The Arabic Language
DIMENSIONS
THE INFLUENCE OF THE ARABIC LANGUAGE ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE ARABS
by.....E. Shouby
It is axiomatic that the language of any people is influenced by its psychology and culture. Few investigators, however, have ever seriously studied the converse: the influence that language itself exerts on the psychology and culture of the people who use it. The general tendency is to regard language as sufficiently flexible to adapt itself to cultures and intellects rather than so rigid as to stamp its own peculiarities upon them. but any close scrutiny of the relations between language and psychology will show that there is an intimate interdependence between the two. The exact nature and extent of this two-way influence must be ascertained separately for each individual case, as they depend on a large number of factors and variables, which can at best be only roughly estimated. The following discussion attempts to summarize the outstanding features of one only of this two-way interaction: namely, the influence, which the Arabic language exerts upon the psychology of the Arabs.
LITERARY AND COLLOQUIAL ARABIC
The linguistic forms and contents of most written languages die hard. Arabic is no exception, for its main features and characteristics, as found in the Qur’an, in the poetry of the Mu’allaqat, and in other poems considered by many scholars to belong to the same period, still, after about fourteen centuries, hold the position of models that have to be faithfully emulated. The Qur’an, especially, is considered the final authority not only on grammatical and idiomatic questions but also as regards literary style. In spite of the numerous cries for reform in both the language and the style of Arabic literature, it is still impossible for any Arab to write with no consideration for such grammatical, idiomatic, or stylistic requirements as are exemplified in the Qur'an without running the risk of being denounced as an ignorant or a stupid person, if not as an impudent abuser of the integrity of Arabic as well as of the sacredness of the revealed word of God.
But whereas an Arab must write in "literary Arabic," he is not expected to use the same language in his everyday conversations; for that purpose he has to use the colloquial Arabic, which differs from one country to another, even from one city to the next. Should he try to write with the declared intention of using the colloquial -- which is usually done for "humorous" purposes or to quote the spoken word -- he will have to face the difficulty of spelling, and in all probability very few people outside the area in which this brand of spoken Arabic is used will fully understand him. Should he, on the other hand, try to speak the literary Arabic he writes, our writer will find himself misunderstood by the illiterate and ridiculed by all, as has been the misfortune of many purists who try to make the literary language of the books the language of the everyday life. Educated Arab themselves make fun of anybody who uses it for practical everyday life purposes, but they require any public speaker to use it rather than the colloquial. Strikingly similar conditions seem to have held in the case of the Chinese language too, until recently. The gap between the literary language and anyone of the colloquials is so great that an educated Egyptian who knows the literary language as well as the colloquial Egyptian finds it difficult to understand correctly the Iraqi colloquial; and so may the educated Syrian fail to understand the spoken Arabic of Morocco or Tunis. This situation is a strong reminder of medieval Europe, when educated people wrote and read Latin but spoke the different dialects which later developed into what are now the various European languages. The medieval scholar, however, could speak Latin correctly and without the risk of being ridiculed whenever he met other scholars form other countries; the contemporary educated Arab has difficulty in mastering all the endless intricacies of literary Arabic, and even after a lifetime of study he usually has to be very alert if he wants to use it correctly.
Over and above all these contrasting features of the literary and the colloquial forms of Arabic is the almost complete division of labor between the two. Literary Arabic is ill suited to the material and concrete aspects of modem life. Not even the greatest scholar could give literary Arabic names to all the contraptions and devices found in a modem household, let alone the thousand and one things that are to be seen in the office, in the factory, under the hood of a car, in the laboratory, or in any other creation of modem civilization. By borrowing words from foreign languages, or by coining new words on the one hand, and by resorting to circumlocution on the other, an Arab may be able to convey his meaning in the colloquial; but he cannot use these borrowed or newly-coined words in his writings without the protection of the apologetic symbols of the quotation mark, the exclamation point, or the question mark. No new word is acceptable in print to the majority of Arab readers unless it has been Arabized, but no word is Arabized unless it has been used in the writings of outstanding authorities. Unfortunately, the efforts of the various linguistic societies at Arabizing or coining words have been of such a nature as to lend themselves to both criticism and ridicule. This deadlock has been at least partly solved in scientific circles by the use of the same Latin and Green words with which the European languages are burdened. Arabic literature, however, still stands aloof from the new imports of non-Arabic cultures and civilizations.
