Language, Politics, and Social Interaction in an Inuit Community [Reprint 2013 ed.] 9783110897708, 9783110176513

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Language, Politics, and Social Interaction in an Inuit Community

W G DE

Language, Power and Social Process 8

Editors

Monica Heller Richard J. Watts

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

Language, Politics, and Social Interaction in an Inuit Community

by

Donna Patrick

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York 2003

M o u t o n de Gruyter (formerly Mouton, The Hague) is a Division of Walter de Gruyter G m b H & Co. KG, Berlin.

© Printed on acid-free paper which falls within the guidelines of the ANSI to ensure permanence and durability.

ISBN 3 11 017651 3 Hb. ISBN 3 11 017652 1 Pb. Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche

Bibliothek

Die Deutsche Bibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available in the Internet at < h t t p : / / d n b . d d b . d e > .

© Copyright 2003 by Walter de Gruyter G m b H & Co. KG, D-10785 Berlin. All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Cover design: Christopher Schneider. Printed in Germany.

This book is dedicated to the memory of S am willie Mikpegak (1922-2002), whose loss is felt by people in Kuujjuarapik and by others who knew him; and to Glen Curtis (Curt) Lush (1957-2002), whose friendship and wit are truly missed.

Acknowledgements

I wish to express my thanks to the many people who enabled me to complete this study. Thanks go first to the residents of Kuujjuaraapik, Whapmagoostui and Poste-de-la-Baleine. In particular, I wish to thank the late Samwillie Mikpigak, his son Paulossie, and grandsons Raymond and Robert; Sarah Hunter, who helped with the translations of interviews; Anthony Ittoshat, Caroline Niviaxie and others at the Municipal Council Office; Sappa Fleming and the staff and students of Asimautaq School and the Adult Education Centre; Matthew Mukash, Robbie Nicanicappo and the Cree Band Council; Mary Mickeyook, Malaya Shauk, Grace Heal, Kathy Payson, Madeleine Kemp, Sylvie Poudrier, Tom and Marianne Martin, Arleen George, Danielle Mukash, and the many other residents of Great Whale River who welcomed me into their homes and workplaces, taking the time to be interviewed or to fill out the surveys distributed to them. Special thanks to those who distributed and collected the surveys and to those who helped residents complete them. I also wish to thank the members of Education Committee and the Municipal Council of Kuujjuarapik, whose support was crucial for the success of our project; and members of the Kativik School Board, in particular Sarah Bennett, Mary Aitchison and Doris Winkler, for trusting in my research, and for sharing their profound respect for the people of Nunavik and their knowledge about Kuujjuaraapik, Kuujjuaq and the Kativik Teacher Training programme, respectively. Also Cathy McLay, for her assistance with the final Kativik version of the language survey and Lisa Koperqualuk and Adam Lewis of Makivik for their assistance with the maps. I am indebted to Monica Heller, who supervised the doctoral thesis on which this study is based, and Hy van Luong and Jim Cummins, who saw it through to completion. I am also grateful to the useful comments provided by the external readers Barbara Burnaby and Susan Gal. Thanks are also due to the series editor, Richard Watts, to the external reviewer, Louis-Jacques Dorais, and to Clancy Pattinson for their invaluable comments and advice on the text; to Sabine Krämer of ZAS and Rebecca Walter and Monika Wendland of Mouton de Gruyter for their editorial assistance; and finally to Ben Shaer, whose

viii

Acknowledgements

impeccable editing skills and patience are reflected in this work, although I alone am responsible for any errors that remain. I also owe special thanks to Donald Taylor of the Department of Psychology at McGill University and his research assistants, for their expertise in administering and compiling the survey results; the employees of the Anglican Church Archives of Toronto for their kind assistance; Brock University for providing a sabbatical leave and the Zentrum für Allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft (ZAS), Berlin, for providing me with the office space to complete this work; and others at various universities, who have helped make this research possible and offered their wisdom and experience on aboriginal issues, including Naomi Adelson, Louis-Jacques Dorais and the people at GÉTIC (Groupe d'études inuit et circumpolaires) of the Université Laval, Colin Scott, Perry Shearwood, and Adrian Tanner. I would also like to thank Peter Armitage and Susanne Hilton, who at the time of this research were working for the Innu and Cree Nations, respectively, and offered their friendship and insight. Finally, I would like to acknowledge and thank the many people of Nunavik from whom I have had the opportunity to learn, and the friends, colleagues, and mentors whom I have encountered over the years—especially my friends in Toronto, including Michael Bailey, whose positive outlook and generosity of spirit have guided my work. Most of all, I want to express my sincere gratitude to Ben Shaer for his enduring friendship, support, intelligence, and humour—often offered across vast physical distances.

Contents

Acknowledgements 1 Language use in Arctic Quebec: Towards a political economic analysis 1. Introduction 2. Doing Aboriginal research 2.1. Collecting data 2.2. Historical data 3. The study of language choice: Theoretical assumptions 3.1. Investigating language choice 3.1.1. Social structure and social process 3.1.2. Language choice in Kuujjuarapik: From theory to practice 2 Contextualizing the research site 1. The research site 1.1. Geographical and social space in Great Whale River 1.2. Relations between the three communities 1.3. Material and symbolic resources in Arctic Quebec 2. Aboriginal politics in Canada: Nunavut, Nunavik, and land claims 2.1. The founding of Nunavut and Nunavik 2.1.1. The James Bay Agreement and Nunavik 2.2. Development of language policy and schooling in Northern Quebec and Nunavut 3. Setting the scene: Aboriginal politics in the 1990s 4. Conclusion

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1 1 8 10 11 12 13 17 20 21 22 24 28 30 33 34 36 40 46 50

χ

Table of contents

3 History and representation of the Hudson Bay Inuit, 1610-1975 1. History, contact, and representation 1.1. Early history: Explorers, traders, and the Inuit 1.2 The Hudson's Bay Company and the "hostile Eskimo" 1.3. The fur trade and the formation of partnerships 1.4. Nineteenth century: The arrival of the missionaries 1.4.1. Missionary discourse 1.4.2. Shifting representations: The "poor heathen Esquimeaux" 2. The twentieth century: The Inuit and Canada 2.1. The reality of hardship 2.2. Dispelling twentieth-century Western conceptions 2.3. Inuit-Cree relations 2.4. The early post-war period 2.5. Settlement, wage labour, and modernity: 1955-1975 2.5.1. Settlement in Kuujjuarapik 3. Conclusion 4 Language, power, and Inuit mobilization Part 1 : Linguistic markets 1. Language markets and linguistic capital 2. Dominant and alternative language markets 2.1. The dominant market 2.2. The alternative linguistic market 2.2.1. Overlap between dominant and alternative language markets 2.2.2. The alternative market and a linguistic paradox Part 2: The dominant language market 3. Competition between English and French 4. Inuit mobilization and the rise of Inuktitut 4.1. Inuktitut and the dominant language market 4.2. Inuktitut language use: Education and standardization 4.3. Institutionalized practices and the symbolic importance of Inuktitut

53 55 56 60 66 68 69 72 76 78 82 83 88 92 93 97 99 100 100 102 102 105 107 110 111 111 116 118 119 121

Table of contents

4.4. Processes of Inuktitut standardization 5. Participating in the dominant market 5.1. Learning languages at work, home, and school 5.1.1. General perceptions of French 5.1.2. Access to French at home 5.1.3. French and schooling 5.1.4. French and the workplace 5.2. Language markets and job markets 5.2.1. Language learning and obtaining work 5.2.1.1. An overview of language requirements in the workplace 6. Conclusion 5 Ethnography of language use 1. Who speaks what: The distribution of linguistic resources 1.1. English and French 1.2. Inuktitut and Cree 2. Endangered languages and the "survival" of Inuktitut 3. Language survey data: Self-reports of language use 3.1. The language survey of Kuujjuarapik 3.1.1. Survey results 3.1.1.1. Language ability: Speaking, understanding, writing, and reading 3.1.1.2. Use of language in different contexts 3.1.1.3. Language and the media 3.1.1.4. Discussion of results 3.1.1.5 Inuktitut and English 3.2. Language choice in Nunavut 4. Ethnic boundaries and social space 4.1. Ethnicity, social groups, and boundaries in Great Whale River 5. Social networks in Great Whale River 5.1. Informal family and friendship networks 6. Language practices 6.1. Social networks and boundary maintenance 6.1.1. Boundary-defining language practices

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122 125 127 129 133 135 136 139 139 146 151 153 154 154 155 156 160 166 167 167 168 169 169 170 173 174 175 177 179 182 182 182

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Table of

contents

6.1.2. 6.1.2.1. 6.1.2.2. 6.1.2.3.

Negotiating exclusionary boundaries English and French, inclusion and exclusion The politics of inclusion Defining "us" and "them": The exclusionary use of Inuktitut and French 6.1.2.4. Negotiating power among Anglophones 7. Summary and conclusions 6 Summary and conclusions 1. Discussion of the study 2.

Implications of the study

184 187 190 195 201 201 205 205 211

Notes

217

References

225

Appendix

243

Index

263

Chapter 1 Language use in Arctic Quebec: Towards a political economic analysis

1. Introduction One day in the spring of 1990, while working as an adult educator in a remote community in Arctic Quebec (also known as Nunavik) near the Hudson Strait, I found a pamphlet at my door written in three languages: Inuktitut (the language of the Inuit),' French, and English. The Constitution of Nunavik, as it was titled, outlined the constitutional principles of an emerging nation-state and the political and institutional aspirations of the regional Inuit government for the area above the 55th parallel in northern Quebec. The pamphlet represented a form of Aboriginal politics that I had not been exposed to during my previous six months on the job. For the first time, I became acutely aware of a form of nationalism—the formation of a nation-state—based on a territory governed and populated primarily by Inuit. Nine years later, on 1 April 1999, Canada officially recognized a new northern territory in the Eastern Arctic called Nunavut (which translates as 'our land' in Inuktitut). Situated directly north and west of Nunavik (which translates as 'big land'), Nunavut comprises the eastern half of the former Northwest Territories (see Map 3 in Appendix). With a population that is over 80% Inuit, most of whom continue to speak their language, it was officially recognized after a twenty-year-long negotiation between the Inuit of the Northwest Territories and the Canadian government, and is presented as a successful example of a form of Native self-government within the Canadian federal state. While the founding of Nunavut received a good deal of media and government attention, less attention has been directed to the Inuit of Nunavik, where a limited form of self-government has been in place since the signing of the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement in 1975 and where currently discussions are underway with the goal of creating a more powerful Nunavik government (Nunavik Commission 2001). Whether The Constitution of Nunavik is best seen as part of a proper Aboriginal "nationalist" movement (Alfred 1995) or as the nascent or emerging "nationalism" of a regional government working

2

Language use in Arctic Quebec

toward localized institutional and economic control, this particular political process has been shaping the local institutions in which both Native and non-Native people are working. Implicated in a form of linguistic and cultural politics, local identities and institutional practices have been constructed in relation to a range of localized cultural signs, rituals, and symbols; and in relation to the larger political forces of Euro-Canadian colonization, Anglo-Canadian and Québécois nationalism, and Inuit self-determination. Of particular interest here is that the "nationalist" discourse of Inuit self-determination has granted quasiofficial status to three languages within its "constitution". Language and politics have become intertwined, in a territory where promotion and maintenance of Inuktitut, through language policy and Inuit control of institutions, has been a major part of this political movement. Language has thus become one of the key symbols of social identity. The term Inuit is an Inuktitut word meaning 'the people'. The singular form of this word is Inuk, meaning 'a person'. This has come to be used in English as an adjective and as a noun, as in the description of an "Inuk custom or belief' and in the identification of a person as an 'Inuk', respectively. Prior to the adoption of "Inuit" as the general name for this Aboriginal group in Canada, the words Eskimo and Esquimau were used in English and French, respectively. One commonly held assumption about the origin of the word Eskimo is that it is from the Algonkian Indian word for 'he eats it raw' (Creery 1994: 105). However, linguists have noted (see Mailhot 1978; Mailhot, Simard, and Vincent 1980; Goddard 1984) that the word more likely has its origins in the Montagnais Indian word meaning 'who speaks a foreign language.' Another claim in the literature is that the word derives from an Ojibwa Indian word meaning 'snowshoe netter' (Goddard 1984: 6). This hypothesis is less plausible, however, given that Inuit neither made nor wore snowshoes. Despite these arguments over etymology, the "foreignness" of this label (and possible derogatory connotations) motivated the Inuit of Canada to reclaim their name "Inuit" for common usage in the 1970s. There are roughly 30,000 Inuktitut speakers in Canada, of whom over 9,000 live in Arctic Quebec.2 Inuktitut is a member of the EskimoAleut language family and is part of a larger dialect chain of InuitInupiaq languages stretching over 8,000 km, from Alaska to the east coast of Greenland (Dorais 1996: 48-49; Woodbury 1984). In Canada, there are two major dialect groups: Western Canadian Inuktun and Eastern Canadian Inuktitut. The latter group is further divided into five sub-groups, one of which is the Nunavik dialect (with its relatively minor local variations), spoken in Arctic Quebec (see Dorais 1990b).

Introduction

3

Across North America, there were about 300 indigenous languages prior to contact with Europeans (Mithun 1999: 1). Of the 50 or so Aboriginal languages still spoken in Canada today, which belong to 11 different language families, only about seven (as an optimistic estimate) have a chance of surviving through the twenty-first century (Cook 1998). While Cree, Ojibwe, and Inuktitut have been widely acknowledged as viable because of their large numbers of speakers, smaller languages such as Chipewyan and Dogrib (and perhaps Slavey and Stoney) also have some chance of survival, since the number of younger speakers of the languages is actually on the rise (Cook 1998:140). In Nunavik, the rate of retention of Inuktitut is both remarkably high and, from what previous censuses report, quite stable. Despite centuries of contact and increasing pressure from English and French, almost 99% of the Inuit population in Nunavik will, it is estimated, continue to speak Inuktitut as a home language all their lives (Dorais 1997). This book addresses the question of how minority languages persist, despite the political and economic pressures of dominant colonial languages. It is part of a larger field of inquiry concerned with endangered languages and the processes of shift and change in minority language situations (Crystal 2000; Dorian 1981, 1989a; Fishman 1991, 2001; Grenoble and Whaley 1998; Kulick 1992; Nettle and Romaine 2000). While much of the research in this area has focused on gathering statistics and creating typologies of endangered languages, it has also examined factors involved in language shift and maintenance, including economic power, number of speakers, relative isolation, and the cultural meanings associated with language. More recent attention has shifted to issues of language rights as they are related to language maintenance (Crystal 2000: 133-136; Hill 2002; Kontra et. al. 2000; May 2001; Phillipson 2000; SkutnabbKangas 2000). While the granting of language rights is crucial to the process of minority language maintenance, as we will see, it is only one part of a much larger interplay of social, historical, political, and economic relations that shape minority language communities and the processes of language choice in these communities. Upon closer analysis, the sociolinguistic reality appears to be more complex than is generally recognized in studies that focus on the issue of rights or that take a comparative perspective on language survival. Local and global politics, access to educational resources, standardization, and measures to raise the status and prestige of the language are only some of the issues facing language maintenance and revitalization efforts. Even when resources are available (which is

4

Language use in Arctic Quebec

certainly not the case for many minority languages), many questions still need to be asked. These include which language varieties should be standardized and which should be used in schools and other institutional domains; what language ideologies are circulating in communities and what cultural meanings associated with language are held by speakers; and what kinds of attachments and meanings make certain language varieties so meaningful to speakers. Ideologies of language purism—whether these have their source in the practice of linguists who seek out the language of more "authentic" or more "competent" speakers, or in local beliefs regarding "proper" usage—conflict with the actual language practices found in contemporary communities. Such ideologies and practices are often associated with modern technologies and structures and often arise in situations of increased language contact. These matters remain sites of contestation, with profound consequences for language "survival" and revitalization (see e.g. Urla 1993; Jaffe 1999; Blommaert 2000; Freeland and Patrick forthcoming). The broad range of historical, cultural, political, and economic factors involved here suggests that there is no one prescription for "saving" the world's languages. Rather, there is a complex interplay of social motivations and constraints that need to be examined. This book is rooted in the assumption that the maintenance of a minority language is dependent upon a thriving community of speakers, who use and value the language (and its variant forms) in multiple ways. These speakers form a collectivity with strong cultural, political, and historical reasons for wishing to keep their local communities and economies somewhat—although never entirely— separate from the dominant culture. In North American society, not all indigenous languages have shifted; and the reasons behind these individual cases are a complex interplay of colonial history, local ecologies, intergroup relations, and the cultural and political processes that impact upon them. The central argument of this book is that in order to understand the vitality of Inuktitut at the beginning of the twenty-first century, we need to look at both the wider historical, political, and economic processes and at their relation to everyday language practices at the micro-level of interaction. To this end, I will be presenting the results of an ethnographic study that examines the sociolinguistic practices of language choice, taking into account the everyday linguistic practices within and between social groups and the relationship of these practices to particular social processes that shape ethnic identity. While the cultural and symbolic life of Inuit is crucial to understanding how

Introduction

5

language varieties are valued by speakers, the present study will limit itself primarily to economic and subsistence activities, leaving more detailed investigations of culture and ideology for further investigation. Understanding how and why particular languages are used in particular situations involves a grounded analysis of the historical relations between Inuit and the colonial "explorers", traders, missionaries, government administrators, and entrepreneurs who landed on their soil. The complex social processes of colonization, resistance, accommodation, economic co-optation, and politicization that have come to characterize this region are linked to constructions and articulations of modern Inuit identity with respect to language policy, institutional practices, and everyday language use between and across ethnic groups. Thus, understanding the persistence and position of Inuktitut in the twenty-first century requires an understanding of the historical socio-political context. This context has played a key role in the construction of modern Inuit social and cultural identities and provides a crucial backdrop to understanding how Inuktitut has flourished in the political and social lives of Inuit. The present study combines a critical historical analysis with an ethnography of everyday linguistic interaction in Kuujjuarapik (literally 'little big river' in Inuktitut), the most southerly Nunavik community on the Hudson Bay coast. In this study we find that the four languages spoken in this settlement—Inuktitut, Cree, French, and English—all play important roles in boundary maintenance; in establishing national, ethnic, and social identities; and in achieving access to education, employment, and positions of power (Grillo 1989; Heller 1994). It is also apparent that French and Inuktitut are in transitional positions of power in Arctic Quebec, positions arising from their relatively recent roles in ethnic mobilization—of the French in Quebec and of the Inuit in Nunavik, respectively—and in the changing political economy of the region. Both languages have accordingly entered into competition with English, the historically established language of "power", in the dominant linguistic market. These conclusions are the result of ethnographic investigation into the current distribution of language varieties (symbolic resources) in Kuujjuarapik and the values accorded these languages by different speakers. As politics and language have become increasingly intertwined, language varieties have become valued in different ways, both as a means to access jobs, social networks (including family and friendship ties), and material resources gathered from the land; and as crucial components of both ethnic and "national" social identities. The survival of Inuktitut is in part a product of its integration into the

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Language use in Arctic

Quebec

dominant linguistic market, where it has been standardized and promoted in education, government publications, and other written texts (Bourdieu 1977). But it has also survived in an alternative or "traditional" linguistic market, where local forms of Inuktitut are linked to local economic, cultural, and kinship practices which have persisted over centuries (Woolard 1985). As we will see, the role of Inuktitut in Nunavik communities in education and employment is supported by its persistence in "traditional" practices that have remained valuable to the Inuit well into the twenty-first century. The fact that some of Canada's Aboriginal languages and cultures have survived at all is due in large part to the historical and politically complex links between Aboriginal rights and the pursuit of Native selfdetermination and autonomy within the structures of the Canadian state. Languages are symbolic systems that are valued by living speakers, who have a sense of ownership or identity attached to "their" languages. We can speak of "our language" in the same way as we can speak of "our community", "our country", or "our land". Beliefs in a common language can unify a people just as legitimized language varieties can unify a state, seen as one large community or as an imagined "nation" (Anderson 1991). In multilingual societies such as those in northern Quebec, legitimization of languages and the notions of community, nation, and land have become more salient as land "ownership", rights, and control over resources and development have become more important in Native struggles for greater autonomy (see Scott 2001; Nunavik Commission 2001). The discourse of language survival has become intertwined with movements for increased political autonomy of First Nations within Canada. This book is a result of a "multi-locale" ethnography, which explores the uses and values of language varieties and the attitudes towards languages and their speakers as experienced by various social actors in multiple sites (Marcus 1986). Some of these sites are historical, and are found in the discourse of explorers, missionaries, traders, anthropologists, and Inuit elders recounting their experiences and describing their knowledge of the past. Contemporary analysis draws on interviews, observations, and self-reported questionnaires concerning language use in institutional, home, workplace, and community settings. All of these data are used to link micro-level sociolinguistic analysis to macro, global processes. In light of this, a good deal of attention is devoted to historical, political, and economic shifts that have shaped Inuit and Canadian identities in the Canadian Arctic and Northern Quebec in particular.

Introduction

7

The rest of this chapter describes in more detail the research methodology and the theoretical assumptions of the book. Chapter 2 expands on this introduction by providing background information about the community; the wider area of northern Quebec, where Cree and Inuit have lived for centuries; and Nunavut, the Inuit territory to the north and west of Quebec. The social and historical circumstances of Aboriginal relations in Canada are also considered, in order to give some insight into contemporary Aboriginal politics and language issues in northern Quebec. Chapter 3 maps out the colonial history of Arctic Quebec, describing the political economic shifts in the region and their economic and cultural consequences for the Inuit, and the place and value of language varieties within this history. This chapter also provides an analysis of writings and images that have served, over the past 400 years, to frame and represent the Native Other and to construct particular notions of ethnicity. In this chapter, I try to show how certain stereotypical images of Inuit have changed over time, coinciding with and serving to legitimize certain political economic shifts. Dominant forms of colonial power have been legitimized by the ideologies and discourses produced and maintained throughout the colonial period of the fur trade, which leads up to late-twentieth-century sedentarization. Chapter 4 examines the complex political economic reality of Nunavik and the process of colonization in the latter half of the twentieth century, which was characterized by increased contact and the imposition of Western institutions and market forces on the region.4 This examination focuses on the development of the dominant and "alternative" linguistic markets in Arctic Quebec; the growing importance of French and Inuktitut in the administrative, political, and economic spheres; and the resulting competition between these two languages and English in the dominant southern-based linguistic marketplace. Included in this examination is a discussion of the paradoxical position of Inuktitut in the alternative "traditional" linguistic market, where local linguistic and cultural practices are used to legitimize Inuit mobilization; and the "transitional" position in Arctic Quebec of French, which residents of Kuujjuarapik perceive as important, despite their continued reliance on English in intercultural communication and in the majority of workplaces. Chapter 5 discusses language use in Kuujjuarapik, based on the results of a language survey conducted in the community and the analysis of observational and interview data. This chapter describes the dominance of Inuktitut and English and the transitional position of

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Language use in Arctic

Quebec

French in the community, and shows how language proficiency levels in particular age groups mirror the political and economic changes in the region. This chapter also suggests that language choices in face-toface interaction serve to construct ethnic boundaries and social groups. Within these groups, linguistic practices (symbolic resources) are used to define and control the cultural, social, and economic value of other material and symbolic resources and are thus crucial in constructing social identity and in maintaining permeable boundaries between ethnic groups. Language choice is thus bound up with articulations of cultural "difference" and with struggles over the control of valued material and symbolic resources. This chapter demonstrates how language choice serves to define, include, and exclude social players in Kuujjuarapik; and how these articulations of language, ethnicity, and social identity have become linked to larger political and economic struggles, both local and national. Chapter 6, the last chapter, summarizes the preceding five chapters of the study, and reviews the political economic analysis of language language maintenance and use given in this book. It thus draws together conclusions regarding colonial history, historical political economic relationships, and language use and the role of Inuktitut in localized economic and cultural spheres. 2. Doing Aboriginal research This book is based on fieldwork undertaken during 1993-1994, three years after my experience as an educator in a more northerly settlement along the Ungava Bay coast. Kuujjuarapik, known as Whapmagoostui in Cree, Great Whale River in English and Poste-de-la-Baleine in French, is situated at the mouth of the Great Whale River on the southeast coast of the Hudson Bay (see map 1 in Appendix). Of the 1100 inhabitants in this settlement, approximately 10% are non-Native; of the remaining 1000 inhabitants, roughly half are Inuit and half are Cree. For centuries, both Cree and Inuit gathered at the mouth of this river to catch whales and later to trade with the Hudson's Bay Company, and also to have contact with the Church of England missionary first posted there in the late nineteenth century. For this study, I collaborated with the Inuit-run Kativik School Board, which has an interest in the issue of Inuktitut language maintenance and language programmes in the schools. Working with the school board on issues of language use in the community made practical sense, since the school board had previously collaborated on

Doing Aboriginal research

9

community-based language surveys which investigated the domains and frequency of language use (Taylor et al. 1993; Taylor and Wright 1989). The collaboration meant that I was able to conduct a language survey similar to those that had been done in other Nunavik communities. It also meant that I could receive help in translating the research questionnaire into Inuktitut and French and could meet with the school committee and municipal council in Kuujjuarapik to receive local feedback about the project. Finally, working with the school board meant that my research results would be available for Kativik teacher training programmes and used to raise minority language awareness among trainees. It is my intention that the research discussed in this book be of use to those working on language-related issues in Nunavik communities. These research considerations are in fact in line with current thinking in the way that anthropological research is carried out in Aboriginal communities. First Nations organizations and community members have become more critical of the research conducted in Native communities, and also more aware of its potential usefulness. This valuing of research stems from "the weight attributed to ethnographic evidence in land claims negotiations, concern by Native peoples about language loss, and attempts to introduce cultural history and oral literature into northern classrooms" (Cruikshank 1993: 134). What follows from this, as Cruikshank (1993: 134) notes, is that anthropologists "no longer have the power to decide unilaterally where and how they will do fieldwork. Instead, research strategies negotiated locally and based on a model of collaboration are replacing more conventional models of university-initiated research." Research in Aboriginal communities is collaborative in the sense that one works with local people to specify the terms of the research and that local community expertise is used to help carry out the project. Collaborative research addresses local community and institutional concerns, and includes input from institutional and local committees with interests in the project (Warry 1990). During the 1990s, partnerships between university researchers and Aboriginal institutions became common (e.g. Scott 2001). It is now virtually impossible to conduct research in Nunavik or other Aboriginal communities in Canada without explicit permission from the local community council and, in most cases, from an Aboriginal organization or institution. Collaboration between researcher and "researched" is important given the history of northern (Arctic and sub-Arctic) research, which has been marked by the ability of non-Native, southern-Canadian based researchers to choose research topics and to voice their views

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Language use in Arctic

Quebec

and interpretations away from the communities studied. At the same time, however, research must often be associated with university-based researchers and practices, and thus linked to the wider political economy of knowledge and research, in order to be legitimized and thus useful in policy and land claims negotiations. These realities of research and power mean that the need for university-based studies will continue for First Nations communities seeking legitimization and support for local cultural, linguistic, and economic issues. 2.1. Collecting data

The multi-site ethnography reported here investigated language attitudes and practices through the use of participant observation, interviews, and a language survey (in the form of a written questionnaire). These data about day-to-day language practices are supplemented by an analysis of written documents and other historical data, which serves to situate language practices in relation to historically constituted relations of power and colonial history. Historical analysis thus holds a prominent place in this study, helping to explain the relation of language to colonial expansion, state formation, political economic dependence, and the development of the legitimating ideologies that accompanied these processes. The investigation of language choice and language use required thorough documentation of observational data. Particularly relevant to my analysis were (1) observations about language behaviour and the circumstances of this behaviour; (2) comments from residents about language, language use, attitudes towards speakers of various languages, and social relations in the community; (3) observations about relations between various groups of speakers and the general social organization of the community. This last set of observations included those about the distribution of symbolic (including linguistic) and material resources among community members—in other words, which languages were spoken by whom, which social and job positions were held by whom, and how social groups and networks were constituted. In addition to observational data, I conducted interviews with a total of thirty-seven residents in Great Whale River, who represented a cross-section of the community with respect to age, occupation, and gender. In all, there were four sets of interviews conducted for this study including: (1) six interviews with Inuit elders conducted in Inuktitut by a hired assistant, which I then helped translate into

Doing Aboriginal

research

11

English; (2) ten interviews with Inuit between the ages of 30 and 40, who had been educated in English and who held various positions in the school, municipal council, and government offices; (3) twelve interviews conducted in either French or English with non-Native people who held various positions in the public and private sectors; and (4) interviews with eight teachers and teacher-trainers involved in a summer Inuktitut-teacher-training programme. Finally, in order to gain a general picture of the languages used by Inuit in particular settings and their proficiency in reading, writing, speaking and listening, I made use of a survey to collect self-reports on language use. To this end, a written questionnaire was distributed to everyone over the age of 18 in the Inuit community of Kuujjuarapik. Local assistants were hired to help people fill out the questionnaires— crucial for respondents who were not familiar with the format. 2.2. Historical data Since historical research is an important component of this book, the interviews conducted with Inuit elders were in the form of life histories and were oriented towards memories about contact with English, French, and Cree speakers and about settlement in Kuujjuarapik. The stories told in these interviews recalled experiences that have shaped current Inuit attitudes and beliefs towards contact, colonization, and their relations with other ethnic groups. These interviews are supplemented by a large number of interviews conducted in the late 1970s and published by the Avataq Cultural Institute, the Inuit cultural organization in Nunavik. Most of the Avataq interviews focussed on specific questions about the past, such as games that were played, life in the camps, and coming to trade at the post. They give important perspectives on Inuit life in the twentieth century and the introduction of wage labour in the 1950s. Both of these sources are important for the historical analysis of trade and economic shifts that I have undertaken in this study. In addition to these interviews, I have analyzed archival documents. These include the journals of Rev. E. J. Peck, the first Anglican Church missionary in the Kuujjuarapik area, who lived there in the nineteenth century and played a key role in the spread of syllabic script among the Inuit. These documents also include early accounts of contact from seventeenth-century British "explorers" (Graburn 1969), records about trade kept by the Hudson's Bay Company (Francis and Morantz

12

Language use in Arctic

Quebec

1983), and the work of anthropologists in the latter half of the twentieth century (Honigmann 1950, 1951, 1952, 1962). A critical analysis of these texts helps us to see how relations of power, in the form of trade, missionary activity, and state intervention in Arctic Quebec, have been historically constituted, resisted, and transformed through different political economic shifts in the region. These texts also show how European dominance was legitimized through the production of ideologies or discourses about Aboriginal "Others", or more specifically, the "Eskimo", of the Hudson Bay coast. The stories recounted in these texts are basic to understanding the more recent contestation in the region of English, the language associated with the European market economy and the Euro-Canadian federal state. This dominance has been contested by Québécois interests, which began to promote French-language services in the 1960s. It has also been contested by the Inuit political mobilization of the 1970s, which led to land claims negotiations and the struggle for greater Inuit control of the region. The historical analysis developed in chapter 3 highlights the relation between language use, power, and social processes. Recognizing the region's political economic shifts and its history of colonial domination, ethnic mobilization and community-based resistance is key to understanding the construction of ethnic groups and notions of ethnicity and the role of everyday language in producing, reproducing, and transforming these structures. 3. The study of language choice: Theoretical assumptions In order to understand the vitality of Inuktitut today, we need to examine what goes on at the "micro" level of interaction and in what ways these practices might be linked to broader political economic processes. One approach to this goal is to link "the (micro) study of face-to-face discourse strategies" with "studies of macrohistorical processes", as discussed by Gal (1989: 351). This involves analyzing the connection between conversational utterances, inferences, and power relations, on the one hand, and the "exercise of institutional power", on the other (Gal 1989: 350). Thus, for example, the choice that interlocutors make regarding which language to use—Inuktitut, English, or French—is not isolated from the larger political, historical, and institutional context in which people interact. Interlocutors, each "positioned" with respect to their race, ethnicity, gender, and social class, bring to an interaction the

