars Šteinbergs: If I understand correctly, the question is: is it really only about language? Certainly not. I think the desire to create inclusive language guides stems from something that comes before them, namely, the realisation of the diversity of identities. For example, we have established that identities are diverse, but our language does not reflect this diversity, so we adapt, invent, or find ways to use the plasticity of language for the sake of reality. One might get the impression that we want to change reality with the help of language, although in truth, it is the other way around.

Tīrons: I am confused by this use of 'we'. First of all, there are quite few people who understand that there are many different identities. Secondly, there are people—such as myself—who categorically reject the very concept of identity, so we cannot speak of any 'we' even in this case, at this table. I understand that there is a tendency to speak about identities and, in connection with that, to make certain changes to language, but it seems more important to me that there is someone who is trying to make these changes. Who are these 'we' who are trying to change language, based on the ideas that were just outlined?

Veckalne: Language has always changed because there has been some kind of need.

Tīrons: Changed! Did you notice that you used the verb without an agent?

Veckalne: But at the moment, no one is changing it.

Tīrons: I suspect that they are. I know that in the guide you prepared 1, it is specifically stipulated that it is not intended as a collection of directives, but if we think about how such language could be brought into everyday life, I would again have to return to Wittgenstein's ways of life; namely, it can either be brought to life by people who live and speak accordingly, or imposed administratively.

Veckalne: Language, in my opinion, has always been brought to life by the people who speak it. For example, at the beginning of the 2000s, linguists decided to be influenced by the Swedish language and invented the word 'dators' (computer). The need for certain words arises when new realities appear or when people begin to talk more openly about who they are and how they feel. After that, words either arise or they do not. It is not as if someone is sitting on a glass mountain and changing them.

Kursīte-Pakule: It is good that this discussion has been prompted, it is good that an inclusive language guide has appeared, but, in my opinion, the approach is from the wrong angle. The most important thing is the attitude towards homosexual people, towards non-binary persons, towards people with special needs, towards people with autism. What we call this in language is a secondary matter; much more important is respectful behaviour and explaining patiently, rather than one side throwing mud at the other. I carefully reviewed this guide, and it gave me associations with Orwellian Newspeak. For example, it suggests replacing 'of respectable age' with 'elderly'. As an older person, it is important to me that I am treated with respect. Neither term is offensive, and it would be silly to take offence at one or the other. In the second half of the 20th century, I had the illusion that we were moving away from mythical thinking, but now... Perhaps it is the war situation, perhaps it is the situation of general chaos, where we try to shield ourselves with words. Just recently, a Czech politician called Russia the refuse of humanity. Is that politically correct? It is not. But bombing a children's hospital and peaceful civilians is not only incorrect, it is completely inhuman. Or, for example, the Ukrainian sailor saying 'Russian warship, go to that place'; saying 'Russian ship, go further'—that just won't be it.

Šteinbergs: I can try to expand my thoughts regarding the comparison with Orwellian Newspeak. I understand where that comparison arises, but, in my opinion, the situation here is a little different. It is important to understand whether we are talking in conditions of war and general chaos or about the desire to treat others with respect. And let us remain in that context, whose dynamics do not come from the outside. Uldis previously asked: who are those that propose changing language, who are these 'we'? Mostly, it is the relevant community; namely, when we invent a word, it is not pulled out of thin air, we ask.

Kursīte-Pakule: Who asks?

Šteinbergs: I do. I ask what word you would like to be addressed by, and I hear the answers: I do not want the word 'deaf' to be used, I do not want the word 'invalid' to be used; for me, these words are offensive. Then comes a list of words that people want to be addressed by.

Kursīte-Pakule: Ivars, as a philologist, you must understand that by doing so we are returning to an archaic society, where, in order not to invoke the wrath of gods or spirits, there were linguistic taboos and euphemisms for sacred and unclean things. Any language has many unfinished and seemingly illogical things. For example, the word 'cilvēks' (human) is masculine. As a woman, I should bang my fist on the table and say: that is offensive! And what to do about a fly (muša)? 'Muša' is feminine! What should we call a fly's husband? A fly's partner? There are very many things that are determined by context. It is important to talk, but it is also important not to go off the deep end.

Veckalne: Exactly, it is important not to go off the deep end. We observe euphemisms not only in inclusive language. If we look at the news or read documents, we see that bureaucratic language is full of euphemisms. 'A woman was raped'—that is also a euphemism. 'A man raped a woman' would be a more precise expression. This is not about the fact that we will no longer be able to say 'human', 'fly', or the word 'black'. But what if representatives of the community, while talking about the word 'deaf-mute', argue that a deaf-mute is not mute and not deaf? Deaf-mutes, if we name them so comprehensively, have their own language; it is sign language.