The various colloquials are suitable for the practical aspects of everyday life. They have enough words to denote the concrete things, which the average Arab uses. They also contain pithy words and expressions, which (like their equivalents in the American slang) are more expressive of human nature than are the elaborate and remote words of literary Arabic, which are alien to the essence of life in the Arab world of the present. But conversely, no colloquial could serve as a suitable vehicle for abstract discussion. As may be expected, literature, philosophy, the more complex of the science --almost any topic that requires concepts higher than those manipulated in the relatively simple Arab daily life -are not usually the subject matter of discussions conducted in the colloquial. A combination of the colloquial expressions and literary words is often used in the writings of some journalists, but without literary words (or foreign words) it is almost impossible to convey thoughts and ideas that are beyond the concrete and tangible.
The issue of "journalistic Arabic" should be dealt with here. In point of fact, this so-called Arabic style is the orthodox literary style plus varying degrees of the appropriate colloquial. The extensiveness of its comprehensibility depends on the degree of its use of literary Arabic. The nearer the colloquial it gets, the less will it be understood or accepted outside its locale. In short, it is correct to say that though newspapers, magazines, popular books, simple scientific textbooks, public lectures, speeches, and the radio are definitely beginning to bring the languages of the various Arabic countries closer to each other, the creation of a universal journalistic Arabic is not yet in the offing. What is more, there is' every reason to believe that such a style can be truly attained only through raising the colloquials toward the literary, rather than through bringing the literary down to the levels of the various colloquials.
CONSERVATISM OF LITERARY ARABIC
Before going into the psychological implications of such a situation, it is appropriate to ask why it is possible for an awakened and generally flexible people, such as the Arabs, to tolerate the conditions described briefly above. The first possible reason may be found in the conservatism of written language generally. This characteristic is due to a plurality of reasons, among which are the canalization of human activities and the development of deeply rooted habits, the magical power ascribed consciously and/or unconsciously to words and images of words, the convenience and satisfaction which the learning of a stable language and grammar provides, the rhythmic and rhymic pleasures derived from certain words and patterns of words and the displacement of affection and love from the parents and agencies that taught the language to the language itself.
A second reason is certainly the religious factor. The Qur’an is accepted as the highest linguistic achievement of the Arabic language in every possible respect; nobody can possible vie with it; everybody should try humbly to emulate it. Nothing should be written which does not comply with linguistic, idiomatic, literary, and rhetorical conditions obtaining in the Qur’an. The Qur’an is supposedly written in the Arabic dialect of Mecca, and of the Quraysh tribe that lived there and distinguished itself mainly through the achievement of the Prophet Muhammad, one of its members. Muslims allover the world feel that, being the embodiment of the words of Allah, the Qur'an is sacred and should remain the final authority not only on Muslim religion but also on the Arabic language.
To a large extent, the Qur'an justifies the high evaluation it receives from Muslims. It is a great compilation of succinct statements dealing with a large number of topics in a very beautiful, rhythmic, and harmonious style reflecting the genius of Muhammad. It has a beauty entirely its own, a beauty which the readers of a translation may look for in vain. This beauty of the Qur'an, as well as its symbolic meaning and religious significance, has been partly responsible for its long uninterrupted sway over the Arabic language.
