The hardest part to learn of any foreign language is the accent. No matter how complex the grammar, how intricate the spelling, or how nuanced the tenses; the accent is something which can’t be taught—it comes from continued exposure to the language at a very young age. In fact, linguists estimate it to be almost impossible to acquire the native accent after the age of just five years old. After this, no matter how long one spends surrounded by native speakers of the target language, their accent will almost certainly be flawed in some way. But is this necessarily such a bad thing?
When we learn languages at school, we are always being told how to correctly pronounce a word, so that we can sound as close to a native speaker as possible. But as we know, there isn’t one accent per language; indeed, the whole reason why accents have developed is due to the regional differences which are each idiosyncratic in their own way. Therefore, it can be problematic to suggest that modern languages have one correct pronunciation, since this implies that the other, less widespread, accents are in some way inferior. The number of speakers with a certain accent will unavoidably pertain to the way in which that accent is perceived, creating linguistic hierarchies which are difficult to dismantle, and affecting the ways in which an individual regards their own sense of identity.
Popular culture often ridicules a foreign accent, which leads people to assume that the inability to speak with the native accent is in some way a failure. French people are often teased for the way they pronounce English words, for example hungry, which, due to the nature of the ‘h’ usually being silent in French, is extremely difficult for a native French speaker to grasp. When we look at the French pronunciation from an English perspective, Anglophones find the French ‘r’ difficult, seeing as it is softer in French than in English, for example, with the verb 'regarder’ (to look). Similarly, native speakers of Spanish often use the letters ‘b’ and ‘v’ interchangeably in English, since words beginning with a ‘v’ in Spanish are pronounced as if they begin with a ‘b’. I’ve heard Spanish learners of English pronouncing ‘van’ as 'ban’, which ironically completely changes the meaning of the word.
Avid watchers of Fawlty Towers may have noted that the barmy waiter, Manuel, is constantly ridiculed by Fawlty since his Spanish accent gives away his mother tongue straight away. Fawlty ridicules him to the clients, apologising on his behalf by constantly repeating his catchphrase: sorry; he’s from Barcelona. Whilst the series is thoroughly entertaining, and meant light-heartedly, it’s an example of a more deep-rooted issue, which cuts right to the heart of language learning: the difficulty of acquiring that sacred native accent that we all desperately pine for.
It seems as though a culture of accent shaming has materialised. Not only that, but there is also the tendency to self-shame, whereby non-native speakers pre-emptively apologise for their accent, seemingly embarrassed by the negative connotations that an accent appears to carry. But this takes away from the significant achievement of learning a second language, which, at the end of the day, requires much more work than a bilingual speaker who has spoken 2+ languages since a very young age, and has therefore almost effortlessly acquired a native accent. If the Netflix series 'Emily in Paris’ teaches us anything, it’s that the Parisians despise people who don’t make an effort to learn French whilst in France. So why treat people the same way who are making an effort to learn the language, but circumstances mean that they will probably never be able to speak the language with the same effortless fluency of a native speaker?
By the same token, this raises an interesting question as to whether or not someone can be considered as bilingual if they haven’t acquired the native accent.
This depends on personal definitions of bilingualism. Some people may think of it as the ability to speak 2+ languages as confidently as a native speaker of both languages, which suggests that the native accent is a necessary requirement. But surely if one can converse as efficiently as a native speaker, why should the accent matter? Is it simply a case of social belonging?
The problematic idea that humans must belong to a social group, and therefore, that without achieving linguistic perfection (which, in itself is problematic, since perfection is subjective), we are excluded from the linguistic, and therefore cultural group to which we aim to belong?
It’s a sensitive issue which is likely to become more acute due to the globalised world in which we live, which demands the knowledge of a lingua franca, which, for the most part, is English. It seems as though it would be more productive to encourage and reward second language learning, rather than putting people down for what is perceived to be a flaw in their language acquisition.
I ask the question: should we always be aspiring to erase the most tangible link with our country of origin? After all, our accent immediately identifies us as a native speaker of our mother tongue, and this by no means takes away from our achievements of learning a second language, which, as we know, is no mean feat.
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