Kursīte-Pakule: The guide suggests 'hard of hearing', so what does 'deaf-mute' denote then?

Veckalne: It is a form of hearing impairment; every representative of the community will confirm that. If we use these words as slurs—'what, are you blind? What, are you deaf?'—it is no wonder that representatives of the community find it offensive and ask for it to be changed. That is not asking much.

Tīrons: We could say: 'Are you non-speaking, non-hearing?' However, the words 'blind' and 'mute' in literary language have a whole spectrum of meanings, whereas 'non-hearing' and 'non-seeing' have only one meaning. In general, words formed with the prefix 'non-' depend on the word from which they were formed. For example, if we are talking about a human, the opposite would be 'non-human'. Before we continue, I would like one more note: in the fact that one can voluntarily choose how one would like to be called or not called, there is another quite major problem. You say that we can talk about certain groups, but seeing how society develops, how it atomises, we will soon reach a situation where a single person will be able to say: 'I do not want to be called by this word, it offends me!'

Veckalne: That may be. In the workplace, there is a tendency to call people by diminutives, and, for example, a colleague, Ilze, does not like being called Ilzīte. She alone may not like it, and she can say: please, do not call me that. The choice is to continue calling her Ilzīte, knowing that it offends her, or, after all, to show respect and not call her that.

Hansons: For the survival and viability of a language, it is important that it is possible to speak about everything in Latvian and to express everything necessary. Non-binary things are already appearing in texts and films, and we must be able to find ways to say it in the Latvian language. It is in our interest, otherwise, we will have to switch to another language where it is possible. Another thing is that in Latvian, it is not as simple as in English, where verbs are neutral and pronouns can be solved with they. First of all, in Latvian, 'viš' and 'viņo' are only nominatives; for these words to function fully in the language, it would be important to decline them. We have 'viņu' in the accusative and 'viņā' in the locative; these are gender-unmarked cases, but, for example, the dative has gender markers—'viņam', 'viņai', 'viņiem', 'viņām'. There must be a paradigm for these words to function fully. Secondly, with adjectives and participles, there is exactly the same problem, as well as in compound tenses: 'viš' is 'atnācis' (masculine arrived) or 'atnākusi' (feminine arrived).

Tīrons: Or 'atnākuši' (plural arrived).

Hansons: Yes. It would be bad if we avoided compound tenses; that would impoverish the language. I would like to mention the opinion of the State Language Centre, where they reject these 'viš' and 'viņo' very categorically. I think one key to the SLC's explanation is that they deal specifically with normative literary language; they are not talking about the Latvian language in general. Although there was a case where they stated that in colloquial speech it is correct to say 'žiroskūteris' (gyro-scooter), not 'giroskūteris'; such an attempt to regulate colloquial speech is rather a misunderstanding; that is not really their field. Purely sympathetic is their recommendation of 'nebināra persona' (non-binary person) or 'nebinārs cilvēks' (non-binary human), which could be used very comfortably in official language by aligning the pronoun not with the person's gender, but with the noun used. For example: 'If a person has reached the age of 18, then tā (that) or viņa (she/it) can obtain a driving licence.' That does not depend on gender. At least in official language, this is a solution worth considering, which not only does not hinder but even encourages finding other ways as well, but they must be developed fully so that the language does not suffer.

Šteinbergs: I agree that this should be done, but I am not convinced that our task here is to find a grammatical solution. On the other hand, the opinion of the State Language Centre reminded me of a conversation in which a friend, among other things, said: 'Yes, and now you cannot even laugh at minorities anymore.' In his opinion, his freedom of expression is being restricted, but in reality, he does not like that he is no longer allowed to be a mean person. That is exactly what the State Language Centre's reaction looked like: 'Oh lord, we are not allowed to be mean people!' This reaction seems comical to me.

Kursīte-Pakule: First, we should identify how many non-binary persons there are who are advocating for this, otherwise it will end up like in that anecdotal story, where in America a man comes to a veterinarian and announces that he is a cat and that he should be treated as one. But if he is poisoned like a human, the doctor will be held accountable, right? Any language exists if it develops within the limits of reason. However, in this time, when one has to think whether Europe will even remain, one could say that we are flogging a dead horse. Although, even before death, people are thought to think about very mundane things.

