The Blackberry Walk

Many of the best cultures in the world are lead by an other tribe. Britain, first run by French Normans speaking French instead of our native tongue for generations, and then in later British history was run by the Georgians who also didn't know English, has never been ruled by the British. Is this odd - this kind of break-away civilisation of a culturally dissimilar upper crust? Throughout Europe, we see this two-tiered system through language: a native populous who speaks the native tongue, and a ruling class who speaks Latin. Being taught Latin was reserved for the elite, since only those who could afford a proper education were taught it. Latin was the ultimate elitist gate-keeping against the plebeians, preventing them from understanding higher works, like the word of god, scientific tracts, or philosophical writings. But why Latin? The Romans were much the same, although Latin was their vulgar language, preferring instead to teach their young in Ancient Greek, sending them off to Athenian universities to mimic the great play-writes and philosophers. Many Romans learnt Greek verse since they saw the language as more refined than their own Latin. But just as the Romans idolised the Greek culture of old (we forget that the Greek golden age was nearly six centuries ago for many Roman writers), we revere the Romans and the language they spoke, the language which nearly brought the Romans to control all of Europe: Latin. Latin lives on in our language today, but unless you know a little Latin, you won't realise how many words we've pilfered. We've alloyed the gold of Latin with our own iron-like Germanic language to form what is now modern English, not differentiating the too languages for different purposes as has been done in the past. In many ways this was the work of the enlightenment. The last great Latin work of philosophy were written by Spinoza, Newton wrote his Principia in Latin also, but by the end of the seventeenth century, it was becoming less and less common to write these great works in Latin. Lest we forget a certain Martin Luther who started a jolly good number of wars, translating the Bible into German. Through works like those of Luther, feudalism was ending - no longer was there as strict a system of castes between the Latin elite and the Germanic subjects. And, insofar as there was social mobility in the culture, rupturing the membrane of class which before kept everyone in their place, so too was their mobility in the language, blending Latin and Old English together. However, power never disappears - it just becomes less visible. Latin being blended into our language doesn't mean the elites aren't exerting power with Latin, it just means we're being controlled without our knowledge. The prompt which spurred me to write this article was reading many dry academic journals to find sources for a piece of coursework. And why are they so dry? They're all in Latin with English grammar. The whole 'academic speak' of sounding aloof and educated revolves around the use of Latin terms which are too devoid of impact and feeling to engage the Germanic mind. There is a certain sterility of Latin words - they don't contain the same bite as a word like 'bite'. The word 'bite' really makes you feel the kinetics in a way that the word 'kinetics' doesn't. What's more, Latin words (as we know them today) are strictly regimented in an army of conjugations, declensions, etc. In summary, Latin is the language of emotionless order - the perfect vehicle of control, whether it be for science or organised religion. What's the value of recognising Latin in everyday speech then? Noticing Latin is to see your opponent's sword - where the sword of Latin's power is wielded, you can be sure that a sense of greater authority is being called upon. This could be the authority of a scientist, a theorist, religious authority - any kind of authority makes their words known through Latin, the language of heaven, instead of Old English, the language of the Earth. But it's valuable to see Latin in your own speech. Language constricts us by giving certain patterns of thought, not letting us think in novel ways since their gravitational pull leads us down the same old alleyways every time, but it also broadens our horizons, providing us with more avenues of thought we may not have considered in the past. Long Latin compound words have the power to deceive you - they bare the staff and sceptre of power and demand you obey their ideas. These words have an enigmatic mystique due to their lack of emotion whilst carrying the regalia of the elite and their power. My boy, Carl Jung, is no exception here - he uses tons of Latin phrases like 'anima' or the unwieldy 'enantiodromia' which could've just as easily been 'soul' or 'compensate'/'rebound'. But nothing that is pure pure Latin will stick - Jungianism is too Latin, isolating it to an aloof class of adherents with their heads in the clouds. But to make an idea spread further, it must shed the vocabulary of ideology, and be understandable to the general public through normal English - specifically Germanic English, which is the language people relate to on a deeper level. Latin in English shouldn't be banished, instead it should become a tool in your arsenal. Latin has and always will be present in its unusual marriage with Old English birthing the English of today, delivering different, more cold angles of understanding to English. However our language has a father complex when it comes to Latin. It's a difficult relationship - English was never confirmed by its father. As a result, any authority figure baring the trappings of Latin appears to us a Caesar - as an authority with the power to take over the world. And unless we can sort out this complex, the power of Latin will forever control us.