Having now spent two full weeks as a guest in Luxembourg, I feel that now is a fitting time to make my first formal observations about the life, language, and culture of this place and its people.
As was expected, my young, hip, American self sticks out like a sore thumb among the native Europeans that comprise the small population of Luxembourg. I have never felt so out of place in my life! As I pondered these feelings of forlornness that I have felt while in Luxembourgish public spaces over the past 19 days, I came to the conclusion that the root of my discomfort lies in the fact that the people that live here and I have no communal connection. We speak different languages, were born and raised in opposing environments, and hold collections of vastly different life experiences. As a result of these core differences, we have different values, beliefs, and lifestyles. I know this sounds pretty dismal, being completely alone and without a community, but it's actually overwhelmingly exciting. These differences provide the perfect platform for my rhetorical analysis.
In the first chapter of my text for this study, Ancient Rhetorics for Contemporary Students by Sharon Crowley and Debra Hawhee, rhetoric is defined as a means for communication. It is necessary for one to convey inevitable differing perceptions of the world and life within it, and rhetoric is the way that we achieve this communication. So, essentially, rhetoric is our only means of connection, and when that is lacking, we cannot live as a community.
Here we arrive at the first major difference between myself, and American student, and the natives of Luxembourg: the languages that we speak are completely different. I speak English and basic, conversational French. Luxembourgers speak, in no particular order, French, German, Italian, and Luxembourgish, which is a combination of Italian and French and German that is not spoken anywhere else besides Luxembourg. This baffles me.
If rhetoric is linguistic communication, and it is necessary for the formation of community, which is the source from which we draw all of our core values and perceptions, then how can Luxembourgish people ever expect to leave their country and understand anything outside of their own origins?
Perhaps these questions sound ignorant, or rude. I don't mean them to be that way; I have just never experienced a phenomenon such as this. It all seems very primal. But perhaps it is not at all.
Here's the thing: nobody speaks only Luxembourgish. Each person speaks at least two languages, and I have encountered individuals that speak more than five. Therefore, speaking Luxembourish is not a limitation of rhetoric but rather the very essence of rhetoric. The language of the community in Luxembourg is exclusive to that community. The people here are literally bound by their rhetoric, in its most basic and raw form.
As was expected, my young, hip, American self sticks out like a sore thumb among the native Europeans that comprise the small population of Luxembourg. I have never felt so out of place in my life! As I pondered these feelings of forlornness that I have felt while in Luxembourgish public spaces over the past 19 days, I came to the conclusion that the root of my discomfort lies in the fact that the people that live here and I have no communal connection. We speak different languages, were born and raised in opposing environments, and hold collections of vastly different life experiences. As a result of these core differences, we have different values, beliefs, and lifestyles. I know this sounds pretty dismal, being completely alone and without a community, but it's actually overwhelmingly exciting. These differences provide the perfect platform for my rhetorical analysis.
In the first chapter of my text for this study, Ancient Rhetorics for Contemporary Students by Sharon Crowley and Debra Hawhee, rhetoric is defined as a means for communication. It is necessary for one to convey inevitable differing perceptions of the world and life within it, and rhetoric is the way that we achieve this communication. So, essentially, rhetoric is our only means of connection, and when that is lacking, we cannot live as a community.
Here we arrive at the first major difference between myself, and American student, and the natives of Luxembourg: the languages that we speak are completely different. I speak English and basic, conversational French. Luxembourgers speak, in no particular order, French, German, Italian, and Luxembourgish, which is a combination of Italian and French and German that is not spoken anywhere else besides Luxembourg. This baffles me.
If rhetoric is linguistic communication, and it is necessary for the formation of community, which is the source from which we draw all of our core values and perceptions, then how can Luxembourgish people ever expect to leave their country and understand anything outside of their own origins?
Perhaps these questions sound ignorant, or rude. I don't mean them to be that way; I have just never experienced a phenomenon such as this. It all seems very primal. But perhaps it is not at all.
Here's the thing: nobody speaks only Luxembourgish. Each person speaks at least two languages, and I have encountered individuals that speak more than five. Therefore, speaking Luxembourish is not a limitation of rhetoric but rather the very essence of rhetoric. The language of the community in Luxembourg is exclusive to that community. The people here are literally bound by their rhetoric, in its most basic and raw form.