Veckalne: Regarding the number of non-binary people. Is there some limit when it starts being relevant? For example, if there are 100 people, then is it more important than if there are five? It is not just about those who identify themselves as non-binary persons; Arturs mentioned that non-binary characters are also entering literature and films. There are series where the word 'viš' is already used in translation. Recently, the book 'Fourth Wing' came out in Latvian, and the translator, writer Ieva Melgalve, together with editor Elīna Kokareviča, based on the Old Prussian language, have used the pronoun tenan and the endings -nan and -an, while to denote a non-binary proper name, there is an asterisk instead of an ending. So it is not only connected to who identifies or does not identify themselves; it is coming into literary works, and authors must look for solutions even now.

Kursīte-Pakule: Thank God that they are looking. I liked what Arturs said; I think we should not start with something big, but with the word 'person', so as not to confuse the entire language system with those declensions. In general, do you know what gender the word 'sāls' (salt) is now?

Veckalne: Masculine, but...

Hansons: Both; it is visible in shops. I, for example, use it in the feminine.

Kursīte-Pakule: I used to know that if it is masculine in Latgalian, then it is feminine in literary language. The same happens with Galsworthy and Galsversija, with Lagerlöf and Lāgerlēva. The more you change, the greater the chaos.

Veckalne: The term 'non-binary person' will not be enough. One of the most frequently used parts of speech is pronouns.

Kursīte-Pakule: Very good, you offered it, we shall see if it catches on or not. If it is not imposed, all respect, someone else will offer something else. But is it a priority? There are always matters to be sorted out with priority. My personal priority is Ukraine. We do not know, perhaps there is already an army somewhere near the Suwalki Gap, but we are here discussing these things. It is good that we are discussing them, but we are in a tense situation. In a peaceful situation, we could talk about non-binary, about ultra-binary, about...

Tīrons: Janīna, we have almost never had peaceful situations.

Kursīte-Pakule: The nineties were a peaceful situation.

Veckalne: For some.

Tīrons: We are talking about interesting things that are happening in language, but I am not convinced that Ukraine would have any special benefit from talking about it, unless we are talking at a political level where decisions are made; however, from talking in cafes and bars or whining on Twitter, believe me, nothing happens, except that people get used to replacing real action with such tweeting. They think that by sighing on Twitter, they have done a great job for Ukraine's victory.

Kursīte-Pakule: I personally know that, by talking slowly and patiently, people's attitudes change; a word can have power—including in relation to Ukraine.

Tīrons: Returning to inclusive language, another consideration is related to the fact that, for certain historical reasons, the audibility of one group is greater than that of other groups. Compared to sexual minority groups, which are extremely active, people with disabilities as a group, as a group that is offended, entered much later. Now various racial groups are very active. That which you call the new social realities has its own history, and we must somehow relate to them because it seems: these realities have reached us. Or perhaps they have not reached us? It is not really understandable. Besides, I am worried about loanwords. I, for example, am not thrilled about the word 'queer'; it is unclear from all sides, yet it has one good quality: it declines, although it has no feminine gender. Why 'non-binary'? Can we not even say that in Latvian? Perhaps we do not want to say it? Often it seems that with these words, which are adopted from English, we are covering up an unwillingness to think and talk about what these words are talking about.

Hansons: In Latvian, there is the word 'nekatrs' (neuter), which historically means 'neither one nor the other'.

Tīrons: I am a neuter person. It can also be used as a noun: 'nekatrs', 'nekatra'.

Veckalne: Exactly, because we do not say 'female person' or 'male person'.

Tīrons: But why are about 90% of these words an attempt to translate or even introduce English words, which in turn are often of Latin origin? Why are we not creating Latvian language words?

Veckalne: The State Language Centre, perhaps, has not considered it a priority until now, and these words have been introduced by members of the community who do not always have linguistic knowledge or understanding, so the easiest path is often to adopt an international word. That does not mean that one must stop there. In my opinion, it is important to initiate a discussion in which linguists meet with community representatives and look for solutions.

Tīrons: For example, if we talk about 'solomomma', that is indeed... 'A soloist is needed'.

Veckalne: Better that than to put all mothers who raise children alone under the word for a lonely person.

Kursīte-Pakule: The word is not to blame. It is important what each of us does so that there is no loneliness itself. Otherwise, it turns out that we, like small children, believe that by changing the word, it will become easier.

Veckalne: Not all of these mothers are lonely.

Tīrons: But what are they?

Veckalne: We can find that out only by asking them themselves.

Tīrons: But they are not solo either?

Veckalne: They are raising a child alone.

Tīrons: So a word must be created that would reflect that the mother is alone. I see no difficulties in thinking about it and introducing such a word.

Veckalne: In creating the guide, I did not invent words. People sometimes reproach me as if I had invented these words; I aggregate how these words are used. There is a wide field where to look for opportunities.

