Localization — to the Letter

It’s a widely quoted estimate that half of the world’s 7,000-odd languages are endangered and may be extinct by the end of this century. It’s less widely quoted — in fact, this may be the first time you’re hearing it — that some 90% of the world’s 300-plus alphabets are likewise threatened.

And that, in a nutshell, is the challenge facing the First World in general and the localization industry in particular: to recognize and respect and learn to use not only a culture’s language, but also the way it shapes its letters.

Which is exactly the opposite approach adopted by the British colonial authorities when they occupied India, for example.

Official communications were in English, of course, in the Latin alphabet, but India is famously an astonishingly rich stew of languages and scripts, and the British could no more be bothered to learn every language (or, especially with the arrival of the first printing presses, accommodate every script) than they could be bothered to consent to every political point of view. In each region, one or possibly more scripts — almost exclusively those used by communities the British felt were more “civilized” — would be deemed official, and the rest were ignored.

(Lest it seem that, as a Brit, I am being too anti-British, it’s worth noting that the Portuguese authorities in Goa outright banned the Goykanadi script as being subversive and pagan. And let’s not forget what the Spanish did to the Maya.)

We can still see the long-term effects of these attitudes in the widespread belief that writing is merely a set of symbols that represent sounds — and that another set of symbols might do just as well, or even better.

That’s really weird, when you think of it. Nobody describes speech as just a set of sounds representing ideas, or tells the Germans they would be better off speaking French. Those in the translation industry — yes, I’m writing to you, bless you — are well aware of not only the nuance of expression, but also the profound sense of value and pride such nuance has for those who use it, every day, unthinkingly.

So what is the equivalent in writing? When we talk about endangered writing, what exactly is at stake here?

World Endangered Writing Day was born when I read that in traditional Balinese culture, one day a year was dedicated to respecting and venerating writing.

On the day dedicated to the goddess Saraswati, nothing written may be destroyed, or even a letter crossed out. All the lontar manuscripts — oblong pages of lontar palm leaf, written on with a stylus and then bound between wooden slats — in a household are gathered and act as the representation of the goddess, to whom 18 offerings are made: one for each of the letters of the Balinese alphabet. Each offering contains the symbol of the supreme god, made of fried rice dough.

This may sound like superstition, but to me it shows a deep understanding of the value and importance of writing, especially one’s own writing, the writing that connects us to our ancestors and our deities. Our old books end up on remainder tables or at yard sales; theirs end up on altars.