A third factor is the close association between the Arabic language and the glorious Arab past. An Arab regards literary Arabic as the language of his ancestors whose exploits under the influence of Islam, made history. To the Arab it is a great honor to use the language of those great and illustrious forebearers. Such an emotion is human and natural; glorification of the past is a common phenomenon. Still, it would not have been a sufficient cause, by itself, for the preservation of the many obsolete elements in the Arabic language. We would hardly think it reasonable nowadays that an Englishman, for example, should advocate the exclusive use of the English used by Shakespeare and the King James Bible.
A fourth factor is the impact of modem Arab nationalism. Pride in one's language is common, but some nations feel it more than others. While many Americans take liberties with the spelling and the grammar of their English without undue criticism, it would be considered almost treasonable if an Arab were to misspell a word or break one of the intricate numerous rules of Arabic grammar, especially if he were expected to have lmown the right form. Thus, the conservatism of Arabic is not only religiously, but also nationalistically reinforced; Arabic is as vital a part of Arabism as it is of Islam.
Finally, partly as a result of the foregoing reasons, Arabs value their literary heritage highly. To them, the language in which this literature is written should be respected and admired; any change would imply disloyalty to it, and deprive the coming generations of their cultural birthright. The English speaking peoples are similarly reluctant to adopt Basic English partly because they realize that a Shakespeare, a Milton, or even a Pope would not be so enjoyable in Basic English as the original is. The loss to Arabic literature would be considerably greater, as much of its beauty depends on the resonance and rhythm of the sounds -even in prose -and on the play of words, a device that is abundantly used and abused.
The greatest achievement of Arab culture may be said to lie in the field of literature; and if the Arabs' literary heritage is allowed to be devalued and distorted by translation into a new type of language that requires more of accuracy in expression and less of manipulation in sounds, then a great blow will be dealt to the prestige of Arab culture. Literary Arabic, therefore, receives another reinforcement from those intellectuals who, though not linguistic purists, are anxious to see the literary heritage preserved intact.
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL IMPLICATIONS
The foregoing five main reasons for the rigid conservatism of written Arabic are naturally not the only ones, but they are deemed to be the most important and it is therefore possible now to turn to the psychological implications of the situation. A great deal of man's intellectual life depends on what psychologists call the symbolic processes. These use two main categories of images: the perceptual and the linguistic. The perceptual symbols may be visual; auditory, olfactory, or kinesthetic images, but they are usually images of things, concrete and tangible. Linguistic signs can be visual, auditory, or even kinesthetic images. Representing words, ideas, sensations, and affects as they do, linguistic images do not have to be concrete or tangible, but may be abstract or hypothetical. Man's dealing with the external world depends on both types of images; but as may be obvious, the manipulation of the images of concrete things has its limitations and cannot be conveniently used for some types of thinking.
The illiterate Arabs, who are far more numerous than the literate, use the various colloquials exclusively These consist in the main of linguistic signs and images that are more or less concrete and tangible: words that deal with the unelaborated elements of the simple, everyday life in the Arab world. Thus, the intellectual processes of the illiterate Arabs lack not only the contents abundant in Western culture, but also the forms into whi~h these contents are shaped, the words in which they are embodied. These Arabs naturally come in touch with literary Arabic through listening to the radio, to public speakers, to sermons at the mosque, to the ritualistic recital of the Qur'an, but their understanding of it remains in the majority of cases vague.
The average literate Arab has a fair knowledge of literary Arabic in addition to his understanding of the colloquial; moreover, he is likely to conduct his conscious and overt reasoning in terms of the richer fund of abstract concepts, which literary Arabic provides.
Since the various colloquials differ to such a degree from each other that it would be scientifically incorrect to deal with them under one heading, it seems that for the purpose of this short study, it would be best to concentrate our attention on the influence of the Arabic language on the psychology of the literate Arab, and show only in passing it effects on the illiterate. Further, as it is impossible to deal here with all the aspects of this psychological influence of the Arabic language, the following may be selected is the most important: general vagueness of thought; overemphasis on the psychological significance of the linguistic symbols at the expense of their meanings; stereotyped emotional responses; over assertion and exaggeration; and two levels of life.
