Grammar, Identity, And The Dark Side Of The Subjunctive: Phuc Tran At TEDxDirigo

That spring semester of my freshman year, I took Ancient Greek on a whim, and it was brutally hard. I loved every minute of it: every accent, clause, and conjugation. The following year, I took more Greek as well as Sanskrit. That was even harder, and I loved that even more. And that following summer, I studied Latin, and by my junior year, I was studying Latin, Greek, and Sanskrit while also taking German immersion. I wasn’t restrained by ideas of what I was supposed to study or should have studied. I just pursued what I honestly loved. I embraced the indicativeness, the reality, of my passions rather than lingering on what I thought I should have been studying. The subjunctive helped me envision what I could be; it allowed me to be creative and to entertain crazy visions of “what if.” But as I unpacked all those possibilities, I also fell prey to the dark side of the subjunctive, the idea of “should have.” The idea of what “should have” didn’t improve my present or my future–it clouded my ability to see what actually was because I was fixated on what wasn’t. So much of my depression as a teenager, which verged on suicidal at times, came from how badly I wanted to be someone else. Accepting things for what they are, accepting their indicativeness, was my first step to overcoming my depression and anxiety. More important this was my first step towards honoring and loving myself and pulling away from the subjunctive’s dark side. The dark side is, after all, the more seductive–just as Star Wars has shown us.

In the Star Wars saga, the Sith Lords speak in opaque subjunctives. Darth Vader says to Luke, “If you only knew the power of the Dark Side.” Vader obviously knows how enticing the use of a present contrafactual optative sounded. And Yoda? He speaks with the bare bludgeon of the imperative and indicative. “Do or do not. There is no try.” Yoda knows how hard and uncompromising the indicative is. It takes courage to embrace the indicative–it takes real courage. And even though what Yoda says is true, Luke doesn’t stay with Yoda in the swamp because he has his own path to weave in between Yoda’s indicative truth and Vader’s seductive subjunctive. Luke has to see the world for himself through his own lens. I am presenting just one lens–a grammatical lens–through which we can all view our experience and our world. The subjunctive allows us to innovate, but it also allows us to become mired in regret. The indicative does not allow us to imagine at all, but it does allow us to talk about ourselves and our experience in real terms (especially if we have the courage to engage that reality). We all, as English speakers, put on and take off the lenses of the indicative and subjunctive everyday, and once we recognize the pitfalls of both the subjunctive and the indicative, we can actively choose a positive and more hopeful perspective.

In 2011, Gallup International conducted a survey that ranked different nations’ feelings of optimism and pessimism. What country would you expect to be the most optimistic? A country that has no subjunctive in its language? A country whose language doesn’t naturally allow its speakers to obsess over the idea of could have? According to the results of the survey, Vietnam was the most optimistic country in the world. And what country was the most pessimistic? France, of course, with its subjunctive-rich existentialism. (This is the language with two different types of subjunctives!) This is about understanding and reclaiming language and grammar, and it’s not a new idea. As a teenager living in rural Pennsylvania, I listened to the Sex Pistols hundreds of times, but I didn’t hear the nihilism of their music. When they sang their chorus of “no future for you,” I didn’t connect to the alienation of British punk. The refrain of “no future” for me meant that my future was unwritten and that many possibilities lay before me. I had re-interpreted that song of despair into a song of hope.

Go reclaim and reappropriate your language and grammar.

It’s your first and most powerful tool to experiencing and communicating the world around you, and it’s a tool that we all have. We all use the indicative and subjunctive everyday, and we can be mindful of when we’re blinded by the indicative and when we can’t see the subjunctive around us.

And this way of seeing the world? It has real force.

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  • Beth_in_Mpls

    What a brilliant, original take on a somewhat obscure linguistic feature. I love how you combined identity consciousness with language analysis, and how you spoke of your own experience and then extrapolated to an inclusive vision. Thank you so much for sharing your creative insights. Much food for thought here.

  • uzeemee

    a-freaking-mazing!!

  • RetroA

    I’m Vietnamese Australian, I found this article confusing (and a tad bit white supremacist if I’m not mistaken) considering that Vietnamese does have words for “If” (Nếu ma), “If not” (Nếu không), “possibility” “would be” (Có thể), for example” (Thí dụ).
    I use it all the time to see the world in ‘subjunctive’ ways. My parents are both Vietnamese refugees and they use this language all the time. Even if Vietnamese does not have subjunctive mood (verbs), imaginative un-realities are conveyed through the use of words with that meaning.
    For example: “Nếu không có mất nước Việt Nam, cuộc sống tôi sẽ khác”. If Vietnam (South Vietnam) was not lost [that's what Vietnamese people call the Fall of Saigon 'lost of country'], then my life would have been different.
    This article comes across as though Vietnamese people are not capable of being ‘conceptual’ and that is just blatantly incorrect.

  • kabbakick

    Well grammar and vocabulary are internalized differently. ‘Schadenfreude’ is a borrowed word for a cultural element that we share. The presentation was about differences in syntax and how that plays out in the respective group’s thought patterns. (or how differences in thought patterns plays out in the respective group’s syntax)

  • kabbakick

    I don’t think using linguistic determinism/relativity theory as means of substantiating a claim of differences in cultures has ever been all that well received. Your use of it did make me uneasy but you went into the nuances of what you really meant and didn’t lay down a “White american culture = X and Vietnamese culture = Y” claim so I guess it’s okay.(and you did only have 15 minutes) I only 3 words of Vietnamese so I just kind of have to trust you on this for now.

    But your recap of your personal and family story was heart breaking and heart warming. Even if I completely disagreed with the foundation you tried laying I don’t think it takes away from the life lesson you were driving home. Overall I thought it was a great presentation. I would love to hear you go into Vietnamese syntax further someday, Maybe I’ll stop by your tattoo shop next time I’m in Portland.

  • Phuc Skywalker

    Thanks for wading into the conversation and thanks for clarifying the point about syntax and vocabulary up above. Most of what I’ve read about Whorfianism/determinism is nominal based, and I haven’t read much that addresses verbal systems (but I am NOT a real linguist, so I can’t claim to have done much research/reading in that area). All I have is personal/anecdotal evidence and my own experience in bilingualism and how that has played out in my family’s history and experience. It’s no secret that Vietnamese and Chinese have limited verb systems (in comparison with, say, IE languages), so this might play out in some meaningful way. Maybe determinism hasn’t fared well because of the “outsider looking in” perspective? I’m curious how bilingualism might affect one’s perspective on determinism. As I said in another comment above, I’m excited about starting a dialogue, and obviously, I am not saying anything definitive about determinism in one YouTube talk. Thanks again for your thoughts!