The tendency to magnify interpersonal differences seems to be an ingrained habit in peoples of all nations, writ large in the habit of painting "other" in large letters across the forehead of anyone who makes us slightly uncomfortable, or whose presence requires us to put forth an extra effort. Humanity's proclivity towards polarization appears not only in the home, but in social, recreational, and professional situations. America is particularly at fault. For all our talk of inhabiting some progressive nexus of cultural cross-pollination, we have a profound difficulty dissolving those boundaries that circumstance and chance place among us. Nowhere is this more obvious than in our failure to master the most rudimentary tool necessary for intercultural relationship building . . . a second language.

If we enter a bus, store, or public event in our own country that forces us into close proximity with another tongue, we balk. Our behavior changes: we stare, laugh, comment, or turn away. Most of us aren't equipped to converse with someone in another language, so we keep our distance, demonstrating a discomfort that not only registers but perpetuates our cultural ignorance. And if we manage to gather the courage and funds to step into another country, we somehow expect to find enough English speakers, Anglo-friendly maps, and universal signage to allow us to easily negotiate our surroundings.

This unfortunate egoism translates into tepid backing of foreign language instruction, unenthusiastic support for innovative dual-language programs like that attended by my eldest daughter, and a dearth of marketable language enrichment games for kids. (Even the amazing Leap Frog company has yet to create a Spanish-language game for its popular Leapster console). This pervasive state of affairs results in natural segregation, misunderstandings, and, sometimes, crisis.

Such is the case in the four storylines which converge in Alejandro González Iñárritu's Babel (2006). The first narrative is the most obviously catastrophic. A vacationing American couple on the brink of divorce abruptly rediscovers their mutual devotion when a randomly fired bullet pierces the heroine's chest. The husband's desperate attempts to communicate his needs to the residents of a nearby, middle-eastern town succeed only because a translator happens to be available. He must also deal with the anxious prejudices of a slow-moving American embassy and a bus full of unhelpful, English-speaking fellow travelers paralyzed by fear, neither of which are willing to speak the same life-and-death language as our hero. Unfortunately, unfamiliarity with language and custom mix readily with stereotypes about hostile foreigners, creating a situation nearly as dangerous as that created by the medical emergency itself.

More misunderstandings follow whenever the narrative switches back to those who caused the accident, some young shepherds responsible for eliminating jackals who foolishly decide to test their rifle's range on a distant tourism bus. Local law enforcement, the press, and the American embassy all interpret the incident as a terrorist strike and act accordingly, never once considering the possibility of an accident. In an anxious and politically charged global climate, action predictably precedes and precludes dialogue, throwing out any consideration of those cultural and socioeconomic factors that could have explained the presence of such a weapon and event. As a result, still more tragedy follows.

This kind of explosive culture clash continues back in the states, with the American couple's young children finding themselves in Mexico when their nanny decides they must join her at her son's wedding. All goes well until they attempt to reenter the U.S., at which point the drunken behavior of their driver raises the border guards' suspicions about smuggling and citizenship. A high-octane pursuit ensues, followed by a slow trek through a dangerously arid desert. Once again, exaggerated assumptions about difference have enflamed a situation, endangering lives and deepening a cultural divide. In this situation, those involved barely escape with their lives.

Though barely linked to the film's other stories, the fourth provides us with González Iñárritu's most powerful example of destructive prejudice, prejudice here rooted in differences physical as well as linguistic and cultural.

For an unfortunate combination of reasons, we tend to react even more irrationally when another's linguistic peculiarity is accompanied by a disability. How many of us attempt to hang out with the deaf coworker who communicates primarily through ASL, or befriend the young neighbor diagnosed with Down Syndrome whose speech is profoundly compromised? Cost-benefit analysis promises no easy, personally beneficial outcomes, so most of us decide choose inaction.

In Babel, an Asian teenager struggles to establish intimacy with the opposite sex after the suicide of her mother, hoping to prove to herself that she can be an attractive young woman on her own terms. To her chagrin, non-verbal flirtations that succeed from a distance collapse each time an attentive boy draws near and discovers she is both deaf and mute. The interested gaze becomes a sterilizing stare, and a turned back seals the rejection begun with an explosion of laughter. Our distraught heroine begins to respond with extreme measures, removing her panties and flashing boys in a restaurant, attempting to deep kiss an unsuspecting dentist, and shedding her clothes before a police officer in an attempt at seduction. Even these repeat attempts to employ the universal language of lust fail to win her lasting attention. Ultimately, her father's comforting embrace and familiarity with ASL provide her only real solace in a world chock full of people impatient of personal differences.

The Biblical tale about Babel tells of a people divided by language because they rebelled against God. The message delivered by this new Babel turns things around a bit, suggesting that there's nothing divine about the world's current cacophony, and that making a greater effort to communicate in another's language might just help prevent some of our fallen world's many problems.