Inglês — CACD 2017

Text II 1  When I joined the Foreign Office, I was astonished at the lack of formal preparation for the job. In those days, the Civil and Diplomatic Service entrance exams took place 4 in three stages, by the end of which hundreds of unsuccessful candidates had been knocked out. Only a score or so survived the final stage to be admitted to the Foreign Office. 7  My induction course lasted about a month. Then, one morning, I was taken to the West and Central Africa Department, told that I would be responsible for 10 French-speaking African countries plus Liberia. And that was that. I was now, at the tender age of twenty-two, a wet-behind-the-ears but fully functioning British diplomat. 13  I was put unsparingly to the test in my first month. I was summoned to the office of the Minister of State, a genial politician called George Thompson, who was about 16 to receive an official visitor from the Central African Republic. I was there to interpret between English and French. The usual pleasantries of a courtesy call were easy enough to translate. 19 But, just as I was beginning to relax, the official told Thompson that one of the main exports from his country was roselle. What on earth was roselle? With panic rising 22 in my gorge, something made me blurt out “jute”. To my horror, there ensued a lively conversation in which Thompson said “jute” and the African minister said roselle. 25  After the meeting, I raced back to my office and looked in my dictionary. Roselle was not there. I tried out the mystery word on a French friend, but he had not heard 28 of it either. But the next day, he called back. What was a British minister doing, he asked, talking to a politician from the Central African Republic about a plant that was used as 31 a diuretic and food-colouring agent? My heart sank. I saw my career slipping beneath the waves before it had hardly begun. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, “it’s also used sometimes as 34 a substitute for jute fibre — if that’s of any interest to you.”.

Text I 1  Diplomacy has never enjoyed a wholly favourable reputation. Often confused with its clandestine cousin, espionage, it has for centuries been associated with deviousness 4 and duplicity. Only the other day, when I was giving a talk, a woman came up to me afterwards and expressed astonishment that I had actually given straight answers to questions. “I 7 expected”, she said, “the usual wishy-washy that you get from diplomats.” In modern times, diplomacy has also become associated with appeasement of one kind or another, with 10 kowtowing to foreign governments.  These criticisms have acquired the rancid flavour of class warfare, a deeply ingrained British pastime. For centuries, 13 diplomacy recruited from the aristocracy and upper classes. When I joined the Foreign Office in 1966, recruitment had become more widely meritocratic; but it was overwhelmingly 16 a male meritocracy drawn from a few elite universities. Today, the recruitment pool is vastly bigger in every way. But, the old myths persist. The image of a diplomat clad in pinstripes, 19 quaffing champagne, and leading the good life in a magnificent embassy, dies hard.

Text IV 1  When did Americans start sounding funny to English ears? The story is not as simple as some believe. Thanks to a remarkable kind of linguistic melting pot process, early 4 Americans spoke with a standard dialect all their own that was often met with approval by English observers, in contrast to how certain American accents are sometimes judged today. 7  From the early eighteenth century, while British English speakers could easily reveal details about their background through their speech, it was much harder to 10 pinpoint an American speaker’s background in the same way. Many described the American dialect of the day as being, surprisingly, pretty close to the accepted British grammatical 13 standard of London “polite” society, even if there were some accent differences and linguistic variation. While these would have been indicators of lower status in England, in colonial 16 America speakers of all classes and regions might have used these forms, diluting them as signs of social status.  Some fairly resilient linguistic myths have arisen as 19 folk explanations for why British and American dialects are the way they are, including the often-cited belief that Shakespeare sounded much more American than he did British, and thus 22 American English must be free from any modern linguistic “corruption” that followed.  George Philip Krapp, among others, makes a 25 compelling argument against the theory that a transplanted dialect or language suddenly has its linguistic development arrested, so that examples like American English or Acadian 28 French must simply be more archaic than the dialects that continued evolving in their home countries.  Far from being an isolated community, the American 31 colonies developed culturally and linguistically while being in constant contact with the outside world and with a healthy flow of immigrants from many different backgrounds. The truth is, 34 in the context of a linguistic melting pot, a kind of linguistic leveling occurs, and a common mode of speech, or koine, emerges. No single dialect is really transplanted intact and 37 unchanging. American English is not eighteenth-century British English frozen in time while British English varieties changed in a different direction. American English behaves no 40 differently from any other dialect in this way; it develops and innovates but also maintains certain linguistic characteristics meaningful to its speech community, in the same way that 43 British English does.  But in order for linguistic innovation to really take root, you need a bunch of colonial babies. The founding 46 generation of settlers wasn’t immediately followed by a huge influx of immigrants with other dialects and languages until an American koine was already mostly established by newer 49 generations of Americans, at which point more recent immigrant waves began to adopt the prevailing ways of speaking. Many eventually abandoned their native tongue and 52 assimilated into the wider linguistic community.  So by the time of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, it’s clear Americans didn’t have to hold their 55 tongue with the British — they spoke with the national dialect that had steadily evolved for at least two generations before 1776.

