With Diglossia in Mind: An Interview with Todd Hochstatter

May 2026 – Volume 30, Number 1

https://doi.org/10.55593/ej.30117s1

Scott Alkire
San Jose State University, USA
<Scott.Alkiresjsu.edu>

Abstract

Since the introduction of ChatGPT in late 2022, AI chatbots have become common tools in language learning. While they provide convenient access to input and feedback, questions remain about their ability to support pragmatic competence—the capacity to use language appropriately in social and cultural contexts. A semi-structured interview with polyglot Todd Hochstatter, who learned Arabic prior to the rise of AI-based tools, reveals how immersion, tutoring, and sustained interaction with native speakers shaped his pragmatic competence. Three themes emerged: the initial reserve of native speakers to use Arabic with him, exposure to conflicting language use among speakers, and sensitivity to variation across Arabic dialects. The findings highlight the importance of diverse, context-rich human interaction in developing pragmatic competence and raise questions about how such experiences are supported in AI-mediated language learning.

Keywords: Diglossia, language learning, self-directed learning

Todd, thank you for agreeing to this interview. To begin with, how would you define diglossia, in particular diglossia in Arabic?

Arabic consists of several different linguistic forms in each Arabic-speaking country: the standard form (Modern Standard Arabic, or MSA), understood by all people in all Arab countries but seldom used in everyday conversation; and dialects, spoken by the people in daily life. Speakers of a dialect are often imperfectly understood by people outside their region, even by their fellow countrymen.

There are huge differences between MSA and dialects in vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation. That is diglossia. In general, television and radio broadcasts, political speeches, religious services, books, and newspapers are presented in MSA. The people, on the other hand, converse in dialects.

When did your study of Arabic begin?

In 1980. I took a job as an English teacher in Khamis Mushayt, Saudi Arabia, at a hospital on a military base near Yemen. My assignment was to teach English to Saudi military male nurses.

As a language learner, I was naturally curious about Arabic. That was when I became aware of diglossia. Lebanese employees of the hospital who became friends told me that they often had to speak English to the Saudis because it was easier than trying to figure out what each other was saying in their separate dialects of Arabic.

Wouldn’t the Saudis and Lebanese find it easier to just speak standard Arabic with each other?

Standard Arabic—MSA—is too formal, too stiff, for everyday conversation, and English is quick, neutral, and modern. Also, much of the medical terminology was in English.

Did you study MSA?

No, I studied Gulf Arabic—a dialect. I was lucky to find a basic grammar book and English-Arabic dictionary that had been recently published. I spent 12 years learning it. I was not so lucky later, when I attempted to learn another dialect. No grammar books or dictionaries were available for that one. In fact, at that time (1980s), you could not truly learn an Arabic dialect except through immersion.

Finding someone to teach you was hard. During my first long stay in Lebanon, my friend Elie refused to tutor me, even though I offered him money. He needed money, but he did not need to teach me Arabic.

So all of your learning was from self-study?

No. When I returned to the Bay Area, I took four semesters of Arabic at the College of San Mateo. I was also tutored by a Jordanian and a few Lebanese.

Though I was aware of diglossia from my time in Saudi, I had no inkling of the difficulty my instructors and tutors would have in teaching me how to navigate it. Some dialects have more rules governing them than others.

But your instructors were teaching MSA, correct?

In the classes, yes. But I decided that I wanted to learn Levantine Arabic, a dialect spoken in the eastern Mediterranean—Lebanon, Jordan, Palestine, and Syria. In 2004 I quit my job and went to Lebanon, where I had a few old friends, and set about trying to learn it.

I was unprepared for most of this linguistic experience. It is similar to talking about swimming and then soon being pushed into cold water. I learned that there are four main dialects of Levantine Arabic, and that the Lebanese can discern from which region or country a speaker is from. I discovered that within Lebanon itself there are dialects: Beiruti dialect, Druze dialect, and a few more scattered throughout this small country—smaller than Connecticut.