Theoretical assumptions

13

attitudes and knowledge, including linguistic knowledge, related to these positions. The language choices that they make are thus related both to the larger context and to the particular speech setting in which they find themselves. In interacting, interlocutors produce, reproduce, and transform ethnic relations and boundaries, which in turn have political and economic consequences. Linking the face-to-face interaction of everyday linguistic interaction to larger historical and social processes can help us to understand how the rules governing unequal social relations are generally followed but sometimes broken.5 Speakers do not act and interact in a social vacuum, but are part of a larger social world. To understand what motivates speakers to behave in particular ways and to create particular language patterns, we need to look closely at the social context in which they are operating. One way to do so is to examine how particular language forms operate in a "speech economy" and in a "linguistic marketplace" (Bourdieu 1977; Gumperz 1982; Heller 1992, 1994; Woolard 1985). In a given speech economy, (permeable) social boundaries are constructed through symbolic practices, a key part of which is language use. Some forms of speech are more highly valued than others and are instrumental in accessing material resources and other symbolic resources. Linguistic resources are distributed in, for example, families, communities, schools, and peer groups and constitute speakers' verbal repertoires, which are drawn upon in social interaction. This verbal interaction produces and reproduces social groups; and the boundaries created, through language and other symbolic markers, impose constraints on speakers' access to other important resources, such as jobs, forms of knowledge, and friendships. 3.1. Investigating

language

choice

The investigation of language undertaken here focusses on its role in structuring social reality and in producing, reproducing, and resisting relations of dominance and inequality. It draws on the insight that the same linguistic forms, signs, and symbols may have different meanings for different members of the same speech community (see Luong 1988: 251, 1990). Language can thus be seen as a means to resist the dominant practices found in contexts of cultural or economic hegemony. These contexts include institutional spheres (e.g. schools, courts, and museums) and the larger political realm where, in this case, the governments of Canada, Quebec, and Aboriginal peoples struggle

14

Language use iti Arctic

Quebec

over who has control over the economic and material resources on land claimed by Aboriginal groups. This study is ethnographic and interdisciplinary in nature, taking into account historical processes and political economy and their relation to everyday language practices. Linguistic and symbolic practices, according to this view, are seen as crucial components of social identity and power relations. Linguistic resources, whether they constitute dominant or minority languages, are seen as a means to access other material and symbolic resources and thus play a crucial role in exercising power and structuring social reality. In this study, power is used in a general sense to refer to interests held by an individual or a group that can affect the lives of other people or the world more generally. According to Lukes (1986: 5), these include interests related to the source (or "locus") of this effect and to the process of bringing about this effect. The exercise of power can be understood as a means of acquiring, controlling, and allocating valued material and symbolic resources "in a context of relative scarcity and competing claims" within a given community, situated within a wider global economic market (Lukes 1986:11). While power can derive from economic means, it is also effected through discourses, conceived as "complexes of signs and practices which organize social existence and social reproduction" (Terdiman 1985: 54-56). Discourse, as a form of power, can operate to change definitions of what constitutes valued resources for people. Discursive forces—in particular, those that embed Western ideologies and cultural values—become especially significant in the rise of modern institutions in colonial and post-colonial encounters (Foucault 1975). Thus, discourse becomes a site of struggle where "social meanings are produced or challenged" (Seidel 1985: 44). Discursive and cultural processes, such as language standardization, constitute forms of power that change how groups view and value language. They can also change the actual forms of language. These forms of modern power result in particular desires, beliefs, and goals being promoted or resisted. The promotion of such desires, beliefs, and goals by those able to do so becomes significant when this affects people's welfare, limits freedom, secures collective goods, or plays a role in the distribution of desired resources. As we will see, one's ability to access valued material and symbolic resources that serve one's interests often derives directly or indirectly from political and economic sources. In addition, we will see how dominant forms of power, particularly in colonial and other oppressive social processes,

Theoretical assumptions

15

are maintained and legitimized through ideology6 and other discursive means. In social encounters, relations of power intersect with ethnic, gender, class, and other social relations and shape personal and cultural identities. In this book, ethnicity, understood as a social construct, is taken to be a key element in shaping social identity, which interacts with language choice in complex ways. Ethnicities are constructed on the basis of shared histories, traditions, and social and environmental relations, and— significant to us here—the shared ways that people use language to talk about these things. Ethnicity, as a social category, is "achieved", not prescribed or biologically determined (Hensel 1996: 84). It is bound up with social interaction and the creation of permeable social boundaries between speakers, who can use language as one means to construct ethnic groups. While members of ethnic groups may share views about cultural identity and cultural difference in relation to other groups, the group can sustain a good deal of diversity. Beliefs, attitudes, and symbolic and material cultural practices—including those related to language, kinship, religion, and dress—may be related to personal identities, and may be adopted in different ways—or not adopted at all—by different group members. These beliefs, attitudes, and practices may also be shaped by ongoing processes of boundary formation and maintenance (Barth 1969). While language choice can be a key element in these processes, using a language "different" from that of another ethnic group is not crucial to maintaining "difference" and distinctive boundaries, as Hensel (1996, 2001) has demonstrated in his discussion of the Yupik, an Aboriginal group related to the Inuit. Hensel (1996) notes that in Southwestern Alaska, individuals are identified as Yupik not by what language they use or by physical attributes, but by social practice. In particular, ethnicity and cultural identity are constructed in terms of how one engages in subsistence activities—hunting, fishing, preparing meat, and the like—and, in a community where most residents speak more English than Yupik, how one uses English to "talk about" the meaningfulness of these practices. This discursive construction in turn constructs "Yupikness" or Aboriginal ethnicity and local forms of cultural identity. This point is, of course, applicable to the question of how other ethnic identities are constructed, including those marked by language and the choices that speakers make about which language or language variety to use in a given speech context. In Arctic Quebec, where Inuktitut is still used daily, language choice remains a major factor in

16

Language use in Arctic

Quebec

the construction of social relations and groups and in day-to-day interaction. In a given speech context, social groups and individual speakers are positioned not only ethnically and culturally, but also politically, historically, and economically. Some social environments are more politically charged than others, but in general, minority language situations where national identities are being constructed and promoted by the state are sites in which language becomes "a major element in... the construction of 'difference' both within and between countries..." (Grillo 1989: 2). By viewing language as a "site" of political struggle, we become aware of the social context of minority language practices, the connection between linguistic interactions in institutions and those in the community, and the power relations embedded in the social reality of community members. We also come to recognize the connection between individual and community attitudes toward language and the language policy of regional administrations. In order to gain a better understanding of the link between minority language maintenance and language use in social settings, such as that described in this book, it is necessary to explore the meanings of different languages and language varieties for different speakers. Understanding language choice requires an examination of the "background knowledge" that speakers bring to an interaction and the "verbal repertoires" that speakers draw on (Heller 1989)—these repertoires can be thought of as the sum total of linguistic knowledge that a speaker has, involving all of the languages and language varieties that the speaker knows. Background knowledge includes "real-world" knowledge composed of personal, social, and cultural knowledge as well as the attitudes that one has about the participants in the interaction and the social context in which the interaction is taking place. It also includes expectations about appropriate language use and the ability to make inferences based on what other people do and say. These conversational inferences "usually center [on] the speakers' relationships, (ethnic) identities or conversational intentions" (Gal 1988: 246). "Language attitudes", as the term is used here, is part of "background knowledge", which (as just noted) refers to the range of competences that speakers draw on in face-to-face communication. Language attitudes are views about a language variety, including its usefulness and viability within the "speech community"—or in an "imagined community" like Nunavik. In this study, the analysis of attitudes will include an analysis of the ideologies that serve to reinforce and perpetuate certain views among Inuktitut-, French-, and

Theoretical assumptions

17

English-speakers. In this sense, we can examine the nature of ideologies or discourses, which influence and shape speakers' views of both language use and language education in a given speech economy. 3.1.1. Social structure and social process Part of the analysis of language use in face-to-face communication involves the analysis of social structural constraints and how these are linked to social processes. Traditionally, social structure has been analyzed within such domains as political, legal, educational, and family institutions. These domains are interconnected, given that both institutions and individuals operate under, for example, political, religious, legal, kinship and family constraints. The question raised by a sociolinguistic theory concerned with social processes is how these constraints operate vis-à-vis social interaction, human agency, and social change. According to Giddens (1984), "structural properties" of institutions are constructed through the routinization of interaction between agents who can understand the intentions behind their actions and draw on their stock of practical knowledge. Thus social structures or properties are maintained and reproduced through the actions and interactions of such knowledgeable agents. At the same time, this highly routinized activity has "unintended consequences" for the participants in the interaction (Giddens 1984: 14). If we consider a community like Kuujjuarapik, we can find one "unintended consequence" of routinized patterns of interaction for language maintenance and language learning. This is that such patterns, which arise from social constraints on language use in the community, hinder the acquisition of French and Inuktitut by Inuit and non-Inuit, respectively. (See e.g. Patrick 2001, 2003 on the conversational patterns and social constraints on the use of French and Inuktitut and the consequences of this for language acquisition.) Social structures, such as those linked to institutional and linguistic dominance, are not "fixed". However, they are also not completely predictable or controllable through policy-making or well-intentioned efforts at language planning. The link between social structure and language use is a central concern of this study, and is crucial to an understanding of language use in Kuujjuarapik, where language, as a form of cultural capital, is a symbolic resource used to gain access to other symbolic and material resources. A set of communicative options is made available to

18

Language use in Arctic Quebec

speakers that is established and used in "networks of relationships by which participants are tied to other residents of the area". Examining these social networks and the conventional and innovative speech patterns used in them can reveal the mechanisms of socio-economic change—such as increased intergroup contact through changes in government policy, advances in transportation, new industries, and the like— and the effect of these on the verbal repertoires of speakers (Gumperz 1982: 44). Other theoretical notions that I will be using, such as "cultural capital", "symbolic domination", and "linguistic marketplace", are ones developed by Bourdieu (1977, 1982). In a linguistic marketplace, as will be described in more detail in chapter 4, language varieties are symbolic resources, that are in competition with each other and valued and exchanged for other symbolic and material resources. Thus, language is tied to economic and political arrangements and, in a narrow sense, "represents a form of social and cultural capital which is convertible into economic capital" (Milroy and Milroy 1992). According to Bourdieu, those who maintain power in our society transmit a specific form of "cultural capital" to their children in the form of bourgeois values. These values, which include that of literacy (encouraging one's children to read and write), ensure that these children will perform well in school and gain the best forms of employment in a society that values this kind of knowledge. Everyone in a society possesses "cultural capital" of one form or another, although these forms are neither equally valued nor equally distributed. One element that makes a "speech community" a community is consensus regarding the hierarchy of values placed on different forms of cultural capital, regardless of whether people actually possess valued capital. Related to cultural capital is the notion of "symbolic domination", which according to Woolard (1985: 739), is "the legitimation of the cultural authority of the dominant group." This is reflected in the notion of the "linguistic market" (described above), which comprises competing language varieties that are "integrated under the sponsorship of the state" (Woolard 1985: 740). Significantly, however, an "alternative marketplace" may exist "in which alternative or opposing linguistic forms are generated and maintained" and which does not operate by the rules of a single dominant linguistic market (p. 740). In the "alternative marketplace", non-standard vernacular forms are used and maintained through positive and negative sanctions imposed by community and peer groups. These sanctions, which need not

Theoretical assumptions

19

constitute resistance to dominant linguistic practice, serve, in effect, to define and maintain linguistic and ethnic boundaries. Such "alternative" practices have been documented by many researchers over the years. For example Labov (1972), found that working class male speakers used non-standard features in their speech, such as not pronouncing post-vocalic /r/, even when they regarded the standard form as superior. Similarly, Basso (1979) found that speakers of Western Apache in Arizona have maintained their language to a considerable extent because of the negative community values placed on Anglo-American speech styles. Woolard (1985: 744) gives examples of negative sanctions placed on speakers of dominant language varieties. In her study of language use in Barcelona, she reports that Castilian adolescents ridicule their peers who attempt to speak Catalan. Gal (1979: 106, cited in Woolard) describes a woman being ridiculed by fellow villagers for using standard rather than local Hungarian forms in speaking to the researcher; and Milroy (1980: 60-61) describes a similar instance in which a boy is ridiculed by friends for shifting his speech style toward the standard in a recorded interview. Among the questions that I will be addressing in this study are the extent to which a dominant linguistic market regulates language use and whether or not an alternative marketplace is operating in Kuujjuarapik. To extend the metaphor of the market: What does speaking Inuktitut, Cree, French, or English "buy" an individual in terms of valued resources within the community, and how are these resources distributed? To what extent is the minority language operating within an alternative market? And, finally, who are the participants in this market, in what activities do they participate, and what rules do they follow? Another topic related to language use and language choice is the attitudes of speakers to certain languages and language varieties. These attitudes do not arise in a vacuum, but are shaped by various historical, political, cultural, and institutional processes. Historically, English was the language of colonization in the Canadian Arctic and in particular the Hudson's Bay Company and trade. It was also the language of an assimilative educational policy, of western medical practices, and of the judicial system. In Quebec, English was the language of economic domination until the 1960s, when the rise of Quebec nationalism and of a Francophone middle class eventually led to the dominance of French in the economic sphere (Handler 1988; Levine 1990). As we will see in chapters 3 and 4, Inuktitut and French have persisted despite these forms of domination. One reason for this is that these languages are

20

Language use in Arctic Quebec

each linked to cultural activities and to forms of interaction that have served to construct ethnicity and ethnic identity. Another is the greater attention given to ethnic identity, language, and minority rights movements at the end of the twentieth century. 3.1.2. Language choice in Kuujjuarapik: From theory to practice The framework of assumptions presented in this and the following chapters offers a way of thinking about language choice at the local level in Kuujjuarapik. This framework helps us to understand why certain language varieties are used, the social and political effects of this usage, and how language varieties are linked to inequality and to political struggle—as in the movement toward self-government to be described in the next chapter. Language use, whether situated locally, institutionally, or historically, is constituted in relations of power. That is, language use is intimately linked to access to and control over the production and distribution of valuable material and symbolic resources within a particular social space. Crucial to an understanding of how language is linked to relations of power in Kuujjuarapik is an understanding of the political economic history of the region and the production of legitimizing ideologies, which have served to naturalize and justify the colonial process. Language is also linked to power through the mechanisms of social boundary formation, which are at play in the construction of "ethnicity", social networks, and social "difference". The development and persistence of certain language practices and patterns of interaction, the meanings associated with these practices, and the resources that they access are all worth investigating. We will be doing just that in the following chapters.

Chapter 2 Contextualizing the research site If you were to take a jet from Montreal to Great Whale River, you would be greeted at your destination with commotion and chatter in the small airport waiting room. On one side you would find the ticket counter for flights to Montreal, where you might see the manager, ticket agent, and security personnel speaking French with a few nonNative people preparing to fly South. You might hear the Inuk ticket agent speaking in English to a Cree passenger, and then switching into Inuktitut to talk to a friend. She might then switch into French as she helped the last few people to check in for the next flight. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Inuktitut might be heard by Inuit who have just arrived from Montreal and are arranging their flights with Air Inuit to take them to Sanikiluaq (on the Belcher Islands, just west of Great Whale) or to villages further north. The entire waiting room might be filled with French, Cree, Inuktitut, and English, as people have gathered to say hello or good-bye or to arrange flights from the airport. Great Whale River (also known as Kuujjuarapik, Whapmagoostui, and Poste-de-la-Baleine, as noted in chapter 1) is utterly unique sociolinguistically, politically, and economically. It is one of the principal settlements on the eastern Hudson Bay coast, has a sizeable Native and non-Native population, and operates in four languages on a daily basis. Residents engage in a variety of traditional activities—including hunting, trapping, and fishing—as well as more modern economic activities such as administrative and manual labour positions, mostly in the public sector. This diversity makes it a good place to investigate ethnolinguistic interaction and the construction and maintenance of ethnic and social groups. It is particularly appropriate for ethnographic sociolinguistic research, since little has been published on the Inuit of this region, except for historical and sociological studies such as Nöel (1989), Martin (2001), and such anthropological studies as Honigmann (1951, 1952, 1962), Honigmann and Honigmann (1959), Balicki (1958, 1959), Barger and Earl (1971), Hall (1973), Barger (1984), and Adelson (2000).7

22

Contextualizing the research site

1. The research site As noted above, Kuujjuarapik is the Inuit name for the settlement built along the north shore of the river that runs into the Hudson Bay. The name derives from the name of the river, which is referred to as "Kuujjuaq" or 'big river'. This name could not be used as the name of the settlement, however, since this name was already used for another Nunavik settlement on the Ungava coast.8 The predominantly Cree community of Whapmagoostui ('White Whale River') lies beside Kuujjuarapik, inland from the Hudson Bay. Great Whale River is the English name for both communities. The French name for this settlement is Poste-de-la-Baleine, which refers to the nineteenthcentury white whale fishery at the Hudson Bay Company post. Since 1975, English-speakers and French-speakers have, officially speaking, lived in either Whapmagoostui or Kuujjuarapik, according to divisions laid out in the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement (JBNQA). Unofficially, however, most of the non-Native population resides in a third settlement, which straddles the "official" Inuit and Cree territories and is separated from the Native communities by an old airstrip, long out of use. These official and unofficial borders between ethnic groups play a key role in language use, since community members share physical space and are able to communicate frequently and easily with one another, although the borders still enforce ethnic boundaries. For the sake of convenience, I will be using Poste-de-la-Baleine to refer to the predominantly Francophone sector, which is the location of most of the government offices and small businesses and home to all but a handful of non-Native workers. I will be using Kuujjuarapik and Whapmagoostui to refer to the Inuit and Cree communities, respectively. Because English is the lingua franca of these three ethnolinguistic groups, I will be using Great Whale River to refer to the larger settlement. Ironically, although English is the native language of only a handful of people in Great Whale River, it is indisputably the dominant language with respect to its use in the community and its historical role in both the colonial past and the postcolonial present. The four names of the settlement represent power struggles between four competing groups living in the region and between the four languages that these groups speak. The presence of the two dominant and competing European languages is the product of almost four centuries of English colonial domination and of the introduction, in the latter half of the twentieth century, of French-language government services and businesses in northern Quebec. However, resistance to this domination

The research site

23

by the Cree and the Inuit—two ecologically, culturally, and linguistically distinct Aboriginal groups—has allowed two minority languages and ways of life to survive. In the social lives of the Inuit, Cree, French, and English speakers inhabiting the eastern Hudson Bay coast, language has become an articulation of place, ethnolinguistic and cultural "difference", identity, and politics. In Kuujjuarapik, the local variety of Inuktitut has remained intimately linked to the historical continuity of the Kuujjuaraapimmiut, the Inuit of the Great Whale River area of Arctic Quebec. Over the years, Cree, English, French, and standardized forms of Inuktitut have become so woven into the social lives of the Inuit and other Great Whale River residents that bilingualism and multilingualism have become the norm. In studying language use in Kuujjuarapik and its relation to power and social processes, we need to examine the local, provincial, and national political struggles that have been tied to the promotion, institutionalization, and persistence of Inuktitut. These struggles include current ones between the federal Canadian state, on the one hand, and First Nations (as Aboriginal groups are called in Canada), Quebec, and other Francophone and ethnolinguistic minorities, on the other. In considering how these processes shape and affect language use in one Canadian community, I will first describe the physical characteristics and the distribution of material and linguistic resources in the community. I will then turn to a discussion of the political conflicts between Aboriginal peoples and non-Native governments in northern Quebec and Canada, examining what is at stake for Inuit and other indigenous groups in contemporary Canadian society. I will focus on the land claims agreements and subsequent developments in education and language policy in Nunavut, Nunavik, and the northern Quebec Cree territory. Further discussion will centre on the political climate of Aboriginal relations in Canada in the 1990s, when the research for this book was undertaken. This will provide the background against which I will be presenting ethnographic data related to language use in Great Whale River. The historical and ethnographic perspective that I will be providing in this study will attempt to make some sense of the complexities of the relation between language use and political and ethnic processes and of the challenges facing minority language maintenance and the creation of a more equitable society, where ethnolinguistic "difference" need not lead to ethnic stratification.

24

Contextualizing the research site

1.1. Geographical and social space in Great Whale River The settlement of Great Whale River, lying on the banks of the Great Whale River and the Hudson Bay, is an amalgam of residential and non-residential buildings built over many years. These buildings —from the corrugated iron church built at Little Whale River in 1879, to the army-base airport built in 1955, to the municipal council office from which the Inuit community is run—reflect the various phases of its history, which include a range of political and economic shifts and both actual and threatened changes to Inuit and Cree lands and communities. Since the mid-eighteenth century, Great Whale River has seen prospectors, whalers, traders, Church of England missionaries, R.C.M.P. officers, federal government employees and agents, anthropologists, American Army personnel, Québécois administrators and bureaucrats, and many other non-Native workers and visitors. It has seen sweeping changes arising from the signing of the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement in 1975; and more recently, years of local resistance by the Cree and Inuit to hydroelectric development by Hydro-Québec, the provincially-run electric utility. This last period began with the announcement of the Great Whale, or James Bay Π, hydroelectric megaproject in 1989. During this time, the community saw many visits by American, European, and Canadian journalists and activists, who came to Great Whale River to write about or to show solidarity with the Aboriginal peoples and their struggle to preserve the northern environment. Countering these efforts, the regional Inuit government, headed by the Inuit-controlled Makivik Corporation (set up to manage funds accorded by the JBNQA) negotiated an agreement in principle with the province of Quebec. According to this agreement, the Inuit regional government would grant development rights to Hydro-Québec on Inuit land around Kuujrjuarapik, and in return receive compensation that would help it to secure a stronger financial base for Inuit self-government. However—much to the relief of much of the local community—the entire Great Whale project was put on hold in the fall of 1994 and the agreement was never ratified. Significantly, Great Whale River is divided geographically, socially, ethnically, and linguistically into two worlds: an indigenous world composed of Cree and Inuit and a Euro-Canadian Qallunaat or "White" world (the term Qallunaat in fact referring to all nonNatives, of whatever ethnic background). Most Qallunaat live in Poste de-la-Baleine, the site of an old air force base, which is situated on a

The research site

25

small hill just east of the airport and (as noted above) separated from the communities of Whapmagoostui and Kuujjuarapik by an abandoned airstrip. Although Poste-de-la-Baleine, technically speaking, has been part of Inuit-held territory since the James Bay Agreement divided Great Whale River between the Inuit and the Cree, it nevertheless forms a distinct community where most of the nonNative residents of Great Whale River live and work. These residents live and work in a variety of houses and government buildings. Many of the older structures from the army base have been renovated, and other types of housing have been constructed as the need has arisen. There are a few relatively new bungalows for Cree School Board teachers, which lie next to the housing for Kativik School Board teachers. Row houses and bungalows for government employees are found further north, along with a few private and mobile homes for local entrepreneurs—and one or two Cree families who could not be housed in Whapmagoostui. There are also a few houses near the airport, where some of the airline staff and air traffic controllers live. The non-Native residents form a largely transient population. Although some have been in Great Whale River since the 1960s or 1970s, and those who have married Inuit may become stable members of the community, most non-Native residents do not intend to stay in the community indefinitely and very few stay longer than a few years. The number of non-Natives fluctuates depending on construction and other projects in the area and at times can reach up to 150. Most of these people work as administrators, secretaries, health and education professionals, police, and business people, and thus hold most of the higher-paying, white-collar jobs in Great Whale River. Many of their workplaces are located right in Poste-de-la-Baleine. Among the businesses and government offices and services located there are Hydro-Québec, the Ministère de la Main-d'oeuvre et de la Sécurité du Revenu (the Quebec Government office dealing with pensions and welfare), Employment Canada, the post office, the police station, the provincial court house, the fire department, the municipal garage, the hotel, the coffee shop, private construction and maintenance businesses, the Social Club (founded in 1966 as the Great Whale River Community Association Ltd.), and the airport. (The Inuit nursing station was also in Poste-de-la-Baleine until 1996, when it moved with the Cree Health Board to a new building, located between the gymnasium and the Whapmagoostui Band office.) It is worth noting that the members of the non-Native community, despite having much in common, are not a homogeneous group, but

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rather one with important internal differences and divisions. For example, while most non-Native residents speak French, about 15% do not, being either unilingual English speakers or speakers of English and languages other than French. And while most French speakers are Québécois—that is, French-speaking Canadians born in Quebec—not all of them are. When I lived in the community in the early 1990s, French speakers who were not Québécois included those from elsewhere in Canada; from French-speaking countries such as France, Haiti, and Vietnam, who had learned French prior to moving to Quebec; and from countries such as Ireland, England, and India, who had learned French while living in Quebec. Of the relatively small nonFrancophone group, most came from Quebec and other parts of Canada, although a few came from the United States and India. It is also worth noting that a small number of the non-Native residents of Great Whale River do not even live in Poste-de-la-Baleine, but rather in Whapmagoostui and Kuujjuarapik. Among the nonNatives residing in Whapmagoostui at the time of my fieldwork were those married to Cree, the Anglican Church minister and his family (Whapmagoostui having provided housing for Anglican ministers over the years); and a few other (primarily unilingual) Anglophones working as managers of a privately owned convenience store, as nurses, and (in one case) as a live-in babysitter. The non-Natives residing in Kuujjuarapik during this time included four or five unilingual Anglophones employed by the Northern Store; six bilingual Francophones and one unilingual Anglophone married to Inuit women; and an Anglophone Protestant missionary, who spoke some Inuktitut and Cree.9 If we turn to the Native communities of Whapmagoostui and Kuujjuarapik, we can see that these differ from each other, both physically and culturally, almost as much as each differs from Postede-la-Baleine. One noticeable difference is the greater number of businesses and services that are located in Kuujjuarapik, including the Northern Store (formerly the Hudson Bay Company), the Co-op Store (formally known as la Fédération des coopératives du NouveauQuébec), the FM radio station, and the gymnasium. Whapmagoostui, by comparison, has only a few services, including a corner store that straddles Inuit and Cree territory. This difference is related to the history of Kuujjuarapik, which for many years was at the heart of the non-Native settlement in Great Whale River, and in particular was the location of a military base in the 1950s. Other key differences between Whapmagoostui and Kuujjuarapik—in particular, the differences in

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housing styles—have their origins in the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement, as I will be describing below. Historically, Cree and Inuit lived separately from one another while residing in the settlement during the summer months, as sketches from the late 1940s show (see map 2 in Appendix). Inuit tents were clustered just west of the trading post and church, while Cree tents lay to the northeast. However, with the introduction of government housing programmes in the early 1960s, Cree and Inuit houses were integrated into the new settlement. During the 1960s and 1970s, the two groups also shared health services and a school, although these were later separated under the JBNQA. In fact, many of the physical features that distinguish the two Native communities today from each other are by-products of the JBNQA, which divided up the lands—known as Category A lands—into two separate municipalities: Kuujjuarapik and the shores of the Hudson Bay forming one municipality and Whapmagoostui and the area inland along the river forming the other. The JBNQA altered the social landscape of Great Whale River in an even more dramatic way in allowing for the creation of the Inuit community of Umiujaq, about 150 km up the coast from Great Whale River. A large proportion of the Inuit community moved to this settlement when it was finally established in 1986, intending to live a more traditional lifestyle and to take advantage of better hunting grounds (on the sociological implications of this move, see Martin 2001). The creation of this new settlement substantially reduced the Inuit population of Kuujjuarapik; by the mid-1990s, the Cree and the Inuit communities were roughly equal in size—about 500 residents each. Among the other key results of the Agreement was the creation in 1978 of two school boards: the Inuit Kativik School Board and the Cree School Board. There continue to be two schools in Great Whale River, each running programmes from kindergarten to grade 11 (also called secondary 5), which enrol pupils from five to seventeen years old. (The differences between these two boards in relation to the development of educational and language policy will be discussed in section 2 below.) The Inuit and Cree communities also had separate health and social services offices and clinics as a result of the JBNQA, although these came to be housed in a single building in the mid1990s. Another conspicuous difference (as alluded to above) between the Inuit and Cree communities, which is also the result of the JBNQA, is in the style of the houses respectively built in these communities since

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the Agreement. This difference in the houses of the two communities reflects the respective institutions involved in their construction and maintenance. Inuit houses are built in the same style that one finds in Inuit communities across Nunavik, on foundations above ground, which are designed to cope with the permafrost found in the more northern settlements. Water is delivered and sewage picked up by trucks driven by Inuit municipal council workers. Cree houses, in contrast, resemble those of Cree communities further south, and are equipped with basements, running water, and sewage systems. (There are also a few older federal government houses, originally built in the 1960s, whose design was the same whether they were built for Inuit or for Cree. Only a few of these, however, are still occupied: some have been completely abandoned, while others are now used as storage sheds.) 1.2. Relations between the three communities

As the foregoing discussion indicates, the Inuit, Cree, and non-Native communities are clearly distinct from each other, even though the physical distances that separate them are small and the three communities share many services and amenities. These distinctions have deep historical roots as well as being related to more recent political and social developments. Yet these differences are only part of the picture of how the three groups coexist. Although Inuit have inhabited the eastern Hudson Bay coast and islands for centuries (and the pre-Dorset Inuit were there from 800 B.C. to A.D. 1350, according to archeological sites in the vicinity of Kuujjuarapik), the coastal region below the tree-line around Richmond Gulf and Kuujjuarapik has been frequented by Inuit only since the mid-nineteenth century, with the opening of the trading posts on a permanent basis (Saladin D'Anglure 1984a: 480). The land below the tree-line (including the coast and the territory further inland) was considered to be primarily Cree territory. However, since Inuit began trading at the posts at Fort George (established in 1837) and Great Whale River (established in 1856), the Cree and the Inuit "learned to mix peacefully" with one another (Saladin D'Anglure 1984a: 500). Despite this increased contact, the Cree and Inuit remain two distinct social, cultural, and linguistic groups in Great Whale River. In addition to these cultural and linguistic distinctions—Inuktitut and Cree belong, respectively, to the Eskimo-Aleut and the Algonkian language families, which are unrelated—Inuit and Cree harvest