Hansons: It would be good if linguists were involved in that, because a part of the new introductions come with losses to the language. For example, those designations where modifiers come after the main term are syntactically difficult to use. For example: 'We are talking about the fight for the rights of persons with mobility impairments.' The sentence is very laboured.

Kursīte-Pakule: There is a whole series of words about which we do not even suspect that they could be offensive. The etymology of the word 'vācietis' (German) is possibly related to the word 'vēkšķēt' (to yelp). So—the stranger who yelps.

Tīrons: Or the Russian 'немец' (nemets) from 'немой' (mute).

Hansons: The second problem is that there is no precise equivalent. For example, if there is a 'person with hearing impairments' in a delegation, it is unknown whether one should speak louder to them or whether they need a sign language interpreter. The designation 'person with hearing impairments' does not do its job, it is not sufficient, it is too approximate and imprecise. Or, for example, 'person with visual impairments'. Does that person not distinguish colours, do they have strong glasses, do they see partially or not at all? Such generalisations can also work against these people—not solve, but complicate the situation. And the third problem is that the language loses its directness. For example, if we take the place in the New Testament where Jesus sends John the Baptist's disciples to tell John what they have seen, in inclusive language it would be: 'People with visual impairments see, persons with hearing impairments hear, and persons with mobility impairments walk.' John the Baptist would say: 'Well, it happens that a person is, let's say, lame and walks or sees poorly, but sees; that is everyday life.' That which is said with this text is lost: the blind see, the deaf hear, and the lame walk.

Tīrons: There is another drawback. Unlike Janīna, I do not consider that we are in a mythical situation, because it is precisely with this creation of neologisms that we are abandoning any taboos. For example, anything that happens in sexuality—and any sexologist will tell you that—is okay. Deleting taboos is one of the essential losses of language. Namely, again referring to Wittgenstein: of which one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. This, that one ought to be silent about something, is categorically struck out by this type of approach. The fact that one can talk about everything and there is nothing that we could not call by a name seems to me to be a loss of language. To be silent about something or to be unable to say it is a perfectly normal language situation, which must be realised and counted on, and that is very, very important; much more important than that which we are capable of saying.

Veckalne: Inclusive language and respectful behaviour often invite precisely to be silent, rather than to say. It encourages, for example, refraining from some biased, stereotypical joke, not to point out something unimportant, irrelevant in the given context. Often one can get by without pointing out that a person has something. Usually, if a person does not have, for example, a disability, we do not point that out separately, but as soon as a person is different from something usual, we emphasize it, whereas inclusive language invites focusing on the fact that a person is a person, regardless of whether they have hearing or visual impairments, whether they have a disability, or whether their skin colour is darker or lighter. Therefore, being silent is a very significant aspect of inclusive language.

Tīrons: Then why are we even talking about the fact that these 'they' must somehow be called? Let us give up on naming, let us replace it with being silent. After all, it is only a question of forms and biographies or autobiographies.

Veckalne: Or in a doctor's office.

Tīrons: Or when introducing oneself! It does not even cross my mind, for example, to introduce myself by announcing that I am a heterosexual cisgender man with certain tendencies.

Hansons: With monogamous tendencies.

Tīrons: (Laughs.) It seems to me that there are much more interesting things in the world to do than to think about one's own sexuality.

Šteinbergs: If we are talking about Wittgenstein, I think it was also Wittgenstein who said that the limits of my language mean the limits of my world. The broader, more precise, and more branched the language is, the broader and more branched our world will be, but the vocabulary currently in widespread use often turns out to be painful for many.

Tīrons: It seems to me that from this point of view, regarding Wittgenstein, it would be more precise to say: the broader the world of language, the broader the boundaries beyond which we can no longer say anything.

Kursīte-Pakule: I do not know what Wittgenstein would say, but inclusive language and any addition to language must be so precise that it could catch on and supplement the basic lexicon of the language. Words catch on if they are precise. The Latvian Language Institute has a good initiative on collecting regional words; likewise, perhaps the guide and this conversation will encourage the collection of words in which these things are named, which are entering our social reality. And that is not only about some non-binary or other groups, but also, for example, in the field of technology, where you cannot get by with linguists alone; a specialist in the relevant field must also participate. In the Soviet era, there was a term 'крысонепроницаемость', 'rat-proofness'. Rats perhaps have not disappeared, but unsuccessful words remain in anecdotes, and it would be important that anecdotes should not be castrated due to this exaggerated desire not to offend; also, classics should not be castrated—like Agatha Christie's 'Ten Little Niggers'. And what to do about folklore? What to do about Blaumanis's 'Tailor Days at Silmači'? We should not go to the other extreme.