Text IV 1  When did Americans start sounding funny to English ears? The story is not as simple as some believe. Thanks to a remarkable kind of linguistic melting pot process, early 4 Americans spoke with a standard dialect all their own that was often met with approval by English observers, in contrast to how certain American accents are sometimes judged today. 7  From the early eighteenth century, while British English speakers could easily reveal details about their background through their speech, it was much harder to 10 pinpoint an American speaker’s background in the same way. Many described the American dialect of the day as being, surprisingly, pretty close to the accepted British grammatical 13 standard of London “polite” society, even if there were some accent differences and linguistic variation. While these would have been indicators of lower status in England, in colonial 16 America speakers of all classes and regions might have used these forms, diluting them as signs of social status.  Some fairly resilient linguistic myths have arisen as 19 folk explanations for why British and American dialects are the way they are, including the often-cited belief that Shakespeare sounded much more American than he did British, and thus 22 American English must be free from any modern linguistic “corruption” that followed.  George Philip Krapp, among others, makes a 25 compelling argument against the theory that a transplanted dialect or language suddenly has its linguistic development arrested, so that examples like American English or Acadian 28 French must simply be more archaic than the dialects that continued evolving in their home countries.  Far from being an isolated community, the American 31 colonies developed culturally and linguistically while being in constant contact with the outside world and with a healthy flow of immigrants from many different backgrounds. The truth is, 34 in the context of a linguistic melting pot, a kind of linguistic leveling occurs, and a common mode of speech, or koine, emerges. No single dialect is really transplanted intact and 37 unchanging. American English is not eighteenth-century British English frozen in time while British English varieties changed in a different direction. American English behaves no 40 differently from any other dialect in this way; it develops and innovates but also maintains certain linguistic characteristics meaningful to its speech community, in the same way that 43 British English does.  But in order for linguistic innovation to really take root, you need a bunch of colonial babies. The founding 46 generation of settlers wasn’t immediately followed by a huge influx of immigrants with other dialects and languages until an American koine was already mostly established by newer 49 generations of Americans, at which point more recent immigrant waves began to adopt the prevailing ways of speaking. Many eventually abandoned their native tongue and 52 assimilated into the wider linguistic community.  So by the time of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, it’s clear Americans didn’t have to hold their 55 tongue with the British — they spoke with the national dialect that had steadily evolved for at least two generations before 1776.