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different resources from distinct geographical regions. The Inuit harvest large sea mammals, mollusks, sea urchins, ducks, geese and ptarmigan, caribou, and vegetation from the Hudson Bay and the area surrounding its shores north and south of Kuujjuarapik. Cree also harvest ducks and geese and, if their hunting grounds are far enough north, also caribou. However, unlike the Inuit, the Cree harvest freshwater fish and forest mammals such as moose, bear, and beaver in the wooded inland areas north, south, and east of Whapmagoostui. Yet, the relationship between these groups cannot be understood solely in terms of geographical, cultural, and linguistic difference. This is because there is also a less conspicuous pattern of interaction, cooperation, and exchange between them. For example, there are subtler forms of interaction between members of different ethnic groups: celebrations and other interactions between families, especially those with mixed Cree, Inuit, or non-Native couples, and within mixed families; mixed participation in sporting events, such as boys' hockey teams, which involve Cree, Inuit, and non-Native players; friendships constructed through the workplace; and visiting between communities, particularly when someone is ill. And—until the James Bay Agreement separated them—children from both communities attended the same school. The two Native groups are also linked through a common historical relationship with the trading post at Great Whale and with the nonNative population. These Europeans and Euro-Canadians came to trade, teach, proselytize, or do other kinds of work; and brought material goods, values, and practices with them. Some of these, such as writing in syllables and producing popular music in Inuktitut, have been integrated into, and are now identified as part of, indigenous cultural practices. Other practices, such as speaking English or French and working with computers and other forms of technology, have been used as a means of adapting to modern southern culture. The integration or "mixing" of modern practices with "traditional" pursuits has constructed new forms of ethnicity. These have not weakened, but instead have become incorporated into, Inuit and Cree identity (Dorais 1997). A syncretization of Native and non-Native elements may also be observed, to some extent, among Euro-Canadians who have lived for long periods of time in relatively isolated northern communities. NonNative "Northerners" might find themselves at odds with southern Canadian norms in their adoption of certain indigenous values and practices. This is particularly true of practices that help them to cope with the environment, such as wearing warm Inuit clothes, using sleds,

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and hunting and eating "country food". However, many of these adopted practices and values, when evident at all, remain superficial, given the transience of the non-Native population. Yet it has been common in non-Native communities in the Canadian North for a small but significant group to be ostracized by other members of the community for adopting Inuit ways (Brody 1975). This construction of new Euro-Canadian identities does not appear, however, to weaken non-Natives' attachments to various southern practices or their sense of being ethnically positioned as Qallunaat in the Canadian North. In Great Whale River, the historical development of the relationships and patterns of interaction within and between groups has become a defining feature of this quadrilingual community. The fact that Inuit and Cree have settled in the same community at all is an artifact of colonial contact. Similarly, the fact that the non-Native community is isolated and located "on the hill" above the Native communities is a result of the history of the North American military in the region and of inequitable economic development. And, as already noted, the existence of distinct Inuit and Cree municipalities is a direct result of the JBNQA. In sum, history and politics have shaped the physical as well as social geography of the settlement—its physical appearance as well as the patterns of interaction between the three groups that live there. Each group has developed its own sense of "community", while at the same time developing its own rules of interaction with the other groups. These rules are displayed most strikingly in the way that the three groups interact linguistically, making differential use of the four languages of the community—French, English, Inuktitut, and Cree—in doing so. 1.3. Material and symbolic resources in Arctic Quebec

In Great Whale River, French, English, Inuktitut, and Cree are vibrant and vital languages. Although most people under the age of fifty are bilingual, if not trilingual, interactions rarely involve a language switch—people tend to choose one language to conduct their business or conversation and to negotiate allegiances, friendships, and other social networks. In interactions like these, language choice is often bound up with the process of boundary maintenance in the negotiation of ethnic and social identities. While language choice is not a necessary part of the articulation of ethnic identities distinct from the Anglo majority (as discussed in chapter 1), it often does characterize boundary formation and ethnicity in Great Whale River. At the

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"micro" level, language choice serves to define, include, or exclude social players. It can level boundaries between groups, include interlocutors, and cross social boundaries in intercultural communication; or it can construct boundaries, reproducing and reinforcing ethnicities and excluding interlocutors. At the "macro" level, historical, political, and economic processes have shaped articulations of language, ethnicity, and social identity in complex ways. Ethnicity is a politically and a culturally constructed social category; and history, language, and culture play an important role in its formation. Ethnic groups are fluid constructions, formed and maintained through boundaries created through social interaction. Boundary-making processes serve to separate members of one ethnic group from outsiders and contribute to a shared view of cultural identity and cultural difference. (At the same time, an ethnic group can hold a range of beliefs and attitudes, including those toward language; and different members of the group can have different linguistic, religious, and other practices.) In this way, "new ethnicities" are constructed, which build "forms of solidarity and identification" but do not suppress "the real heterogeneity of interests and identities" of social groups (Hall 1992a: 254-255; cited in Rampton 1995: 287). Language organizes community life, constructs social identities and boundaries, and regulates access to material and symbolic resources. Language is thus linked to power, given that specific linguistic resources are controlled, allocated, and used by certain groups to gain access to other valued resources. In colonial and postcolonial struggles in Arctic Quebec, these groups include historically constructed ethnic groups. Thus, to understand intergroup relations in Arctic Quebec, we need to understand the historical relations between these groups in Arctic Quebec and to situate these in the wider global economic market. We also need to describe the symbolic and material resources at stake in the region—languages on the one hand and goods and employment, on the other. In addition, we need to examine the historical distribution of wealth and power and the ethnolinguistic struggles associated with this distribution. In what follows, I will provide some background on the link between language and politics and the resources at stake for the Inuit of Nunavik, treating these issues in more detail in chapters 3 and 4. Recent political struggles between First Nations and the federal and provincial governments can be understood in terms of earlier political and economic arrangements that have become altered or threatened. For the Inuit and other First Nations in similar situations, change has

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included a shift from subsistence living to integration into the fur trade, with its attendant cultural, political, and economic practices; and finally to living in settlements, with their promise of material comforts. Valued material resources have accordingly been linked to resources associated with Western modernity, such as money and what it can buy: comfortable homes with electricity, running water and plumbing, clothing, food, vehicles, and materials necessary to maintain subsistence activities. In addition, valued resources associated with the subsistence and fur trade economies are still an integral part of Inuit society. These include local vegetation, fish, ducks, geese and furbearing animals used for trade, and "traditional" clothing and food. For the Inuit, therefore, access to and control over material resources involve two distinct yet linked sets of economic activities: one associated with the Western market economy and modernity; and the other associated with "traditional" harvesting activities, which have to a certain extent been co-opted into the dominant Western market. In Kuujjuarapik, English and French, both powerful state languages, are in direct opposition to Inuktitut and Cree, which have historically lacked such institutional support. English and French are associated with material goods in the dominant Western market and access to school-based knowledge, occupational networks, and jobs. Inuktitut and Cree, along with local friendship, community, and family networks, access "traditional" values, practices, and material resources. Although the dichotomy between dominant (European) and minority (indigenous) languages is a useful way of describing the power imbalance between languages and the types of resources that they access, it obscures not only recent gains in power by Aboriginal groups in the labour and the dominant linguistic markets but also the historical differences in power between the four languages. More specifically, it obscures the fact that historically, English and French have not had an equal status within the Canadian political economy (Heller 1992, 2000); and that, despite the symbolic and economic domination of English, both French and Inuktitut now compete with English in the same linguistic market in Arctic Quebec. This dichotomy also obscures a significant asymmetry in the use of Inuktitut and Cree in Great Whale River. For example, many Inuit elders living in Kuujjuarapik speak fluent Cree, though few, if any, Cree elders speak Inuktitut. Historically, Cree appear to have held a dominant economic position, since the furs from the animals that they trapped, especially beaver, fetched a higher price at the trading post. Thus, according to the Inuit whom I interviewed, many Inuit, particularly those living south of Kuujjuarapik, hunted with Cree and

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sometimes depended on trade with and aid from their Cree neighbours for their survival. Early in the century, then, Cree came to be the dominant language of intercultural communication between Inuit and Cree in these more southerly locations. (This will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter.) There are other complications associated with the role of dominant and minority languages in political mobilization. The resources accessed by English or French are, in sheer economic terms, far greater than those accessed by Inuktitut or Cree. There is thus strong incentive for those involved in Aboriginal mobilization in Canada to acquire the symbolic resources associated with one or both of the country's dominant languages in order to gain greater power for their communities. Yet Aboriginal mobilization itself—not unlike other forms of ethnic mobilization—is predicated on social and cultural "difference" linked to historic rights to the land. Such difference justifies a claim to territory, sovereignty, or control over the distribution of economic resources in a given region. One group thus has a greater claim than another group to certain resources, including land, mining, and fishing, based on patterns of traditional land usage and inherent or acquired rights. The complications surrounding language choice and political mobilization will be taken up in the following sections. 2. Aboriginal politics in Canada: Nunavut, Nunavik, and land claims In Canada, minority language struggles—for French in Quebec and for Aboriginal languages in indigenous (First Nations) communities —are linked to the country's colonial history. After the 1759 conquest of New France by the British and before the American War of Independence, King George III of Britain introduced two sets of policies, as contained in The Royal Proclamation of 1763 and the Quebec Act of 1774. These policies had the effect both of managing the Aboriginal and French-speaking population and of providing the legal means to insure their survival (Heller 1999: 147; Mackey 1999: 27). The Royal Proclamation (details of which can be found, for example, in Morse 1991: 52-54) granted Native land rights to those "Nations or Tribes of Indians" who had not ceded or sold their lands to the British Crown and who used these lands as their "Hunting Grounds" (Morse 1991: 52). Following the proclamation, many indigenous groups signed treaties and turned their lands over to the

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Crown in exchange for reserve land and aid from the Canadian state. However, many groups did not sign treaties and thus never abrogated their rights to their land. Over two centuries later, this has given their descendants the legal basis to pursue claims to this land, and many such groups are currently negotiating with the federal government to settle these claims. (Some of the resulting land claims disputes such as the "Oka Crisis" to be described in section 3 of this chapter, have been long and protracted and resulted in violent confrontation, rather than any real resolution. Others have proceeded more peacefully, yet have still taken years to resolve.) Another unforeseen consequence of the Royal Proclamation was to secure the linguistic and religious rights of Francophones in Quebec. This consequence was very much at odds with the original goal of the proclamation, which was to restrict the westward expansion of American colonists, thereby encouraging Euro-American settlement in Quebec and ultimately increasing the English-speaking population there (Mackey 1999: 27). Yet this clearly assimilationist goal was not achieved, since Euro-American immigrants did not arrive in the numbers expected and the assimilation of French speakers to an English-speaking milieu could not proceed as planned. The failure of this policy, however, led to the 1774 Quebec Act, which offered to protect the religion and language of the Catholic French-speaking population of Quebec in exchange for their promise of loyalty to Canada rather than to their American allies. Even from this brief description, it is clear that the goal of preserving minority languages and cultures in Canada has a long history and that the basis for doing so is well entrenched in the country's laws. The legal basis for Aboriginal land claims has been central to the founding of Nunavut and Nunavik, to which we now turn. 2.1. The founding of Nunavut and Nunavik

The negotiations that led to the creation on 1 April 1999 of the Inuit territory of Nunavut—a territory approximately one-fifth the size of Canada, comprising the eastern portion of the former North West Territories—began in 1976 (Cumming 1991: 727). It took thirteen years—that is, until 1989—to reach an agreement-in-principle on the land claim and another three years until a vote to ratify this agreement was held, in November 1992, among the people of the proposed territory. Sixty-nine per cent of those eligible to vote, who represented

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the beneficiaries of the claim, approved the Final Agreement (Creery 1994: 141). Nunavut thus represents a land rights settlement as well as a new territory (Kusugak 2000: 20). Key provisions in the final agreement include (i) title to 350,000 square kilometers of land, which is just under 20% of all of the land in Nunavut and which includes approximately 38,000 square kilometers of mineral rights; (ii) a 5% share in royalties for oil or mineral development on Crown lands; (iii) equal membership with the Canadian government on boards to manage wildlife, water, planning and so forth; (iv) priority to Inuit in harvesting wildlife from the land; and (v) increased Inuit access to government employment, over $1 billion in capital transfer payments, and $13 million for a training trust fund (Kusugak 2000: 21). This and the many other political struggles involving Aboriginal groups in Canada have been struggles for economic survival as well as for greater control over public and cultural institutions. A key element in this activism has been these groups' linguistic and cultural "difference". Their fight for a greater share of the wealth generated on the territories that they claim has thus gone hand in hand with their fight for greater cultural and linguistic legitimacy within locallycontrolled institutions, such as schools, law enforcement, and the health-care system. The negotiations for Nunavut, as noted above, began in the 1970s—a time when Euro-Canadian and Aboriginal relations had become more openly politicized. As it happens, this increased politicization of Native groups had already begun in the 1960s, as more groups organized and were able to lobby for better funding. The National Indian Council (NIC) was established in 1961, due largely to the efforts of prairie Indian leaders. This increased organization of Indian groups led to the launching of a number of native land claims were being launched as a result of this increased organization of Indian groups (on this, see Miller 1991: 224-225). During the same period, Quebec-Canada relations were becoming more conflictual and the link between language, ethnicity, and politics was coming to form a significant part of the Canadian political landscape. The federal government passed the Official Languages Act in 1969, making Canada officially bilingual in English and French—a move to accommodate French-speaking Quebec within a predominantly English-speaking Canada. That same year, a preliminary statement on Indian policy, known as the White Paper on Indian Policy, was tabled in Parliament (Burnaby 2002: 78). In brief, this statement proposed to abolish "Indian status" in Canada and, in effect, to abolish the rights and obligations of the federal government

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toward Native groups as outlined in treaties and in the Indian Act (first enacted in post-confederation Canada in 1869 and revised in 1876). This policy statement did not include the perspectives of the Native leaders themselves, and they were quick to condemn it. As Miller (1991: 228) notes, the White Paper embodied "assumptions, arguments, and recommendations [that] were the antithesis of what Indians had been saying." This, in turn, gave impetus to Aboriginal politicization, which was bolstered by an increase in funding for land claims research, finally agreed to by Prime Minister Trudeau at that time (Miller 1991: 231-232). This set the stage for a new era of land claims negotiations, as Aboriginal Canadians sought to gain more control over their land and welfare. 2.1.1. The James Bay Agreement and Nunavik The James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement (JBNQA) was ratified on 11 November 1975—a date now celebrated in the Inuit and Cree communities of northern Quebec. The Agreement, which is touted as the first "modern" land claims settlement in Canada, was negotiated quite quickly, particularly given the circumstances surrounding these negotiations. In 1971, the Quebec government, interested in the economic potential of its northern territories, announced the first phase of the James Bay Hydroelectric Development Project on what the Cree and Inuit considered to be their ancestral lands. Construction of the project began soon after the government announcement—significantly, with no consultation whatsoever with the Cree or Inuit, who had occupied and used this land for centuries. These native groups, seeing few benefits to their own communities and fearing the consequences of this large-scale project on their traditional way of life, began mobilizing to stop the project. Their hope was that through negotiations they could not only have the current project halted but also obtain more control over future resource development. Moreover, through the monies that would accrue from such development, they would also gain more control over the social institutions in their communities, which were then administered directly by the federal or provincial government. In the early 1970s, the Cree and Inuit sought a legal injunction to halt the proposed hydroelectric project. Although they initially won their case in a landmark decision, this decision was quickly overturned in the Quebec Court of Appeal (see Richardson 1975 on this process). This pushed the federal and provincial governments to negotiate a

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settlement with the Cree and Inuit as quickly as possible. In 1974, a deal was struck; and in 1975, after a vote by the potential beneficiaries of the Agreement, the JBNQA was signed by all four parties concerned (Government of Quebec 1976; see Feit 1980 and Salisbury 1986 for further discussion). The JBNQA, its meaning, and its consequences have all been controversial and complex (see e.g. Vincent and Bowers 1988; Patrick and Armitage 2001). In a nutshell, it gave the Cree and Inuit rights to specific categories of lands in exchange for title to all of the land under dispute. Among the categories of lands to which the Cree and Inuit were granted rights were Category 1A lands, over which they were given exclusive surface rights, and which included the lands on which their communities are built; Category 2 lands, over which they were to retain exclusive hunting, fishing, and trapping rights; and Category 3 lands, over which they were given the right to harvest certain animals, but otherwise had no exclusive rights. It also provided control over wildlife resource management; input into future environmental reviews for future development projects; and monies for economic development subsidy programmes, including support for hunters and their families, to enable them to pursue a more traditional way of life. Both groups were also granted greater local control over administrative concerns, health care, education, social services, and the justice system. The Agreement has thus significantly shaped local politics, economics, and institutions in northern Quebec. One institution of particular cultural importance that was greatly affected by the JBNQA was schooling. The JBNQA paved the way for the creation in Nunavik of the Kativik School Board and the teaching of Inuktitut, French, and English in its schools. (For further discussion on the development of education and language policy, see section 2.1.) The JBNQA also affected the provision of health services, which, by the terms of the Agreement, were to be administered by the new Kativik Regional Government. Another key aspect of the JBNQA was the compensation that it awarded for the loss of land due to flooding from hydroelectric dams. The Inuit used this money to form the Makivik Corporation, the economic arm and arguably the most powerful component of the regional government, whose mandate was to promote economic development in the region. Compensation also went toward the Hunter's Support programme, which paid hunters for fish, ducks, geese, caribou, seal, and other game bought by the municipalities and shared among their members. Through this programme, successful hunters have been given the means to pursue more "traditional"

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activities within the wage labour economy. In addition to these developments, the Agreement gave impetus to the Nunavik sovereignty movement, providing the political, economic, and ideological means to create a more autonomous "territory" in Arctic Quebec. When the administrative structure outlined in the JBNQA came into existence in 1977, the area north of the 55th parallel in northern Quebec became known as the Kativik Region. Interestingly, the name Kativik itself—which means 'meeting place' in Inuktitut—was devised in an office, with little input from the Inuit of the region (Müller-Wille 2001: 37-38). In contrast—and as a sign of the growing political awareness and involvement of Inuit in the region—the name Nunavik ('big land') 10 was chosen by the Inuit of the region after a lengthy process that began as part of an Inuit place-name project. In the early 1980s, Inuit elders met at conferences on a regular basis and documented local place-names through toponymie surveys. Geographic features were labelled in Inuktitut and the areal surveys that were produced formed an outline of a toponymie and linguistic region inhabited by Inuit. Eight proposals were made for naming this region. This resulted in a referendum on the issue in 1986, through which the name Nunavik was finally chosen (Müller-Wille 2001: 39). Here we see how a land claims settlement led not only to the formation of new geopolitical boundaries—such as those between Inuit, Cree, and nonNative territories—but also to the provision of funding for conferences and techniques, such as areal map-making, that played a role in affirming Inuit cultural identity. What the above discussion of the JBNQA suggests is that in Aboriginal struggles for greater institutional and economic power, language, cultural "difference", and "traditional" practices get taken up in complex ways. The creation of Nunavik, a regional jurisdiction within the province of Quebec and the Canadian state, has been premised on the uniqueness of Inuit cultural and linguistic practices; that central to this political entity, in other words, is the fact that Inuit occupied the territory long before the arrival of Europeans; and that as a people, the Inuit have maintained certain "traditional" practices in the face of modernity and technological innovation. In fact, the claim that there are still "traditional" Inuit, engaged in harvesting and social activities that are "distinctly" Inuit, requires some qualification. This is because the adoption by Inuit of EuroCanadian ways has involved more a process of cultural hybridization than anything else—Western tools, goods, and values being adopted whenever they have been deemed "useful". Thus, many new "hybrid" cultural forms have emerged in the Canadian north,

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including the "modernization" of the Inuktitut lexicon and syllabic writing system;11 the use by Inuit of computers, television production, and other new technologies; the pursuit of modern lifestyles in warm homes stocked with modern appliances; and the adoption of hunting techniques that involve the use of rifles, skidoos (gasoline-powered snowmobiles), and store-bought gear. Despite these "hybrid" forms, the Inuit's sense of their own "difference" persists in the values that they attach to the land, history, and interpersonal relationships. What this means in practical terms is that the Inuit remain closely tied to their land and culture; and thus—at least for the time being—the lands that they inhabit will not be exploited for mining or hydroelectric power without substantial further negotiation between the provincial government and the Makivik Corporation which, as already noted, is responsible for economic development in the Nunavik region. While Nunavik has some rights and local authority in education, economic development, and other institutional domains, its municipal autonomy and its administrative budget for running its institutions are still governed by Quebec and subject to the laws passed in the Quebec legislative assembly. Given recent developments in Nunavut, and the status of this region as an independent territory within Canada, the Inuit of Nunavik have been applying more and more political pressure on the federal and provincial governments to negotiate more autonomy within Quebec. This political process has been underway since the late 1990s, when the Makivik Corporation helped to create the Nunavik Commission, struck in November 1999. The Nunavik Commission, a committee of eight individuals representing the Inuit of Nunavik and the federal and Quebec governments, has a mandate to provide recommendations on the future structure and functions of a democratically elected government for Nunavik. It will thus play a key role in the process of creating a more substantial form of self-government. The Commission's first report, released in March 2001, provides recommendations on a range of issues, including the functioning of a legislative assembly, the running of the courts and other institutions, the recognition of official languages in Nunavik, the raising of revenue to administer the territory; and a timeline for implementing these proposals (Nunavik Commission 2001). These developments in Nunavik follow in the wake of the establishment of Nunavut. In fact, since the social, economic, environmental, and political concerns of the two regions are so similar, it is likely that Inuit would have negotiated a common settlement had they not been separated by provincial borders (Nungak 2000: 142). Thus, in spite of the borders and the associated

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administrative and political differences, there are many similarities and collective interests that bind the Inuit of the two regions. Among these is the fact that many Nunavik Inuit are related to Nunavut Inuit across the Hudson Strait (on Baffin Island) and the Hudson Bay (on the Belcher Islands, across from Kuujjuarapik). In the next section, I turn to one concern that unites Inuit as well as other Aboriginal groups inside and outside Canada. This is education and its role in the preservation and institutionalization of their language. I will proceed by describing the development of education and the role of language in this institution in Nunavik, Nunavut, and the Cree lands of the Eastern James Bay region. 2.2. Development of language policy and schooling in Northern Quebec and Nunavut Before World War II, the education of Canadian Inuit was delivered in most of the Arctic by the Anglican and Roman Catholic missions and in Labrador by the Moravians. Originally, missionaries taught in Inuktitut, focussing on the teaching of reading and writing to both adults and children. In the Eastern Arctic and northern Quebec, this instruction depended on the use of a system of syllables, which was developed by the English Wesleyan missionary, James Evans, at Norway House (in present-day Manitoba) in the nineteenth century (Harper 1983). With the founding of the residential schools, however, English became the language of instruction. This was because English had come to be considered a vital resource for acquiring the skills necessary for entry into the modern world (see Patrick and Shearwood 1999). The history of the mission schools is a chequered one. These schools seem to have provided at least some Inuit with a solid education and access to English; and, in fact, most of the Aboriginal leadership of the twentieth century were educated in this system (see Miller 1991: 199). Yet the experiences of many Inuit children sent to these schools were extremely negative. Not only were these children torn away from their families and forced to speak English; some of them also suffered physical and even sexual abuse (Creery 1994: 131). Miller (1991: 199) notes, in his study of relations between Natives and non-Natives in Canada, that "by any reasonable standard of evaluation, the residential school program from the 1880s to the 1960s failed dismally."

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In the Canadian Arctic, the missions ran a few residential schools, beginning in 1928; but these reached only a small proportion of the Inuit population (Macpherson 1991: 36). As Creery (1994: 13) notes, it was estimated in 1944 that only about 20% of Inuit were being taught in mission schools. With a greater number of non-Native personnel in the Canadian Arctic during and after World War II, the fact that many Inuit were not being educated became more apparent; and government officials eventually became aware of this situation. This resulted in the building of federal government schools in the late 1940s and the hiring of the first non-Native teachers in 1947. In the same year, the first government school without mission involvement opened in Tuktoyaktuk in the Western Arctic (Patrick and Shearwood 1999). In the late 1940s and 1950s, Inuit still living a semi-nomadic lifestyle in camps were forced into settlements and their children obliged to attend school. Federal government schooling, with classes delivered in English, continued until the 1960s. Inuktitut-language education in Canada has a rather different history, with origins in the Arctic Quebec of the early 1960s.12 A new Quebec nationalist government, with the goal of promoting economic development, was eager to assert its authority over the northern part of the province. The Direction Générale du Nouveau-Québec (DGNQ), established in April 1963 as part of the Ministry of Natural Resources, took over responsibility for education, in cooperation with the provincial Ministry of Education. The DGNQ moved quickly to establish provincially administered schools in northern Quebec, although without any intention of providing instruction in Inuktitut. That they ended up doing so turns out to have been largely a historical accident, judging from an eyewitness account of a meeting that took place in Kuujjuaq between the community and representatives of the federal and provincial governments in the fall of 1964. At this meeting, the government representatives explained that the new provincial schools, which would exist for an interim period alongside the federal schools, would use English as the language of instruction, but teach French as a second language. After they had explained this, the following occurred: Mr. Jacob Gordon, who had several school-age children, stood up and asked on behalf of the community if the proposed new provincial school would teach his children in Inuktitut. We waited while the two officials at the head table discussed the question between themselves, sotto voce. It was clear they had not thought of this before. It took them a full two or three minutes to formulate their answer: yes, the provincial schools would provide instruction in Inuktitut for the

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children. They would also employ local people for this purpose. For most of us teachers, this was a new and somewhat disturbing idea which contested our own educational aims and mission. (Diveky 1992: 92)

Perhaps the use of French as a language of instruction in Quebec schools sparked the idea that Inuktitut, too, could become a language of instruction. Or perhaps some Inuit had learned that Greenlandic, a language closely related to Canadian Inuktitut, had been used in Greenland schools for over a century; and that a teachers' college had existed all of this time to prepare Inuit to teach in their language. (In contrast, Inuktitut-speaking teaching assistants had been present in the Canadian federal schools only since 1957.) Whatever the true source of this suggestion, Inuktitut instruction for the first years of school became official policy in northern Quebec schools in 1964. This was followed in 1967 by the introduction of a teacher-training course for Inuit. (This course developed into a full-fledged Inuktitut-language university certificate programme in the late 1970s; see Patrick 1999.) The year 1967 was also an important one for the North West Territories (NWT). Before then, it had been governed from Ottawa by an appointed Council and Commissioner and several elected members and now, that year, it had its government transferred to Yellowknife. The newly formed NWT Department of Education promoted the teaching of Native languages in schools and the inclusion of Inuit cultural programmes in an otherwise basically southern Canadian curriculum. In 1972, the first Inuk teacher graduated from a teachertraining programme. Slowly, more Inuktitut was introduced into the curriculum and especially into culture classes, where boys learned, for example, how to build wooden sleds and girls learned to sew sealskin boots (Creery 1994: 132). School policy in the NWT changed more radically after the mid1970s ushered in a period of political consciousness-raising among Inuit in this territory. As the Inuit of northern Quebec were negotiating the James Bay Agreement, the Inuit of the NWT began their own land claims process, which would later culminate in the creation of Nunavut. At the same time, the NWT Council, which had a Native majority, set up a Special Committee to review the state of schooling in the territory and make recommendations for improving it. One of this committee's recommendations was for greater local control of school boards, which would be accountable to local school committees. One change that resulted from this was the introduction of a two-week spring break into the school calendar, to permit students to spend time with their families

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in spring hunting camps.13 Another change, which was a result of the growing demand for Inukitut education and for Inuit self-sufficiency in the running of the schools, was the teacher education programme that has now existed in Iqaluit since 1980. The growing self-sufficiency of Inuit in the NWT is clearly reflected in the number of Inuit who have gone on to post-secondary education: this number rose from 16 in 1978-79 to 154 in 1983-84 (Creery 1994: 133). This has led to a remarkable surge since the 1980s in the number of Inuit teachers and in the development of innovative school curricula. One educational goal set by the government of the NWT has, however, not yet been met, despite considerable efforts. This is that the majority of the teachers and all of the principals employed in its schools be Inuit by the year 2000. (On this, see Tompkins 1998: 91.) The school system in the Cree territory of northern Quebec, comprising nine communities with a population of over 10,000, has developed in a way similar to that of the Inuit, with the introduction of missionary schooling, then a residential school system, and then finally a system of local schools. After the signing of the JBNQA, the promotion of Cree-language education in curricula and teacher training did not, however, take hold as early as in the Inuit communities. It nonetheless remains an important social issue for educators and residents. A Cree writing system was introduced in Quebec in the nineteenth century by missionaries and Cree from Ontario, who were already using a syllabic system developed by an English missionary for the Ojibwe language in the 1840s (Burnaby 2002; Nichols 1996). This system, that was later adapted to Inuktitut, was passed on from missionaries to indigenous followers, who then passed it from person to person. Thus, by the twentieth century, most Cree adults could read church texts, although few could read well enough to understand new meanings from an unknown text (Burnaby 2002: 77). (On the introduction of syllables to the Cree and Inuit of Great Whale River, see chapter 3, section 1.4.) Cree residential schooling was introduced on the eastern James Bay coast in the 1940s. Some children spent up to nine years away from their families, immersed not in their own language but in English. In at least one case, a group of Cree children attended a French school while living in an English-speaking residence in the 1960s and 1970s, so they were immersed in both French and English.14 Although some Cree was used as a medium of instruction in some mission schools (Burnaby 2002: 77), it was not the predominant language of communication. Because this led to a loss of Cree, it was (and has been)

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difficult for some of these students to reintegrate themselves into their communities. And, as Bobbish (1996: 244) notes, "the psychological costs were extremely high." Federal schools were introduced in the 1950s in some communities, as they were in Nunavik; and the drive to recruit and train local teachers took hold in the late 1960s. A one-year training programme was set up in Montreal in 1969-70, followed by summer programmes in La Macaza, Quebec, which were intended to train Aboriginal teachers throughout the province to teach in their own language. This programme eventually had two streams: one to train Aboriginal teachers to teach in their own language and the other to train them to teach in English. The 1970s also saw the rise of projects to develop Cree materials, such as the Cree Way Project in Waskaganish (Burnaby 2002; Tanner 1981). As a result of the signing of the JBNQA, Cree and Inuit created the Cree School Board and the Kativik School Board, respectively, in 1978. Teacher training for both boards is now certified through McGill University and new curricula in the local language and culture are constantly being developed. However, the amount of Inuktitut taught in schools and the rate at which teachers are trained to teach in their own language varies between the two school boards. In the 1980s, the Kativik School Board developed a policy of Inuktitut-medium instruction in the first three years of schooling. As part of a programme that is still in operation today, Inuit teachers-intraining taught in classrooms during the school year and took intensive teacher-training courses in February and during the summer. The Cree School Board, in contrast, has less Cree language in the schools—a fact due both to this school board's promotion of French and English instruction from the beginning of a child's schooling, in order to increase job opportunities; and to the lack of appropriately trained Cree teachers and of curricula for teaching in Cree (Tanner 1981; Bobbish 1996). This situation is changing, however, as many Cree notice the further loss of Cree language skills among children and a lack of successful school outcomes for those educated solely in English or French. In the early 1990s, James Bobbish, the Director of Educational Services for the school board, posed the question: Although we are persons who were submerged in a residential school setting and subsequently in an urban setting, have we not done as our parents by stopping the natural development of our children's language and sense of identity by placing them in a second language situation at the age of four and giving them lessons in a curriculum that had little or no relevance to their culture? (Bobbish 1996: 245)

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Unlike the Kativik School Board, the Cree board has offered a prekindergarten class for children aged four. At the time of my fieldwork in Great Whale River (1993-94), Whapmagoostui used Cree as the language of instruction in pre-kindergarten and kindergarten classes. In 1992, a pilot Cree-medium programme was instigated in Chisasibi, the community directly to the south of Whapmagoostui, and Waskaganish. In this pilot project, Cree was used as the medium of instruction in Grade 1 as well. By the end of the 1990s, Cree-medium education was extended to Grade 4 (for children of about eight years old) as more Cree-language curricula have been developed. Creemedium education has now become mandatory in all schools where qualified teaching personnel are available. The Cree School Board has thus reached the same level—and in most cases above the level—of indigenous-language instruction provided by the Kativik board. Despite these advancements in Inuktitut and Cree curricula in Nunavut, Nunavik, and the Cree territory of northern Quebec, education remains a contentious issue. There is still a need to balance the desire to maintain local cultural and community values, including knowledge of the indigenous language, with the desire to prepare children adequately for higher education and for entry into administrative and professional positions. The situation in Nunavik and Nunavut and for the Cree in northern Quebec is not unlike that of other First Nations peoples in Canada, although the specific histories, legal claims, and aspirations for selfgovernment may vary from group to group. For many Aboriginal people, the importance of rights, historical agreements, and legal procedures to obtain control over their land is taken for granted. Struggles are continually being waged because so much is at stake —including cultural, linguistic, economic, and ecological survival. For the majority of non-Native Canadians, who are not involved in these political struggles and do not know what life is like in Aboriginal communities, information about these issues comes from the media. The media presence is particularly strong in situations of conflict, such as Native protests and other disruptions, usually rooted in conflicts over hunting or land rights. In the next section, I will be describing the political climate of Canada and the relations that existed between nonNative governments and Aboriginal groups in the early 1990s, when I began my research for this book.