Veckalne: Of course, one should not go to extremes.

Tīrons: Pay attention to the fact that in this case, we are talking about groups. Groups supposedly could not be offended... Or could it be that an entire group takes offence? Because if we happen to be talking, for example, about, I do not know, Kārlis Vērdiņš, then how will we point to this person? I, for example, would say 'poet', a very good poet. It would not cross my mind to talk about whether he is queer or heterosexual. Arnis had a conversation in the magazine with Baby Dee, who is a man who has become a woman, and he says that he has always loved to dress up in bear costumes and in general he would like to be a bear, a female bear. I could say that Arnis spoke with a person who wanted to be a bear, but I will say that Baby Dee is a wonderful musician... This is likely the problem. He is... a wonderful singer. Who is Stephen Hawking? A cripple? A person with such and such mobility impairments? No, he is a brilliant physicist. Namely, a human is concretised not by a group feature, but by their unique individual feature.

Veckalne: Wonderful! This is how a respectful attitude could be expressed, but in media headlines and internet comments, the opposite happens very often; people are named by their primary or secondary features, emphasizing skin colour, diagnosis, but the fact that they are first and foremost poets, physicists, and so on is often insignificant.

Kursīte-Pakule: The attitude must be changed.

Šteinbergs: This resonates with how, in my opinion, the concept of discrimination is often understood, namely, that to discriminate means to judge a person based on categories that do not actually have a decisive meaning.

Veckalne: The attitude must be changed, as the professor said.

Tīrons: But are we changing the attitude by changing language or otherwise?

Kursīte-Pakule: By doing.

Veckalne: Including by what language we use, because attitude is most often expressed precisely by language.

Tīrons: Tell me, have you each had to face the problem of calling this or that person one way or another when talking about them?

Šteinbergs: I suppose, yes. Once.

Kursīte-Pakule: Yes, that is inevitable. I remember that on one expedition, students addressed an elderly lady as 'tante' (auntie). She was very offended. Nothing can be done about it; we quickly smoothed over that situation, as they say. Even the best word—'good day!'—can be said in such a way that you do not want anything for the rest of the day. I think one must start with how we do things towards one another, how we relate. Of course, that is expressed in language...

Hansons: It would be important not to lose freedom. There are various groups, and it would be good if they had the freedom to choose what word to call themselves, but others should have the freedom to accept or not accept this word. There was that British sketch 'Fry and Laurie', where a policeman in the station asks the other what his surname is. He says: 'My surname is this (drops a lighter on the table), write that down.' That is an obviously absurd example, but we could just as well take the sounds of different languages. My identity, for example, demands that I be not 'he' or 'she', but I want to be '¿-ah!'. Write it and say it, call me this! The first is an African sound, the second is an Arabic sound, and that is who I am. If I want to, I can call myself that, but I cannot force others to learn these sounds and necessarily call me in this way.

Tīrons: So that is a principle where I can want many things, but I must count on the will of other people to accept it or not accept it.

Veckalne: That also depends on the communicative goal. It is not mandatory to be polite. No one forces you to say 'please!' and 'thank you!', that is our choice. The question is: will we achieve what we want? For example, if we want to achieve something with a colleague who possibly has one of these primary features, and we use a derogatory word, knowing that the other person finds this word derogatory, then one must count on the fact that one might not achieve anything this way. No one forces you to use inclusive language; there are no and will not be any such directives because it is about attitude, and we can always choose our attitude.

Šteinbergs: The example about me being called by the sound of a dropped object is good, even if absurd. But it is interesting to think that in a way it is just as absurd that I present myself as Ivars, a cisgender heterosexual man, and everyone thinks that is normal. I should think about how to formulate it more sensibly, but the thought is that a person, by asking to be respected as they are, expects the same attitude as that which is towards those who count as the norm.

Hansons: Perhaps a more realistic example would be about that person who said that he is a cat and must be treated as a cat. He has the right to say something like that, but the doctor has the right to treat him as a human. Perhaps in the doctor's case, it is not really about language, because he can call him a cat but treat him as a human.

Veckalne: We say that one should not go to extremes, but these examples are actually examples of extremes. In everyday life, where these words are needed, we do not go to extremes.