Text II 1  When I joined the Foreign Office, I was astonished at the lack of formal preparation for the job. In those days, the Civil and Diplomatic Service entrance exams took place 4 in three stages, by the end of which hundreds of unsuccessful candidates had been knocked out. Only a score or so survived the final stage to be admitted to the Foreign Office. 7  My induction course lasted about a month. Then, one morning, I was taken to the West and Central Africa Department, told that I would be responsible for 10 French-speaking African countries plus Liberia. And that was that. I was now, at the tender age of twenty-two, a wet-behind-the-ears but fully functioning British diplomat. 13  I was put unsparingly to the test in my first month. I was summoned to the office of the Minister of State, a genial politician called George Thompson, who was about 16 to receive an official visitor from the Central African Republic. I was there to interpret between English and French. The usual pleasantries of a courtesy call were easy enough to translate. 19 But, just as I was beginning to relax, the official told Thompson that one of the main exports from his country was roselle. What on earth was roselle? With panic rising 22 in my gorge, something made me blurt out “jute”. To my horror, there ensued a lively conversation in which Thompson said “jute” and the African minister said roselle. 25  After the meeting, I raced back to my office and looked in my dictionary. Roselle was not there. I tried out the mystery word on a French friend, but he had not heard 28 of it either. But the next day, he called back. What was a British minister doing, he asked, talking to a politician from the Central African Republic about a plant that was used as 31 a diuretic and food-colouring agent? My heart sank. I saw my career slipping beneath the waves before it had hardly begun. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, “it’s also used sometimes as 34 a substitute for jute fibre — if that’s of any interest to you.”.

Text I 1  Diplomacy has never enjoyed a wholly favourable reputation. Often confused with its clandestine cousin, espionage, it has for centuries been associated with deviousness 4 and duplicity. Only the other day, when I was giving a talk, a woman came up to me afterwards and expressed astonishment that I had actually given straight answers to questions. “I 7 expected”, she said, “the usual wishy-washy that you get from diplomats.” In modern times, diplomacy has also become associated with appeasement of one kind or another, with 10 kowtowing to foreign governments.  These criticisms have acquired the rancid flavour of class warfare, a deeply ingrained British pastime. For centuries, 13 diplomacy recruited from the aristocracy and upper classes. When I joined the Foreign Office in 1966, recruitment had become more widely meritocratic; but it was overwhelmingly 16 a male meritocracy drawn from a few elite universities. Today, the recruitment pool is vastly bigger in every way. But, the old myths persist. The image of a diplomat clad in pinstripes, 19 quaffing champagne, and leading the good life in a magnificent embassy, dies hard.

Text II 1  When I joined the Foreign Office, I was astonished at the lack of formal preparation for the job. In those days, the Civil and Diplomatic Service entrance exams took place 4 in three stages, by the end of which hundreds of unsuccessful candidates had been knocked out. Only a score or so survived the final stage to be admitted to the Foreign Office. 7  My induction course lasted about a month. Then, one morning, I was taken to the West and Central Africa Department, told that I would be responsible for 10 French-speaking African countries plus Liberia. And that was that. I was now, at the tender age of twenty-two, a wet-behind-the-ears but fully functioning British diplomat. 13  I was put unsparingly to the test in my first month. I was summoned to the office of the Minister of State, a genial politician called George Thompson, who was about 16 to receive an official visitor from the Central African Republic. I was there to interpret between English and French. The usual pleasantries of a courtesy call were easy enough to translate. 19 But, just as I was beginning to relax, the official told Thompson that one of the main exports from his country was roselle. What on earth was roselle? With panic rising 22 in my gorge, something made me blurt out “jute”. To my horror, there ensued a lively conversation in which Thompson said “jute” and the African minister said roselle. 25  After the meeting, I raced back to my office and looked in my dictionary. Roselle was not there. I tried out the mystery word on a French friend, but he had not heard 28 of it either. But the next day, he called back. What was a British minister doing, he asked, talking to a politician from the Central African Republic about a plant that was used as 31 a diuretic and food-colouring agent? My heart sank. I saw my career slipping beneath the waves before it had hardly begun. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, “it’s also used sometimes as 34 a substitute for jute fibre — if that’s of any interest to you.”.