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3. Setting the scene: Aboriginal politics in the 1990s In the fall of 1990, Aboriginal issues, perhaps more than ever before, were informing and shaping Canadian political discourse and public opinion. Like many Canadians, my views were shaped by the print, television, and radio media in which Aboriginal issues were being discussed. The sheer magnitude of media attention on these issues at that time and the impact of these events on my own research make these issues worth describing in detail. In September 1990, Canada was in the midst of one of the most publicized and alarming political confrontations between Aboriginal peoples and the Canadian state. The confrontation became popularly known as the Oka Crisis, although Aboriginal spokespeople were quick to point out that it was not so much a distinct "crisis" as yet another event in a long history of armed government intervention in Mohawk affairs. The events of the Oka-Kanesatake conflict unfolded just outside of Montreal, Quebec and escalated into the killing of a police officer and the blockade of a major commuter bridge into the city—events which brought unprecedented media attention. Oka is the name of a predominantly Francophone Non-Native community situated beside the predominantly Anglophone Kanesatake Reserve of the Mohawk First Nation. This particular dispute began over the proposed expansion of a golf course and a housing development by the municipality of Oka on property claimed by the Mohawk First Nation—a claim which dates back to 1717 (Rochon and Lepage 1991: 45; Alfred 1995). The Kanesatake-Oka conflict began in March 1990, when the Mohawks blockaded a road leading to the land slated to be developed. In July, the Sûreté du Québec, the Quebec provincial police force, was sent in to dismantle the barricade. In the ensuing confrontation, an officer was shot, leading the provincial government to call in the Canadian Army in an attempt to resolve the conflict. The media were there immediately, providing up-to-the-minute coverage of the military standoff. As one writer summarized it, "every night at the top of the news, and day after day on the front page of the newspaper, we were shown images of masked warriors facing uniformed police and soldiers across razor wire" (Klassen 1991). The standoff lasted 78 days, when the last Mohawks involved in the blockade surrendered to the police. By the end of it, many Canadians had been jolted into realizing that the frustrations of Native peoples over land issues and ineffective government bureaucracies were real (see e.g. Rochon and Lepage 1990). Although this was not the first time that the army had been used to quell a domestic political

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"crisis"—most notably, the October Crisis of 1970 prompted Pierre Trudeau's federal government to invoke the War Measures Act to deal with the Front de Libération du Québec kidnappings in Montreal —there was a sense of disbelief that Canada, with its international reputation as a "peace-keeping" nation, would go so far as to use military force over an extended period of time to suppress Native resistance within its own borders. The Oka-Kanasatake conflict was just one political confrontation that set the stage for further confrontation in the 1990s. Other less sensational conflicts were brewing around constitutional issues and the place of First Nations and Quebec within Canadian society. In June of 1990, a constitutional accord referred to as Meech Lake (named after the lake resort where it was drawn up) was brought before the provincial governments in order to bring the province of Quebec into the Canadian Constitution. 15 The Meech Lake accord granted to Quebec the status of a "distinct" society, but at the same time ignored the "distinctiveness" of Aboriginal peoples and their right to selfgovernment. Just before the deadline for ratification of the accord, the accord was defeated on two separate issues: disagreement over whether Quebec should be constitutionally entrenched as a "distinct society"; and disagreement over the appropriateness of not including a statement about Aboriginal peoples' inherent right to self-government. On 26 October 1992 a national referendum was held in which Canadians were asked whether they agreed "that the constitution of Canada should be renewed on the basis of the agreement reached on August 28, 1992". This second agreement, known as the "Charlottetown Accord", would have brought Quebec into the constitution and entrenched Aboriginal rights to self-government. Despite the support of the three national political parties, all of the provinces, and the Assembly of First Nations, the majority of the Canadian public voted "No" in this referendum—perhaps because of their disillusionment with federal politics at the time. The constitutional wrangling that Canadians were drawn into in the early 1990s is perhaps most significant for the political space that it accorded Aboriginal peoples. However, after many months of national news coverage of constitutional committee reports, regional public conferences, and public hearings in which all Canadians were encouraged to participate, constitutional fatigue set in. In the midst of the constitutional hearings, another set of hearings got underway, this one conducted by the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. Beginning in August 1991, this Commission had a large (sixteenpoint) mandate to hear from both Native and non-Native participants

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about issues concerning Aboriginal peoples of Canada, with an emphasis on reconciliation between Native peoples and Non-Native governments. The final report, over 4000 pages long, was released over five years later. In the Overview of the First Round of public hearings organized by the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, it was reported that there was "almost universal" support "for the concept that Aboriginal rights are inherent" and opposition "to the federal government's policy of seeking to extinguish these rights through its Comprehensive Claims Process" (Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples 1992: 36). In the same document, Elijah Harper, the Aboriginal Member of the Legislative Assembly of Manitoba who was involved in defeating the earlier Meech Lake accord, explains the concept of "inherent" right by saying that [S]elf-government is not (something) that can be given by any government, but rather ... flows from our Creator.... Self-government... is taking control and managing our own affairs, able to determine our own future and destiny... able to establish our own institutions, language, culture, health, education... and providing economic development and social development in our reserves.... It has never been up to the governments to give selfgovernment. It has never been theirs to give. (Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples 1992: 37)

Self-government was a term that most Canadians would have been familiar with in 1992, but probably hard-pressed to define. It was, and still is, at the heart of many of the political struggles waged by Aboriginal groups. However, the concept means different things to different groups, depending on their own historical, social, and political circumstances. There is variation not only in the specific reasons for negotiating self government, but also in the arguments set forth to justify it. In 1993, when I began my fieldwork in Great Whale River, political struggles in Canada and the question of self-government had become a part of everyday conversation. While the Inuit and Cree were working toward some form of self-government in northern Quebec, they were also fighting political battles over a new hydroelectric development project that would drastically affect the communities of Kuujjuarapik and Whapmagoostui. In 1989, the Quebec government announced James Bay II, the second phase of the massive James Bay hydroelectric project, which was ready to begin pending an environmental review, as mandated in the 1975 James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement. In section 2,1 described the circumstances leading up to

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the signing of the JBNQA and the effects that it had on community attitudes and social identity. These circumstances are important for understanding what was at stake in the early 1990s in northern Quebec. Plans for James Bay II were well mapped out, and included the diversion of rivers and the flooding of lands just north and inland of Great Whale River. The river itself was to be diverted and reduced to a small stream; and the well-travelled waterways along the shoreline were to be permanently altered—all of this planned with the effects on wildlife and the surrounding environment still unknown. The project was also to involve the construction of a road and a large airport and the influx of thousands of workers from the south. Although there were potential benefits from this development, these seemed to be considerably outweighed by its negative effects on the community. There were enough environmental, cultural, historical, and social reasons to want to stop the project—not the least of which was the sense that jobs would not obviously be going to local Cree and Inuit. The resistance campaign mounted against the Great Whale project endured, in various forms and with varying force, for almost five years. The struggle initially united the Inuit and Cree and their supporters, but became more complicated with the revelation that the Inuit-run Makivik Corporation was attempting to negotiate a settlement. The situation in the community was at times tense and uncertain, and complicated by the fact that Québécois nationalist sentiment was also on the rise. The failure of the Meech Lake constitutional accord and the subsequent "No" result of the national referendum in 1992, which meant that Constitution of Canada would not soon recognize either Quebec or Aboriginal peoples as distinct societies, did little to ease the political tension in Great Whale River. During the time of my fieldwork, a multi-million-dollar environmental impact study was released. Although this study had involved years of research and input from all of the coastal communities that would be affected, it was immediately criticized by the Cree and the Inuit for its controversially optimistic assessment of the environmental and social consequences of the project and for its failure to acknowledge the real material and symbolic values associated with "traditional" land-based activities. Within eight months after I had left the community, the project was cancelled by the Quebec government. It seemed that the anti-James Bay II campaign, the primary audience for which was potential American consumers of the electricity that the project was to generate, had finally had its desired effect. The more conservationist attitudes of American consumers, together with the

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campaign against development and the potential damage to the environment, made access to a new source of electrical power unnecessary. Just what specific factors did finally lead to the project's cancellation remains a matter of debate. What is clear, though, is that key American contracts with Hydro-Québec did end up being cancelled, creating great financial uncertainty for the project. With its financial returns uncertain and with uncertain economic projections and costs (see McCutcheon 1991: 187-188), the project no longer looked quite so promising as it had earlier. What is also clear is that those who were most concerned about the dramatic environmental and social impacts of the area could now relax, at least for a little while. In a political climate such as this, who holds power and how this power is maintained and contested become important everyday issues with real social effects. It is not surprising, then, that when national, provincial, and indigenous interests collide and new "national" and political identities emerge, language itself becomes a site of political struggle. Social groups and ethnic identities are constructed and reproduced through historical processes of colonial domination and resistance, ideological processes of representation, and linguistic and institutional practices of everyday talk. In this political economic analysis of language use, social identities and the ways in which they are constructed are key elements in the interplay between language and power. By examining the construction of "ethnicity" as a social category and the role that historical relations of language, power, and ideology play in this construction, we can begin to see how social identity and power are related to everyday language use and to the vitality of four languages in Kuujjuarapik. 4. Conclusion In this chapter, we have seen how the geographical features of Great Whale River reflect the complex sociolinguistic and political reality of this multilingual community. Four ethnolinguistic groups form three distinct communities with boundaries drawn along historical, ethnic, linguistic, and cultural lines. In Great Whale River, linguistic practices play an active role in the social organization of day-to-day community life. As in other speech communities, linguistic ability and language choice affect one's capacity to make friends, to communicate with elders, and to access jobs, education, and positions of power. The value of these symbolic resources is negotiated not only in everyday interactions at the local level, but in national and global spheres as well.

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In the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, globalization has increased communication networks, unifying indigenous peoples in general and Arctic peoples in particular. International indigenous solidarity groups, including the Inuit Circumpolar Conference and other networks established between northern and other indigenous peoples, promote the use of English as a lingua franca in international communication. Within Canada, First Nations have united nationally to deal with issues relating to the federal state and to negotiate constitutional relationships between them and governments. At the same time, individual First Nations have been fighting, often in court, to have their own land claims settled. In Quebec, recent Francophone mobilization and articulations of nationalism have increased southern interests in northern natural resources, such as hydroelectric power. This has resulted in organized resistance by First Nations, either to halt development or to negotiate some form of profit-sharing in these new economic activities. In Arctic Quebec, new forms of Inuit nationalism and ethnic identity are being articulated. Inuit want a say in economic development on their land and want to protect the interests of those faced with two colonial powers and two socially and politically hegemonic languages. This is what is at stake in the larger political economic realm. Power relations between ethnolinguistic groups in northern Quebec have emerged from historical patterns of colonial domination and resistance, and are manifested in more recent political struggles for nationhood. Understanding the sociolinguistic reality of Nunavik and Kuujjuarapik requires awareness not only of the present political context, but also of the historical forces that have shaped it. Accordingly, it is important to examine the history of contact between Inuit, English, Cree, and French in Arctic Quebec. In what follows I will rely on recorded stories, diaries, Hudson's Bay Company records, and personal recollections, which highlight the differences between groups and the consequences of contact for the Inuit of the Hudson Bay.

Chapter 3 History and representation of the Hudson Bay Inuit, 1610-1975 In a political economic analysis of language use, one avenue of research is to show "how speakers respond symbolically to relations of domination between groups within the state, and how they understand their historic position and identity within a world capitalist system structured around dependency and unequal development" (Gal 1988: 247). In this chapter, I will be examining the historical positioning of Inuit in relationships of "dependency and unequal development" within the world capitalist system. I will be making use of the notion of a multi-locale ethnography (Marcus 1986), which links local events to larger systems; and of an anthropological version of world-system theory (Wolf 1982), in terms of which I will discuss the history of economic and intergroup relations between Europeans and Inuit in the era of the fur trade in Arctic Quebec. Wolf sees history as a network of connections between continents, societies, economies, and social actors, forming what he calls "spatially and temporally shifting relationships, prompted in all instances by the effects of European expansion" (1982: 17). While Wolf's work concentrates on (the material aspects of) European expansion in the spread of colonialism, one can also see European contact with indigenous populations as setting in motion the spread of ideological and discursive practices that are relevant to the history of ethnic relations and language use in Great Whale River. Some of these practices, which can be linked to the intellectual developments of the Enlightenment period, were vital to the rise of nationalism and the nation-state. These practices include ones related not only to moral regulation (see Corrigan and Sayer 1985 for discussion) but also, as Anderson (1991) has pointed out, to the rise of the print media, the greater standardization of language and prose style, and the provision of education and higher rates of literacy. Significantly, these latter practices are instrumental to the development of the "imaginary community" in nationalist consciousness. Hobsbawm (1990: 59-62) notes, similarly, that language is seen "as an important element of proto-national cohesion" (p. 59). It is also "one among several

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criteria"—which include symbolic, ritualistic, and other collective practices—"by which people indicated belonging to a human collectivity" (p. 62). This chapter maps out the colonial history of the region, including its political economic shifts, the economic and cultural consequences of these shifts for the Inuit, and the place and value of language varieties within this history.16 Textual representations of explorers, missionaries, traders, and anthropologists will be juxtaposed with excerpts from Inuit life histories gathered from interviews. Thus perspectives from both Europeans and Inuit will be presented as part of a critical discourse analysis. Early European representations of Inuit in particular can tell us a great deal about the relations between the two groups and how certain dominant ideologies or discourses legitimized colonial practices and power. In what follows, we will be examining the dominant and minority discourses produced in written European texts, including explorer tales, trader records, and missionary diaries, and in Inuit life histories as recorded in interviews. The goal of this examination is to investigate (1) the representation of Inuit and Europeans in the texts; (2) Inuit and European perspectives on historical events and the way that these reflect the interests of each group; and (3) the ways in which ethnicity is constructed through discourse. Discourse here includes not only the way individuals talk about particular things or events, but how organizations, business enterprises, and government bureaucracies create and enact policies, procedures, and practices in the areas where they have interests. History writing is socially and politically situated: what is recorded is contingent on the social and historical circumstances of data gathering, telling, and writing. Bearing this in mind, we can come to a better understanding of the ideological and material aspects of the larger world system, the development of ethnic relations in Arctic Quebec, and the attitudes of one group of speakers toward another through a critical analysis of documents from different historical periods. Understanding these attitudes and their development can provide a window on the political, economic, and historical context and its relation to modern collective ethnic identities, which are produced and reproduced in face-to-face linguistic interaction.

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1. History, contact, and representation In order to understand the value accorded to Inuktitut and other languages in Great Whale River today, it is important to examine the social, economic, and political conditions of contact and the implications of historical processes on twentieth-century Aboriginal politics. Collectively, the European and Euro-Canadian settlers formed part of larger institutions such as churches, the Hudson's Bay Company, and the Governments of Canada and Quebec (Brody 1975). Each of these institutions was conditioned by its own ideological configurations, which respectively included proselytizing, making money, and controlling populations within established borders to maintain sovereignty and reinforce ideological legitimacy. The first in a series of economic shifts in Arctic Quebec began with the early European explorers to the region, who were sponsored by English patrons seeking riches and resources to exploit. This was the start of contact with the Aboriginal peoples inhabiting the areas around the Hudson Bay. This was also the beginning of the historical processes that would lead to the founding of the Hudson's Bay Company in 1670 and the establishment of trading posts throughout the region known as Rupert's Land.17 These developments would, in turn, lead to conflict between France and England over control of this region, and finally to the emergence of a sovereign Dominion of Canada loyal to the British Crown, which brought Aboriginal and French-speaking peoples under its authority. These processes of nation-building have continued into the late twentieth century and to the present day, as French-speaking Québécois have mobilized to form their own sovereign nation and as both Canadian and Quebec efforts to legitimize their "sovereignty" have produced interests in Arctic Quebec. The late twentieth century also produced a movement for Aboriginal nationhood and sovereignty within Canada. These periods of change and historical transformation have coincided with years of resistance and accommodation on the part of the Inuit, processes which have allowed for the maintenance of Inuktitut and the current levels of multilingualism witnessed in Nunavik communities today. This complex history of contact, colonization, and resistance will be presented in the following sections. The history of more recent Québécois and Inuit political mobilization, and what this means for language use, will be presented in chapter 4.

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1.1. Early history: Explorers, traders, and the Inuit The initial periods of contact in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries involved European attempts to convince the Inuit to enter into the system of trade. The accounts of the first European explorers to the Hudson Bay region, and of Hudson's Bay Company traders who later came to the region suggest that there was strong Inuit resistance to these attempts. Given their refusal to "co-operate", Inuit are often portrayed in early accounts as violent and savage, not only toward the Europeans, but later, in the eighteenth century, also toward the Cree. These images of the "savage Eskimo" and the hostility between the Inuit and Cree served to reproduce ideologies of "primitiveness" and helped to justify a European presence for the purpose of "civilizing" and "improving" the "savage" condition of the indigenous population. These discursive constructions justified the provision of both European goods and spiritual values to the Inuit and other indigenous peoples inhabiting the New World. In Canada, they formed part of a larger linear narrative of "civilizing" the Canadian wilderness, including its indigenous peoples, and forming a colonial settler nation (Mackey 1999). The first European contact with Hudson Bay Inuit was with members of Henry Hudson's ill-fated 1610 voyage. In search of a shorter Northwest trade route to Asia, Hudson sailed into the bay that would come to bear his name, eventually facing a mutiny by his men. Four of the mutineers finally returned to England after encountering a group of Inuit along the northeastern coast of Hudson Bay. The first Western account of the "Eskimo" was provided by Abacuk Prickett, one of the mutineers whose tale documents the encounter between the materially superior explorers (who had a large boat, among other goods) and a group of Inuit. The following scene, in which a group of Inuit camped on some islands along the northeastern coast of Hudson's Bay, are "befriended" by the mutineers, highlights the early Inuit mistrust of the powerful Europeans (Graburn 1969: 78): They made great joy with dancing, and leaping and stroking of their breasts: they offered diverse things to our men, but they only took morses teeth [ivory tusks] which they [sic] gave them for a knife and two glass buttons: and so receiving our men they came on board, much rejoicing at this chance, as if they had met the most simple and kind people in the world. (Prickett in Asher 1860: 128; cited in Graburn 1969: 87)

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Here the Inuit are seen as joyful and eager to greet the men in the large boat bearing goods that they have never seen before. There is camaraderie on the boat, an exchanging of objects, a display of the simple wonders of the Western world to the Natives, and—significantly—no hint of danger: Not one of [our crew] had any weapon about him, not so much as a sticke, save Henry Greene only who had a piece of pike in his hand: nor saw I any thing that they had wherewith to hurt us. [Two men] had looking glasses and Jews trumps, and bells, which they were shewing the people. The savages standing round about them, one of them came into the boats head to shew me a bottle...

Yet this image of innocent, childlike people is suddenly transformed into one of brutal, dangerous, sneaky, and murderous "savages": another stole behind me at the sterne of the boat... but suddenly I saw the legge and foot of a man by me. Wherefore I cast up my head and saw the savage with a knife in his hand, who strooke at my breast over my head: I cast up my right arm to save my breast, he wounded my arm and stroke my body under my pappe. (Prickett in Asher 1860: 129; cited in Graburn 1969: 87)

Four men are killed with knives and "bows and arrows" during what appears to have been an ambush: Whiles I was thus assaulted in the boat, our men were set upon on shore. [Two men] had their bowels cut out and [two others] being mortally wounded came tumbling into the boat together... [Another] manfully made good the head of the boat against the savages, that pressed sore upon us.... The savages betook them to their bowes and arrowes, which they sent amongst us, wherewith Henry Greene was slaine out right and Michael Perse received many wounds.... I received a cruelle wound in my back with an arrowe... [The savages] ranne to their boats [but did not follow]. (Prickett in Asher 1860: 130-31; cited in Graburn 1969: 88)

This is not the only violent encounter between Europeans and Inuit in the early days of contact. Graburn (1969: 77), for example, notes that four members of the crew who sailed with Frobisher to Baffin Island in 1576 were killed by Inuit and that more fighting between Inuit and his men occurred when Frobisher returned in 1577. Similar stories were described and recorded in the eighteenth century "all along the

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Labrador coast"—enough that the "Eskimos became known as warlike and treacherous savages", even though many subsequent encounters with Europeans involved no violence (Graburn 1969: 88-89). Returning to Prickett's account, at least two aspects of it are worth noting. One is its juxtaposition of two competing images of Inuit: one of the innocent, simple, childlike Native; and the other of the treacherous, brutal savage. Each image, moreover, is a highly exaggerated one, arguably conforming to European expectations of the inhabitants of the foreign, mysterious land across the sea. The other aspect of the account is its view of the encounter as one that is not between equals, even though the scene that Prickett paints of the initial metting between the two groups is "idyllic". At the point in Prickett's narrative before his recounting of the murders, initial contact between Hudson's crew and the Inuit present "an example of good interracial relationships, each group being friendly with and confident of the other" (Graburn 1969: 87). As Graburn describes the scene: The Eskimos gave every appearance of being friendly; so, as a gesture of confidence, an Eskimo came aboard the ship while one of the Englishmen went into the umiak [large Eskimo boat] and back to the Eskimo camp. At the camp this man showed the Eskimos that his gun could kill more murres [birds] than their snares. The Eskimos greeted the small boat that carried more men to their camp. (Graburn 1969: 87)

The Europeans have both a superior boat—which has allowed them to reach the New World in the first place—and superior hunting weapon. So begins the introduction of technology and of ways of viewing the world which will come to dominate encounters with the Inuit. If "early relations with these strangers were ambiguous" for the Inuit, and "often ended in disaster for one or both groups" (Graburn 1969: 88), this had as much to do with Inuit desire for new technology and food sources which would reduce their hardship as it did with their resistance to the intruders possessing these resources. The colonial encounter was ultimately one between unequals with respect to technological resources and the ability to use these resources to represent the Other. While savagery juxtaposed with childlike innocence could be exaggerated in European discourse, the superior hunting and local technological expertise of the Inuit that ensured their survival could be ignored. The dominant power of the Europeans

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"influenced what they saw and how they saw it, as well as what they did not see" (Hall 1992b: 294). European representations of the people and places that they encountered obscured the power relations inherent in these encounters, and played a key role in the processes of conquest, colonization, enslavement, and political economic domination of the New World. In the emerging colonial system, representation of the peoples encountered in voyages went hand in hand with the way in which these peoples were treated and their lands were exploited. How they should be treated in the colonizing process "was directly linked to the question of what sort of people and societies they were—which in turn depended on the West's knowledge of them, on how they were represented" (Hall 1992b: 309). Early representations of the New World that are found in many other sources often pitted simplicity, closeness to nature, and innocence against savagery and depravity, just as Prickett's narrative about the Eskimo had done. It was as if everything which Europeans represented as attractive and enticing about the natives could also be used to represent the exact opposite: their barbarous and depraved character.... There were disturbing reversals being executed in the discourse here. The innocent, friendly people in their hammocks could also be exceedingly unfriendly and hostile. Living close to Nature meant that they had no developed culture—and were therefore 'uncivilized'. Welcoming to visitors, they could also fiercely resist and had war-like rivalries with other tribes.... At a moment's notice, Paradise could turn into 'barbarism'. Both versions of the discourse operated simultaneously. They may seem to negate each other, but it is more accurate to think of them as mirror-images. Both were exaggerations, founded on stereotypes, feeding off each other. (Hall 1992b: 306)

Although the Arctic was never portrayed as Paradise, the Inuit were described in the discourse of the early seventeenth century as "innocent, friendly" people who could become irrationally hostile. The production and circulation of these dominant ideologies legitimated eventual European domination of the Inuit in the system of trade and the dominance of the English language in the newly created speech economy. This dominance involved access to a larger share of material resources and to the symbolic resources that legitimated this power. In this way, the production of these images helped to perpetuate and justify the presence of Europeans, who were needed to "civilize",

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"educate", and "lead" the dangerous and yet childlike "savages". As we will see, this seventeenth-century stereotype changes as political economic relations stabilize. 1.2. The Hudson's Bay Company and the "hostile Eskimo"1*

According to ethnohistorians, Cree gathered in the summer at the mouths of the Great and Little Whale rivers well before the arrival of the Hudson's Bay Company post, in order to harvest white whales (Honigmann 1962: 7). Following Hudson's voyage in 1610, more English ships arrived in pursuit of wealth and material resources. After the founding of the Hudson's Bay Company in 1670, posts were set up wherever it was felt they would be profitable and would not be in direct competition with French posts. These motives prompted the Hudson's Bay Company to construct a post at Richmond Gulf in August 1749, about 100 kilometres north of Kuujjuarapik, among Cree and Inuit who had not yet entered into direct trade with the Company. At Richmond Fort, as it was called, prospectors attempted to mine copper and lead ore found in the area, but were sent home after two years "since for a Considerable time they have had no Success nor no prospect" (Hudson's Bay Company records; cited in Francis and Morantz 1983: 68). By 1752, the Hudson's Bay Company started whaling at Little Whale River, about 25 km south of Richmond Fort, since at that time this seemed to be more lucrative than engaging in the fur trade. The post manager noted that the Cree preferred to hunt caribou or deer rather than trap furs for trade and that the Inuit had little to do with the post. The Whale fishery succeeded through the efforts of the Cree and their use of canoes. In 1752, for example, the fishery employed fifty men and their families and twenty-five canoes. The hunters were paid in brandy, tobacco, and other trade items—half when they caught a whale, and half at the end of season. This way, as the trader noted, "they Cannot go away till ye Season is Over" (Francis and Morantz 1983: 73). From records kept at the time, the original Hudson's Bay Company post at Richmond Fort appears to have served Cree who were either already engaged in the fur trade at the more southerly Eastmain post over 400 km. away, or those who were not really engaged in trapping at all. In 1756, in an attempt to increase trade with the Cree and

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Naskapi (an inland group who were primarily caribou hunters), the Hudson's Bay Company opened a post at Little Whale River. Trade had been attempted with Inuit prior to this, but according to reports (and as we will see below) relations between the Inuit and the Whites and Crees at the post were not good. Eventually, poor weather conditions, which often restricted the whale hunt, proved to be too frequent. This and the scarcity of fur-bearing animals in the area, led to the order sent from London and received by the Hudson's Bay Company post manager in 1759, to close the post. Most of the company's fur trading posts at this time operated south of the 55th parallel, where beavers were more plentiful. The Hudson's Bay Company whale fishery reopened for a short time in 1791 at Great Whale River. For the next fifty years—until it became permanent in 1857—this post alternated with posts at Fort George (now Chisasibi) further south and at Little Whale River Inuit refusal to participate in trade until an Inuk Hudson's Bay Company employee, who worked as an interpreter on the west coast of the Bay, was sent in 1839 to encourage Inuit to trade at Fort George (Saladin D'Anglure 1984a: 500). His efforts succeeded, and put an end to years of distrust of the Euro-Canadians and the Cree, who traded regularly at the posts. Various observers have noted that the Cree and Inuit were, and to some extent still are, hostile toward each other. For instance, Graburn (1969: 92, paraphrasing Balikci 1960) refers to the Cree as the "longtime mortal enemies" of the Inuit. Since the eighteenth century, descriptions of social relations between the groups have often highlighted hostilities, despite the friendly and peaceful relations of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries documented in Rev. Peck's missionary journal and in elder narratives. Saladin D'Anglure (1984a) also notes the peaceful relations between Inuit and Cree after "more or less regular commercial relations were undertaken" with the Inuit beginning in the mid-nineteenth century (p. 500). The origins of Cree-Inuit hostility are not agreed upon by ethnohistorians, although Hudson's Bay Company records tell of Cree from the south of James Bay (the "Albany and Moose Indians") heading some five hundred miles north on "Eskimo hunts". These hostilities are part of the history familiar to Inuit elders and echoed by Europeans in their writings at the time. As one Inuit elder noted:

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Inuit and Crees used to have battles with each other when they first met. The Inuit fled to the north and Inuit fled on the ice heading to Belcher Islands. That's where they are today. People headed north to flee the Indians and settled up north. Crees and Inuit killed each other and the Inuit first fled to the islands. The Crees went as far as Salluit looking for Inuit. That is how far Crees reached up north. I don't know if they still acted like this [when I was very young], but I can remember being scared of Inuit and Crees fighting. I think it was a family feud. I was scared, and I think this is why I remember that Inuit and Crees killed each other... way in the past. (Inuk Elder M; A) 19

Kohlmeister and Koch, Moravian missionaries from the Atlantic coast of Labrador, set out to explore Ungava Bay by boat in the early nineteenth century. They went up the Koksoak River to a site that was to become known as Fort Chimo by English-speakers and Kuujjuaq by Inuit. Their 1814 reports are the only ones that mention the Indians and Inuit of Ungava traded with each other, but "even they admit that this was the calm between storms and that trading often broke up into fights and killing." As one anthropologist noted: "these early attempts at trading were probably the results of the influence of the whiteman in the south of the area" (Graburn 1969: 76).20 Given the Cree appear to have been the aggressors in these confrontations, raiding Inuit camps and—because of their acquisition of muskets through trade—overwhelming Inuit by means of their superior weapons. Inuit were thus often killed or captured and taken south to James Bay to Fort Albany. One explanation of these raids, as noted by Francis and Morantz (1983: 76), was that the Inuit were thought to possess magical powers, and were seen as responsible for periods of illness or famine among these more southern Indians. As such, this warfare seems to have been motivated not so much by a Cree desire to acquire Inuit goods or territory as by a desire to safeguard their own survival as a community. But these hostilities also appear to have a source in an earlier alignment between the Cree and Hudson's Bay Company traders and whalers and particular incidents involving Inuit and these traders. Honigmann (1962), an anthropologist working in Great Whale River in the 1940s and 1950s, reports one such incident, which took place in the early mining settlement established in 1749 at Little Whale River. This incident was described in a letter by Henry Pollexfen, one of the prospectors in charge of the Little Whale River settlement:

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An Eskimo "troubled" the place in the winter of 1754. Soon thereafter a party of "near Fifty Esquemaux with their dogs and great Sledges" showed up. In his letter... Mr. Henry Pollexfen says: "I endeavoured as well as I could to make them understand by signs that there was another great house Just by where they might Trade such things as they had, which was boots, hairy deer skin Cotes and such like." (Honigmann 1962: 8)

Pollexfen also reports that his men went out hunting one day, foreseeing no danger in leaving a boy unattended back at the house at Little Whale River (Francis and Morantz 1983: 74). In their absence, however, the house was plundered by Eskimos and the boy kidnapped. Not a pot was left to drink out of, not a knife to cut with, nor a kettle for cooking. The white men immediately left for Richmond Gulf. During their absence Eskimos again broke into the house. They threw out pork and "Pease," cut up the beds, and did "all the Damage...Possible (except Burning it)." The body of the boy was found by Indians in the spring of 1754. (Honigmann 1962: 8)

Two other versions of this story were still circulating among EuroCanadians in the 1950s, when Honigmann working in Great Whale River (Honigmann 1962: 8). One of these includes the following details: (1) the Eskimo attack was meant to avenge the rape of Eskimo women by two free traders, and was carried out by their husbands; (2) the post manager feared a general uprising from the Inuit and attempted reconciliation by visiting their encampment with a group of Indians; and (3) the Eskimo men fled and left the Indians to attack and kill the women and children. A second version was attributed to Harold Udgarten, a Hudson's Bay Company employee born at Moose Factory in 1875, who spoke fluent Inuktitut and spent most of his life living among the Inuit of Great Whale River.21 His version does not include a rape, and is thus similar to the account given by Pollexfen. But it reports (1) that there was more than one attack on White employees at Little Whale River, and (2) that the post manager used Indian assistance against the "predatory Eskimo" (Honigmann 1962: 8).

