Johnson

Eiel power

The rights and wrongs of a French bid to ban accent discrimination



 

 

Dec 12th 2020 | words 826

 

 

 

IN THE EARLY 1790s French revolutionaries commissioned a priest, Henri Grgoire, to take a census of the languages spoken in France. His findings were eventually titled a Report on the necessity and means to annihilate the patois and to universalise the use of the French language. Grgoire was a pioneering believer in racial equality, a fact that may seem to fit oddly with his passion for eradicating linguistic diversity. But to him, it made sense: French was the language of liberation, and those without it could be kept in ignorance.

 

How very French, their British cousins might chuckle. The same people who introduced the metric system and (unsuccessfully) tried to replace the Gregorian calendar can seem to have a mania for top-down reform and standardisation. Now some Britons are chuckling to see this approach enlisted in the name of tolerance: on November 26th the National Assembly passed a law forbidding accent discrimination. If it gets through the French Senate, severe casessay, denying someone a job because of how they speakcould result in three years in prison, or a fine of 45,000 ($55,000). How very French.

 

The country certainly has biases to amend. In America regional accents can be heard in the highest office in the land (Donald Trumps New York, George W. Bushs Texan). In Britain the BBC has expanded the variety of accents heard on its broadcasts. By contrast, regional accents in France are far tougher to find in high places. This makes it harder for the French to associate intelligence and competence with anything but standard Parisian. At best French politicians, like some elsewhere, switch between their local accent when in the areas they represent and the standard Parisian kind when in the capital or on television.

 

And French leaders face more than just condescension. When Jean Castex, who has a notable south-western accent, became prime minister, reactions were predictably patronising. But such snobbery can have serious consequences, notes Jonathan Kasstan of Westminster University. The political editor of Frances national broadcaster said Mr Castexs pandemic guidance seemed less credible when delivered in his patelin, or village, accent.

 

In truth, some other countries are more like France than they may think. Beyond the BBC, it remains common in Britain to hear public figures belittled for how they speak. The liberal left indulges these prejudices, too. Alastair Campbell, erstwhile press secretary to Labours Tony Blair, mocked the Conservative home secretary, Priti Patel, on Twitter: I really would prefer it if we had a home secretary who could pronounce the G at the end of a word. Here snobbery is dressed up as concern for correct enunciation.

 

But is a ban on such gibes the answer, in France or elsewhere? The case for one is that it would send a powerful signal: there is no rational reason to withhold a job or a loan because of an applicants accent. But a specific ban on accent discrimination may not be necessary. Donald Dowling, a lawyer at Littler Mendelson in New York, points out that, in many countries, accent mockery is already used as evidence of other forms of illegal discrimination, such as the racial kind. If you deride a Frenchman for an accent suggesting African origins, you are already breaking the law. In theory that law could be extended to cover (say) Breton origins without specifically adding accent to protected categories.

 

In the end, prejudice against accents betrays bad manners and small minds, and says more about the listener than about the put-upon speaker. But often it is itself a sign of poor education. As it happens, Mr Campbells swipe at Ms Patels g-dropping was badly aimed. There is no actual g sound (as in go) at the end of words ending in -ing; rather, there is a velar nasal, in which the mouth is closed off at the back and air comes from the nose. And the -in pronunciation he mocks (as in walkin) was the correct one for centuries, remaining prestigious in the early 1900s.

 

If more of this were taught in British schools, snobbery would seem irrational. French children might be told that Parisian French was a latecomer, as prestige dialects in France go. Provenal, from Frances south, was the language of poetry when the speech of Pariss le-de-France region was a trivial local patois.

 

Speakers of prestigious accents are lucky that they do not face scorn for their speech. But it is just thatluck, not superior learning or care. A law may modify behaviour, but education is a better way to change attitudes.

 







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Economist | Accent discrimination betrays a small mind

 


  

Johnson

Eiel power

The rights and wrongs of a French bid to ban accent discrimination



 

 

Dec 12th 2020 | words 826

 

 

 

IN THE EARLY 1790s French revolutionaries commissioned a priest, Henri Grgoire, to take a census of the languages spoken in France. His findings were eventually titled a Report on the necessity and means to annihilate the patois and to universalise the use of the French language. Grgoire was a pioneering believer in racial equality, a fact that may seem to fit oddly with his passion for eradicating linguistic diversity. But to him, it made sense: French was the language of liberation, and those without it could be kept in ignorance.

 

How very French, their British cousins might chuckle. The same people who introduced the metric system and (unsuccessfully) tried to replace the Gregorian calendar can seem to have a mania for top-down reform and standardisation. Now some Britons are chuckling to see this approach enlisted in the name of tolerance: on November 26th the National Assembly passed a law forbidding accent discrimination. If it gets through the French Senate, severe casessay, denying someone a job because of how they speakcould result in three years in prison, or a fine of 45,000 ($55,000). How very French.

 

The country certainly has biases to amend. In America regional accents can be heard in the highest office in the land (Donald Trumps New York, George W. Bushs Texan). In Britain the BBC has expanded the variety of accents heard on its broadcasts. By contrast, regional accents in France are far tougher to find in high places. This makes it harder for the French to associate intelligence and competence with anything but standard Parisian. At best French politicians, like some elsewhere, switch between their local accent when in the areas they represent and the standard Parisian kind when in the capital or on television.

 

And French leaders face more than just condescension. When Jean Castex, who has a notable south-western accent, became prime minister, reactions were predictably patronising. But such snobbery can have serious consequences, notes Jonathan Kasstan of Westminster University. The political editor of Frances national broadcaster said Mr Castexs pandemic guidance seemed less credible when delivered in his patelin, or village, accent.

 

In truth, some other countries are more like France than they may think. Beyond the BBC, it remains common in Britain to hear public figures belittled for how they speak. The liberal left indulges these prejudices, too. Alastair Campbell, erstwhile press secretary to Labours Tony Blair, mocked the Conservative home secretary, Priti Patel, on Twitter: I really would prefer it if we had a home secretary who could pronounce the G at the end of a word. Here snobbery is dressed up as concern for correct enunciation.

 

But is a ban on such gibes the answer, in France or elsewhere? The case for one is that it would send a powerful signal: there is no rational reason to withhold a job or a loan because of an applicants accent. But a specific ban on accent discrimination may not be necessary. Donald Dowling, a lawyer at Littler Mendelson in New York, points out that, in many countries, accent mockery is already used as evidence of other forms of illegal discrimination, such as the racial kind. If you deride a Frenchman for an accent suggesting African origins, you are already breaking the law. In theory that law could be extended to cover (say) Breton origins without specifically adding accent to protected categories.

 

In the end, prejudice against accents betrays bad manners and small minds, and says more about the listener than about the put-upon speaker. But often it is itself a sign of poor education. As it happens, Mr Campbells swipe at Ms Patels g-dropping was badly aimed. There is no actual g sound (as in go) at the end of words ending in -ing; rather, there is a velar nasal, in which the mouth is closed off at the back and air comes from the nose. And the -in pronunciation he mocks (as in walkin) was the correct one for centuries, remaining prestigious in the early 1900s.

 

If more of this were taught in British schools, snobbery would seem irrational. French children might be told that Parisian French was a latecomer, as prestige dialects in France go. Provenal, from Frances south, was the language of poetry when the speech of Pariss le-de-France region was a trivial local patois.

 

Speakers of prestigious accents are lucky that they do not face scorn for their speech. But it is just thatluck, not superior learning or care. A law may modify behaviour, but education is a better way to change attitudes.

 







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