NEW YORK TIMES

October 24, 1998

Think Tank: No Known Lingua Aber Du Understande, Eh?

By K. ALEASE DILDAY

"Que would happen if, wenn Du open your computerzo finde eine message in esta lingua? No es Englando, no est Germano, no este Espana, no est keine known lingua aber Du Understande!"

No, this isn't some kind of garbled translation program. It's a message in Europanto, a linguistic amalgam created by Diego Marani, a translator for the European Council of Ministers in Belgium.

Marani figured that if Europe could come up with a single currency, why not a single language? European Union members often communicate in English even though it is not the native language of most members. "It is intended to give voice to the frustrations of the vast majority of people who are forced to use English," he said, "even though their command of the language is not very good." So he wants to "europantize" English. After all, he notes, "there are many words such as blitzkrieg, pizza and leitmotif that everybody understands."

A native of Italy, Marani conceived Europanto while observing the language wars in Belgium and listening to the polyglots at the Council of Ministers in Brussels struggling to find a common tongue for casual hallway encounters. Drawing from Italian, French, Dutch and English -- languages he speaks fluently -- Marani began writing lessons in Europanto for an internal publication of the council.

An officer of the council passed the publication to the editor of a Belgian weekly, Le Soir Illustré. The paper began publishing Marani's lessons in Europanto in December 1996, with the double-edged slogan, "Absurd times call for absurd solutions."

The lessons soon became a cult hit, offering useful tips that more traditional language courses might overlook. In the lesson, "Aan der diskoteka," Euro and Eura, the Dick and Jane of Europanto, meet at a nightclub. "Wat esse teine supportebra size?" Euro asks. To which Eura might counter with, "Wat make? Me palpe el behind." (What are you doing? Keep your hands to yourself.)

Belgium is a logical birthplace for a common tongue. Sandwiched between the Netherlands and France, Belgium claims both country's languages. The result is that Dutch-speakers have been waging a bitter war of words with their French-speaking compatriots for centuries. Enter a restaurant, address the maître d'hôtel in the wrong language, and you may find yourself dining on cold pommes frites. "The language issue in Belgium is a very stupid one," says Marani, who has lived in Brussels for 10 years. "It is the first thing a foreigner notices."

The quest for a single lingua franca to remedy the punishment for the Tower of Babel goes back centuries. As the semiotician Umberto Eco has explained, Irish grammarians argued in a seventh-century document that Gaelic overcame the confusion of Babel. "All that was best in each language, all there was that was grand and beautiful, was cut out and retained in Irish," he writes of their work in his new book, "Serendipities."

There are more modern examples, like Esperanto. (Or, for that matter, Frenglish, Spanglish or Englitalian). Invented in 1887 by L. L. Zamenhof, who lived in Warsaw, Esperanto never caught on, although it still has loyal speakers. Not surprisingly, the World Esperanto Association in Rotterdam does not consider Europanto an alternative to the century-old language.

"It has no definite structure, it's not a language," Nikolas Rasic, a conference secretary, said of Marani's invention. "I am a professional linguist. What is he? A clerk?" (Indeed, Marani said that he receives "letters from angry Esperantists," and added, "They think I am plotting against them, but they are many and I am only one.") But who knows? Over time, perhaps recalcitrant Esperantists may come around. Even Rasic conceded: "I read it and I thought it was funny. The purpose of Esperanto is to bring the world together. If some other language can do it, O.K."

Rasic is right about Europanto's grammatical structure; there is none. "I see it instinctively, I feel the grammar inside of me," Marani says. "It's like playing the guitar or painting a picture."

Despite the problem of getting other people to "feel" the grammar, the French publisher Fayard plans a January release for "Las Adventuras des Inspector Cabillot," stories in Europanto about a bumbling detective at the fictional European Agency of Strange Matters. Il Minotauro, an Italian publisher, will also publish Cabillot stories under the title "Adelanto mit Europanto."

Marani says he has already received hundreds of communications from Europanto fans around the globe. He adds that the Swiss and Canadians, with their own linguistically divided countries, show particular interest.

At times, he takes a lighthearted approach to his creation. But in less humble moments he declares that Europanto is a harbinger of the future of English in the new common Europe.

Whether or not his grandiose prediction is true, few could argue with Marani's critical assessment: "Language in Europe is at a critical juncture. It is going to be a mess."