Learning just one dialect in Lebanon means that you will hear others that you will imperfectly understand. You need to stretch and work at understanding them. Also, you need to know that a dialect is not standardized; it is not held by rules of pronunciation and word choice. (Hochstatter added later that some dialects are more standardized than others.)

For example, I would learn to pronounce a word one way only to be told a few days later that the pronunciation was another way. This happened even with common words such as “tables.” It is pronounced taweelayt and taweelet. I was often presented with two ways to pronounce the same word, and I frequently felt confused and frustrated.

Looking back at when I studied Spanish, Portuguese, and French, I do not recall the mental frustration or confusion I encountered when trying to learn Arabic.

Are there not rules in dialects, such as in varieties of Spanish (Caribbean), German (Wienerisch), and Italian (Sicilian)?

There are no rules in Levantine Arabic, according to the Lebanese. I was told many times that the MSA word for “rules” (kawaneen) cannot be applied to the dialect. I later found a word that appealed to the Lebanese: terteeb (structure), and when I said that I was studying the terteeb of Lebanese dialect, they seemed to accept that phrasing.

At the beginning in Beirut, when I spoke Gulf Arabic, many people responded to me in English. Elie told me that it was because I was speaking MSA (or fusHa, “eloquent Arabic”). The Lebanese immediately discerned that I was a foreigner and made the decision to speak with me in English.

You said you spoke Gulf Arabic, but Elie said you were using MSA. I don’t understand.

I was mixing them, so it was just easier for people to respond to me in English. MSA to an Arab is like Shakespearean English to us. Two Arabs who speak different dialects will not revert to MSA in order to communicate. They will modify their dialects to understand each other or use English if they can.

When speaking with foreigners, the Lebanese want to speak English (or French).

Most immigrants in the US want to speak English as well, not their language, even if you know a bit of it.

Yes. One reason is that many immigrants don’t speak the standard form of their language, and they are self-conscious about that. Another reason is that being bilingual is not something they are necessarily proud of, at least not in the way that we are. What immigrants want most is to be fluent in English. They want to assimilate. Many even wish for their children to marry Americans.

Also, I have noticed that among some immigrants, there is an element of cultural reserve regarding their languages. They prefer to speak English, even if it is imperfect.

Lomb [Dr. Kató Lomb, the Hungarian polyglot] says that languages are the only thing worth knowing even poorly.

In general, sure. It’s better than nothing. But for a foreigner in a diglossic environment, it’s more complicated. I remember an occasion in an office. I told a secretary in Arabic that I needed a letter from her for some purpose. She did not understand my pronunciation of the word “letter”—reesahlah—so I repeated my request three times. A man standing near her said, “He means reesaylee.” I thought to myself, how is it that such a common word in Arabic is not understood by this secretary? As a result, I realized how important it was to try to speak in Lebanese pronunciation if I’m going to use that dialect. The Lebanese did not want to hear me speaking any Gulf Arabic if I was otherwise communicating with them in Lebanese Arabic. I should have just used English.

What other experiences did you have?

Once, Elie asked me to read a sentence in Arabic to him. I read it, and he burst out laughing. It was uncontrolled laughter, guffaws and giggles that went on for about half a minute. I was shocked at his reaction to my reading. I said nothing, but Elie, when he was able to compose himself, said, “Todd, you read the whole sentence in Classical Arabic” (the language of the Quran). However, what I had actually done was read just three or four words in Classical Arabic in a sentence that was otherwise in Lebanese dialect. The juxtaposition of these two forms in the same sentence caused Elie to explode in laughter.

Elie could not understand why, after all these years, I wanted to learn Lebanese Arabic. In fact, he refused to speak Arabic with me at all, although he would translate English words to Arabic if I asked him. He was dismayed at my plans to learn Arabic, told me it would give me a lot of problems and take at least two years, and in general discouraged me from learning the dialect.