These stories are significant not so much for their accuracy as for the ways in which they have been told and retold. The points that they emphasize can give us some insight into the historical construction of the interrelationships and the tensions between the groups that were in contact and the extent to which tensions have persisted. These stories

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also suggest that the acts of aggression may have been more than merely brutal acts of violence and plunder. Although the actual circumstances are impossible to reconstruct, the different versions reveal how relations of power are constituted in the colonial process. They serve as examples of how complex relationships between ethnic groups are simplified and naturalized by attributing certain traits to some group and defining its members accordingly. Thus, the discourse reproduces the notion of "ethnic absolutism" in which character is shaped by homogeneous, static "ethnic essences" that define who one is. As with previous stereotypical images, the construction of hostility between Inuit, Cree, and Europeans served to justify European colonial intervention in the region in order to "pacify" and "civilize" the "savages" and stop the violence that was occurring there. The first version of the story given above, recounted by the Hudson's Bay Company employee, tells us about a savage Inuit attack on an innocent Hudson's Bay Company employee who was simply doing his job at the post. The second version describes one manifestation of the brutality associated with colonialism and the responses of Inuit faced with this brutality. It also reveals relationships other than that of victimizer/victimized by highlighting Cree collaboration with the post. The third version reconfirms this collaboration and the resultant division between groups that are subordinately positioned in the colonial process. All three versions appear to be typical constructions of colonial discourse, in various respects. One is that the Hudson's Bay Company —and the social and economic practices that it engaged in—is portrayed as "innocent", notwithstanding the fact that the traders themselves, whether they were working for the Hudson's Bay Company or not, could be brutal.22 Another is that the indigenous groups are portrayed as either "enemies" or "friends". The Inuit, who happen to resist the Hudson's Bay Company, are portrayed as savage, while the Cree are portrayed as benignly welcoming and siding with the post.23 Thus, a certain image or character trait is assigned to a particular group depending on how well its members serve the Company and contributed to its accumulation of profits. This point is brought home by consideration of a 1793 incident that appears in Hudson's Bay Company records, in which six men who were attempting to reopen the post at Little Whale River were killed by Inuit. As it happens, suspicions that they might have been killed by Cree—who were likewise reluctant to trade at that particular post and

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were apparently viewed as being as "savage" as the Inuit—were not laid to rest until almost fifty years later, when an Inuk woman who had been present confirmed that the attackers had been Inuit. What is important to note, then, is the way in which the complexities of the relations between colonizer and colonized become simplified and obscured. The stories highlight the attempts to draw Inuit into trade and their subsequent resistance to it. It was not until the early nineteenth century—more specifically, when the post moved to Great Whale River in 1813—that any form of trade began; and trade did not become systematic until 1840, with the establishment of a post at Fort George, about 180 kilometers south of Great Whale River. EuroCanadian accounts of Inuit accordingly continued to describe them as "savage" well into the nineteenth century—all the while that nonNative traders and the other Native groups in the Hudson Bay and James Bay regions were, of course, displaying similar degrees of "savagery". Reasons for the reluctance of Inuit to engage in trade have been attributed to the historical animosity between Inuit and Cree, as described above; and to the perception that the Cree were aligned with the Europeans and their trade. As Francis and Morantz note: [D]uring the eighteenth century homeguard Indians from the Albany and Moose rivers frequently made excursions north to the Richmond Gulf area to attack the Inuit. It is possible the Inuit believed white traders were allies of the Indians, a belief which might account for the incidents at Little Whale River in 1754 and 1793. Because they were disruptive to company activities, the northern raids were discouraged at the James Bay posts, but nevertheless they continued until the end of the century when employment as inland voyageurs left no time in the summer for the southern Indians to persist in their northern sorties.... [In 1815, the Hudson's Bay] postmaster realized that as long as this enmity between Indian and Inuit continued, the Hudson's Bay Company would receive no trade from the Inuit. (Francis and Morantz 1983: 118)

Through the persistence of the Hudson's Bay Company—and with the help of one English-speaking an Inuk employee, as mentioned above—the Inuit were eventually convinced to trade.24 Once this process was underway, the subsistence economy began a shift that would eventually lead to its co-optation into the market economy. This process involved an alignment of certain Inuit with the trading post and

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its managers and with the missionaries who began to arrive in the latter half of the nineteenth century. 1.3. The fur trade and the formation of partnerships White people first started to arrive north by boat. As they arrived, Inuit killed them. The Whiteman [then] became partners with the Inuit and the Cree, and used to receive news [from south] only through dog teams and boats. The only source of information was by writing. Inuit used to travel by dog team to Moose Factory from Great Whale to get mail.... (Inuk Elder M; A)

Wolf (1982) notes that alliances between Europeans and Aboriginal groups were forged when it was in the interests of the Europeans to secure trade routes. In southern Canada, the desire for furs on the part of both the French and the English resulted in each of them establishing alliances and trade patterns with particular indigenous groups. These groups served as intermediaries between Native trappers and European traders, and maintained a more-or-less equal trade partnership. This balanced relation, however, "soon gave way to imbalance" when the lessening of hostilities between French and English resulted in a decline in the "politically motivated flow of goods from European authorities to native American allies" (Wolf 1982: 194). Indigenous trappers "came to rely increasingly on the trading post not only for the tools of the fur trade but also for the means of their own subsistence." The trader would advance them goods, which meant that they would have to devote even more labour to trade in order to repay the goods. This system of advancing guns, ammunition, and comestibles against future commodities "tied the native Americans more firmly into continent-wide and international networks of exchange, as subordinate producers rather than as partners" (Wolf 1982: 194). While the same processes were at work in the Canadian Arctic, the details of the alliances forged between the European colonialists and the Cree and Inuit were somewhat different. Despite early rivalries between French and English in the Hudson Bay area (from 1685 to 1713), English has been dominant in the region since then, and the Hudson's Bay Company has developed, over time, the loyalty of both Cree and Inuit trappers (Graburn 1969: 79).

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However, competition arose in the twentieth century, when Révillon Frères, a Montreal-based trading company, set up posts to compete with the Hudson's Bay Company. Révillon Frères had only limited success breaking the Hudson's Bay Company's long-established monopoly in northern Quebec, despite their efforts to set up posts in and secure missionaries for such places as Port Harrison (now called Inukjuak), about 250 miles north of Kuujjuarapik. (On the history of the competition between the Hudson's Bay Company and Révillon Frères, see Saladin D'Anglure 1984a: 501-502.) Recognizing that missionaries helped to increase the volume of trade by offering spiritual guidance and services that were valued by the trappers—Révillon Frères established contact with the Anglican Church, offering transport and accommodations to Anglican clergy willing to come to the region. In a letter to the Bishop of Moosonee, dated 1 March 1915, an English manager of Révillon Frères writes: Dear Sir, I received this morning your letter of Feb. 25th and was very pleased indeed to leam you have been able to secure a missionary for Port Harrison. We expect our steamer will leave Montreal about the same date as past years, viz., between July 15 and 25th and we can offer passage on this boat. Taking into consideration the fact that it was on our representations that you proceeded to secure a missionary, we will make no charge for his transportation and will charge you only the same as we pay to the S.S. Co. for meals, viz $1.00 per day.

He goes on to say that the missionary can stay in the agent's dwelling, "which I can assure you, is a very comfortable one... [and] whatever charges are made will be strictly moderate." For whatever reason, the missionary never arrived in Port Harrison. In a letter to Rev. E. J. Peck dated 24 February 1916—almost a year later—Rev. W. G. Walton of Great Whale discusses this issue: "Let Port Harrison alone for a time. There are people there I know but not many and Révillon Freres [sic] want the missr. for trading influence where the people come nearly always to W.R. [Whale River] each spring." The historical presence of the Hudson's Bay Company, coupled with its alliance with the Anglican Church since the mid-eighteenth century, made it difficult for Révillon Frères to survive. The competition between the French and English companies ended in 1936, twenty-five years later, when Révillon was bought out by their competi-

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tor. This was not without consequence for some Inuit, who in the meantime had been trading with Révillon Frères. The Hudson's Bay Company did not appreciate disloyalty, and "caused some hardship to Révillon's former patrons who in certain cases, were denied any credit, as a measure of reprisal.... For many Inuit, it was a clear demonstration of the omnipotence of the English company" (Dorais 1979: 71). An Inuk elder in Kuujjuarapik, recalling the turnover, notes the threats directed at those who traded with the "French" company: My brother used to communicate with the traders and could even read newspapers. That's how they learned that the French fur traders were going to be leaving. We were told that by my brother. They used to be warned that there wasn't going to be anyone to trade with them. We were warned by the Hudson Bay people that we were not going to eat anymore bannock, we won't get any more flour. (Inuk Elder F)

While European contact led to a shift in economic activity for the Inuit, who began to trap more and hunt less in order to buy food and new equipment, the stability of this system of exchange allowed some autonomy for Inuit families. Yet this period is more obviously characterized by the unequal power relations that arose between trader and trapper, and the resulting dependency of the latter on European goods. A "putting-out" system resulted in which Hudson's Bay Company traders advanced goods to Inuit, who had to repay their debts in furs. The dependency of Inuit on guns, ammunition, food, and tobacco from the post meant that returning to a life of subsistence independent of western market fluctuations was no longer an option. 1.4. Nineteenth century: The arrival of the missionaries As time went on, religion was spread across the region. Inuit as far as Ivujivik went to Great Whale to see the Reverend. I have heard Inuit from Ivujivik travelling by dog team to Chisasibi to see the Reverend and for church services.... I don't remember people arriving from the north but I have seen people arriving from Sanikiluaq for church services. (Inuk Elder M; A) The shamanism was halted by the missions whether they were Crees or Inuit. The missions stopped them because they thought the shamans were more powerful. (Inuk Elder M; A)

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The arrival of missionaries in northern Quebec is significant for a number of reasons. The missionaries introduced schooling to the Inuit, in a process similar to that found in other colonial situations. That is, Christian teaching involved discursive practices of moral regulation and a condemnation of shamanistic practices or "conjuring", as the missionary Rev. Peck called it. Missionaries also developed and taught Inuktitut syllables in order to allow Inuit to read passages from the Bible. They preached Christian morality, including the consequences of misconduct or departure from this moral code; and promoted the training of Inuit teachers to carry on religious teachings and spread Christian beliefs when priests were not available. Missionary practices were not independent of trade practices, nor were they isolated from the colonial practices that guided European expansion. Missionaries in northern Quebec were linked to Hudson's Bay Company posts, which gave them not only access to the Inuit, who would gather there to trade, but a means of transportation, in the form of company boats. This also meant that news and goods from England and other parts of Canada were more readily available. The work of missionaries and their view of the people they worked with were influenced by colonial discourses which emphasized the impoverishment and childlike qualities of the "heathen", European superiority as regards technology and literacy, and the social-Darwinian notion that progress lay in imparting these "advances" of European know-how to the "backward", underdeveloped indigenous peoples. In what follows, I will briefly examine the role of missionaries in colonizing the New World and their link to trade; and then focus on the area around Little Whale River and Great Whale River, where missionary contact with Hudson Bay Inuit first began. I will pay particular attention to the practices and writings of Rev. Edmund J. Peck. As mentioned in chapter 1, Peck was the first permanent missionary in the area, and is an important figure in the history of the Hudson Bay Inuit because of his role as a teacher of Inuktitut literacy, which permitted the rapid spreading of Christianity. 1.4.1. Missionary discourse Early missionaries in the New World engaged in moral and political discursive practices that were bound up with the political economic effects of trade. Bitterli (1989) describes the relationships established

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between indigenous populations and European traders and missionaries as based roughly on a process of supply and demand. Bitterli notes that "what the missionaries had to offer was seldom really in demand". However, they did become accepted among Inuit because of their ability to communicate in Inuktitut and to train a few Inuit "assistants", and because of their offers of "eternal life" and "more solid advantages such as political prestige and technical know-how" (Bitterli 1989: 40), deriving from their association with European traders and their possession of European metals, clothes, foodstuffs, books, and other goods. In providing goods, both symbolic and material, the missionaries were performing a function much like that of the traders—although in exchange they received "souls" and Inuit converts rather than raw materials or slaves,25 and practised their trade through peaceful means. Historically, missionaries were not independent of the colonial infrastructure. The Portuguese and Spanish of the sixteenth century "described the propagation of the Christian faith among the heathen as an objective which justified colonization in terms of international law". Missionaries henceforth remained "exponents of European culture and ultimately dependent on material support from ecclesiastical institutions and from the colonial administration" (Bitterli 1989: 45-46). Bitterli (1989: 4 7 ^ 8 ) notes that it is beyond question that the welcome extended to missionaries by nonEuropean peoples was due not to their teaching but to their presents and technical skills.... [The] manifold cultural and structural links with the colonial power, sometimes glossed over in missionary reports, were not weakened by the missionaries' frequent sharp and responsible criticisms of colonialism. It is significant that their criticism was generally aimed at inhumane treatment of the non-European peoples, while failing to question the assumptions that made such treatment possible. Thus, it was a very long time before forced labour for Indians, or the slave trade and the slave economy, were challenged and systematically opposed by either Catholic or Calvinist missionaries.

In northern Quebec, missionaries followed the trading posts, which in general arrived much later in the Ungava region (the area surrounding present-day Kuujjuaq) than in Labrador or the trading territories further south. Although a post in Little Whale River was established in 1749, the first missionary contact in the area began only in 1859, with the arrival of the Rev. T. H. Fleming and J. Horden

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(Marsh 1964). Horden apparently baptized Inuit at this time, and trained an Inuk named John Melucto to preach to the Inuit who would gather at the trading post in the spring and summer. Horden also developed a syllabic script for Inuktitut, adapting the script developed for Cree around 1845 by Rev. James Evans, a Wesleyan (Methodist) missionary who lived at Norway House, in what is now Manitoba (Harper 1983). Horden translated the Lord's Prayer, the Creeds, and some hymns in his early efforts to convert the Inuit who came to the post at Little Whale River (Marsh 1964). Despite these early developments, there would not be an established Anglican mission until Rev. Peck arrived in 1876. A church built of corrugated iron was completed in 1879, and the first service was conducted by Mr. E. Richards on 26 October of that year. Peck often held services in English and "Esquimeaux" 26 during the day, and commented on how his "good helper Melucto" spoke at these services (Rev. E. J. Peck, journal entry, 15 May 1881). The church stood at Little Whale River until the early 1890s, when Great Whale River, because of its better access to trappers, became the focus of trade activities. The church followed the trading post activity and was moved by Peck and a small group oflnuit (Barger 1984; also recorded in Peck's journals). Peck devoted a lot of time to learning Inuktitut, since he, like many missionaries, believed that the "Natives" could have access to the "word of God" more directly in their own language (see Meeuwis 1999 for discussion of this language ideology). With the help of a grammar book already compiled by Moravian missionaries on the Labrador coast, he was able to carry on Horden's work and translate parts of the Bible. He also eventually wrote more detailed grammars of the language, such as the Eskimo grammar (1943) and EskimoEnglish dictionary (1925). In addition, he taught the syllabic system to Inuit, which they learned and spread relatively quickly. Peck, like other missionaries of his time, encouraged Inuit to teach each other, thus spreading knowledge about reading and the Bible even further. The spread of literacy and biblical knowledge was so effective that the use of syllables by Inuit along the Hudson Bay coast preceded other missions established in the late 1800s (see Crowe 1991: 146 for discussion). Although it is said that by the beginning of the twentieth century most northern Quebec Inuit had become Anglican, it is not known to what extent Christianity was practised, nor to what extent Inuit beliefs might have been incorporated into the new Christian

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ideology. What is known is that Inuit were converted to Christianity in their own language, and did not need to learn the language of the church or trader. In addition, their language was given a distinctive orthography, although one similar to that used by their Cree neighbours. The introduction of a formal writing system for Inuktitut, developed by the early missionaries of Northern Quebec, would have effects Peck and others would never have imagined. Inuktitut (including its orthography) has become a significant symbolic resource in the construction of Inuit identity and an important element in the construction of Inuit political, educational, and bureaucratic structures. Particularly in the domain of education, the written form of Inuktitut, which already existed in religious (and later bureaucratic) texts, justified its place as a written language to be taught in schools. Inuktitut literacy has fit in well with Western concepts of education and with the Western belief that literacy is good, necessary for development (Street 1984: 183-88), and associated with greater intelligence and higher cognitive skills (Olson 1986; Olson, Torrance and Hildyard 1985). In order to understand the importance of this symbolic resource for Inuit in Kuujjuraapik in the early twenty-first century, it is important to understand the political and economic conditions under which the teaching of literacy was initiated by the early missionaries, and the growing importance of Europeans to the Inuit way of life. 1.4.2. Shifting representations: The "poor heathen Esquimeaux" In the summer of 1885, Rev. Peck returned to Little Whale River to continue the work of the Anglican Church in converting the Inuit to Christianity. Christopher Fenn of the Anglican Church in London gave Peck the following instructions on 20 May 1885: You are going forth dear brother... to a field of labour where you will often be isolated from Christian society, or at least from intercourse with any other Christians than those who are but infants in the faith, some of whom perhaps though men in years are rather childish than childlike, and too often are rather a burden and care to the missionary than a help and support to his Christian life.

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This passage presents the view from London at the time that nonChristian peoples were, in one sense at least, dependent children in the missionaries' care. They are "infants in faith" and more "childish than childlike". These images are key elements in missionary discourse, and were coupled with further images of "poor" and "impoverished" heathen souls. In 1881, Peck arrived in Great Whale, writing that "the people seemed glad to have me with them again, especially the poor Esqx." Ten years later, in April 1891, when Peck returns to Little Whale River to dismantle the church, he comments again on the Inuit he encounters: "These poor people, I am sorry to say, do not show much desire for instruction but I did what I could to teach them." The Inuit are often described in Peck's journal as "poor creatures", "sad-looking", and "miserable". These images continue well into the twentieth century. Interestingly, the term "poor" as used by the missionaries is ambiguous, since one can be spiritually poor for not embracing Christianity, but also physically and materially poor—lacking the food, clothing, and tools necessary for survival. What the missionaries had to offer, however, would end only the first kind of "impoverishment". Missionaries could hope to convert Inuit to Christianity and transform their indigenous belief and value system through the introduction of Western ideological practices and teachings. But they could not directly transform the people's impoverished material living conditions or the harsh practices of traders, who refused to issue them credit when they needed it. Missionary discourse played a powerful legitimizing role in the colonial process. Converting indigenous people to Christianity and introducing Western values compatible with the capitalist enterprise were considered necessary first steps in "improving" their way of life—even, of course, if they never asked for "improvement". Once the Inuit were engaged in trade and no longer a threat to the traders and the posts, they were presented not as "savage" but as "poor", and thus to be enriched through Christianity. From a Western perspective, the work of missionaries represented progress and "morality" in a world increasingly linked by trade. From what can be gathered from Peck's journals and life work, he was a devoted missionary. If he thought of the Inuit around Great Whale as children, he also understood how much his survival and work depended upon their hunting and travelling skills.

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In his journal, Peck recounts his trip to Little Whale River, during which he and his Inuit travellers stopped to make tea with an oil lamp. He wrote detailed descriptions of how Inuit hunters waited patiently in exceedingly cold temperatures for a seal to appear through a hole: "How they stand the cold or why they are not frozen I cannot say, one thing is certain I could not stand it neither had I any desire to try" (21 February 1881). Peck observes later that the Inuit eat seal raw. The Inuit, he writes, claimed that it was "remarkably heating to the system. They also say that after eating a good meal of seals flesh they can endure the cold much better than if they eat other kinds of meat" (24 February 1881). The journey between Great Whale River and Little Whale River was about 80 kilometers. According to Peck, it usually took between 12 and 14 hours by dogsled, and up to 18 hours in bad weather. Upon returning to Great Whale River during one trip, Peck learns that some Inuit have killed three polar bears with knives, and comments: "the courage of the Esqx. in such matters is surprising. They seem to have little fear in attacking any animal they may meet with providing there is some little chance of their killing the game" (journal entry, 2 March 1881). Peck also recounts some of his journeys with Cree and Inuit guides to and from the missions along the northern James Bay and Hudson Bay coasts. On 17 May 1881, he writes about his departure the next day to Fort George (now Chisasibi): [I shall] proceed as far as Cape Jones by a sled and dogs and I shall there wait for some Indians who have been told to meet me. With these I shall probably walk across the Cape and then take a canoe the rest of the journey. As there will be some few Esqx to the south of Great Whale River I hope to see them and if possible spend some time in their company.

En route, Peck describes spring seal hunting on the ice. He then waits with his Inuit party at Cape Jones for the Cree to arrive. Because the ice has not broken yet, the Cree are unable to travel by canoe and are about two and a half weeks late in arriving. Peck is once more dependent on Inuit hunters for game and for news about the arriving Cree. As his own supplies diminish, he is thankful for the goose and fish provided by the Inuit, which help him and his assistant to survive the ordeal. As Peck travelled between Fort George, Great Whale River, and Little Whale River he would preach to Inuit and Cree along the way. At

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the posts, he would regularly meet with whoever was visiting at the time, and make determined efforts to talk to unfamiliar new arrivals. Peck kept brief notes of this work in his journal, and would often comment on what he might have felt was the more important aspects of his missionary duties. For example, he noted that Inuit should abandon "evil" non-Christian practices and beliefs and adopt Christianity in order to enrich their "impoverished" existence. For Peck, teaching and encouraging those whom he has taught to teach others were among of the most important aspects of his work, which is shown in many of the quotations from the spring of 1881, of which just a few are presented here. [4 April] Some Esqx arrived in the evening. I was glad to see them and to speak to them concerning their souls. One young fellow whom I had never seen before had almost learned to read and he had some knowledge of Christianity. It appears that he had met another Esqx. who had done his best to instruct him. This is a cheering fact. May such teachers be increased a hundred fold. [11 April] Busy with literacy work, teaching Esqx etc. A party of Esq arrived during the day. As I had reason to fear that some of these still clung to their conjuring practices I spoke to them upon the matter. They stated that they had abandoned their evil practices of late. Whether this is true or not time alone will tell. It is hard to look the dark side of the matter but evidence is sadly against them. [15 April] Had a long conversation with an Esqx who had been a conjuror but who is still clinging to other evils. I told him that he must leave his evil ways if he wished to be saved. He did not seem to like this at all and gave no answer until pressed on the subject. This mans [sic] sensual habits are a terrible hindrance to his salvation. Almost every year he takes a wife and then forsakes her for some one else. Truly Satan has many tools with which He ruins immortal souls. [9 May] One man [arriving with others] had met a Christian Esqx who was a convert from one of the Moravian Mission Stations on the Labrador coast; from him he learned a simple prayer.... It shows that the labours of our Moravian Brethern have an influence far beyond the bounds they may imagine.

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History and representation [14 May] Several [Esqx] have mastered their little books and seem to take pleasure in reading them.... Nothing gives me more joy than to know that several can now read for themselves.

Before the post was moved to Great Whale River around 1890, Peck spent most of his time in Little Whale River, where he held classes to teach children the syllabic characters, and held services in "Esqx, one in Indian and a short service in English". According to Peck's journal entries, he diligently worked to convert the " p o o r " heathen Inuit, holding meetings, lessons, and preaching. He also met with repeated resistance to his teachings. This, however, he never stated directly, talking instead about their poor souls and about how they were ignorant, had little concern with their welfare, and were not interested in learning. Clearly, the task of converting Inuit to Christianity in the late nineteenth century was not a simple process. Peck was one of the first educators who devoted a good deal of time to teaching and to instructing others to teach syllables—and thereby the parts of the Christian Bible that he had translated. Missionaries like Peck introduced modern educational discourses to the North, which included formal teaching, reading, and writing. Ironically, despite their efforts to convert the Inuit and their condemnation of Inuit spiritual beliefs, missionaries brought to the Eastern Arctic a writing system that has become distinctly "Inuit". Essential to this process was a belief in literacy and development as progress and as a common "good". Missionaries thus set the groundwork for modernization and of formal secular education that would follow in the twentieth century. 2. The twentieth century: The Inuit and Canada The twentieth century heralded a whole set of economic changes, shifts in political power, and new types of images and stereotypes about the Inuit. During the time of the fur trade's dominance, Europeans had control of the market. As the demand for North American furs decreased in England, and during times when animal resources were scarce, many Inuit were unable to survive by trade. The collapse of the fur trade brought with it a significant economic shift for the Inuit, who had come to rely on the patterns of hunting and trapping and on trading their harvested goods for European goods at the post. This period of reduced trade revenue and scarce animal resources brought

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with it great hardship for many lnuit families, including starvation for some of them. According to some elder narratives, aid from the Canadian government appeared, at first, to be slow, but began to speed up after the Second World War. The first series of changes involved the introduction of Canadian government services such as health care, policing, welfare, pensions, and family allowance benefits. These policy changes altered the shape of the community, with an increased presence of government workers, construction of houses and other forms of infrastructure, and a shift toward lnuit dependence on financial benefits, which helped them through harsh winters when hunting was scarce. These policies were justified in terms of Canada's increasing need, in expanding and developing as a nation state, to legitimize its national status by policing, controlling, and conducting scientific research on the land and the people within its borders. This process also involved the implementation of federal programmes and benefits, which, in the context of the discourse of citizenship, applied to everyone in Canada. In the Canadian Arctic, this process of nationalization and affirmation of Canadian sovereignty included everything from understanding Arctic weather systems to knowing exactly how many people lived where and in what circumstances. The Canadian government had been present in Great Whale River since the installation of a meteorological station in 1895. At that time, a geologist, working for the Geological Survey of Canada, noted that about eighty lnuit, many of them from the north and from the Belcher Islands, were coming in to trade in late winter and then leaving for their summer hunting grounds in April or May (James 1985: 31). These hunting patterns persisted until the 1950s, through different periods of government intervention in the lives of hunters and their families. From 1922 there was medical aid, in the form of the eastern Arctic Patrol, which would arrive by boat in response to reports of infectious diseases, such as tuberculosis, in the area. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) offered its services in 1940, introducing permanent law enforcement and Euro-Canadian judicial practices to the region. In 1947, the federal government introduced family allowance cheques and old age pensions to the lnuit. In addition to the economic effects on families, these bureaucratic processes meant that proper record-keeping, such as recording official birth dates, became a means of increased control and monitoring of the population in the region (see Smith 1993).

