Word Play: How Languages Instruct Perceptions

In 2017, Lera Boroditsky wrapped a highly-touted TED Talk regarding how different languages change how each of us perceives the world. Her presentation received high recognition in the linguistics community as she laid out evidence of the fact that language is not a one-dimensional form of communication between humans. Rather languages are greater indicators of how each group of native language speakers interprets themes like causality, responsibility, intimacy, time, physical orientation, and plenty more according to their specific language structure.

One of Boroditsky’s most interesting examples comes when explaining how the responsibility for an incident is assigned between the languages of Spanish and English. Using the incident of a man clumsily knocking a glass vase from a table, Boroditsky points out how the fault is assigned according to each language. In English, one would simply say “he broke the vase” and not exactly suggest whether it was on purpose or not. On the other hand, in Spanish, it would be more common to say the vase se rompió meaning that the vase broke itself, independent of the man’s involvement. While both phrases share the objective of explaining the same event, in Spanish, the implication is subconsciously such that the perpetrator is less involved in the incident and may assume less blame.

In my own language learning journey, I’ve found that even just between English, Spanish, and Portuguese, there are plenty of other examples of how linguistic differences alter perception. Let’s take a look at a few of them.

Attention is expensive these days; everything from sensationalist news outlets to never-ending social media feeds to algorithmically-timed smartphone notifications all strategically vies for a precious slice of our own. Trying to balance between the endless stream of stimulus and input for just a bit of focused, productive work can be a draining, and at times frustrating, pursuit. So why, above all else, do we have to use our attention to pay too?

If someone told you to “pay attention”, you probably wouldn’t actually have a visceral reaction. In fact, it’s a pretty normal thing to say to someone. However, to a non-native English speaker, it would probably appear a bit strange when the phrase is spat out by Google Translate. Indeed, “pay attention” is one of English’s many phrases that exist to support an idea without really having a direct translation to other languages. Rather, other languages use different terms to communicate this same idea. Indirectly translated phrases are the most telling and most intriguing pieces of a new language when using them as a pivot point to analyze the perception of situations across other languages. To avoid being too abstract, let’s take a look at the phrase “pay attention” across the Lusophone (Spanish and Portuguese speaking) world.

The English language instructs that, when we want the attention of someone, we ask someone to “pay” it. Meanwhile, in Spanish, to ask for someone’s attention, you would ask someone to prestar attención. The Spanish phrase and English phrase both are spoken with the same intention and goal in mind, yet differ in their verbs. Rather than “pay”, the Spanish word prestar alone means “lend”, which of course implies the attention one is giving won’t be spent once given over but will be returned once the need for attention is satisfied. Taking a look back at English, it now almost seems odd that we treat our attention like another expendable resource of ours by paying with it.

The phrase dá tempo para is another interesting case, this one in Portuguese. Directly translated, it comes out a bit clunky as “it gives (dá) time (tempo) to (para)”. Taken in a greater context though, this phrase simply is the equivalent to English’s “there’s enough time to”. How does this instruct an English speaker’s perception compared to that of a Portuguese speaker? It’s a matter of how time is framed and consumed. In English, the implication could be that the time remaining between one event and another is just sufficient enough to complete a task. It’s a perspective that indicates a more consumptive impression of time as a finite thing, one that should be only used sparingly. In Portuguese, the idea is such that we are given time, almost in a gifted capacity, to complete a task. Arguably, the English view of time may manage it more efficiently, although the Portuguese one may allow for a more enjoyable, present-focused, experience of the time given since there is less emphasis on a future event impeding its completion.

Finally, an example I’m exceptionally fond of is how English speakers discuss travel compared to Lusophones. In speaking of a trip, it’s natural to ask someone if they’ve “been” to XYZ place. While this signifies that, indeed, that person physically visited a place, it doesn’t describe the depth of experience compared to the equivalent phrase in Spanish or Portuguese. In Portuguese, one would ask another person if they conhece XYZ place. It’s a question that begs the same answer, but would be directly translated differently than “Have you been there?”

The verb conhecer is most used in relation to the first interactions between people or when discussing familiarity with a subject. In Portuguese, you would conhecer someone when meeting them for the first time; similarly, you would conhecer the same story your dad has already recounted seven times before. The interesting bit is that this same level of familiarity, implying the intimacy of a relationship, applies to visiting a new place. Again, while accomplishing the same goal of evoking the answer to whether or not someone has been to XYZ location, the underlying linguistic differences indicate that the Spanish and Portuguese languages consider traveling to a new place differently than English does. Rather than just passing through a place, travel can be perceived as an exercise in getting to know (conhecendo) a new place in the same manner one would a new friend - by engaging more with the host destination and fostering stronger curiosity for what lies past the surface-level tourist attractions we take for granted.