Elie would complicate my linguistic journey later on by replying to my slow questions with rapid-fire responses, which, of course, I could not understand. He would quiz me about something we had gone over the week before.

Being discouraged by one of my closest friends in Beirut was not the only obstacle I would encounter. Lebanese in many shops, markets, and even my apartment building would insist on speaking English with me, even if they spoke poorly with little skill in grammar or vocabulary. Fortunately, in the end Elie agreed to give me some lessons.

Did you try learning Lebanese dialect through books?

In my first week in Beirut, in 2004, Elie accompanied me to several of the major booksellers in downtown Beirut. We were told that there were no books written in Lebanese Arabic. There were no magazines written in it and even no children’s books. Aside from some books published in Egyptian dialect, all other publications were in Classical Arabic. I was very discouraged. I did not know how I could possibly learn Lebanese dialect if there was nothing written in it.

What about classes?

I went to the American Language Center near my apartment because I had heard they taught Lebanese Arabic for foreigners in addition to offering classes in English for Lebanese. I signed up for a class and asked to see the text. To my surprise and dismay, it was written in the Roman alphabet. All the Lebanese sounds were transcribed into our alphabet so that we could read them.

I asked if there was anything they had for students written in Arabic script. The answer? “No, of course not. You cannot write Lebanese dialect with Arabic letters.” (Hochstatter later added, “You can, but what the speaker may have meant is that there’s no single, accepted way—it’s based on what feels natural to the writer.”)

About a month later, I was told about another good language school in Beirut, and I went over to look into classes. I was shown a book proudly by a teacher at the school. This book, one of four, was written entirely in Arabic script, and it was all in a dialect. I asked the teacher how a dialect could be written in Arabic script. She answered, “But how are you going to be able to learn a dialect if you cannot read it in Arabic script?” I was shaken by her reply and confused by the two totally different viewpoints prevalent in language schools in Beirut.

Did you face any other obstacles?

Yes—suspicion. In my first few months in Beirut, I was constantly asked why I was learning Arabic. Why learn Lebanese Arabic? Why not learn Egyptian Arabic, much more widespread and understood in the Middle East? Why do you need Arabic? Do you teach Arabic? Are you of Lebanese descent? One woman, a Christian whom I had seen at several social gatherings, once asked me if I was a spy. I told the truth. I was not.

Second, I was limited by cultural norms in terms of conversation. Few people offered any new, exciting, or original opinions about things. People seemed to accept the status quo. They did not criticize institutions of family, workplace, religion, or sexuality. They did criticize the political system, but everyone said the same thing: the politicians in Lebanon are crooks and corrupt. People also felt that the police were ineffectual and corrupt.

Later, I noticed that these limits in conversational topics tended to be kept by Middle Easterners I knew who immigrated to the US and took teaching positions at colleges. In many disciplines these limits are not important or relevant, but in the Liberal Arts, they can be stifling. I wondered what it meant to receive a Liberal Arts education in the Middle East. Strangely, this question did not seem to occur to the colleges I worked for.

When did you realize you had achieved some success in Lebanese Arabic?

When I returned to Beirut after a recess in California. I began to speak Lebanese Arabic much better, and the Lebanese would usually converse with me. However, many times they would stop me in the middle of a sentence if I used a word from standard Arabic. They would say, “Don’t say that. Say this.” I eventually realized that this type of correction meant that the Lebanese accepted me as a speaker of their dialect and were willing to tell me when I was using a word that did not fit the dialect.

When I would meet a Lebanese person, I would tell them that I was learning their dialect. After we got past their questions about why I was doing this, if someone else approached and offered a word in MSA, the first Lebanese would indicate that I was learning a dialect, so I did not need the word in the standard form.

Can you describe a bit more how the dialectal and standard forms of Arabic are used?