GENERAL VAGUENESS OF THOUGHT
Any Westerner who has attempted to comprehend Arabic will agree that thoughts expressed in that language are generally vague and hard to pin down. It is possible to understand an ordinary Arabic sentence as a whole, but when it comes to understanding it in a manner that fits all the details into a clear and well-integrated picture, then it is different matter. Naturally, Arabic that deals with simple or familiar questions creates no difficulties; but the more novel or abstract the content, the more difficult it is to understand Arabic with accuracy. Words and even sentences may be transmitted, not as units but as whole structures, from one context to an entirely different one without sufficient modification (or even without modification at all). Literate Arabs, unless they have full mastery of a Western language, seem to be inadequately aware of this laxness: if they understand the general meaning or significance of a sentence or paragraph, all its affective colorings, and its intuitive revelations, they naturally feel that they understand it perfectly and accurately. The inaccuracy of this conclusion is readily apparent to those who then attempt an exact translation into another language.
This vagueness is due mainly to the fact that modem literary Arabic is constituted of diffuse, undifferentiated, and rigid units and structures. Without going so far as to subscribe fully to such theories as are presented in H. Werner's Comparative Psychology of Mental Development, it is reasonable to state that modem psychology (and especially experimental psychology) has shown that the initial stage of all perceptual and conceptual processes is characterized by just such indifferentiation, diffuseness, and rigidity. For several reasons, Arabic has not yet vastly outgrown this stage. Otto Jespersen, in describing the characteristics of the so-called synthetic languages, uses almost the same terms as are used by psychologists.
With this thought in mind, the general vagueness of Arabic words and sentences may be attributed briefly to the following circumstances: (1) They perhaps were never sharply defined when they first came into use, and have been retained without much change. (2) They have gradually been used to denote meanings, which were later, introduced into Arabic culture, with the result that they now represent not only the original vague and global meaning but also the numerous usages, which have accreted to them throughout the centuries. (3) The recent, sudden and rapid influx of Western culture into the Arab world has forced writers and thinkers independently to use old words to denote new meanings. The same word may be used to denote one thing by one writer and another by another. Fortunately this chaotic picture is gradually clearing up, thanks to the exchange of ideas and words provided by the large current volume of printed literature and the increase in the number of literate people who are interested in reading it.
A further factor contributing to the vagueness of the Arabic language is the rigidity of Arabic grammar -an extra-complex conglomeration of intricate rules and regulations, which certainly restricts the freedom of the Arab thinker. The matter-of-fact acceptance of the vagueness of meaning on the one hand, and the strict insistence on the observance of the rigid grammatical and formal aspects of the language on the other, naturally heightens the only too human tendency to be lax and tolerant. A successful Arab writer, so long as he pays attention to the grammatical and the idiomatic aspects of his writing, has only to make it diffusely comprehensible; his duty does not extend so far as to make his meaning clear-cut and unequivocal. In most case he may occupy himself largely with the arrangement of word-patterns (which he memorizes because everybody else uses them in exactly the same way) in order to give expression to his thoughts. Instead of manipulating the linguistic tools to make them convey his thoughts and ideas in an appropriate manner, he forces his thoughts to accommodate themselves to the ready-made linguistic structures, which he borrows from general use. This tendency is so conspicuous that non-Arab observers who have only a slight contact with Arab culture have observed it, for example Sir Walter Scott in The Talisman.
This vagueness coupled with rigidity leads to a relative lack of attention to the connective aspects of sentences. It is often possible to read an Arabic sentence, or even a paragraph of two or more pages, in which the same personal pronoun is used for different antecedents. Many explanatory words and remarks, deemed necessary in English, French, German, or any other European language, are either minimal or entirely absent in much Arabic prose. So long as it is possible for the reader to understand by exerting his talent for guessing and checking, the writer seems to feel no obligation to make himself clear.
