This "English-only" business is again creating a stir, as an attempt to formalize an official language for Utah mounts a comeback. It will be interesting to see if proponents and opponents can actually communicate this time -- whatever tongue they choose to speak.
Rep. Tammy Rowan, R-Orem, has in concert with U.S. English collected 50,000 signatures to force a straight-up legislative floor vote on the issue next session. No amendments, no monkey business -- just yes or no.If it passes, it would require "English to be the official language for the conduct of government business in Utah." It would not tarnish cultural pearls passed from generation to generation in minority communities. If it fails, some 22,000 additional signatures would be collected by Utahns for a Common Language to put the matter on the ballot in 2000 -- a blessing of direct democracy.
Whatever people's inclination on the matter, its debate provides a fascinating study of communication theory worthy of college credit. This clash of logic and emotion -- sprinkled with nonverbal innuendo -- was center stage in February at the legislative committee hearing on Rowan's HB189 last legislative session. More on that in a moment.
There actually is nothing "English only" about this whole debate. That is merely a catchy handle used by the media and foes to fan flames of controversy and to bolster the notion that passage would preclude other languages or somehow destroy non-Anglo cultures. False alarm.
It would merely protect Utah from having to offer any and all government services on separate indigenous platters -- a potentially expensive proposition. Currently, that is not a problem, a point duly noted by opponents. But it could become one as the state's population continues to diversify.
If the initiative did become law, it would include linguistic exceptions for any overriding federal regulations, law-enforcement and health/safety needs, judicial proceedings to ensure fairness, tourism promotion, libraries and educational programs. In other words, there would still be widespread protection for those unable to speak English.
In fact, there are so many exceptions to the measure that some deem it unnecessary and ineffective. They argue that it is nice to be proactive, but there is not a need for such legislation in Utah, which has many English-education safety nets already in place. It has effectively been painted as discriminatory by some in minority communities. Playing the race card has made it such a hot-button issue, which is unfortunate. On the whole, it really is pretty innocuous.
Virtually everyone agrees that immigrants need English to succeed financially and politically. Failure to become proficient will doom them to an inferior education and second-rate jobs.
Right now, the issue does not merit the fervent heat it is generating. We are not a state in linguistic crisis. The fiscal impact of passing Rowan's legislation last session was estimated at only $7,500. It instead calls out for thoughtful, reasoned dialogue and inclusion of local minority leaders in drafting legislation they can feel comfortable with.
Unfortunately, I'm not sure the people pushing English as Utah's official tongue recognize that. It has come across as an "us vs. them" debate that has led to unintentional perceptions of discrimination and even racism. The messengers are interfering with their relatively benign message.
It's a perceptual problem on the part of opponents as much as anything. But in communication, perception equals reality. Rowan and other supporters ought to better understand that and be sensitive to it.
At the original bill's committee hearing last February, Rowan passed out candy hearts to committee members with an appeal to "be a sweetheart" and vote the measure out of committee. That went over like a lead balloon. It trivialized an issue that, to minority members of the audience, was deeply personal and highly sensitive.
Her phrases like "cultural ghettoization" and "their benefit" and "when we have them all self-sufficient" sounded ethnocentric and condescending. Talk of giving "them" a fish vs. teaching "them" to fish unintentionally broadened the rift. Committee members noted the divisiveness and felt the bill's benefit was not worth its overstated but perceived pain. Debate ended and the measure went down, 6-3. Everyone was speaking English, but there was no understanding.
Has anything been learned from that? Maybe not, judging by a recent visit from Mauro E. Mujica (pronounced Moheka) to the Deseret News editorial board. Mujica is chairman of the board at U.S. English. His organization funded Rowan's petition drive in Utah.
A well-educated, charismatic man, Mujica left Chile in 1965 to study architecture at Columbia University. He became a U.S. citizen in 1970, speaks four or five languages and has traveled the world. However, he also came across as condescending in his comments.
He made blanket accusations against leaders of local minority communities, whom he said want to retain control of their constituencies by keeping them in "linguistic slavery." That is a harsh, sweeping indictment of many well-intentioned minority leaders whose motives are above reproach.
Mujica was involved in Rowan's legislative efforts earlier this year and is again in the trenches pushing her initiative. Both of them have valid points and concerns. Both could benefit -- as would their cause -- by re-evaluating their communication approach. "Talking down" to people in English or any other language is not the way to garner their support.