Egyptian dialect is commonly heard in soap operas, movies, and in talk and game shows from Egypt, widely seen throughout the Middle East.

Lebanese dialect is heard in programs for the general public produced in Lebanon. In addition, there are several morning talk shows during which most segments are in Lebanese Arabic. These were the shows that I watched faithfully each morning for an hour or so. I saw segments on cooking, astrology, gardening, health and medical issues, fashion, and nutrition, all spoken in the dialect.

However, I think that roughly 80% of the news programs in Lebanon are in MSA.

Newspapers are written in MSA, of course, but there are small advertisers written in both MSA and the dialect and also in English.

As for books, I did find one written in the dialect. It was a collection of song lyrics by Lebanon’s and the Middle East’s most famous singer, Fairouz. I was very tempted to purchase this book of Fairouz’s song lyrics, but I did not.

Some Lebanese would give me both the standard and the dialect word, and this would cause confusion for a long time because they would teach me each word as if they were equal and important for me to know. My pleas of “Just tell me the dialect” often went unheard. They said that I would hear both words and thus would have to learn both.

Are these words common ones?

Yes. There are three words in Arabic for “nose.” The word anaf was first taught to me as the correct word, but in fact, the dialect requires the word manhahr.

“Nice” has two dialectal forms, kwayis and mneeah. Some speakers claim that the former word is standard. Others say it is both standard and dialect.

The prepositional phrase “next to” has two forms: bud and janeb. Some people told me that the former is dialect, while others said that I could use either one.

There are two words for “breakfast.” Some say that terueeyah is the correct one for the dialect, while others say both terueeyah and fatour.

The following is a summary of the points on which I have been elaborating:

Ten Aspects of Dialects in Diglossic Situations

1. It is very hard to prepare a language learner for the linguistic experiences of diglossia.
2. A dialect is not standard, formal, or consistent in any sense; it can vary from person to person, with some people using classical loan words while others will not. There are strong idiolectal differences between individuals.
3. There are no rules in dialects according to some speakers. Dialect speakers prefer to use words such as “structure” when discussing grammar.
4. Dialect speakers may refuse to speak to those using the standard and might prefer another language, such as English.
5. Standard language dictionaries are practically useless for dialect learners.
6. Dialect speakers do not want to hear a combination of standard forms and dialect forms.
7. There is little material published in dialects, especially Levantine Arabic.
8. Language schools disagree on how to teach dialects; one may use the Latin alphabet while another uses Arabic script.
9. Dialect speakers are often puzzled as to why one needs to learn a minor dialect when there is a more prestigious or common dialect, such as Egyptian Arabic.
10. When you reach a higher level, most speakers of the dialect will talk with you and offer appropriate dialect words.

The process of learning a dialect, or indeed learning any language, is extremely slow and laborious. It is a path full of obstacles, frustrations, and confusion. The learning of a dialect is like walking on a path covered with ice. The chances of slipping are extremely great.

Thank you, Todd.

Note

Interview edited for clarity and length.

About the Author

Scott Alkire teaches writing at San Jose State University and serves as editor of the World Languages Translation and Niche Book Club. TESL-EJ Publications has published three of the club’s translations, all by the late Dr. Kató Lomb: Polyglot: How I Learn Languages​ (3rd ed., 2025); Harmony of Babel: Profiles of Famous Polyglots of Europe (2nd ed., 2018); and With Languages in Mind: Musings of a Polyglot (2nd ed., 2021). Kató Lomb has been called “possibly the most accomplished polyglot in the world” by linguist Stephen Krashen

To Cite this Article
Alkire, S. (2026). With diglossia in mind: An interview with Todd Hochstatter. Teaching English as a Second Language Electronic Journal (TESL-EJ), 30(1). https://doi.org/10.55593/ej.30117s1

Copyright of articles rests with the authors. Please cite TESL-EJ appropriately. Editor’s Note: The HTML version contains no page numbers. Please use the PDF version of this article for citations.