An extreme example of such a state of affairs is provided by a line of poetry, which translated literally would read something as follows: "There is no one like him among the people, except a crowed, his mother's father, alive, resembles him." The line is intended to praise the maternal uncle of a sovereign, since there is nobody like him except the sovereign, his nephew. That the translation is not the source of the vagueness is attested to by the fact that few educated Arabs can understand this line even in Arabic.
Considering the great role that language plays in one's psychological life, it would be a great wonder if the personality of the literate Arab were not affected by the restriction which the ideational vagueness and rigidity of his language places upon his reading and writing. Evidence that such is the case is provided by enlightened foreign observers in Arab countries who have wondered why the Arab who exhibits a high intelligence with reference to the field or fields of his specialization does not show as high a competence with reference to other fields generally. It seems that training in anyone field releases the Arab from the general restrictions (especially linguistic) he is under only so far as that field is concerned, or at most in intimately related fields. It does not release him from these restrictions in all fields of life Incidentally, the observation also demonstrates that the damage is not irreparable.
The experience of the writer in testing a small number of highly intelligent Arab with the Rorschach technique seems to corroborate the foregoing independent formulations. In addition to the consistently higher potential intelligence and the lower functioning intelligence which these Arabs showed, they also exhibited a wide range of accuracy in form-perception and conception -from a high level of form -perception and conceptualization in fields they are specializing or interested in, to a very low level of form-perception and conceptualization in other fields. Such conspicuous contrasts in the Rorschach records of equally highly educated and intelligent Americans would be considered ominous and indicative of schizophrenic tendencies, but in the records of Arab subjects they are due to cultural rather than to individual peculiarities.
It is not possible, of course, completely to ascribe the low level of general perceptual and conceptual processes, and of the functioning -in contrast to the potential -intelligence of these superior Arabs to the restrictive influence of language. Naturally, their type of life and experience are of great importance. Nevertheless, there is good reason to believe that the linguistic restrictions are at least partially responsible for the low performance of those superior Arabs as well as for the general vagueness and ambiguity found in Arabic writing -and for the general lack of organization governing life in the Arab world of today. The exact nature and extent of the influence of the ideational vagueness and formalistic rigidity of the Arabic language on the perception, conception, and thinking of the Arabs, could only be determined experimentally.
OVEREMPHASIS ON LINGUISTIC SIGNS
Arabic literature and language seem to overemphasize the significance of words as such, paying less regard to their meaning than is usually the case in Western literatures and languages. The play on words, for instance, is an important element in Arabic literature, and jokes based upon a play on words are predominant in all types of wit and humor. Arabic names of places, things, and persons are important, constituting a vital element of their integrity and influencing the attitude of people toward them. The tendency to fit the thought to the word or to the combination of words, rather than the word to the thought, is a result of the psychological replacement of thoughts by words, the words becoming the substitutes for thoughts, and not their representatives. The well known anecdote of the Arab judge who lost his position only because his superior wanted to indulge in a little euphuistic play is a good illustration of this phenomenon carried to its logical extreme. The order of the judge's dismissal ran as follows: Ayyuha at-qadi bi-Qum, qad 'azalnaka fa-qum, which means "Ye the Judge in Qum we have discharged ye, so get up." The play on word was contained in the rhyming of “Qum,” the name of the city where the judge presided, with the Arabic imperative verb “qum,” meaning “get up.”
There is here a clear displacement of the perceptual images by the linguistic ones, which for all practical purposes are treated as if they were the real thing and not just a linguistic representation of it. As may be expected, some of the errors in reasoning carried out in Arabic (more than is to be observed in the semantics of analytic languages) are exclusively due to the confusion between words and the things they represent.