Kursīte-Pakule: To be able to talk, we always rely on tradition. We, of course, can end up in a foreign tradition, also in the tradition of sign language. Nixon once happened to step off a plane showing a gesture that for Americans means 'okay', but in the country to which he had gone for a visit, it means sexual violence. There is no right or wrong language, we will not be able to include everything, but as new realities arise or something changes, we include it and something is formed. In the middle of the 19th century, so many words were missing... Who suggested 'divatrons' (two-throne) for designating a theatre? Kronvaldu Atis! It did not catch on. Laugh or not, but many words—like 'satversme' (constitution), 'vēsture' (history)—caught on.

Tīrons: However, there is a quite large difference, because the majority of inclusive language is connected with gender and with this uncertainty, the need not to call or point to...

Veckalne: No, that is not the majority!

Tīrons: Truly not? I was left with the impression that it was the majority.

Veckalne: It draws more attention because it is so unusual and threatens the assumed normality.

Tīrons: But then what is the majority, if not pronouns, which, in my opinion, are so essential in language, and it is precisely gender that prevents pronouns from being used in accordance with inclusive language. However, turning against genders is catastrophic for the Latvian language, because traditionally—alas, I must use this word—it is a language deeply rooted in genders.

Veckalne: Other languages are also rooted in genders. The Spanish language has perfectly resolved how to act regarding the non-binary. We can each have an opinion, and how we discuss or how the Latvian Language Expert Commission discusses and what decisions it makes, that is one thing, but everything happens in language anyway; people, users of the language, are looking for solutions anyway, and they will find them regardless of whether we think it is a catastrophe.

Tīrons: Please, tell me some successful concept that has caught on and that we can use well in Latvian, and that reflects, as Aiga said, the new realities.

Hansons: 'Transpersona' (trans-person) is a declinable word that can be included in a sentence.

Tīrons: That is not Latvian!

Veckalne: Loanwords are nothing bad.

Tīrons: Loanwords function poorly in the language, do not fit in well, for example, in a poem; there is a heaviness to them. It is different with the words 'gejs' (gay) and 'kvīrs' (queer), which are short and declinable, although, as I already said, they have no gender and it is difficult to understand what is intended by one or the other.

Šteinbergs: 'Kvīrs' and 'gejs' are also loanwords.

Tīrons: I wanted to refer to them as positive examples that, it seems, have gained the necessary amount of meanings; 'kvīrs'—less so, 'geji'—certainly, even though this word has lost that wonderful sound that it has in the English language, where it once also had a different, basic meaning. Perhaps you can mention some more words that, in your opinion, fit well into the language?

Hansons: You want one that is not a loanword, yes?

Tīrons: That would be more sincere.

Šteinbergs: I think one cannot avoid the entry of loanwords and, in my opinion, one should not be especially afraid either. I would very much like to see linguists go to drag shows or some queer event and listen to what is actually happening in the spoken, living language. English words enter, they begin to live in Latvian and either gradually transform into some Latvian forms or remain as English words.

Tīrons: For example?

Šteinbergs: For example, the word trans. Recently there was the opening of the queer-dedicated issue of the literary monthly Avīzes Nosaukums, there were queer texts, and there was also a drag king show and the like at the event. What I heard was that people use trans not as a Latvian word that they decline, but as an English word in a Latvian sentence. There are many such examples; I think linguists, going to such events and listening, could think more fruitfully.

Hansons: With trans, the problem is that the word is already occupied in the Latvian language. There are 'trani' (drones), male bees, and there is 'transs' (trance), a state of trance; one does not want to use either the one or the other, most likely—in order not to confuse. And therefore they stick to the undeclinable trans, but it functions poorly.

Tīrons: I agree that in a certain environment these words are very easily included in their speech, but linguists have nothing to do there, perhaps only to listen.

Šteinbergs: I think there is something to do. I am not coming with the answer as to what the result must be and what linguists must eventually offer, but I think that the interaction between users of the language and linguists could open up a new vision.

Veckalne: Exactly. In terminology commissions, linguists and experts of the specific sector most often cooperate; they create or approve proposals. The Latvian Language Expert Commission could invite some non-binary community representative to one of the meetings, because that is a way to find out what the user thinks, to exchange knowledge, not simply to say, I quote: 'We reject it categorically!'

Kursīte-Pakule: The best word is 'labestība' (kindness), which, in my opinion, was brought to life by Ziedonis; not invented, but brought to life. And attitude is important. I imagine a respectable linguist going to that queer event and sitting there like a thistle. Both sides must be interested. For example, if poets were to gather together, that same Kārlis Vērdiņš, whom I value very highly, linguists, and we, who are also interested in language, and students... If I am invited, I come, although I am no expert on non-binary or binary; I am interested in language. Perhaps one could organise a contest, but there is likely no money...

Tīrons: A contest for what?

