"A language is a dialect with an army". One of the best ways to neocolonize a people is through the gradual degradation and undermining of language. I am not a Hong Konger; neither am I British or Chinese. Yet as a second-generation immigrant living in the west who speaks Cantonese as a second language, I feel deeply connected to Cantonese language and culture, both of which require one another to exist. Hong Kong has an interesting and unique history. Originally a part of the Sinosphere, it was loaned to Britain before being returned to the Chinese in 1997. It is one the last places where Cantonese language and culture remain prevalent in society. To me, it makes sense why the Chinese would move to standardize language within their country. In the capitalist economic landscape we live in where efficiency is key, having 10 different mutually intelligible languages would be a nightmare for any country. In fact, some may point to the delegation of Mandarin as the official language of China being one of the key reasons why it has been able to sustain extremely impressive economic growth over the past few decades, lifting hundreds of millions out of poverty. Doing this though, has led to the slow bleeding out of many other Sinitic languages. Children go to school and learn Mandarin, only having the opportunity to practice their mother-tongue at home. Then they graduate and work in the real world where they spend all day speaking in Mandarin, having even less time to speak their first language. Within two generations, it is easy to see how the language becomes extinct, lost to capitalist machine. For Hong Kongers, it seems like this is a major concern as so much of their culture is intertwined with the Cantonese language. Everything that makes Hong Kong unique, the changes in ruling powers it went through and the effects that it had on its national psyche and identity are similar to the trials and tribulations that many of us go through personally that make our own selves unique. To me, this is something worth preserving as well. Thus Hong Kong's return to China needs to satisfy two impossible needs - It needs to assimilate into Chinese culture in a seamless and frictionless way, all the while retaining everything that made it beautiful and unique.
The "struggle" of Hong Kongers is something that I can partially relate with. Growing up in the west, and subsequently being surrounded by English my entire life, meant that much of my Cantonese speaking skills were never able to fully develop. Instead, my Cantonese skills are only passingly functional enough to communicate my basic needs with my parents and elders. I often feel the need to really learn more Cantonese language and culture so that it does not get lost as I continue to become more and more "westernized". Now that I am actively trying to develop my Cantonese skills as an adult, I definitely do feel the frustrations of trying to learn a "new" language. You don't get a lot of opportunities to practice it, you feel apprehensive about trying to speak because you don't want to be judged or perceived poorly, you don't have much time/energy to allocate to it, and perhaps most annoying of all, so much of the Cantonese language is contextual and simply cannot be learnt through word memorisation. It's a difficult process that can leave you very demotivated and burnt out. At the very least however, I am under no "real" pressure to learn this language. This is entirely my own doing, my own voluntary suffering. For the two main characters in Tongueless, school teachers Ling and Wai, this luxury is not afforded to them.
The thing that strikes me the most with Ling and Wai is how different yet extremely bleak both their approaches are to the switch to teaching Mandarin in Hong Kong. Wai attempts to adapt by devoting herself to the cause. She becomes obsessed with learning Mandarin, finding every opportunity she can to learn the language in a brute force effort to upskill herself to a changing sociocultural and economic landscape. She embodies the "hard work" mantra (horde lurk) in the hopes that her (honestly, extremely impressive) effort will pay off in the long run (a renewal of her teaching contract). Yet despite all the effort and suffering she puts herself through, she continually fails to speak Mandarin fluently, often mispronouncing words or using the wrong words in the wrong context. To me this is a representation of how Hong Kongers feel operating in a system that has left them marginalized and disadvantaged. They did not grow up the speaking the standard language of their country. Now they are disadvantaged in education and the job market, with traditional means of wealth creation being much more limited and difficult to achieve. No matter how hard they work to achieve a meaningful and significant life, the ability to climb the socioeconomic ladder requires them to be something they are not. In the end, overworked and exhausted, her Mandarin is still worse than that of the 8 year old troublemaker in her primary school class. Wai is driven insane and sees no way out. She ends up taking her own life. This reminds me of the proposed meritocracy in which our world is meant to embody. I'm not sure how it is in Hong Kong, but in the west, we have always been sold the idea that success follows from hard work. As long as we pull ourselves up by the bootstraps, anything is achievable in life. Reality is obviously different though. Privilege affects our lives and society in ways that are much more influential than hard work. While financial privilege is something that it seems is well understood in today’s society, Wai’s story best represents the struggles of living without language privilege.
Ling's approach to Hong Kong's shift to mainland values and language is slightly different. Unlike Wai's idealist dreams of becoming proficient in both languages, Ling is more nihilistic. She understands how badly the Mandarin system marginalizes her and doesn't even try to lean into it. Her philosophy is characterized by attempting to game the system. She attempts to survive by utilising charm, charisma, thoughtful gifts and interpersonal skills to demonstrate how valuable she is to her school. This is reflected in her teaching style where she teaches her students to study "smart", not "hard". She prioritises teaching study methods that she knows to be high scoring over facilitating genuine intellectual engagement with the class content. However, like Wai, it all comes crashing down for Ling. Her school formally switches to teaching in Mandarin, and all of a sudden, all the people she used to "manipulate" with her soft skills are speaking Mandarin, insulating them from her influence and undermining her strategy. Slowly, she becomes ostracized in school, unable to speak the language of the people around her. Ling is pushed to her limits when she fails her performance review and suspects that her school principal may be replacing her for a Mandarin speaking teacher. In a last-ditch attempt to save her job, she consults a face reader/fortune teller to ask what she can do to change her fate. The face reader tells her that her face shows a bad fate if she continues down her current path. He recommends that she walks a different career and life path to better align with the fortune told by her face. Rather than take his advice, Ling doubles down. She receives plastic surgery to change the features of her face and her fortune in the hopes that her new fortune will be better aligned to deal with the problems both at school and in her personal life. The face reader (and Wai also) is against plastic surgery, he believes that there is something special and unique and beautiful about living and being with your own birth face. The face reader and Ling represent two opposing mindsets in contemporary Hong Kong. The face reader represents the belief that Hong Kong should not let go of their original cultural roots and identity. We should acknowledge, preserve and protect our original face/identity, warts and all, because there is something special and unique about it. I really like this metaphor. After all, so much of our what constructs our identity of ourselves is the look of our own face in the mirror. Ling represents the belief that Hong Kong must shed its original “face” in order to adapt, evolve, and survive. Within a capitalist landscape where China competes with the rest of the world for market dominance and global influence, the most efficient and pragmatic response is to do exactly that, set aside questions of identity and focus instead on seamless integration and productivity.
While both Wai and Ling have different responses to the standardisation of Mandarin in Hong Kong, both represents very bleak outcomes. Wai overworks herself to literal death in a system that continually pushes her back down, while Ling is forced to abandon her soul and identity. The book offers no easy solution for either of the main characters, because there is no easy solution for Hong Kong. Again, it walks the impossible line of retaining its uniqueness, all the while needing to integrate itself well into Chinese society. As somebody with no personal stake in Hong Kong and watching from the west, I can't help but feel a sense of sorrowness and admiration for a group of people fighting to find a place for their identity in the world.