This overemphasis on the value of words is further strengthened, perhaps, by the aforementioned pleasure derived from the sounds of words and the rhythm and harmony produced by the combination of words. Arabic poetry is based to a larger extent than is English or French on the effects of these sound combinations. The rhyming is too important sometimes to leave much scope for the consideration of meaning. The love of the sounds of words is so great in Arabic literature that many still write in a mild form of saj’, an old style of rhymed prose which resembles euphuism in English, but with much less emphasis on alliteration and more stress on the rhyming of word-endings. No writer is considered good unless his prose evinces the expected consideration for the rhyming and the harmony of words; and the words should convey some of their meanings through the effects created by their sounds. By enforcing an overevaluation of words, this consideration for sounds also helps to consolidate the conservatism of Arabic and increase the vagueness in its meaning.
The emphasis on sounds in Arabic in again not a unique phenomenon, as all languages pay attention to the sounds of words. Some theories even explain the origin of language by the onomatopoetic effects of sounds, but it should be stressed here that the less analytic the culture is, the more seems to be its emphasis in this direction. The literary Arabic of today still retains the emphasis of a less advanced culture.
The effect of this over emphasis on the value of words and their sounds on the psychology of the Arabs is therefore in line with what has already been said. But one might go on to point out that by increasing linguistic vagueness, it increases a general vagueness in all life-situations. It also leeds to the constricting of thinking and imagination through the substitution of words for what they represent. The extreme manifestation of this phenomenon in Western culture is met with in the language of the psychotic and especially the schizophrenic, whose words cease to mean the same things they do to the majority of people. This “word-salad” extremity is naturally never reached in the normal usage of Arabic. But in Egypt, where the original Arabic concern for sounds is immensely reinforced by contact with the less advanced cultures of Africa, and where the musicality of the language is so obvious even to those who do not understand it, one occasionally comes across a half-educated individual who so exaggerates the Egyptian type of wit (consisting mainly of the play on words, and especially on their sounds) that he gives the impression he has ceased to think of the meaning of words altogether, and is indeed using a sort of "word-salad."
This seeming digression is introduced only to give an illustration of another type of effect, which the overemphasis of the value of words has on the psychology of the people who use them, namely the lowering of the level of mental functioning. When words are used for their own sake, intellectual regression is ushered in; and conversely, when regression sets in, there is an overemphasis on words. Shakespeare understood this phenomenon long before the modem discoveries of psychology: in Julius Caesar he made the mob kill Cinna the poet because he happened to have the same name as one of the conspirators.
STEREOTYPED EMOTIONAL RESPONSES
When reciting Arabic poetry or prose, speaking literary Arabic, and especially chanting the Qur'an, the literate Arab almost always has to show overt signs of emotions. The melodious and musical nature of literary Arabic is preserved through the peculiar structure of the language itself. The endless rules of inflection and agreement, changing vowels and consonants as well as the ubiquitous accent marks according to the meaning, make the musicality (in the psychological sense) of the language an inherent part of it. So strong is the influence that it has been aptly said that in European languages one has to read in order to understand, while in Arabic one has to understand in order to read.
Thus, the simple act of reading or speaking in Arabic involves numerous voice changes, which carry with them the physiological components of emotions. Whether the Arab who recites or chants actually has these feelings is not important because the effects tend to set in eventually, even if the emotion was itself absent to begin with. What is more, the speaker's emotional condition is contagious to observers and listeners. As the illiterate Arab is frequently subjected to this fortuitous affectivity through listening to the chanting of the Qur’an and prayers (a very potent psychological force that sometimes helps in creating the deep mass hypnosis of the dervishes), and even through listening to the radio, his concrete colloquial too has become more musical and emotional that it would have been had it not been adapted to the tempo of the literary form.
Even when he speaks a foreign language, an Arab shows signs of emotivity and impulsiveness of which he may not even be aware. This naturally creates a great deal of misunderstanding. A foreigner may think an Arab from his manner of speaking excited, or angry, or affectionate when in fact he is not. On the other hand, an Arab may think a foreigner calm and serene when he is already mildly upset or annoyed.