Kursīte-Pakule: Even for text for a disability certificate, or whatever the case needs a word found for.

Veckalne: It has already been found—'invaliditātes apliecība' (disability certificate).

Kursīte-Pakule: 'Invaliditātes apliecība', Aiga, no person can pronounce that. With what is 'invaliditātes apliecība' more neutral than 'invalīda apliecība' (invalid's certificate)?

Veckalne: It emphasizes the condition, not the person. By using the designation 'invaliditātes apliecība', we do not level down the person to the point that he or she is an invalid. It is one of the basic principles of inclusive language that we do not forget that the main thing is the person, their first name, surname, and only after that their primary or secondary features. For several years now, there has not been such a thing as an 'invalīda apliecība'; there is an 'invaliditātes apliecība'.

Tīrons: That really should not be the case, because this certificate testifies only to one thing, and not to the fact that he is a colossal person or a clever writer, but to the fact that this is a person who has this specific feature, and that this person is entitled to these or those benefits. It is the same as with a 'pensioner's certificate' or, as else it could be named, with an 'elderly person's certificate'.

Veckalne: The primary thing is the person.

Tīrons: In this case, I can agree with everything, except one: to emphasize that the primary thing is the person, pardon me, one must know who that person is, what is understood by that. There is no normal human definition or determination, but from my point of view, the best determination, which would be in direct contradiction to the concept of identity, is that a person at every individual moment can manifest differently, namely, a person is that which at every individual moment of their life can be something else. However, such a definition will not help in the creation of inclusive language. It seems to me that in the search for inclusive language, it is assumed that a person is polite, socially open, compassionate towards others, and inimitable in every individual case, which I would quite like, and inclusive language must be created based on such an idea of a person.

Veckalne: I have at no point expressed such an idea of a person. I did not say that the definition of a human is that he is kind, polite, etc.

Tīrons: But you have an idea; you say that the main thing in creating a dictionary is...

Veckalne: That we do not emphasize the person's primary or secondary features.

Tīrons: But?

Veckalne: But that it is first and foremost a person. For example, that it is Jānis Bērziņš. Not the blind person does something, but Jānis Bērziņš, not the invalid, but Jānis Bērziņš.

Tīrons: Then you should say that it is a completely separate, unique individual or something like that.

Veckalne: Let us use the word 'individual', if that is more understandable. At the basis of inclusive language is that we emphasize not the primary and secondary features, but something else that is important in this context in connection with this individual.

Tīrons: There is an internal contradiction there, that inclusive language, on one hand, tries to say precisely that he does not have one leg, which is neither a primary nor a secondary feature; this person is actually something completely different, concrete and real, and about that again nothing can be said. But about secondary and primary features, a whole battle, fuss, taking offence, and the like begins.

Veckalne: If the fact that a person does not have one leg is not important in the relevant context, it would be good not to mention it at all. On the other hand, if it is necessary to mention it, then as inclusively and respectfully as possible.

Kursīte-Pakule: And precisely.

Veckalne: Of course, precisely.

Tīrons: And where does that mentioning take place? Aiga mentioned social networks and news headlines. Where else is there a need to talk about that?

Veckalne: For example, in a doctor's office, talking about diagnoses. Or in surveys and forms, where gender and age are asked, even though there is no justification for it. There are many situations where these features must be named, and there are situations where it is absolutely not necessary.

Tīrons: In conclusion, I would like to ask, is there nothing else that you would like to say here?

Hansons: I was surprised that the State Language Centre still does not accept that the words 'gruzīni' (Georgians) and 'Gruzija' (Georgia) obviously have come through an intermediary language, that is, through the Russian language; they are not neutral words. What would be the problem to call them 'kartveļi' (Kartvelians) and the country 'Sakartvelo' (Sakartvelo)?

Kursīte-Pakule: In Latvian, it is very difficult to pronounce.

Veckalne: Lithuanians approved it.

Tīrons: Even though it has reached us through Russia, the word 'gruzīns' itself is not a Russian word; it is an intermediary.

Kursīte-Pakule: Already a few years ago, when unrest began in Georgia, this was a proposal, and perhaps the time is coming and...

Veckalne: In the case of Ukrainian place names, linguistic empathy worked wonderfully. The names of small towns were changed back in 2014, while for the large ones it was said that it is tradition, let us leave them: Kiev, Kharkov, Lvov. However, after the full-scale invasion and in accordance with the calls of Ukraine's supporters, including translators and writers, the words were changed, and within a day we began to say: Kyiv, Kharkiv, Lviv.

Hansons: I hope that we could not wait for any other invasions...

