Living Language asks Trying Not To Try author, Edward Slingerland, a few questions about the Chinese language, the connection between language and thought, and most importantly, how language learners can get “into the zone.”
LL: In your book, you focus on two concepts from Chinese philosophy: 無為 wu wei and and 德 de. You mention that there are several ways that these words have been translated into English, but you choose “effortless action” or “spontaneous action” for the former and “virtue”, “power” or “charismatic power” for the latter. Do you often find that Chinese concepts don’t translate neatly into English words and phrases?
ES: Yes, there’s probably more often than not no perfect translation for key terms in Chinese philosophy, it’s always a judgment call whether you pick some near equivalent and then just explain how it’s a bit different (and risk people just understanding it in the standard English sense) or use the Chinese transliteration to signal that we’re dealing with a new concept, at the risk of scaring people away. In the case of wu-wei and de, I feel that they are unique and distinct enough concepts that it’s worth keeping them in the original.
LL: You write that having these words in our vocabulary can help us focus our attention on these concepts in our lives, perhaps helping us to attain these ideal states ourselves. Do you believe that there is a strong connection between language and thought? Are there other examples of Chinese words or phrases that have opened your eyes to a new idea or way of thinking?
ES: Language plays a powerful role in shaping our thought and directing our attention in the world. It’s not as extreme a connection as some postmodernist thinkers would have us believe—we do have some sort of direct contact with the world—but there’s good empirical work not the role of language in shaping the way we experience the world. We all have experienced Schadenfreude, but without a word for it we don’t notice it as easily.
Another helpful Chinese phrase that I find myself wanting to use in the original because there are no good English equivalents is budeyi 不得已, literally “one cannot get to stop it,” which means something like “inevitable,” but has a positive rather than the usual negative connotation: it means that it cannot be otherwise, and that’s good, you’re in the proper flow of things and everything unfolds as it should.
LL: Finally, as an editor of language self-study courses, I’m interested in how “trying not to try” might work in language learning. I’ve certainly experienced that feeling of being “in the zone” when speaking a foreign language, but before I can achieve that, I have to put in a considerable amount of time and effort familiarizing myself with the grammar and vocabulary of the language. Isn’t trying a necessary part of mastering a complex skill such as how to speak a new language? Do you think it’s possible for even beginning language learners to get “into the zone” in their new language?
ES: Yes, that’s a good point. I remember at one point sketching on a cocktail napkin the curves of my language ability in various languages as a function of blood alcohol, in all of the languages that I once spoke well or regularly (Mandarin Chinese, German, French, Italian), I find I speak a bit better and more fluently after a drink or two, because (as I discuss in Ch 4 of the book) alcohol has the effect of down regulating our prefrontal cortex and loosening cognitive control. Then the curve peaks and begins to diminish as you get too inebriated, first with languages that require precise pronunciation and careful grammar (German) and finally language where slurring the ends of words is actually encouraged (French).
But of course all of this only works because I put in loads and loads of hours studying the grammar of these languages and memorizing vocabulary, and then had lots of experience using them in practice. So trying is absolutely a necessary part of learning any new skill, whether a foreign language or a sport or a craft.
When a novice actually knows enough to dial back the cognitive control and let go into the zone is an open question, it definitely varies depending on the skill, and with languages I suspect it varies depending on the language (and one’s prior experience with related languages). My Spanish is now very rusty (I studied some in High School), but between French and Italian I bet I could start to get into the zone pretty quickly if I started taking it again. But if I were to try, say, Russian or Korean, there would be a long start-up period where getting into the zone would be impossible because I’d be lacking any foundation.
One practical implication of the importance of spontaneity for language learning is that teachers should be pushing their students to get into the zone—through role play, songs, whatever—as quickly as they are able to handle it. Spending too much time on rote learning and never pushing students to internalize the grammar and learn to speak and listen on the fly results in people who might be able to read or write in a new language, but are not really functional in everyday life.