Two phenomena seem to crystallize from this discussion of the rigidly structuralized "musicality" of the Arabic language, both literary and colloquial. The first is that its very musicality carries with it the physiological components of emotivity. In other words, the very act of speaking or reading creates or accentuates such affects as may be construed from the meaning and/or the situation. The affective mood thus unnecessarily created or accentuated by subtle and subliminal linguistic habits reduces the ability to think clearly. For together with the emphasis on Arabic words as such, it is responsible for the sometimes empty arguments presented by speakers who are actually both intelligent and learned. In the second place, as this emotivity is contagious, the interplay of the debaters’ affects leads to a vicious spiral of rising emotivity which finally reduces reasoning and thinking to a minimum and contributes to controversy and quarrelling. Discord is so common in Arabs’ discussion and debates that it is frequently considered the norm, and accepted with tolerance and even with some relish in Arab gatherings.
OVERASSERTION AND EXAGGERATION
The Arabic language abounds with forms of assertion, tawkia, and of exaggeration, mubalaghah. There is the common n ending words that are meant to be emphasized; there is also the doubling of the sounds of some consonants to create the desirable stronger effect; there are also the frequent words inna and kad, used to emphasize a large number of sentences; and there are such forms of assertion as the repetition of pronouns and certain other words to get across their meanings or significance. Besides these grammatical types of overassertion are the numerous stylistic and rhetorical devices to achieve even further exaggeration. Fantastic metaphors and similes are used in abundance, and long arrays of adjectives to modify the same word are quite frequent. Though gradually developing in the direction of brevity, the style of Arabic prose is still too florid (as judged by the standards applicable to English prose) to be considered factual and realistic.
That Arabic is still largely characterized by a rather primitive globa1ity, diffuseness, and rigidity has already been mentioned. It remains to point out a contrary trend: the over attention to minute detail, but without reintegrating these details into a composite and well-organized whole. When the classic Arab poet felt strongly (or thought that he ought to feel strongly about anything whatsoever, such as the traces which the tent of his real or imaginary beloved's family left on the sands, he would not be satisfied with the normal global picture of it, and accordingly would go to the opposite extreme of minute description with numerous repetitions of the same ideas in different words and a complete disregard for the other aspects of the situation, only to turn abruptly to another subject and over concentrate on it in the same way. A similar explanation might be given to his having hundreds of names for concepts like lion, sword, and camel, as those names were originally the adjectives which his excited imagination gave to things that caught his momentary but strong interest and fancy. This again is present in a111anguages, but seems to occupy an unusually prominent place in Arabic literary style.
This overstressing of details without giving an organized or comprehensive picture of the whole may be a reaction to and in compensation for the earlier stage of vagueness. When people are not clear about their own thoughts, they compensate by repeating themselves several times though in different words, dimly realizing that if they themselves cannot "see" their own meaning clearly, then it is more likely that others will not understand them either. The repetitions are, in a sense, attempts at clarification for the self as well as for others.
Further evidence of the need for assertion and exaggeration in Arabic comes to light in translation. A simple statement in English cannot be translated into Arabic literally without losing a part of its meaning. Those who read the same paragraph in both English and Arabic will get more meaning from the English version (when the Arabic is a literal translation) because, among other things, a great deal of ' the meaning is lost in the Arabic version if no devices of assertion and exaggeration are added. It is significant to note that even Arabs whose English is inferior to their Arabic often prefer to read serious matter in English. One reason is the failure of the Arabic translation to put enough emphasis in the way of exaggeration and overassertion to convey to their reader what is stated simply in English.