Tīrons: The word 'holocaust' has been extremely incomprehensible to me from the beginning. This loanword seems unacceptable to me, and not to me alone. I just read a Polish author, who calls it 'The Catastrophe', whereas holocaust as some kind of sacrifice by burning seems like a wrong word. Jews use shoah.

Šteinbergs: But is the word 'catastrophe', if it is about the Russian invasion of Ukraine, not too neutral?

Tīrons: I am talking about The Catastrophe only as that which is understood by the word Holocaust, and the capital letter indicates the uniqueness of this event.

Kursīte-Pakule: Language demands great attention. Sometimes wanting to, but sometimes also not wanting to, we can offend one another. Of course, if a need arises, one must draw and look for new words, but words should hardly go ahead of needs. To tell the truth, I knew almost nothing about inclusive language. There is, however, one doctoral student, Velga Polinska, who writes about easy language; that is also very necessary.

Veckalne: That is also a part of inclusive language.

Kursīte-Pakule: Yes.

Tīrons: Does 'easy language' not also mean that I must not speak, for example, too complicatedly?

Kursīte-Pakule: Easy language is intended for people with special needs, for example, with autism.

Tīrons: Does easy language apply only to autistic people?

Kursīte-Pakule: No, also in old age and furthermore...

Tīrons: Then I must go to a nursing home, which is now called a social care home, and start talking to elderly people like children!

Veckalne: That depends on your goal. If you want a specific audience to understand you, then, perhaps, you will take into account the needs of the audience. If it is not important to you that the audience understands, you can continue to speak as usual.

Tīrons: That is an assumption that these people are, pardon me, idiots who understand nothing, and such an attitude, in my opinion, in relation to them is humiliating. It is like cooing at children or old people. I think that one must in no case reduce the complexity of language and primitivise that which is difficult to say.

Veckalne: No one is reducing the complexity of language. It is a separate language variant that allows even those who do not understand a more complex expression to understand. It is one of the tools for how we make text easier to grasp, by getting rid of verbosity, avoiding the passive voice, and long strings of subordinate clauses. That is a part of the inclusion process, so that, for example, using a state service, everyone can understand what this institution does, where to turn in such or other cases.

Tīrons: But for what reason then do they not write understandably immediately?

Kursīte-Pakule: That is currently a current topic in connection with children, with teenagers; people are working seriously on it all over the world, it is not just for ministries.

Veckalne: And that is not primitivising or fooling people.

Šteinbergs: Another example could be a project that, if I am not mistaken, is called “No Fear Shakespeare”, where there is Shakespeare's text in English and then it is translated into an easier, more understandable, but essentially—primitivised language. On one hand, it truly simplifies the complexity of Shakespeare's language, which is an inseparable part of it, but, on the other hand, it truly makes the text more accessible, thereby broadening the audience.

Veckalne: The most powerful communicative message is when we know our audience and adapt to it. No one will speak to you like that because you are not the audience for easy language, but there are people, for example, with Down syndrome or with autism, for whom teaching aids in easy language are also developed. They are not intended for all children.

Tīrons: I remember that the American poet Donald Hall told a story that a guard rushed up to him in a museum and spoke something like: 'Well, how are we feeling today? Good? Did we eat? Everything okay? Where will you go? You know, there is a very famous artist here!' And he mentions Henry Moore, without even suspecting that Moore is a close friend of Donald Hall's. Hall says that it is better to not go anywhere anymore because he cannot endure this attitude that only because he is old and in a wheelchair, he is treated like an imbecile or an infant. That is again a question of attitude.

Veckalne: I have learned to ask very many questions to understand how to address, how complicated language to choose, and so on. In my opinion, we ask too few questions; by asking, one can quickly find out how to address a person and how they want to be spoken about and spoken with. We often make assumptions, and that is immediately followed by the way we speak.

Tīrons: That is likely some very concrete situation that you are talking about. If you enter a bar, then there is the question in general, why address someone? And if you address them, then why ask questions—to get to know them or to make life easier?

Šteinbergs: Why is that not a cool situation when in a bar, trying to flirt, you suddenly ask the question: 'What are your pronouns?' Why would that not be normal?

Tīrons: Perhaps that person does not even know what a pronoun is.

Veckalne: When I meet a person named, for example, Ingus, my first question is always: with one or two 's'? How I address him will depend on that. If a person has two names, I will always ask whether to address them by both names or only by one name and which of the two. It is completely normal—to ask questions.

Hansons: We are lucky that at least 'tu' (you) in the Latvian language is gender-neutral, because, for example, in Hebrew or Arabic language there is ata, at, one masculine, the other feminine.