Text IV 1  When did Americans start sounding funny to English ears? The story is not as simple as some believe. Thanks to a remarkable kind of linguistic melting pot process, early 4 Americans spoke with a standard dialect all their own that was often met with approval by English observers, in contrast to how certain American accents are sometimes judged today. 7  From the early eighteenth century, while British English speakers could easily reveal details about their background through their speech, it was much harder to 10 pinpoint an American speaker’s background in the same way. Many described the American dialect of the day as being, surprisingly, pretty close to the accepted British grammatical 13 standard of London “polite” society, even if there were some accent differences and linguistic variation. While these would have been indicators of lower status in England, in colonial 16 America speakers of all classes and regions might have used these forms, diluting them as signs of social status.  Some fairly resilient linguistic myths have arisen as 19 folk explanations for why British and American dialects are the way they are, including the often-cited belief that Shakespeare sounded much more American than he did British, and thus 22 American English must be free from any modern linguistic “corruption” that followed.  George Philip Krapp, among others, makes a 25 compelling argument against the theory that a transplanted dialect or language suddenly has its linguistic development arrested, so that examples like American English or Acadian 28 French must simply be more archaic than the dialects that continued evolving in their home countries.  Far from being an isolated community, the American 31 colonies developed culturally and linguistically while being in constant contact with the outside world and with a healthy flow of immigrants from many different backgrounds. The truth is, 34 in the context of a linguistic melting pot, a kind of linguistic leveling occurs, and a common mode of speech, or koine, emerges. No single dialect is really transplanted intact and 37 unchanging. American English is not eighteenth-century British English frozen in time while British English varieties changed in a different direction. American English behaves no 40 differently from any other dialect in this way; it develops and innovates but also maintains certain linguistic characteristics meaningful to its speech community, in the same way that 43 British English does.  But in order for linguistic innovation to really take root, you need a bunch of colonial babies. The founding 46 generation of settlers wasn’t immediately followed by a huge influx of immigrants with other dialects and languages until an American koine was already mostly established by newer 49 generations of Americans, at which point more recent immigrant waves began to adopt the prevailing ways of speaking. Many eventually abandoned their native tongue and 52 assimilated into the wider linguistic community.  So by the time of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, it’s clear Americans didn’t have to hold their 55 tongue with the British — they spoke with the national dialect that had steadily evolved for at least two generations before 1776.

Text IV 1  When did Americans start sounding funny to English ears? The story is not as simple as some believe. Thanks to a remarkable kind of linguistic melting pot process, early 4 Americans spoke with a standard dialect all their own that was often met with approval by English observers, in contrast to how certain American accents are sometimes judged today. 7  From the early eighteenth century, while British English speakers could easily reveal details about their background through their speech, it was much harder to 10 pinpoint an American speaker’s background in the same way. Many described the American dialect of the day as being, surprisingly, pretty close to the accepted British grammatical 13 standard of London “polite” society, even if there were some accent differences and linguistic variation. While these would have been indicators of lower status in England, in colonial 16 America speakers of all classes and regions might have used these forms, diluting them as signs of social status.  Some fairly resilient linguistic myths have arisen as 19 folk explanations for why British and American dialects are the way they are, including the often-cited belief that Shakespeare sounded much more American than he did British, and thus 22 American English must be free from any modern linguistic “corruption” that followed.  George Philip Krapp, among others, makes a 25 compelling argument against the theory that a transplanted dialect or language suddenly has its linguistic development arrested, so that examples like American English or Acadian 28 French must simply be more archaic than the dialects that continued evolving in their home countries.  Far from being an isolated community, the American 31 colonies developed culturally and linguistically while being in constant contact with the outside world and with a healthy flow of immigrants from many different backgrounds. The truth is, 34 in the context of a linguistic melting pot, a kind of linguistic leveling occurs, and a common mode of speech, or koine, emerges. No single dialect is really transplanted intact and 37 unchanging. American English is not eighteenth-century British English frozen in time while British English varieties changed in a different direction. American English behaves no 40 differently from any other dialect in this way; it develops and innovates but also maintains certain linguistic characteristics meaningful to its speech community, in the same way that 43 British English does.  But in order for linguistic innovation to really take root, you need a bunch of colonial babies. The founding 46 generation of settlers wasn’t immediately followed by a huge influx of immigrants with other dialects and languages until an American koine was already mostly established by newer 49 generations of Americans, at which point more recent immigrant waves began to adopt the prevailing ways of speaking. Many eventually abandoned their native tongue and 52 assimilated into the wider linguistic community.  So by the time of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, it’s clear Americans didn’t have to hold their 55 tongue with the British — they spoke with the national dialect that had steadily evolved for at least two generations before 1776.