The full psychological explanation of these phenomena of assertion and exaggeration cannot be dealt with here, but it should be obvious that once such a linguistic tradition has been established, it cannot fail to produce far-reaching results. The psychological impact holds true in the case of the colloquials also. Its implications (applicable to both literate and illiterate) are two. In the first place, the Arabs are forced to over assert and exaggerate in almost all types of communication, as otherwise they stand a good chance of being gravely misunderstood. If an Arab says exactly what he means without the expected exaggeration, other Arabs may still think that he means the opposite. This fact leads to misunderstanding on the part of non-Arabs who do not realize that the Arab speaker is merely following a linguistic tradition. Secondly, we have the corollary of the first: the failure of the Arabs to realize that others mean exactly what they say if it is put in a simple, unelaborated manner; even repetition may not be enough for an Arab to realize that the communication cannot perhaps mean the opposite of what the speaker intends. To many Arabs any simple "No" may mean the indirectly expressed consent and encouragement of a coquettish woman; and any simple consent may mean the rejection of a hypocritical politician.
The writer once had the opportunity of observing an illustration of this twofold reaction to a linguistic condition when he listened to the confidential report of two friends: an English girl and an Arab youth. The girl complained that her Arab friend (a) was pestering her with his attentions and declarations of love; and (b) refused to take “No” for an answer when she made it perfectly clear that she was not interested in him at all. The Arab confided (a) that the English girl was encouraging him to make love to her; and (b) that he had so far shown only a little interest and admiration. Both were strictly honest and truthful even to their conscious selves, but they did not know what a contrast could be created between Arab overassertion and exaggeration and British tact and understatement.
THE TWO LEVELS OF LIFE
Everybody has at least two selves: the person he thinks he has to be and the person he would like to be. We all have what psychologists call the ego-ideal, or ideal self. We usually take full care to prove to ourselves that what we are "forced" actually to be is not the best in us, but is only dictated by necessity. At bottom we feel to be greater, wiser, more intelligent, more supreme and superior in every respect. The intricate study of the psychological aspects of the ideal-self, especially as it is found among contemporary Arabs, will have to be dealt with elsewhere.
We have already seen that literary Arabic is the language not only of superior abstract thoughts, but also of all things that transcend the exigencies of the simple existence of the Arabs. It is therefore understandable that this literary Arabic will be the medium par excellence of the ideal-self of the Arabs, especially the literate Arabs. But the idealself of the illiterate Arabs also has its vague claim on the language of the elite. The to-be-expected gap between the real self of the Arab and his ideal-self becomes even larger when strengthened by the superimposition of the gap between literary Arabic, which reigns supreme in the idealself, and colloquial Arabic, which is the monopoly of the practical functions of the real self. When the Arabs thinks of his ideal-self he thinks in terms of what he has learned from reading and listening, that is, in terms of literary Arabic. But in his everyday living, he is free to distinguish between his ideal-self and what he really thinks and does, thanks to his use of the colloquial Arabic.
The psychological consequence is this: while an Arab may express himself in the loftiest moral tone, he may also under the proper circumstances freely descent to a low stratum of moral behavior -and what is significant, feel all the time little contradiction between the two modes of action. Such contradictions are certainly to be found in Western culture; in the Arab world they have been frequent and conspicuous enough to a baffle the attempts of foreign students to understand the Arabs. To the mind of the writer, the separation between the literary Arabic ideal-self on the one hand and the colloquial Arabic real self on the other, together with the necessity for overstatement, overassertion, and exaggeration, is a major cause of the conspicuousness of this contradiction in Arab personality structure.
It need hardly be mentioned that the separation that brings about these results can be manipulated by external agencies to lift the real self of the Arabs toward the summit of their ideal-self, at least for short periods when extreme efforts are required. Such a situation has occasionally been created by clever politicians and leaders, some of whom (like Lawrence of Arabia) were not Arabs.
The conclusions of this article may be disturbing to some Arabs, particularly to nationalistic Arabs who, like nationalists of all nations, cannot tolerate any statement that is non flattering to their country or people, No matter how true, mild, or useful. But no psychological study of an individual or people is intended to be flattering: it is in the nature of depth psychology to uncover matters that the people concerned would much rather have kept hidden even more themselves. Only if such matters are uncovered can Arab psychologist and educators appreciate the problem and accept the challenge, which it offers.
[First published in the Middle East Journal, 1951] ===========================================================Other Places to go:
