- Chapter Forty -
and its environs. I do not live in a linguistic ghetto or in anything which can be
thought of as y fro Gymraeg (the Welsh heartland). Yet I have to handle day by day
two languages and, in varying degrees, two cultures. Both are often kept on the boil
though there are times when one or other is on the back burner.
This duality can lead to a sense of ambiguity. Constant movement and traffic
across two cultural frontiers can blur the border line. On the other hand, this line
of demarcation can become more tangible. Whichever way it works there is no
doubt that living in such a society does make life interesting. If I may be permitted
a sweeping generalization I would suggest that the English are congenitally incapable
of understanding that there is another indigenous language and culture in Britain
which is not Anglo-Saxon. This imperial vocation dies hard.
I still continue to be amazed that the Welsh language has survived at all. Since the
Act of Union in 1536 when it was virtually banned, it has been subjected to direct
and indirect bombardment which should have demolished it once and for all. It has
been demeaned and neglected, derided and discouraged for over four hundred years
yet it is still very much alive. Today, it is tolerated by many, rejected by many. It is
used by a large number of people as a natural means of communication. It is actively
pursued by some and is being learnt as a second language by an ever-increasing
number. For those of us who cannot imagine being Welsh without it life is all
the richer for it. Coupled with this feeling is the constant shadow of frustration
of a society which is, like the dear old ant in Culhwch and Olwen, lame. The funda-
mental flaw is that no Welsh speaker can live life totally through the Welsh language.
It is possible to go a long way towards this ideal but there are huge gaps.
Nevertheless, there is no reason why it should be abandoned. Despite the problems
and irritations, the patronizing attitudes and intolerance, there are too many of us
who can say with the poet T.H. Parry-Williams, 'Duw a'm gwaredo, ni allaf ddianc
rhag hon'. These words end his sonnet 'Hon' in which he seeks to come to terms
with his natural means of expression and he ends with the words 'God help me,
I cannot escape her'.
I am, therefore, clear in my own mind that the Welsh language is fundamental to
the Welsh identity. A Welsh accent is not enough, neither is living in Wales sufficient
of itself. To have been born in Wales or, for that matter, anywhere else, of Welsh
parents is not necessarily a sufficient qualification. It is a matter of will. It is a
question of commitment to a language and culture. It is not ethnic, neither is it
exclusive. It is simply different, of significance in the European context and of value
within the spectrum of human society throughout the world.
It is easier to define the lack of Welsh identity in the light of the fact that the
country has no political identity as a nation state. Consequently, it does not have any
real tangible political institutions which are the hallmarks of any modern nation
state. Its language is not, therefore, a language of the state. It does not function as an
official medium of state simply because there is no state. There is no machinery of
state of which it is an integral part. As a result, all the efforts for its survival, its use and
its recognition have depended, over the centuries, on the will of its speakers. Govern-
ment has had to be reminded of its existence. The impetus for its use in public, in
education, in administration has come from below, from the grass roots. Government
has rarely, if ever, initiated anything towards its well-being. It has merely responded.