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The next big shift, which would permanently alter the political economic landscape of Kuujjuarapik, was the construction of an army base in 1955 and the introduction of wage labour. The base was, in fact, a radar station for the "Mid-Canada Line", built as part of an agreement with the Northern Radar Air Defence (NORAD).29 It was completed in 1958, the same year that education and more permanent health services ani ved in the community. The construction project also included an airport and an airstrip (which in 1963 would become managed by the Quebec government). These shifts represent complex changes in the lives of the Inuit during the twentieth century. While images of Inuit in films such as Nanook of the North (1922) perpetuate an image of happy, hardworking people and great "noble" hunters battling against the forces of nature, the lived reality of many Inuit was hardship and starvation. The following section will address Inuit perceptions of this period and of changes that arose during the construction of the army base and afterwards. This will include a discussion of the contrast between Western conceptions of the Inuit and the lived reality of pre-settlement life, and a description of postwar federal government policy and its effects on the Inuit in and around Kuujjuarapik. 2.1. The reality of hardship Despite the common twentieth-century image of the simple, impoverished, yet happy and hard-working "Eskimo", the Inuit of the Hudson Bay experienced hardship in the years leading to the Second World War. The collapse of the fur trade economy—caused by a lowered demand for North American furs in Europe, the subsequent unavailability of credit at the post, and poor hunting conditions and the scarcity of game—led to illness and starvation for some families. Significantly, it was often the women who would go hungry if the men were away for extended periods of time. The importance of men in family units—and the precarious state of women and children when a male head of household was absent or when hunting was difficult—is emphasized in the following passages: We were poor after that without a father, Agnes was married already. We used to go around looking around for people who were cooking. We had eyes behind our head, looking for food. And people would provide for us. If

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people caught a seal we would always get a little bit of fat, a little bit of meat. Still we went out looking for people. We weren't fussy about what we ate because we had so little. Our mom used to feed us skins, and we didn't have any nice clothes on our bodies. (Inuk Elder F) We used to spend summers here and went back to our camps in the fall. Once we were there and we didn't have anything to eat. The hunter of K's family caught a seal but they didn't bring us any meat. We didn't have any men left in our family then. That family who ignored our hunger almost starved to death a few weeks later. After that they shared their food with us. (Inuk Elder F; A)

The sharing of food from a successful hunt was crucial to survival, especially when animals were scarce and when families had lost a male head of household. When men were absent or were unsuccessful in hunting larger animals, families also sustained themselves by fishing, hunting small game, and gathering mollusks and edible plants. Although family units were generally dependent on men for larger animals and for the European goods received in exchange of furs and skins, women who had lost their husbands sometimes learned how to hunt larger game if they did not remarry. Women also hunted smaller animals, such as ptarmigan, as recounted below: Men went hunting as soon as the homes were settled. Never missed a day of hunting, but still never ate for days at a time. Not a morsel did they swallow food for days and days.... My father and others hunted seals in the middle of winter, being away for few days before they came back home. Men and women who did not hunt seals searched for ptarmigan. When someone was lucky enough to kill one, it was eaten by everyone!! After having returned home with one seal, hunters went back to hunt all over again. We stayed outside playing all day and going in only when absolutely necessary. (Inuk Elder F; A)

The general welfare of people would also worsen when fur prices dropped—a situation not infrequent in the fur trade economy, in which the price of fur was linked to the fluctuations of world markets. Between 1925 and 1935, when times were good and prices for furs were high, trappers were well equipped to feed their families and own large dog-teams. However, during the leaner years of the late 1930s and throughout the war years, "the economic plight of the Eskimo trappers was serious" enough that "in the 1940s there was starvation among the Caribou Eskimos west of Hudson's Bay" (Brody 1975:

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22-23). Survival under these conditions meant relying on harvesting what was available, and eating lichen, as recalled by the elders quoted in the following passages: We got so hungry in winters that we would boil some water and drink it for warmth and eat tea leaves. We also had to eat skins, our own boots when we got really desperate. Dog back then was real food to us. We were often desperately hungry that whenever I hear anyone complaining of hunger now I'd say that he or she is exaggerating. Seal skin when eaten could satisfy appetite. We also ate lichen [black sunburst lichen] by boiling it. It could satisfy hunger as well. I like the taste if they were boiled in fat better than when boiled in water.... (Inuk Elder F; A) One day Saima left us and there weren't any other family but ours when they left.... I was still small but I wondered how we were going to survive without them.... I used to see Indians eating black lichens by cooking them. After Saima and his family left us, we roasted lichen over a stove and ate them. (Inuk Elder M; A)

Coupled with hunger and poverty among Inuit during the 1930s was a rise in tuberculosis and other diseases. These encounters with unfamiliar diseases are recalled in the following passages: People didn't have diseases that are here today, for example, tuberculosis.... Disease is everywhere and I think we got them from white people. Long ago, there wasn't such a thing as tuberculosis. No one was sick before white man came to the north. The only sickness Inuit used to have is infection and they died from it. The infection was cut off from the skin with a knife and if any luck, they survived. (Inuk Elder F; A) There is also a time when we lived in Qikirtajuaq. These days I wonder how I saved all those people we were living with there. They all had measles. I took care of my neighbours and my family. I gathered firewood alone for everyone in the fall. I was a strong person that time.... During those dreadful days I picked mussels along the coast while it was still free of ice. I saved everyone by feeding them a few mussels I could find. I gave each person one tiny mussel and every time I did, I felt satisfied. It was like giving them a whole meal, one tiny mussel each with a bit of fat. (Inuk Elder F; A) Many Inuit died in winter in the place where polar bears were hunted. There was a disease which killed many people. There was a group of people going bear hunting for the whole winter in that place. They were almost wiped

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out by the disease.... Mary's grandparents died from that disease while living on that island. So did Napaartuk's wife and daughter. (Inuk Elder F; A)

Throughout northern Quebec and Labrador, the poor physical health of the Inuit caused concern for missionaries and "other White colonial agents" such as government officials and health care workers (Brody 1975: 24). Those Euro-Canadians residing in northern communities could see firsthand the disastrous consequences of the epidemics, which were greatly reducing the Inuit population. Responding to its moral responsibility to protect Aboriginal peoples, as entrenched in the nineteenth-century Indian Act (Miller 1991: 110), the Canadian government offered medical services, administered by personnel who travelled from community to community by boat during the summer months. Those diagnosed with tuberculosis were sent to southern hospitals, sometimes for a few years. An Anglican missionary writing in May 1956 in The Arctic News, a publication of the Anglican Diocese, notes his shock at the extent of the tuberculosis epidemic. In Puvirnituq, a community about 500 kilometers north of Kuujjuarapik on the Hudson Bay coast, "one of the nearer camps was depleted to about one-third its original size"; "some 74 Eskimos were labelled for immediate evacuation to hospitals a thousand miles away!" In the area between Port Harrison (now Inukjuak) and Puvirnituq, "some 107 natives in all were evacuated to hospitals" in Moose Factory, Toronto, Quebec, Hamilton, or Edmonton (Gerber 1956: 10). The precarious state of those living on the land was made worse by the decrease in game and the scarcity of furs to trade for European goods at the post. The Inuit had become dependent on trade; when there was little or nothing to trade, they faced severe hardship. Inuit dependence on an unstable resource and government concerns over health led to a new era of government policy and control over the northern region, which will be described in section 2.4 below. Before we do so, however, it is worth returning to our discussion of Western images of the Inuit and their lived reality, this time in the context of the early twentieth century. This discussion will serve once again to highlight the divide between these perceptions of Inuit and their social reality.

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2.2. Dispelling twentieth-century Western conceptions We moved to Kuujjuarapik when my father died.... When we arrived here I saw igloos and tents, around that slope there.... The church bell was so loud to our ears unaccustomed to such sounds. I remember people praying in a church quite well. People from out of Kuujjuarapik were wearing dog skin parkas, pants and mittens. There were also people wearing sealskin clothing and some wearing duckskin pants. I remember those people well. The priest that time was Ajuqirtuijiapik, one of the first ministers. I thought he was talking to people with rage. (Inuk Elder F; A)

Images of igloos and tents, dog skin parkas and sealskin clothing are images from the past—from a time to which one cannot return. For many non-Inuit, these images also tend to define what it means to be an Inuk today. In other words, such images have reified Inuit culture, by presenting practices as "objects" locked in history. As such, they have —to a certain extent at least—produced and maintained ideas or ideologies among non-Inuit regarding both how Inuit used to live and how they ought to live today. As Brody (1987: 171) notes, Inuit in certain regions might still build snow houses, travel by dog team, hunt seals with harpoons, move from camp to camp, eat raw meat, and dry fish in the sun. But these same Inuit might also live in prefabricated houses with running water, stereos, refrigerators, and microwave ovens, and might drive skidoos, hunt with rifles, and shop in supermarkets. He notes the "great disappointment" of non-Inuit "when we discover that those whom we expect to be traditionalists turn out to drive pickup trucks." He also notes the fundamental paradox that certain nonNative people feel when these same people, who have adopted so many Western ways, are "talking loudly about special rights" (Brody 1987: 173). The "disappointment" of Euro-Canadians with Inuit is more complicated than the realization that Inuit do not live in igloos and do not merrily go ice-fishing and hunting each day. This disappointment also stems, in part, from contemporary idealizations of indigenous peoples as living close to and "in harmony with" nature. Once again, we can see that the images in question are created from a Western perspective, and more closely reflect the needs of Euro-North Americans than they do the social reality of the Inuit. It is no wonder that there is disappointment or disillusionment when a non-Inuk visitor to the North discovers a community arguably as complex and diverse as any that one would find in the South.

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While Western stereotypes present images of how the Inuit might live in the North, the lived reality can be quite different. Some Inuit, for example, did not live in igloos, and some living south of Great Whale River never saw igloos until they visited this more northerly settlement. This is recounted in the following passage, from a story told by an Inuk man born in 1919: At that time prospectors were [in Kuujjuarapik] as well as the Hudson Bay Company post.... Some people working for the prospectors lived in tents. I visited them and their tents were so cold. I used to visit anyone everyday and to visit I would climb a slope above our tent. The first time I went up the slope I noticed that there were lumps of snow all over the place and all of a sudden someone popped out of one of those lumps. I was stunned when I learned he lived in a lump of snow. I had never seen igloos before. I didn't even know about igloos and the first person I saw going out of the igloo startled me. I was passing Ningauralluk's place, climbing a slope when I saw that person popping out of what seemed to me like a lump of snow. That person invited me in so I went in with him. The sky was clear and it was cold. I had never been in an igloo before and I found it very cold the first time I went in but as I stayed longer I began to get warmer. The people in that igloo were talking so much and I found it hard to leave. When I finally got out I saw another person popping out of another igloo. There were also other people inside his igloo. They lived in igloos near a small hill. I guess there was more snow there and so they picked the site to build their igloos. (Inuk Elder M; A)

Notwithstanding the familiar image of the igloo-inhabiting "Eskimo", igloos were, for some Inuit, as foreign as the urban architecture of southern cities. Other social and cultural practices of the Inuit who lived below the tree line along the shores of the Hudson Bay are similarly contrary to Western expectations. Among these is their relationship with the Cree, which was often viewed by outsiders as unfriendly and hostile. Elder narratives and Rev. Peck's journal provide a different picture, as we will see below. 2.3. Inuit-Cree

relations

Rev. Peck, on one of his voyages to Fort George from Kuujjuarapik, describes in his journal in 1881 a noticeable camaraderie and peaceful-

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ness between Inuit and Cree, taking this "friendliness" to be due in large part to his teachings: [Friday, 22 July 1881] The weather being quite calm we again took to our paddles and succeeded in reaching some Indians and Esqx. [sic] who were encamped on a small cape.... [B]efore I left I got all the Indians and Esqx together. Each party sang an hymn [sic]. I then asked them to kneel down and prayed for them all. What a sight this was. Some few years ago these people were the most deadly enemies now they can praise God together.

Although we do not know what Peck meant by "some few years ago", what evidence he had that the Cree and Inuit in this area were "deadly enemies" at that time, or whether they were "enemies" or "friends" at the time of his arrival, we do know that the stories recounted by Euro-Canadians from an incident in 1754 had been passed on, and that such views were likely perpetuated by traders at the post. There must, therefore, have been little doubt in Peck's mind that the two groups had been "deadly enemies". Since we do not have Inuit or Cree life histories recorded from that time, we cannot get a sense of how much social interaction or how much animosity there was between the groups. However, with the recent recording of Inuit elders' narratives about life in the early twentieth century, we now have a good deal of information about InuitCree interaction. The majority of these historical narratives, provided by Inuit who resided in the vicinity of Kuujjuarapik and Chisasibi (old Fort George) in their youth, do not mention any hostility between Cree and Inuit in early times. Rather, these narratives focus on the sharing and exchange of resources and the relationships forged between Cree and Inuit, which often ensured the survival of members of each group. If there was hostility among these people in the eighteenth century; there is no mention of this in Inuit narratives (except for references to the Fort Albany Cree raids of the eighteenth century). Just as the above narrative undermines one influential stereotype about Inuit life, so recollections of lived experiences of hunting, fishing, trapping, and trading in northern Quebec, as documented in the excerpts below, undermines stereotypes about Inuit-Cree relations: When I was young Indians came to our place in search of sealskin fat in return for small fish... or an arctic hare. They gave you used or slightly used clothing or fabric for dresses or skirts in exchange for sealskin boots. They

The twentieth century: The Inuit and Canada traded food for sealskin fat, and clothing for sealskin boots.... If we had a lot of sealskin fat their sleds were full of it when they left. In early fall when we didn't have enough sealskin fat they left with almost nothing. That's how we and the Indians helped each other. (Inuk Elder M; A) The Cree Indians from south saved our lives. They used to arrive in fall when the ice formed. They brought us fish and we would be so grateful to them. They saved our lives so many times and although we must be very kind to them we sort of ignore them. They came up to look for fat [in exchange] for their fish. They used to leave with a sledful of fat. Inuit collected and saved fat to sell to Indians.... The time the Indians were with us our floor was full of our guests. When the Indians were with us we didn't need to go to the trading posts. They sold [traded] flour, tea, and tobacco to the Inuit while they were visiting. They also sold fish. If it weren't for them we would have died of starvation. When the time came when they usually arrived, we would go out and listen for them. One time we went on top of a hill to see if they were approaching. We couldn't see anything so we finally began to play. We were so busy playing that we didn't hear anything until one of the sleds of the Indians almost hit us. It was night and there was a pretty moonlight. (Inuk Elder F; A) We lived south of Kuujjuarapik most of the time before a trading post was erected here. We lived between here and Mailasikkut (Fort George) for a long time before moving here.... We moved to the bushes in autumn in order to have firewood in winter.... Some Indians stayed in Qikirtajuaq in autumn and then came to our place in winter. We lived in the bushes with them for a long time. While living with Inuit, Indians learned Inuit skills like making sealskin boots. They chewed the skins and the made boots out of them like Inuit. I wasn't aware that they were learning from us. They could even make sealskin waders. Indians from Mailasikkut learned from Inuit but Indians from Kuujjuarapik didn't. Indians from Mailasikkut were used to living with Inuit and adopted their skills. They were also very helpful to us and liked to get seal fat if there was any.... As I was saying, Indians from Mailasikkut were learning from the Inuit. The men learned how to hunt seals from Inuit until they could hunt seals through breathing holes on ice.... They hunted seals with Inuit until the sea ice was too thin to hunt. Some became good seal hunters and could easily kill seals basking in the sun on ice. Whenever they caught seals, they gave some to Inuit who didn't get any. They never kept a whole seal for themselves if they knew anyone who needed some. The Indians from Mailasikkut liked Inuit people and went along with them. I was used to being with them when we were living there. We often stayed in Mailasikkut in summer. Even today, when I see someone I know from here, that person tells me that

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my old hunting or fishing trail is still visible. I was told that this summer by a man who went hunting in Nasissiturarvik, just as I am told the same thing every year. (Inuk Elder M; A) Even Indians would go out seal hunting sometimes.... They started to hunt seals just like the Inuit. They also began to hunt seals by waiting at seal holes with ropes, like Inuit, which their ancestors never had.... The Inuit also used to make sealskin ropes for the Indians.... I think I remember Indians starting to get dogs from the Inuit. I don't think they had dogs in the past. They lived their own way of life. They adopted some Inuit things. They even started going from place to place like the Inuit did by dog team. (Inuk Elder M; A) We had to work like Cree in order to survive. I don't know much about Inuit culture. I grew up in a Cree environment and lived like a Cree. I am starting to get an idea of what Inuit culture really is.... I was raised in a Cree environment and I hunted like a Cree. Hunting skills are different between Inuit and Cree. It was very hard to hunt with the Cree. Hunting and walking was hard when I first went hunting with the Cree. We had to walk day and night to try to reach our destination. It was also hard to haul sleds while hunting. We had to have snowshoes.... We had to walk many miles to go to the store. (Inuk Elder M (from Chisasibi); A)

These excerpts reveal a number of facts about Inuit-Cree relations. One is that they traded with other, and that each group depended on this trade. Another is that some Cree from around the Fort George trading post area learned Inuit skills such as hunting seal, using its skin to make boots, and using dogs for their sleds. In addition, some Inuit from this same area, learned Cree hunting skills, and had to "work like Cree in order to survive". Thus, early in this century, amicable relations with Cree, which involved trading and sharing skills with them, were typical of the lives of certain Inuit families who lived along the Hudson Bay coast south of the tree line. To avoid the harshness of the Arctic winter and to be closer to desirable fishing lakes, some families moved inland, where they came into contact with Cree. Similarly, some Cree families were known to spend time duck-, goose-, and even seal-hunting on the open coastal areas where Inuit lived. In some cases, a relationship of cooperation and even dependency of Inuit on Cree developed in times of hardship. One such situation arose when Inuit hunters lost their dogs to illness. For a hunter, life without dogs was difficult, since dogs were needed for reaching

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hunting grounds and bring back heavy game, and for travelling to the trading post. In the passage below, an Inuk man describes how, in such cases, his family travelled to the post with Cree: Sometimes we almost ran out of dogs. Dogs occasionally suffered from diseases. We lived far from the trading post and when we didn't have enough dogs, my father would go with the Indians going to Kuujjuarapik to trade.... In the middle of winter our neighbours moved to the coast (to a place called Tupialuviniq) so that they could hunt seals.... We followed behind them. When we reached Tupialuviniq in winter, Indians arrived so that they could get some seal oil. So Indians were our neighbours while we were in Tupialuviniq. (Inuk Elder M; A)

As the above passages indicate, stereotypical definitions of ethnicity and cultural practices can be misleading, especially when they concern intergroup relations. The stories and images of early hostilities seem to have persisted well into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, even though people like Rev. Peck, living in the region in the late nineteenth century, did not observe any signs of such hostile relations; and no such hostilities are noted by Inuit describing life in the early twentieth century. This indicates that the Euro-Canadian perspective on InuitCree relations is at odds with the reports of those who were actually familiar with these relations. From these reports, we can conclude that in camps near Kuujjuarapik and further south towards James Bay, Inuit children even learned Cree—a fact which explains the relatively high rate of Cree-Inuktitut bilingualism among Inuit elders in Kuujjuarapik today. One reason often given for why more Inuit seemed to have learned Cree than the other way around is that it was the Cree who often saved the lives of Inuit. Whether this was because animals were more plentiful in their hunting grounds or because their furs still fetched a better price at the post, or both, the Cree appeared to be materially better off and thus in a strong position to trade with their Inuit neighbours for seal fat, waterproof sealskin boots, and even sealhunting skills and equipment. Given this reality, why did the image of hostility and unfriendly relations between Cree and Inuit persist for so long? One reason could be that this "myth" of hostility (like other myths produced about Inuit) served the purposes of the colonizer and meshed with ideologies about indigenous peoples and ethnic groups. The perpetuation of the "savage Native" image was a key function of these images, since they legitimized the intervention of missionaries and the continued coloniza-

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tion of these indigenous peoples. And the reification and essentializing of ethnolinguistic groups—which were accordingly seen as complete "bounded" entities, distinct from and oppositional to one another —made it easier for Canadian, American, and Québécois administrative bodies to govern and control the region and its people. Finally, images of a divided and hence weaker Aboriginal population supported a policy of "divide and conquer", whereby conflict, rather than solidarity, between indigenous groups facilitated colonization. In other words, the political and economic interests and policies of southern governments in the northern regions of Canada could be facilitated and justified through particular divisions and constructions of ethnicity which, to some extent, still exist today. 2.4. The early post-war period After the Second World War, public awareness of the Inuit and their living conditions in northern Canada increased as the Canadian Government became committed to health, welfare, and education programmes for Aboriginal peoples (Dyck 1991: 100). The increased interest in Canada's policy toward these groups was in part a response to the news received from church ministers, priests, and traders working in communities; and in part motivated by national and international concerns. After the war, the latter concerns were related to a "new international order committed to decolonization and the recognition of human rights" (Dyck 1991: 104); In the 1950s, these concerns were related to Canadian sovereignty, control over the northern regions, and resource development. Government benefits, which in Great Whale River took the form of family allowance and relief payments, were implemented in 1946. Initially, benefits were distributed to the Inuit by the Hudson's Bay Company manager in the form of food, as recalled by one Inuk elder who was a young woman at the time: And my mom used to get a little tiny bag of flour in a cloth bag once a month, and one little bit of tea from the government when they started helping Inuit. The government was saying what are those Inuit doing here? They maybe didn't even acknowledge that Inuit people were starving for a long time. Even when there was a government going on in white peoples land the Inuit were left alone when they needed help. They didn't even know Inuit existed when our grandparents needed help....

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Everybody had a little piece of something when my mother bought flour or tea. There were lots of people at our tent and everybody got a little something when she received that flour. Even if someone didn't receive anything from the government at this time, people gave them a little cup of flour or some soap. (Inuk Elder F)

As these comments show, sharing was crucial to survival, whether it was the sharing of game (as noted above) or of food obtained from the trading post. Food obtained through government help was especially welcome when food supplies were limited, although the relationship between Inuit and the Canadian Government was not without tension. Honigmann, an American anthropologist described above, who spent a few summers in Kuujjuarapik during the late 1940s and 1950s, notes that this tension grew as government aid became necessary for survival. Honigmann (1951) describes the implementation of the government family allowance policy during the fall and winter of 1949-1950. This policy involved the distribution of family allowance payments, the amount of which depended on the number of children in a family under the age of eighteen. Normally, these funds, like relief, were paid to Inuit in the form of goods—clothing, ammunition and foodstuffs like flour and sugar, which had become staples of the Inuit diet. Flour, for example, had become essential for making bannock, a type of frying-pan bread. In August 1949, a government official and an interpreter visited Great Whale River, announcing a new policy of removing flour and sugar from the supplies normally given to Inuit as family allowance payments. In place of the European foodstuffs, they would provide more ammunition to Inuit hunters, thereby increasing hunting and decreasing Inuit dependence on flour. The plan's rationale was that family allowance was for children, but that food made from the flour and sugar bought with this income was eaten by a whole family, and not just by children. As such, the payments were going to support entire families, and thus reducing the need for Inuit to hunt. This process, it was argued, fostered Inuit dependence on basic foodstuffs provided through government aid. As a government official wrote at the time: "Family Allowance is aimed at improving conditions for the Eskimo children—not at supplying basic needs" (Honigmann 1951: 8). According to this logic, supplying bullets instead of food would improve the social conditions of children. The sharing of foodstuffs within a family, even if this was necessary for survival, was a negative practice, and money aimed at a certain target group should be used

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exclusively by and for that group.30 The new policy was also meant to eliminate dependence on the trading post and on the European goods found there, which had been developing among the Inuit of Great Whale for over two hundred years. With the collapse of the fur trade—due in part to the reduction in fur resources and a changing European fur market—Inuit received poorer returns for furs and became dependent on government assistance to avoid starvation. There was strong motivation on the part of the government to have the Inuit return to their subsistence way of life and reduce the increasing financial burden that they placed on the state. However, having Inuit rely more fully on hunting for survival, involved policies such as that described above, which relied crucially on the availability of game and of good weather in which to hunt it, since the bullets could be put to good use only under these conditions. As one Inuk hunter remarked at the time: "the ammunition is no good if there is nothing to shoot. You can always eat flour" (Honigmann 1951: 10). Unfortunately, the winter of 1949-1950 provided neither favourable weather nor abundant game for a large number of Great Whale Inuit. In addition, a government agent was able to visit only a few Inuit homes outside of Kuujjuarapik to issue welfare benefits. Severe weather conditions prevented him from visiting other camps where families had little or no food. The starvation that resulted in some families led to a growing bitterness among Inuit toward the federal government. Honigmann (1951) goes into some detail about the lack of communication, or the miscommunication, between the Inuit he talked to (especially his "primary informant") and the trading post manager and his wife. He speculates that the source of this communication breakdown was a lack of understanding between the two groups and the reluctance of some Inuit to talk to the manager about their desperate situation and the desperate measures that this gave rise to. As already noted, these included eating sea plants and mollusks and sometimes even skins and dog. Although the above excerpts from the life histories of elders do not directly concern the "flour-sugar order" (as Honigmann calls it), they do describe some of the hardships associated with food shortages and with the precarious hunting economy. The winter of 1949-1950 was arguably similar to other years in which hunting conditions were poor. In this case, however, Inuit knew that their suffering could have been alleviated through government assistance.

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The growing animosity and distrust between Inuit and the government are highlighted in stories like the following one, which tells of government officials even discouraging the sharing of food between groups: Whenever Indian people passed our camp they gave us some food. The Indian man told us not to tell the trading post manager or a government agent that we had received food from the Indians. They told the Indians not to give any food to Inuit, Inuit were also told not to give any food to Indians. The Indians came to see how we were doing when they passed our camp, hauling food they had bought. (Inuk Elder F; A)

Such policies were perhaps intended to encourage self-sufficiency among Inuit and to discourage alliances between the two groups. The federal government of this era, faced with increasing political, moral, and financial obligations to ensure both the sovereignty of the Canadian state and the well-being of all Canadians, was attempting to fulfil its responsibilities by making what it considered to be responsible bureaucratic decisions. In the case of the Inuit, the government was faced with the collapse of the fur trade, on the one hand, and the responsibilities and the interests of the state, on the other. The government's responsibilities included the historical moral obligation to protect Aboriginal peoples, as declared in the Royal Proclamation of 1763 and in the Indian Act of 1850 and its subsequent amendments (for further discussion, see Miller 1991). But the government was also committed, even in a period of "modernization", to paternalistic Arctic policies that had their origins in the Indian Act. In general, these policies were aimed at "economic development" and were often assimilationist in intent. If Aboriginal peoples "assimilated", then the "problem" of dealing with land claims and the protection of their "Hunting Grounds" (as declared in the Royal Proclamation; see Miller 1991: 71) would cease to be an issue. The Canadian government had further interests in economic development, especially as related to the exploitation of natural resources on Canada's frontiers. These interests, combined with a history of assimilationist policy and the obligation to provide every Canadian citizen with health care, education, and government benefits, led to the forced sedentarization of the Inuit in the area around Kuujjuarapik. The paternalism of government policy was once more reinforced through Eurocentric attitudes, which in this case included the view that Inuit hunters needed "parental" guidance in order to do what was best

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for themselves. Of course, in the administrative approaches that it took, the government did not consider the interdependence of the relationships that Inuit had developed with Europeans or the social and cultural practices that had evolved over centuries of contact with Europeans around Kuujjuarapik. The result was a policy of denying food assistance to Inuit for reasons at odds with their traditional foodsharing practices. In the period leading up to the Second World War, the only representations of Inuit that government bureaucrats and policymakers received came from non-Native sources. This meant that these officials not only adopted the two-dimensional view of Inuit reflected in these sources, but that they also made significant decisions about the welfare of these people on the basis of this view. What prompted concern for the health and welfare of Inuit was concern for Canadian sovereignty and the welfare of the Canadian population as a whole. This gave rise to programmes in northern Quebec based closely on those conceived and implemented in southern Canada, which assumed southern Canadian cultural and economic norms and more broadly Western views about modernity and development. 2.5. Settlement, wage labour, and modernity: 1955-1975 The years following the Second World War heralded a number of political, economic, and administrative changes. The first was the beginning of Canada's Cold War alliance with the United States. Because of its historic economic relationship with and geographical proximity to its neighbour to the south, Canada had vested interests in maintaining good relations, which included collaborating with the United States on issues of military defence. In the early 1950s, as the USSR increased its military arsenal, the United States and Canada signed the NORAD agreement, which paved the way for the construction of strategic military defense sites in the Canadian Arctic. By 1957, over twenty such sites—referred to as the Distant Early Warning (DEW) Line-had been built. The economic interests of the Canadian state and of private enterprise led to further development of the North. In the election of 1958, John Diefenbaker, soon to become Prime Minister, ran on a platform that emphasized northern development as a means of ensuring economic riches for Canadians. The North became the new frontier for

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exploration and exploitation; its huge resource potential would now be open for development, creating a new economic discourse on the developing and resource-rich North (West 1991). Development was progress, and progress was good, regardless of the problems associated with the Inuit and other "Northern" inhabitants who were caught up in these changes. The political and economic influences on northern development coincided with issues of moral regulation, rights of citizenship, and the need for government control over and accountability to the people living within its borders. An increase in the presence of Americans associated with military bases in the 1950s increased concerns about Canadian sovereignty in the Arctic and the ability of Canada to protect its northern borders. This increased interest in the Arctic also led to increased public awareness of the deplorable living conditions of Inuit and highlighted the state's obligation to its Arctic citizens. This period was accordingly characterized by new policies and bureaucratic arrangements. As the Canadian government increased its presence in the North, it sought to deal with the high rates of disease, starvation, and material poverty experienced by Inuit communities and to implement government services such as health care and schooling on a permanent basis. 2.5.1. Settlement in Kuujjuarapik There is nothing uncomfortable about houses.... Today, I'm lucky being in a warm shelter. I [do not have to] gather firewood and fetch water. We aren't hungry as we used to be. Sometimes, there was absolutely nothing to eat. This is what changed our way of life, not being hungry. We didn't have nothing for breakfast and wouldn't eat all day. If it was foggy, we used to be hungry. We used to be hungry when game animals were very scarce. Flour, tea, tobacco and candies were available only when people went to trade. We were living in islands near Patirtuuk. The food we received was gone in a short while. I remember when people started to get things from white people when I was young. It isn't the same anymore. (Inuk Elder F; A)

The transition to settled life in Kuujjuarapik, which included the largescale introduction of wage labour and the influx of large numbers of English- and French-speaking workers, constituted another significant economic and social shift for Inuit. While some of these changes brought increased material comforts (as noted in the excerpt above),

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there was also a price to pay as regards hunting opportunities and the shift from being self-employed to being an employee of a non-Native "boss". As noted in the previous section, the creation of many settlements in the Canadian Arctic was prompted by the arrival of the American army and the construction of military bases, which were part of a North American Cold War defence programme. Kuujjuarapik was one such military defence site, surveyed and slated for construction in 1955. The labour required for hauling construction materials to shore and for working on the construction site was provided by local Inuit who needed the income. Some of these material, geographical, and economic changes—from the development of mineral resources to the arrival of the military—have been well documented in the narratives of elders, such as the ones excerpted below: Some [non-Natives] came long before we moved to Kuujjuarapik.... Their purpose of coming here was to look at the minerals their people found but they didn't work on it. I heard there wasn't enough of it. They drilled the mineral and found that it wasn't worth taking. I think those were the first white people to come here. And then planes started going there in summer as well. That's when little square boats started coming as well.... A few of the prospectors were still working there when the army started coming. They arrived by plane that landed on water.... We were about to leave the village when Naalattialuk [Hudson's Bay Company trader?] informed us that the ship was about to come in that day and asked us to stay. We were going to be unloading the ship for less than a week. The ship arrived carrying barrels, cranes, bulldozers and other things. The first time I saw bulldozers clearing the land I thought how capable the white people were. The bulldozers had no problem clearing and flattening the land. Those machines stripped the land flat without sweat and I was really fascinated.... The army was planning to build an airstrip before the land froze. They started by shovelling the areas where the strip was to be, in early autumn. A few Inuit from here were working with them part-time.... When winter came when the land froze it was possible for the cargo planes to land on the airstrip. We heard they were landing before the airstrip was covered with sand or hardened. We were living near Kuukallak in the fall at the time. My wife, I and other people wanted to see those kinds of planes for the first time. We have heard that it could carry a lot of stuff and even housing material.... White people, not too many, began putting up those houses up there.... I don't think we would have much meat to eat if the Hunter's Support Program didn't exist. Animals have become rare since white people came. There used to be plenty of animals around Kuujjuarapik, beluga whales

The twentieth century: The Inuit and Canada were so numerous around here. I think they have decreased so much because of airplanes. We used to spend all day in Pilavvik waiting for whales to pass. I started going with whale hunters as soon as I was old enough. We could see whales all day.... (Inuk Elder M; A) We moved here around 1954. The army people were still living in tents when we moved here. I don't think it was the year when they started building their buildings.... The first job I had was drilling, at first we didn't know why, but later we knew it was for pipes. They were digging to see if there was permafrost or rock underneath. Charlie was the translator.... I worked in plumbing for so many years, I knew all the parts in English. We learned mostly by being shown, and most of the time they were there to see what we were doing. I was always shown what to do, until I could do it on my own. Then I was checked once in a while by the boss to make sure things were all right.... In those days we weren't camping, it was our home. We would leave to go hunting when it was dark and come back when it was dark. Our life changed when we moved here, because my life before was hunting, and now there was a job to go to. I worked for myself before I moved here, and I worked for Qallunaat when I moved here. When we moved here we had to switch to weekend hunting. (Inuk Elder M) That same summer we went to Kuujjuarapik, but I don't remember how many days it took us to get there. We had reached the tree-line and the weather was warmer. It was an experience to see our first tree too. We had been in Kuujjuarapik for a while and there were a lot of soldiers working. There were four of us who decided to work and that was my first time working for a Qallunaaq. But I left that job in 1955 to attend school—that's where I learned how to play the guitar. (Inuk Elder M; A) The army came around 1954, but we had been living here permanently for a while before they came. There were maybe only 4 or 5 families at that time living here. Most were still just trading like before and staying out in camps.... When they talked about white people coming, I used to think that life would be the same, the quietness of life. I used to think that I would have everything, like lots of food and clothes and the social life would be the same, but it didn't happen. I never used to think it would cause trouble or problems. Harold [Udgarten]31 used to talk a lot about the white people who would be coming, he used to warn us that it was going to be like this or that. I was younger and I didn't think it would affect me too much. Harold tried to protect us. But I have lost a lot of my life and traditions that we had when white people came. (Inuk Elder F)

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We moved here in '55 when the army was already settling in, a few houses were built. I remember feeling sorry for the land. It used to be beautiful grass and berries there. And it turned to sand when they started digging. ...And in the summer there used be just a few Inuit tents and Cree teepees and we would wait in the summer for the boat to arrive. The people who would be working bringing supplies ashore would be waiting here. And when the ship would come, it would go right into the river, the front would come down, and the women would pick berries for the cook, and traded with the cook for tea and sugar and flour. We picked anything. It didn't have to be the right size or colour. I can't forget when the land was ploughed on. Why are they doing this to this land, I was wondering. Just making it sand.... We moved here, where white people lived in the spring after my husband died. It was a very scary time. But things change and years pass, and even though it didn't seem like it was going to be over, it passed. (Inuk Elder F)

Despite the apparent willingness of Inuit to move to settlements, where they could find work or greater material comforts than were available on the land, the above excerpts reveal serious drawbacks to settlement life. Some families, such as the Weetaltuk family (see Freeman 1983), remained on Cape Hope Island and resisted settling in Kuujjuarapik for as long as they possibly could: Nearly all his family was still alive like Alaku Weetaltuk, Rupert, still a whole family. The government told them to come here that they are not going to be poor anymore or be hungry. We came on a small peterhead (boat) in 1960. We left behind all the dog teams. There was no room for them. The whole family was told over and over again to move here, but we refused a few times before. We didn't want to leave a place with country food. ... Because the government said they would get a job we moved, when they started building houses. But this wasn't a job that lasted. So Billy started a canoe factory... everything is still there. Sometimes he passes the time there, he goes there more or less regularly. And there is one on Weetaltuk Island where there is still equipment from his father's canoe-making and that's where Billy learned to make canoes. And I know how to make them too, I used to help him, I know all the tools, I was told by the government to learn this in case he's gone I can pass it on to my children. And there are still little canoes of different sizes on the island, I saw them this summer and last summer when I went down to the island.... The army buildings were already up when we moved here. We really started learning about money and earning it when the army was here, even though we weren't directly involved. (Inuk Elder F)

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I first heard about the government people, but I didn't know what "government" meant, so I didn't know who they were. There were people who came and visited with pencil and paper, they said they were looking for a leader for the Inuit or a council. They used to even pick someone, these people with pad and paper, but it looks like they didn't do much, the ones that they picked. Because Harold used to talk about what we should do when there were more white people, maybe that kept me going through all the changes was what Harry would say and I remember what my grandmother used to say. I would have been confused, and lost and if I hadn't heard what was going to happen when white people came. (Inuk Elder F)

The above passages suggest a range of responses to the prospect of settlement. Some families actively resisted it, while others settled reluctantly or with some ambivalence. They also suggest that relations between Inuit and Qallunaat were at times tense, and at times marked by misunderstanding. As we will see in the next chapter, these tensions, and the continuing paternalism of the state, planted the seeds of Inuit political mobilization, which would eventually transform the northern political, cultural, and economic landscape. 3. Conclusion In this chapter, I have provided a historical analysis of Kuujjuarapik, beginning from the point of contact and extending to the mid-twentieth century. In doing so, I have made use of the writings and recollections of those involved in the significant changes that characterize the history of this settlement. The analysis itself has included (1) an examination of political economic shifts, based on world system theory, as developed in Wolf (1982); and (2) an analysis of the production, distribution, and consequences of the legitimating ideologies that accompanied the process of colonization and European Canadian expansion into northern Quebec. I have attempted to show how the process of colonization—from the establishment of trade relations between Europeans and Inuit, to the conversion of Inuit to Christianity, to the fostering of a paternalistic relationship between the Canadian government and the Inuit, and to the more or less forced settlement of the Inuit in the late 1950s—was difficult and at times even unruly. I have also attempted to shed light on Inuit resistance to these processes, as reflected in their reluctance to enter into the fur trade, to adopt Christian practices and, in the case of

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some families, to move to the Kuujjuarapik settlement. And I have shown how English speakers, though in a dominant economic position, also relied on Inuit knowledge and expertise. In analyzing these historical processes, I have shown how colonization and its concomitant changes have been constructed in oral narratives and writings. My historical analysis has attempted to explain the importance of language and ethnicity in the process of colonization and Inuit resistance to this process. These historical processes form the basis of Aboriginal mobilization in the late twentieth century, which will be described in detail in the next chapter. There we will examine the most recent historical period, which begins with the construction of the army base in 1955 and proceeds to the growth of the settlement of Kuujjuarapik, to Inuit mobilization in the 1970s, and finally to the signing of the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement in 1975 and the establishment of Nunavik. What will be of particular interest to us there is the relation between Inuit mobilization and the politics of linguistic markets, where certain language varieties compete and are assigned different values, and the maintenance of Inuktitut is justified, to a certain extent, on the basis of discourses of Inuit "difference".

Chapter 4 Language, power, and Inuit mobilization In this chapter, I present a political economic analysis of language use and the production and distribution of material and symbolic resources in the community. My aim is to relate language use between and within social groups to other valued resources—whether material goods, friendship, or a sense of "belonging" to a particular social group. In order to do this, it is necessary to examine the historical development of linguistic markets in Kuujjuarapik and Nunavik more generally. Language markets, as I will describe in greater detail below, comprise language varieties (or symbolic resources) that are in competition with each other and that are valued and exchanged for other symbolic and material resources. The basic question I want to address is this one: How is one minority language—namely, Inuktitut—maintained in a complex multilingual community? My basic answer is that the value of this and other languages depends on the complex political economic reality of Nunavik, the contradictions between language use and language values, and the relation between dominant and "alternative" linguistic markets. Fleshing out this answer will require an analysis of the material and subjective values attached to language varieties, the mechanisms involved in the unequal distribution of wealth and power in the community, and the means by which more equitable and reasonable development strategies can be achieved. Of particular interest here are individual and community strategies for accessing resources within the dominant linguistic market, the status of French as an emerging language of power in Arctic Quebec, and people's attitudes toward French and the other languages used in these markets, as reflected in the ethnographic data that I will be presenting below. The chapter has two parts. The first deals with the concept of the linguistic market (Bourdieu 1977, 1982) and the application of this to the situation of Great Whale River. The second part considers ethnographic data pertaining to the development of the dominant linguistic market in Kuujjuarapik and Nunavik and the use of Inuktitut as it operates in competition with French and English in this market. This section pays close attention to the historical development of

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Anglo-Canadian and Franco-Québécois power in the region and makes use of excerpts from elders' narratives about the past and their relations with English and French speakers.

Parti Linguistic markets 1. Language markets and linguistic capital In his 1977 paper "The economics of linguistic exchanges", Bourdieu argues that one of the greatest difficulties of defending a threatened language is that one cannot do so without also defending the social conditions under which this language is valued. He refers to these social conditions as a "market" to emphasize the exchange of resources (both material and symbolic) and the competition between these resources that constitute these social conditions. In this paper, Bourdieu points out that symbolic resources—that is, discourse or language varieties—have different values depending on the market. Thus, in order to save a valued resource such as a threatened language, one has to save the market—that is, the social conditions—that assigns it value. He emphasizes that education is crucial in assigning values to language varieties and in reproducing the social hierarchy (see Bourdieu 1977: 651-652). Awareness of a "dominant" market is undoubtedly necessary for an adequate understanding of minority-language situations, as is the key role of the school in promoting the language of power over other languages. Yet there is good reason to believe that a "dominant market" is not all there is, and that an "alternative market" commonly exists alongside it. The latter market has as its sphere of influence, and thus its means of social reproduction, not formal institutions such as the school but "the informal structures of experience in daily life" (Woolard 1985: 742). Woolard (1985), for example, found such an "alternative market" in her study of Catalonia. Although in this region Castilian Spanish was dominant in education and in the political-legal sphere, it was the minority language Catalan that was used and valued in the alternative linguistic market—in particular, in the day-to-day management of the private sector. In a subsequent study, Woolard

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(1989: 95) even found that the results from a matched guise test —designed to measure people's attitudes toward different languages (see Lambert et al. I960) —showed that Catalan was more highly valued with respect to "status". That is, its speakers were viewed as more intelligent, leaderlike, hardworking, and self-confident, than speakers of Castilian, the official state language. In such a situation, not surprisingly, "competing sets of values exist, creating strong pressures in favor of the 'illegitimate' languages in the vernacular markets, and not just an absence of pressure against them" (1985: 744). Vernacular or "alternative" markets thus need to be considered if we are to understand how and why vernacular languages continue to exist. Let us turn, then, to the alternative market associated with vernacular forms of Inuktitut in Nunavik communities. What is immediately clear about this market is that it is markedly different from its counterpart in Catalonia. Nunavik constitutes a colonized region, where a noncapitalist economy once flourished prior to contact and has in the meantime been (more or less) co-opted by the capitalist sector. In other words, while the "traditional" land-based Inuit hunting economy has persisted, it has also been transformed. This is because current hunting, fishing, and other traditional practices require financial investment, for ammunition, equipment, fuel, food, and other expenses. In Catalonia, where the Catalan-speaking bourgeoisie has historically held power, mobilization has been the result of persecution, the loss of language rights, and resistance to political domination. In Kuujjuarapik, Inuit have not had control of the capitalist sector; and while an Aboriginal entrepreneurial class has come into existence, it is not a large one. This difference highlights an economic fact about many northern Aboriginal communities: namely, that they are marked by a scarcity of private-sector employment. The positions that do exist are controlled largely by French- or English-speaking "outsiders", whose values, attitudes, and practices are often antithetical to those of the indigenous community and often prevent the hiring of local staff. These values and attitudes are often reinforced by non-Natives' perceptions and images of Aboriginal "Others", as reproduced in the media and elsewhere, which can lead to continued misunderstanding, miscommunication, and tension between "outsiders" and indigenous groups. The struggle over access to this southern-controlled economic sector is characterized by the interests of the dominant group in

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maintaining their competitive edge over the indigenous community and retaining control of the market (cf. Bourdieu 1977). 2. Dominant and alternative language markets As I suggested earlier, understanding the operation of language markets in Kuujjuarapik requires an understanding of both the colonial relationships that have developed in the region and the ideological construction of ethnicity and social "difference" related to them. The historical processes that were part of these colonial relationships included the growth of Inuit dependence on trade and later on the wage economy, Inuit resistance to this domination and to other forms of colonial penetration, and the more recent political mobilization of Inuit in northern Quebec. The objectives of this political activism have been (1) to resist the further dismemberment of traditional linguistic and cultural practices by the dominant Canadian society; and (2) to insure that any development on lands claimed by Inuit will give local communities a say in how such development proceeds, as well as a fair share of the returns from this development. In the following sections I will examine the nature of the dominant (southern-controlled) and alternative ("traditional") language markets in Kuujjuarapik. 2.1. The dominant market

In the dominant southern-controlled market, three language groups now vie for power over the territory situated above the 55th parallel in Quebec. These claims to power (justified in terms of sovereignty for Canada and Quebec and self-determination for Inuit) also include a stake in controlling resource development, especially in the areas of mining and hydroelectric power. Each of the interested parties have developed various strategies for gaining and maintaining power, among which is the use of institutions in which particular language practices are valued. Political control and control over development go hand in hand, each dependent on the other. Financial benefits gained from the extraction and sale of natural resources fuel the political process, while the rights to extract these resources are gained through political means. Historically this has been the case for Canada, and more recently for the province of Quebec, the territory of Nunavut, and Nunavik.32

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Each language group in Arctic Quebec legitimates, in different ways, its right to dominate the territory. English speakers tend to justify the role of English in the region in terms of the language's historical significance and its national and international role in communication—including communication with other Aboriginal peoples. English is the language of globalization and of international markets, and holds a hegemonic cultural, political, and economic position, as well as being one of the official languages of the federal state. Inuit are Canadian citizens, and federal institutions continue to exist in Nunavik, where Inuit educated in English complete their income tax returns, Canadian pension forms, and other official forms in English. The historical role of English and its current role nationally and internationally insure its dominance in the territory. French is the dominant language of the Quebec state, and has become the dominant language of the provincial bureaucracy. "Technically, Quebec has had the right to govern the territory since 1912, when the province's borders were extended to include the area known as Nouveau-Québec. But the real dominance of French in Kuujjuarapik began in the 1960s, with the rise of Quebec nationalism and the emergence of a Francophone middle class. This period in the province's history, which was known as the Révolution Tranquille ('Quiet Revolution'), was one of cultural awakening and nationalist political aspirations. The Liberal government elected in 1962 had run on a slogan of "maîtres chez nous" ('masters in our own house'); and the nationalization of electricity in Quebec, under the impetus of René Lévesque, the Natural Resources Minister of that government, became an important symbol of Quebec independence from American and Anglo-Canadian economic domination. The formation of "original" Quebec institutions like Hydro-Québec and the system of credit unions (caisses populaires) contributed significantly to the political mobilization and nationalist consciousness of Québécois during the 1960s and 1970s (Handler 1988: 185). The early 1960s saw an increase in economic and political interest in Nouveau-Québec by the Quebec government. Until this time, the federal government had held control of the region, partly because of its historical obligations to the Aboriginal peoples there and partly because of its own interests in the region, related to national defence, Arctic sovereignty, and the exploitation of natural resources. In addition, until 1960, when a new Liberal government was elected in Quebec, the provincial government had considered the region and its

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population to be a burden on the province. Since the provincial government had been expected to help pay for the costs of Inuit welfare, it had even sued the federal government over the issue, which was resolved only by the Supreme Court of Canada in 1939, which ruled that Inuit were indeed Aboriginals and their health, welfare, and education were therefore the sole responsibility of the federal government. In the 1960s the Quebec government began to take an interest in the region, recognizing its economic potential of the region. This new-found interest led to a struggle with the federal government and finally to a transfer of control over education, health care, policing, and many other areas. This, and a concomitant increase in the local numbers of Québécois workers and in the size of the Québécois managerial class, made the competition between French and English more visible. This was particularly true in the school system, where control over schooling became a key issue and where the participation of both federal and provincial governments led to a duplication in services during the period in which control was being transferred from one government to another. Inuit claims to power and the justification of Inuktitut within the dominant linguistic market have been based on legitimate claims to Arctic territory. These claims stem from the fact that the Inuit have inhabited this region for centuries and had not ceded control over it before signing the JBNQA land claims settlement. In accordance with this settlement, a number of institutions and governing bodies accountable to the Inuit population of Nunavik have been established. Inuktitut now holds a prominent place in education and government, and is a key symbol in defining institutions as "Inuit". The existence of three language groups and their competing claims to legitimacy have had real consequences for language use in Nunavik. In particular, a major obstacle to the greater use of Inuktitut among Inuit has been the French and English used by the provincial and federal governments, respectively. In the late 1950s, the federal government introduced English-language schooling. This has been crucial to the persistence of English as the dominant second language, and has permitted the majority of those under the age of 50 to achieve conversational fluency and at least a basic level of formal education in English. The Quebec government, on the other hand, met with some resistance when it introduced French-language schooling in the 1960s and 1970s. There is a historical reason for this: namely, the subordinate position of French with respect to English during much of

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Canada's history and the resultant tension and competition between French- and Inuktitut-speakers as similarly (if not equally) subordinate language groups. Although French has not (yet) been widely adopted as a second or third language, it now plays a more prominent political and economic role in Quebec and is a growing language of power in Kuujjuarapik. Thus, Inuktitut speakers, finding themselves in a position subordinate to both French and English speakers, have had to develop strategies to accommodate both languages of power. The primary strategy of Inuit leaders in accommodating French has been to "francize" Inuit institutions and organizations in Arctic Quebec, granting quasi-official status to French alongside Inuktitut and English. This has involved translating official documents into French, permitting French to be taught in schools, and so forth. In Nunavik, institutions have attempted to maintain a balance between the three languages at both local and regional administrative levels. These institutions include the school, the nursing station, and the courthouse (the latter two operating with translators). Most services in Kuujjuarapik—including postal and telephone services, local government offices, and airline ticket sales services—are offered in all three languages, plus Cree. The only institution that has not incorporated French into its structure is the Anglican Church, which offers services in Inuktitut, Cree, and English. The role of Inuktitut in the dominant market and the strategies adopted in Nunavik to cope with three languages have their basis in Inuit political mobilization and the political and cultural consciousnessraising of the 1970s. As Inuktitut became politicized, however, it also began a transformation into a standardized, more "modernized" language. While local vernacular forms persisted, new institutionalized and written forms were promoted. 2.2. The alternative linguistic market Inuktitut language survival owes much to Inuit resistance to the dominance of English and French in institutional spheres. This resistance has, however, presented its own problems for Nunavik. As Inuit have formed political organizations to protect Inuit interests and to facilitate negotiations with larger (federal and provincial) governments, they have discovered that such Inuit organizations are sometimes at odds with particular community interests. Locally based

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resistance has been a fact of political life in Nunavik, as have the divisions created in this region. These divisions are reflected, for example, in the refusal of three communities—Puvirnituq, Ivujivik, and Salluit—to sign the JBNQA and, more recently, in the resistance of residents of Great Whale River, Umiujaq, Inukjuak, and Puvirnituq to hydroelectric development in Great Whale River and up the Hudson Bay coast. Some of this resistance has been based on alternative practices and oppositional ideologies regarding the sale of land for resource extraction and hydroelectric development. This opposition to the commodification of Inuit land reflects the existence of what I will call a "traditional" ideology and a "traditional" economy. These are linked to a "traditional" Inuktitut market, which is distinct from —though it overlaps significantly with—the English, French, and Inuit capitalist markets. In the "traditional" market, particular language forms, social practices, and local knowledge are valued according to historical and ancestral cultural parameters. Inuit linguistic and cultural capital forms a local ancestral marketplace, where regional knowledge and heritage are not only valued, but become crucial in the creation of a sense of place and identity which helps people make sense of their everyday lives. Traditional Inuit knowledge about cultural practices and survival on the land is linked to particular language forms, which constitute the alternative Inuktitut language market. In this system of exchange, symbolic resources (cultural and linguistic) are exchanged for other symbolic resources such as local respect, solidarity, friendship, and leadership and material resources such as country food. What counts as "prestige" and what gains respect are not usually linked to one's accumulation of Southern consumer goods, but linked to one's productivity as a hunter or fisher or to the quality of one's sewing. Such values and ideologies are, of course, often at odds with Southern institutional and business practices. It is in this sense that they are part of an alternative system, where certain forms of Inuktitut maintain prestige because of their links to traditional Inuit community values. Acknowledging and preserving "traditional" knowledge and local linguistic and cultural practices are at the heart of the political struggles going on in Nunavik today. Inuit political mobilization has been based on the premise that the Inuit occupied this land for centuries34 and that the land supplies a wealth of resources necessary for Inuit survival. The land must therefore be protected if the indigenous way of life is to be

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protected. In addition (as noted in previous chapters), the Inuit have never ceded this land in a treaty, and so still have a legal claim to it. The basis of this claim is that Aboriginal peoples are autonomous and selfgoverning, based on their aboriginality and their uninterrupted use of the land. Crucial to Inuit mobilization, then, has been the articulation of Inuit "difference" or "Inuitness" based on "traditional" practices—many of which have emerged only since the time of the fur trade—and the desire to maintain this "difference". Preservation of a harvesting economy and the Inuit way of life has figured prominently in land claims negotiations. These elements have also served as the legal and political basis for control over the northern territory—a paradoxical situation in which "traditional" practices are used to justify and pursue "modern" goals such as increased political and economic autonomy in Arctic Quebec. 2.2.1. Overlap between dominant and alternative language markets Two contrasting conceptions of modern Inuit life can be seen in the Inuktitut terms maqainniq and kiinaujaliurutiit. The former, which translates as 'going on the land' (for hunting, fishing, or trapping), is "the activity most essential to the preservation of native identity" and is "taught to children and young people within the extended family and is conducted in Inuktitut". The latter, which translates as 'means for making money' (i.e. abilities related to wage work), involves skills that "do not stem from Inuit culture", but are "introduced, taught and controlled by White people.... This is why the best place to learn them is at school, whose prime function seems to be the transmission of some useful kiinaujaliurutiit". Dorais points out that "since kiinaujaliurutiit are basically White people affairs, the White people's languages, English and French, are two of the most useful 'means for making money'. It is thus considered normal if the main school languages are those of the non-Inuit" (Dorais 1991: 23). In other words, maqainniq is associated with "traditional culture" and the Inuktitut language, whereas kiinaujaliurutiit is linked to "contemporary life" and to French and English, the languages needed to cope in the modern world. These two ideological systems, which are embedded in the knowledge and practices associated with "going on the land" and "making

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money", may represent oppositional constructs for Inuit, but they do not form a simple dichotomy. The actual overlaps and divisions between the "Inuit way of life" and the "White people's way of life" are much more complex, as are the linguistic markets in which forms of Inuktitut, English, and French are valued. We might see these two ideological systems as stemming from two different economic systems—a hunting economy and a capitalist economy—which have been linked in complex ways since the days of the fur trade. Inuit have historically been provided with opportunities to participate in newly imposed modern structures, but on terms set by the colonizers. This resulted in major transformations to the Inuit way of life, as Inuit accommodated the trader by hunting for fur-bearing animals and learned to read in syllables as part of Christian practice. Although Inuit resisted this domination to varying degrees, their dependence on ammunition, foodstuffs, and other products from the post necessarily linked their subsistence culture to the world capitalist system. Conversion to Christianity created further dependence, as Inuit sought contact with missionaries, who were stationed at the post or made regular trips there. Despite the effects of contact, however, the Inuit hunting economy was not completely co-opted by the capitalist economy. Some traditional Inuit practices have continued, while some Western practices have come to be defined as Inuit. This is true of the syllabary developed by nineteenth-century missionaries, which for some has become synonymous with being Inuk. The distinctness of Inuit practices persists, regardless of how they have been modified over time. These practices constitute a partially co-opted economic market, in which the primary producers, Inuit engaging in a "traditional" hunting economy, are dependent upon the market economy for goods and spiritual, medical, and educational resources, yet operate according to a non-capitalist, "Inuit" worldview (on this, see Brody 1975, 1987). Activities such as mining and hydroelectric power development, given their serious environmental effects, are clearly at odds with the "traditional" hunting economy. The "traditional" economy values knowledge and practices associated with a centuries-old hunting and harvesting way of life, including knowledge such as where game may be found, hunting skills to catch the game, and the camping skills needed to spend a number of nights away from the village. The market economy, on the other hand, values knowledge and practices associated

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with international business and the government, including a certain level of competence and fluency in English. The traditional hunting economy, given the costs involved in buying and maintaining snowmobiles, boats, and other equipment, could not be sustained to the extent that it is today without the financial resources made available to Inuit through political mobilization, negotiated settlements, and financial investment. Another consequence of mobilization has been the creation of municipal jobs servicing the community and maintaining a cash flow into the local economy. Thus, while the social processes of the "traditional" hunting economy are quite distinct from "modern" Inuit political organization and capitalist enterprise, the two are interdependent—each necessary to insure the "Inuit way of life". Another way in which the hunting economy has been linked to Inuit mobilization and capitalist enterprise is through a programme set up to support Inuit hunters. This programme, described in the JBNQA, "is established for Inuit hunting, fishing and trapping... to guarantee a supply of hunting, fishing and trapping produce to Inuit who are disadvantaged and who cannot hunt, fish and trap for themselves or otherwise obtain such produce" (Government of Quebec 1991: §29.0.5: 427). This programme makes it possible for hunters to sell their fish and game to the Municipal Council, which is allotted money for this purpose, based on the conditions outlined in the JBNQA (Government of Quebec 1991: §29.0.5: 427^30). The meat or fish is then placed in a community freezer for all of the Inuit in the community to use. The hunter receives a cash settlement, paid according to the weight of his catch. There is thus a direct exchange of money for meat obtained through traditional hunting practices. The Hunter's Support programme (as it is commonly known) thus promotes continued hunting in Nunavik. It is an institutionalized mechanism by which the traditional hunting economy overlaps with the capitalist economy. Inuktitut language use in the dominant capitalist market, like hunting in the "traditional" market, is controlled by Inuit and supported with monies obtained from the JBNQA settlement and from subsequent private investment. In this linguistic market, processes of Inuktitut standardization create new forms of language to be valued and exchanged in emerging institutional and political arenas. These processes are, technically speaking, run by Inuit for Inuit, although they are complicated by the conflicting symbolic practices of those

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who promote "traditional" hunting and community practices on a fulltime basis and those who have become key players in the political and institutional arenas of the South. Both Makivik Corporation, the key Inuit political and economic governing body, and the Kativik School Board, considered a key institution in the emerging territory of Nunavik, are based in the Montreal area. Inuit working in these southern organizations have the difficult role of negotiating their "Inuit" identities, or holding what might be considered "traditional" Inuit values, while being legitimate players in a Western capitalist society. 2.2.2. The alternative market and a linguistic paradox The linguistic reality of Arctic Quebec results in a fundamental paradox for the Inuit. In order to preserve the distinct Inuit way of life, which is linked to their language, culture, and distinct use of the land, Inuit leadership have had to rely on modern means to achieve this goal. These means have included political and legal negotiation, financial investment, institutional administration, budget management, and programme development. In the dominant social and political arena, French-, English-, and Inuktitut speakers each want to have a say in the future of northern economic, social, and political development, in order to secure an economic base and satisfy the economic interests of Quebec, Canada, and Nunavik, respectively. In northern Quebec, Aboriginal peoples who have inhabited the region for centuries often view development differently from southern Canadian business interests. In particular, the destruction of large tracts of land is not in the interests of those who continue to rely heavily on harvested game from the region. However, Inuit want and need economic resources gained in the dominant market in order to preserve their "traditional" way of life, which has been the basis for constructing notions of "difference" and legitimizing claims to political and economic power in the region. Thus, those Inuit vying for control over development need the support of the hunters and trappers in order to have political legitimacy and a status as "authentic" Inuit. That is, to maintain legitimacy among the Inuit population, political leaders and those working for Makivik must remain "Inuit". Ideally, they must still have a stake in the hunting economy in order to pass as Inuit in the eyes of those they are serving.

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Recognizing this fundamental paradox of Inuit simultaneously working for and against the survival of their traditional economic, cultural, and linguistic practices is crucial for an understanding of the operation of all Inuit institutions, including the school. The persistence of the values, meanings, and practices associated with the hunting economy is due, in large part, to historical localized resistance in the fifteen Nunavik communities.35 This includes resistance to centuries of colonial practices associated with such agents of colonialism as the fur traders, missionaries, and federal and provincial governments. But it also includes resistance to the current institutionalization of Inuit language and culture, even though this process—which has been fostered by financial resources made available through the JBNQA for the promotion of Inuktitut and Inuit harvesting activities —has been developed and controlled by the Inuit themselves. While the hunting economy does, of course, benefit from such practices, a tension remains between different approaches to land use and different ways in which Inuit construct "Inuitness". This paradox will be explored in the following sections, where we will be examining the dominant language market in Arctic Quebec.

Part 2 The dominant language market This section will consider the dominant linguistic market, dividing this topic into the following four themes: (1) competition between French and English in this market; (2) the standardization of Inuktitut; (3) strategies employed by Inuit in gaining access to French; and (4) the languages needed in the job market 3. Competition between English and French Learning how to speak and write in English is very useful, but elderly people have not been taught in English. They must have interpreters and white people who arrive in our village also should have interpreters because they do not know how to speak in Inuktitut. In the past, people did not have any knowledge of how to speak in English. That is why learning how to speak and write in English is very useful today. I think education is important be-

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cause our children cannot go back to our lifestyle in the past and they have jobs also. (Inuk Elder M; A)

English poses the greatest threat to Inuktitut in Arctic Quebec for those concerned with the maintenance of Inuktitut as a minority language. This is because of its historic role in colonization, as the language of traders, missionaries, and federal agents; and because of the power associated with it because of its link to the capitalist economy. The power associated with English can be seen in the actions of the Hudson's Bay Company traders, who had immense discretionary power to administer credit and to fix the prices of furs. These prices fluctuated from year to year for the Inuit hunter, who was thus dependent both on an unstable resource and on the unpredictable nonNative traders at the post. This situation created "a kind of fear, a blend of awe and intimidation", of the trader and of others who spoke English (Brody 1987: 10-11). This fear is known in Inuktitut as ilira—"the feeling you have about a person whose behaviour you can neither control nor predict" (Brody 1987: 10). The dominance of English has been further maintained by globalization and the role of English in the North American economy, culture, and media. It is also the lingua franca of Great Whale River largely due to its role in schooling. It is thus a prerequisite for any employment that involves contact with people from different groups, such as in the public and service sectors. As the elder quoted above notes, English is associated with education, wage labour, and the present day. It is practically a necessity for young people, who must now operate in the wage economy and cannot return to the past. While English has been a language of power in Arctic Quebec since contact, French has attained this position only in this century. The start of its rise in the region can be traced to the arrival of the Révillon Frères trading company, which set up a post in the vicinity of Kuujjuarapik in 1920-1921. A Roman Catholic mission followed in 1924 and a Church-run school for Cree and Inuit was opened in Chisasibi. However, it was not until the 1950s, when the army base was being constructed, that larger groups of French-speakers made their presence felt. This continued throughout the 1960s and 1970s, especially as matters under the jurisdiction of the federal Department of Northern Affairs were transferred to provincial jurisdiction. French speakers were, for all intents and purposes, a distinct group of "Whiteman". They were "White" Europeans, but initially held a

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noticeably less powerful position than the English. This is revealed in the following excerpt of an interview with an Inuk elder, who describes how the Hudson's Bay Company used to threaten Inuit who traded regularly with Révillon Frères: When my family came to Kuujjuarapik to trade, there were two groups of traders: the French and the Hudson Bay.... My eldest brother told us that the French traders were going to leave, so he was able to prepare us.... He used to communicate with the traders and could even read newspapers. That's how we learned that the fur traders were going to be leaving, we were told that by my brother. We were warned that there wasn't going to be anyone to trade with us. We were warned by the Hudson Bay people that we were not going to eat any more bannock, we won't get any more flour. (Inuk Elder F)

The secondary position of French speakers is also revealed in the following passages, which describe the influence of the Roman Catholic school in Chisasibi: The only French people I heard of were at the school in Chisasibi. Harold and our parents didn't want myself or the other children who were my age to go. Harold said we would turn into Frenchmen. Three Inuit that I know and some Cree people went to the Chisasibi school. It was a Roman Catholic school, but I think they taught in English. Harold used to say that he didn't want the children of Great Whale to go away. (Inuk Elder M) I know there was a school in Chisasibi before Great Whale. Students were sought here in Great Whale to get education in Chisasibi, but [those looking for students] were not successful in getting people to go to Chisasibi. The teachers found two persons from Richmond Gulf who would go to school in Chisasibi. I don't know how much they both learned. (Inuk Elder M)

From these early recollections of trade and education, it is clear that the Inuit had constructed a social category of "French people", even though they had minimal contact with French speakers. It is also clear that the "French trading company" lost out against the Hudson's Bay Company, and that the Inuit children of Kuujjuarapik were discouraged from going to the school in Chisasibi. The avoidance of the French school may have been due to the distance between Kuujjuarapik and Chisasibi, but it may also have been die to Inuit distrust of French speakers and Catholicism, perpetuated in the community by people like Harold Udgarten and the Anglican Church, which had already firmly

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established itself in the region. This feeling of distrust and distance seems to have continued into the 1960s and 1970s, when Francophones settled in the area of Kuujjuarapik. At this time, Inuit appeared to have had very little to do with them, separated as they were by physical distance, language, and religion. Yet there was also an awareness among some Inuit that the ordinary French-speaking workers who came to Kuujjuarapik had something in common with them, as noted in the excerpt below: I hardly remember the ordinary French people because maybe they weren't really with the Inuit people, maybe they were not traders but did something else. There was a Roman Catholic priest until the early seventies. I was told that Roman Catholicism is a separate religion, but they think the same way. They pray to the same God, but they have more pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. And Harold had a lot to say about this too, that they were the same. (Inuk Elder F)

The shift from a few French traders to large numbers of Francophone workers in the area around Kuujjuarapik took place during the construction of the army base and the introduction of wage labour to the area. This period of transition is discussed in the passage below, excerpted from a longer narrative about an Inuk man moving and settling in Kuujjuarapik to work at the base. When I woke up I could hear someone speaking English outside our tent. I rose and looked outside. When he saw me he asked me to go to him. I understood what he said although he said it in English. He kept on talking in English and I didn't understand any other word he was saying but I did understand that he was asking me to find many men.... The white man pointed at the ships and I thought we were going to be going to them. There weren't too many of us and we were taken to the ships. We were hired to unload them.... The man who was in charge of us spoke just English although there were many French people by that time. While we were on our way to the shore our boss was in the front of the boat and a French person was talking to him in French. He was apparently trying to tell him something but he didn't speak French at all and didn't seem to understand a word. Sometimes he didn't even answer the French man. The first time we saw French people we were quite overwhelmed. We didn't expect them to stay all winter but they have been here ever since.... There were many French people who needed men to work with them up there. Some were mixing and shaping cement. They dried up a big pond behind the army base that same fall. There were so many men working and making

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cement that the pond was actually drained dry.... The army fired anybody who made a slightest mistake.... They had many French employees who could speak only their language. (Inuk Elder M; A)

It is clear from the narrator's recollection of the period described that English has been the language of the army, wage labour, the prospectors, and those bringing new technology to the area, such as airplanes, bulldozers, and land-movers. In short, it is the language of power, spoken by those who hire, fire, and pay the wages, and to whom French- and Inuktitut-speaking employees are subordinate. The expectation that arose from the social linguistic conditions in Kuujjuarapik at that time was that the Inuit would have to adapt to the language of their English employers, who spoke neither Inuktitut nor French. One strategy for doing so is described by an Inuk elder in the following narrative: [W]e had been living here permanently for a while before [the army] came. There were maybe only 4 or 5 families at that time living here. Most were still just trading like before and staying out in camps. It seems that they needed more translators when the army came, so the minister and the trader used to translate. Even older people used to translate even though they didn't really speak English, but they understood enough to translate. (Inuk Elder F)

As this narrative indicates, Inuit adopted a makeshift strategy of using interpreters—Inuit who could understand English, or a trader or the minister who could speak some Inuktitut—in order to facilitate communication between employers, employees, and officials. The first French people who arrived in large numbers came to work for the same English-speaking employers as the Inuit were working for, and were in effect in competition with the Inuit labour force. However, the French-speaking workers were distinguished from the Inuit because of their European descent and familiarity with the market economy and its technology. Therefore, although the Francophone labourers were subordinate to their English-speaking employers, over time, French speakers imposed another form of non-Native domination and a second European language. So the Inuit now had to contend not only with English-speaking employers, a new work environment, and a wage economy, but also with a large influx of "White people" comprising mostly French speakers. These speakers constituted an entirely

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new social group, which would eventually attain a higher economic position and hold more power in the community. For some, this influx meant a change of employer and of workplace language, with all the difficulties attendant upon these changes. Such consequences are described in the following narrative: I started working for someone up on the base. I was okay with my English then. But then they switched to a French employer and I couldn't understand French and I lost my English. French and English people always seemed the same to me, if you didn't steal or if you were dependable, you were treated okay. (Inuk Elder F)

This shift from English-speaking to French-speaking managers and administrators in Kuujjuarapik formed a second important transition for Inuit after the arrival of the army. As Quebec nationalism gained momentum in the 1960s and a Francophone middle class mobilized to take control of the private sector, the provincial government began to take a greater interest in its northern territory. As a result, it sought to strengthen its administrative authority there and to take political and economic control over the territory within its borders. These processes resulted in an even greater influx of Francophones into northern Quebec, not just as employees, but also as managers, entrepreneurs, and administrators of Quebec government offices. Inuit mobilization is thus rooted in the history of Francophone mobilization and of Quebec's efforts to assert control over its northern territory. The question for many Inuit is whether they would be better off under the authority of an Anglo-dominant Canada, a Francodominant Quebec, or a government that they eventually ran themselves. 4. Inuit mobilization and the rise of Inuktitut Although the economic circumstances of minority settings may differ, mobilization across settings is uniformly based on agreement to maintain or improve the material conditions of the community. One response of Inuit to increasing pressure from the dominant groups in Canada to exploit northern Quebec's natural resources has been resistance and political mobilization. This response has a historical parallel in Inuit resistance to domination, threats to traditional ways of life, and other patterns of state formation, including the rise in provincial control over valued resources and territory that began in the

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1960s. It has also followed the logic of social movements of the era—in particular, the American Civil Rights Movement and Native rights movements mounted in the 1960s in the United States, Canada, and elsewhere. Given Inuit access to a range of material resources, especially those gained through the JBNQA, and centuries of exploitation of the Arctic Quebec resources by whalers, traders, and mining and hydroelectric companies, the desire of Inuit for their own territory, whose existence would benefit local Inuit populations, is certainly a reasonable one. In the early 1970s, the Quebec Inuit and Cree initiated legal action and entered into negotiations with the federal and provincial governments (on this, see chapter 2, section 2.1.1.)· For the Cree and Inuit, preservation of the land and of harvesting practices was a key goal in a negotiated settlement.36 The preservation of harvesting is directly linked to Aboriginal identity, culture, and well-being and to the social, economic, and cultural activities associated with these. A key economic difficulty for Nunavik communities is that the cost of living in these isolated communities is very high, even though pensions, welfare benefits, and the like are exactly the same as elsewhere in the province of Quebec. Harvested food is necessary to feed growing Inuit communities, since transportation costs for shipping products from the South are so high. But the hunting of marine and land mammals such as beluga whales, polar bears, walruses, seals, and caribou also has strong links to Inuit identity and still forms an integral part of Inuit life. Hunting continues throughout the winter, and extended visits to spring and summer hunting camps outside the settlement are still common. Hunters who hold wage-paying jobs go hunting on weekends or at other times when they are free. Less traditional Inuit, who do not engage in traditional practices such as hunting or sewing traditional parkas or seal skin boots, still have respect for them, and often rely on harvested game throughout the year. Hunting and other traditional practices are such an integral part of community life that their absence would be almost unthinkable. The JBNQA therefore had to ensure the continuity of a land-based economy to gain legitimacy at the local level and to legitimize claims to Aboriginal distinctiveness. Financial compensation from the Agreement was put into harvesting programmes, which operate to this day, supporting a number of full-time hunters. Additional monies from the Agreement were intended to further the economic well-being of communities. Some of these funds were directed towards development

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projects in such areas as tourism, commercial fishing, and local manufacturing of clothing and crafts; and employment, housing, education, health care, waste disposal, and other programmes for northern communities (i.e. things that are taken for granted in southern Canadian communities). Coupled with these economic goals was the longer-term goal of assuming control over institutions such as the school, where Native culture and language programmes could be developed, which would serve to counterbalance a southern-based curriculum. Given all of these goals, the Agreement seemed to be the best deal that could be negotiated under the circumstances, despite the difficult balancing act in which the Inuit now found themselves: trying to preserve elements of the past, while forging ahead in a rapidly changing modern world. 4.1. Inuktitut and the dominant language market

With the implementation of the JBNQA, the Makivik Corporation became the organization responsible for Inuit economic development and planning in Arctic Quebec. This organization has been involved in negotiations with governments and corporations over resource development, potential profit-sharing ventures, and some measure of "sovereignty" or autonomy over their territory. Makivik has also acknowledged their "corporate responsibility" to education, and through a resolution in 1989, created the Nunavik Educational Task Force on education, in order to investigate the quality and delivery of education in Nunavik. Makivik helped finance this investigation and promised further financial assistance to the education system, if it were needed (Vick-Westgate 2002: 125-142). The final report from the task force was tabled in 1992 (Nunavik Educational Task Force 1992; Vick-Westgate 2002: 199-200). Through their acknowledgement of the importance of this work, Makivik has offered tacit support for the development of pedagogically sound language programmes as key elements in the struggle for self-government. As an institution, the school is at the centre of Nunavik's paradoxical goals (cf. Heller 1994 for the analogous situation of Franco-Ontarian schools). On the one hand, schools have been given the mandate of preserving Inuit culture, values, and language. On the other, they have sought to prepare students for employment opportunities or for post-secondary education in Montreal. To a large extent,

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the conflict between these competing goals has been resolved linguistically: schools operate in three languages in order to deal with three competing sets of symbolic resources in the dominant linguistic market. Children are initiated into school culture in their own language, with familiar teachers who have been hired locally. After the first three years of schooling, Inuktitut is taught as an academic subject only. At this point, students continue to improve their literacy skills in the language, including learning both traditional and modern vocabulary, through Inuktitut language classes. It has always been a challenge to teach traditional language and culture within the parameters of modern Western schooling. Yet these programmes have persisted, primarily through efforts to involve Inuit elders in programme development and through a substantial investment in the standardization and modernization of Inuktitut. Language has been a serious business in the Inuit takeover of education. Providing strong Inuktitut programmes and Inuit teacher training has been a priority in a land where remaining modem and remaining Inuk have both been realistic goals, which guide communities, institutions, and government policy. 4.2. Inuktitut language use: Education and

standardization

It is embarrassing to talk to other Inuit from other communities because each community has a different dialect. I am afraid that they might [misunderstand], (Inuk Elder M; A)

In 1964, the Quebec government introduced an education policy for Arctic Quebec that allowed for Inuktitut language instruction in schools (Patrick and Shearwood 1999). Instruction, curriculum development, and Inuit teacher training were not implemented immediately; however, the policy was to play a key role in Inuit education. Two implications of this policy have been of concern to the Kativik School Board, which assumed control over Inuit education in Nunavikin 1978. One pertains to Inuktitut language maintenance and the role that schools and other institutions can play in insuring its survival. The other pertains to the modernization and standardization of Inuktitut language forms in schools. Standardization is crucial to the production of pedagogical materials, a standardized orthography, and legitimate language forms that will be valued in the dominant language market. Only through this process, it is argued, can Inuktitut become a

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contender with English and French in Arctic Quebec. Thus Inuktitut standardization and legitimization are products of the political process set in motion in the 1960s. Processes of standardization represent unifying tendencies in political organization, uniting people under common assumptions about their social position and political and economic goals in an increasingly globalized marketplace. At the same time, processes of "unification" are met with localized resistance—particularly among practitioners of "traditional" activities, who value local ways of speaking and the historical association between place and culture that these localized forms signify. I witnessed this kind of resistance during my first meeting with the Kuujjuarapik municipal council and school committee at the beginning of my fieldwork. An Inuk hunter who was one of the council members felt that something should be done to preserve the local Kuujjuarapik way of speaking. Children were using the standardized forms taught in schools and he was concerned that the local vocabulary and pronunciation would be lost. The maintenance of the alternative market appears to be dependent on the hunting economy and on the interest of younger people in these activities. Losing local ways of speaking is seen as problematic in a society where modernization and the dominant market are luring younger people into other pursuits and more modern forms of Inuit identity. Despite these concerns, a more modern Inuit territorial identity has been a successful means of legitimizing the standardization and modernization of Inuktitut. Inuit political mobilization has fuelled the creation of Nunavik, and has itself created a platform from which an Inuit voice can be heard on issues of economic, social, and political development in northern Quebec. Language standardization has legitimized Inuktitut in schools and other institutional spheres, where these symbolic resources are valued and exchanged for other material and symbolic resources in the same linguistic market in which English and French operate. Nevertheless, local varieties of Inuktitut persist, and continue to be valued in Kuujjuarapik and other Inuit communities as markers of place, time, and a traditional land-based way of life.

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4.3. Institutionalized practices and the symbolic importance of Inuktitut E: If someone gave me two books, one in Inuktitut and one in English, I would take the English one. The Inuktitut is really slow... for reading... because of the way it's written, instead of one word, you have many phrases. Unless you are very very good reading in Inuktitut, you would be so busy trying to figure out what the word says that you won't enjoy the book.... D: But do you think it's still important that things are written in Inuktitut? E: (laughter) Well, yes. Because it makes up a large portion of who we are. It's something of our own. (Inuk educator F) Interviewer: Do you write syllables? Inuk Hunter: Yes, because I'm Inuk.

(Hydro-Québec 1978)

The Inuktitut syllabary (as described in the previous chapter) was developed by missionaries in the late 1800s and became crucial to the spread of Christianity among the Inuit. Literacy was introduced through informal education and readily incorporated into Inuit identity. Since their introduction in the late 1800s, Inuktitut syllables have thus not only helped to fulfil spiritual needs but have done so in a way that is uniquely "Inuit". Given the value of Inuktitut literacy in the construction of Inuit identity—and of literacy generally in Western societies—the importance of Inuktitut literacy for Inuit mobilization becomes clear. It is recognized as a symbolic resource by virtually every Inuk. What is more, syllables are relatively easy to learn. Before the existence of formal schooling in the Arctic, most Inuit learned syllables relatively quickly, either on their own or with the help of a family member. The syllabary is also quite easy for young children to learn, so that they can become literate in Inuktitut before they learn literacy skills in a second language. This gives further justification to the teaching of Inuktitut literacy in schools, since these teaching efforts have met with success among most young Inuit learners. However, the introduction of Inuktitut literacy in the schools has brought with it a whole new set of problems. In the past, the church used local linguistic forms in services and hymns. That is, an English text would have been translated into the variety of Inuktitut used in a particular community, and the Inuktitut translation subsequently altered to conform to the features of varieties used elsewhere. I was told by the local priest in Kuujjuarapik that this was still the practice there; that is,

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words or phrases in a religious text that were not used locally were replaced with local terms. However, when a language that displays considerable dialectal diversity is standardized for use in schools, at least two things happen. First, dialectal differences between communities, which have previously been of little importance, suddenly become an issue, since one language variety must be chosen over others. Second, a difficulty arises in deciding which dialect or dialects that will become the standard, and accordingly used in the production of school materials, government documents, and other texts. 4.4. Processes oflnuktitut

standardization

One of the preoccupations of the Kativik School Board has been Inuktitut curriculum development, and thus the question of which dialects should be selected for school materials and which should therefore become the most highly valued in Nunavik. I raised the question of how different dialects could be accommodated in the school curriculum during an interview with one Inuk educator. This person had the following to say on this subject: Most of our books are in two dialects, one of them would be bracketed. The two dialects are so close, just some words... so the whole book, for instance, might be in Ungava Bay [dialect] and the bracketed terminology would be Hudson Bay [dialect]. Like Maggie K. is from Ungava Bay and Ida I. is from Inukjuak and they are both mature, but a lot of times we work with the elders such as Miqiutuq and Johnny George (both from Ungava Bay). (Inuk Kativik School Board educator F)

I asked another Inuk educator whether she noticed increased "standardization" in the Inuktitut that children in Umiujaq, a settlement close to Kuujjuarapik, were speaking to their parents. She did indeed feel that Umiujaq, which was settled by former Kuujjuarapik residents in the 1980s, was experiencing a shift to the standard Hudson Bay dialect, one of the standard Nunavik dialects. because ... we have a very strong Inuktitut secondary teacher, who is originally from Inukjuak. He played a large part in getting children to adopt little bits of Inukjuak dialect. [For example], because we didn't know very much about the glottal, it is impossible to write what they were saying, so [they had to learn to write a more standard Nunavik style]. (Inuk educator F)

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Standardized Inuktitut forms tend to be from the community of Inukjuak, on the Hudson Bay coast, and from Kuujjuaq, in the Ungava Bay region. Choosing some variety as the standard is clearly political, since conceivably any form could be chosen as the legitimate "standard". The variety chosen is instantly accorded the prestige and power associated with institutional legitimation. In the case of Nunavik, two "standards" have developed, which reflect the political reality of two coasts, each with its own dialect. The choice of language variety along the coasts was most likely influenced by Inuit political leaders from those areas. Another influence on dialect preferences has been linguistic research, which has identified certain forms as more conservative—and, for some, more legitimately "Inuit" —than others. For example, gemination, the phonological process that replaces two distinct consonants by the doubling of one of the consonants, giving us, for example, Inuttitut from Inuktitut, occurs more frequently in Kuujjuarapik Inuktitut than in other regions, and is considered to be less conservative than the maintenance of a distinction between two consonants. These arguments, however, are meaningless to the inhabitants of the area, who have used these "non-standard" features for generations. Despite the different varieties of Inuktitut used in different communities (the main differences between them being in pronunciation and vocabulary) relatively little conflict has arisen regarding the promotion of "standard" and the use of local forms. As mentioned above (section 4.2), when I first met with the municipal council of Kuujjuarapik to introduce the project, a council member voiced concern that the local "Kuujjuarapik way of speaking" was being lost. Over the course of my fieldwork, however, this voice of concern proved to be the only one I heard on this issue. It would appear, then, that in the Inuktitut minority language context, the ideologies of linguistic "purity" and of "proper" language use do not conflict overtly are not overtly conflictual with language ideologies associated with particular communities or "places". This has allowed the standardization of Inuktitut in school curricula to proceed smoothly and led to the acceptance of these forms by younger speakers and in the communities at large (cf. Jaffe 1999: 272-275 for a description of more typical ideological conflicts in minority language settings). Since the founding of the Kativik School Board, language policy, standardization, and Inuit political mobilization have been inextricably

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linked. Each has been dependent on the other: the Kativik School Board owes its existence to Inuit mobilization, while Inuit political organizations have been dependent upon the school board for the production of standardized language forms. That is, the school board needs the material resources to continue curriculum development in standardized Inuktitut; and any move toward a self-governing Inuit territory is dependent on a functional, unified indigenous language of state, in order to create a "national" or regional consciousness and to find legitimacy as a self-governing territory. The importance of Inuktitut for Inuit self-government and of the school in bolstering Inuktitut and helping to construct a strong Inuit identity can be seen in the following remarks by an Inuk educator: I think [the school is] the main force behind the Inuktitut language, for it to continue to be on the face of the earth, for Nunavik. There's so much, I just don't know how to put it in words.... I suppose one of the important principles of Kativik School Board is that I think it's going to be the main instrument for preparing children to [govern] themselves in the future.... I'm not a politician, but if what they have in mind is an all-Inuit government, and everything was in Inuktitut, then um, then the Kativik School Board, and the teacher training in particular, are important because the teachers will have to make some changes for self-government.... I think it's something to do with values. I can't think of any other way that there will be changes except through the school and children. (Inuk educator F)

The institutionalization of Inuktitut language practices presents a whole new range of challenges, political and linguistic, for Inuit educators. It is important here to understand the link between the educational system and Inuit political mobilization, since it is this link that makes the school such an important institution in Nunavik. Language policies are based on political decisions regarding the symbolic resources to be taught and legitimized in the schools. Decisions have to be examined within the social and political context of the region and with a recognition of the paradoxes that arise in using alternative or "oppositional" cultural knowledge within the southern structure of the school. It is by understanding this political, economic, and cultural complexity that we can begin to understand what it means to teach certain languages in the school and why it is important to invest resources into language development programmes.

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5. Participating in the dominant market Children started school only when the army buildings were abandoned.... Before there was no such thing as education.... The school started in 1957 here in Great Whale. It was just like yesterday I remember the first day of the school. Today, kids drop out of school and some still go to school.... We are a long way behind others because education came here only recently.... Also, teachers came just like that [and] taught the kids how to speak in French and English.... Today, some kids drop out and some still carry on. It is like that in our town. Some students come home without finishing school and some stay in the South to keep on studying. This is the life of the Inuit. It is not the same as the white man. (Inuk Elder M; A)

In Nunavik schools, students are introduced to various symbolic practices, including language learning and formal evaluation. Mastering this school-based cultural and linguistic capital can lead students to higher education and employment in their communities or in the South. However, not all students confronted with this form of symbolic domination and these new forms of language and knowledge follow the same paths. Some wish to settle in the community, while some leave after high school with the intention of not returning. Some resist the school and what it has to offer and either drop out or scrape by, eventually landing part-time or seasonal employment in the community. Others pursue higher education in Montreal, and either return here or stay in the South, where employment opportunities are greater. The paths that students take are not entirely independent of each other, and often interact in complex and contradictory ways. Although the students are linked together by their sense of ethnicity, origin, and place, particularly since they have grown up together in relatively small, tight-knit communities, they respond differently to the challenge of negotiating social identity in a complex postcolonial era. There is both tension and overlap between the values and norms of the community and the family, on the one hand, and those of southern Canada (or more generally the West), on the other. This makes the construction of identity based on a relatively reified "traditional past" and a relatively abstract "self-governing" future a complex process. The fact remains, however, that some paths lead to greater access to material resources than others. A relatively small proportion of students excel in school, and even of these, only a small proportion choose to continue their education in

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Montreal. Some stay in the South and engage in wage employment—within Inuit organizations, where their Inuktitut skills as well as their southern education are valued; or in the mainstream Anglophone- or Francophone-dominated workforce. Others return to the community, where there are employment opportunities in the Inuit sector, such as at the municipal council, and, to a lesser extent, in the French-dominant public and private sectors. Other students do not fare so well in school, for various reasons. These include their resistance to school practices, arising either from difficulties that they may have in acquiring the resources offered by the school (for personal, family, or other reasons) or from an outright rejection of the school and a desire to pursue other opportunities in the Inuit community instead. Whatever the circumstances, the cultural and linguistic capital that Inuit children bring to the school is not valued in the southern educational market. Those who do not complete their secondary schooling do not have the same opportunities—the same access to dominant symbolic resources—as those who do. However, Inuit students who do not receive further education in the South and opt to stay in the community are not completely excluded from further educational opportunities. If they possess strong Inuktitut language skills, they might choose to become Inuit language teachers, for which they can receive training in their own language. Adult education services have also set up job-training programmes, such as secretarial, maintenance, and construction courses, and academic upgrading for those who wish to continue their schooling in their community. In most cases, however, students who have not succeeded in school reject all school practices, and are not willing to invest the time necessary to gain access to the opportunities promised by the school. This may be because they do not believe that these opportunities are truly available or because they do not want them, since the social reality presented by the school does not, for them, correspond to that of the community. In order to understand the choices that students make regarding their participation in secondary and higher education, it is necessary to examine the broader social, linguistic, and economic practices of the community, which I will do in the following sections.

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5.1. Learning languages at work, home, and school Since the introduction of wage labour, Inuit workers have had to accommodate themselves to those who did not speak their language. Over the years, responses to language learning have varied. Some Inuit acquired English, the language of those in power—although doing so with varying degrees of success. Others merely expressed a desire to learn the language, and still others resisted learning the language altogether. Acquisition of English was, in part, dependent on one's access and exposure to the language through schooling or other contact—including hospitalization for tuberculosis during the epidemic in the 1940s and 1950s. It was also a question of one's integration into the English-dominated workforce, as well as of one's attitudes towards this economic dominance and towards English speakers themselves. During this same period, French workers were positioned similarly to Inuit ones vis-à-vis Anglophone employers. Although I have no ethnographic data about Anglophone-Francophone relations at the time, it would be safe to assume, given the status of English as the sole language of power in the dominant linguistic market at that time, that there was at least some accommodation of French speakers to their English bosses and considerably less accommodation in the opposite direction. Historical evidence tends to support the notion that aside from a few long-term Hudson's Bay Company traders and missionaries, very few English-speaking non-Native workers stationed in the North have invested the time and energy necessary for learning the economically less dominant languages. With the rise of French in the dominant linguistic market, these patterns of language learning have changed. Many Anglophones and Inuit have seen a need to learn French for advancement in the workplace and for day-to-day life in a predominantly Francophone province. At the same time, Francophone residents of Arctic Quebec still routinely find themselves having to accommodate English speakers. The result is a highly bilingual (or even trilingual) population in communities like Great Whale River, where in general, there is a strong value placed on second language learning. Significantly, however, very few non-Native residents manage to learn Inuktitut, even when they have Inuit spouses. One non-Native man I interviewed gave the following explanation for his own poor knowledge of Inuktitut:

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The language is sooo hard—I try, I really try. And my wife is Inuk, obviously, and our children are Inuit too, but I would rather say, it is easier for me now, my son is three years old, and I am at his level, so every word he picks up, I pick up too. I learn a lot from children, but the language itself is really hard, you cannot use any English or French background.... (non-Native government employee M)

For whatever reason—the difficulty or foreignness of the language, the lack of effective learning materials, or the lack of opportunities to actually use the language—very few non-Inuit learn Inuktitut. In contrast, the learning of English or French as a second (or third) language is more successful. While many Anglophones and almost all Francophones working in Nunavik are bilingual in the two dominant European languages, Inuit have been faced with the prospect of having to become trilingual. As we will see in the rest of this chapter, both French and English are seen as necessary for gaining access to the dominant job market and for success in Quebec and Canada. As French assumed greater power in the administrative and entrepreneurial spheres, the desire of non-Francophones to learn this new language and the perceived necessity of doing so increased. Not surprisingly, there was still some reluctance to learn this language. For Inuit, English had been the language of education ever since the federal day school had opened in the late 1950s and thus had already gained a hold as the second language of the region. Those who already knew some English were reluctant to put energy into learning another European language, especially when most of the Francophones they would have contact with would be able to manage in English or when the French used in the workplace could be translated. In the 1990s, more Inuit began to see a need to learn the language, although very few of those educated in English have been learning French actively. In most of these cases, there is—notwithstanding a stated need to learn French—no urgency to do so, since they are able to function at work and in the community using only Inuktitut and English. In the following sections we will explore the reasons why learning French is seen as a necessity but not a priority, and the strategies that have arisen in response to this situation. The discussion will draw on interviews conducted in English with non-Native residents and with Inuit between the ages of thirty and forty-five, who attended the federal day school in the 1960s in Great Whale River. Discussion will focus on language use in the workplace and other social spheres, and the strategies adopted by non-French speakers for coping with this

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relatively new competition from French in the dominant language market. 5.1.1. General perceptions of French From the interview data, it appears that Inuit understand the importance of French in Nunavik, given that this region is situated in and governed by the larger Francophone Quebec state. At the same time, Inuktitut remains their first language and English their primary second language of Inuit. Both this subtle tension between English and French and a clear recognition of French in the lives of Inuit emerged at various points in the interviews. For example, one interviewee remarked that We live in Quebec and the second language here is French on top of English. So, I think [French] has a lot of importance. (Inuk Municipal Council employee M)

Another noted that A lot of the television we get here, the news, they're in French and they seem interesting, and it gives us a desire to understand it. And being a minority in a province where French is mostly spoken you'd like to catch up with everybody and speak French as well. (Inuk Municipal Council employee M)

But while he and other Inuit were aware of the growing importance of French, they were already having enough trouble balancing the use of English, which remained prominent in the community, with the need to maintain their own language. English dominance is embedded in the historical relations of trade and in the introduction of modern institutions of Inuit society. I think English is used rather too much because we are in a situation where we are in Quebec, and French is the language of the majority of the province, and being Inuk, trying to maintain our culture and our language, and we're having to deal with three languages, everybody tends to turn to English. But there is a reason for that though, because when we first started in the federal day school it was the only language taught, up until 1975 or '76, so it is the most common language you find here. (Inuk Municipal Council employee M)

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This tension between French and English and the difficulty of having to "deal with three languages" was voiced by many Inuit. As one government employee noted: I've been trying hard to leam French. I even took a six-week immersion course this year, but it's not enough. Like I already have two languages, putting in a third one, you know it's kind of hard. (Inuk Quebec Government employee M)

That French does indeed have a significant presence in the region was echoed in many remarks made during the interviews. In particular, French is seen as dominant within state-supported agencies, and French symbolic domination is recognized in institutional practices, including government offices, schools, and the criminal justice system. As observed by various interviewees, both Inuit and Anglophone, many provincial government documents and services were not readily available to them in English—a situation that caused some difficulty: we have problems with government documents, provincial documents. For example, old age pension, welfare, these things they send the forms in French.... Same thing with the driver's license, it's all in French; there's some rules and regulations on the back.... (Inuk Municipal Council employee M)

Just dealing with government documents and letters, um, in my job it wouldn't have really made much difference, because you can get English services over the phone, but it's hard, you have to wait a long time. Like some days, I've gone through days before I've been able to get through for English services... for income tax, and for any general information.... You go through those electronic phone systems where for English you punch such and such a number, and then you're put on hold.... Like I do people's income tax returns, because the Inuit have to pay income tax.... So when it comes to income tax time, they're usually missing a lot of information [receipts for their family allowance or pension slips]. And to try and get that information is really hard. (non-Native Anglophone resident F)

There was an incident a year and a half ago, when I was guarding at the jail for the woman prisoners over the summer, and um, there everything was in French, all the instructions for the guards were in French. What to do with the prisoners, how to handle emergency situations, when they could have

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visitors, what they were allowed to have with them in their cell, what you had to take away, when you could let them out to have a cigarette... all these instructions were totally in French. And I tried to get an English copy from the head constable, and he said there was one that he had translated, and he couldn't find it anywhere, the secretary didn't know where it was, so I had to stumble through this French one by using a French-English dictionary, which wasn't very good if there had been an emergency... and I don't know how the other guards handled it, because at that time there were some Cree men who were guarding as well and who couldn't speak French either, so I'm not sure how they handled that situation. (non-Native Anglophone resident F)

The dominance of French in the province had also been felt by one interviewee on a trip outside the settlement: Even if you don't need it in your community, you may need French when you are down South. I was really stuck once, it turned out that the doctor didn't speak English and I didn't know how to communicate. Not only with the doctors, I was lost too in the city. You're going around with nobody being able to understand you, I wouldn't want that feeling for my children, not a bit. (Inuk Municipal Council employee F)

Interviewees also noted the frequent use of French in the workplace, especially in positions that involved dealing with provincial agencies, departments, or employees from southern Quebec. Many Inuit and Anglophones cited occasions when they had had to deal with a unilingual French speaker or when some aspect of their job had involved written French. I never learned French. It was important in my working areas, because I have to speak to people who only know French sometimes for the telephone.... Even now they ask me "parlez-vous français" and I have to say no. Even though I understand that, but... I don't know French. (Inuk Municipal Council employee F) Sometimes I get phone calls, and when it's a French man, and he don't have much... English, it's pretty hard to have a conversation with that person, so... sometimes you wish that if only you'd learned French. (Inuk Municipal Council employee M) In the restaurant it wasn't too bad, 'cause there were other people who spoke French and they could fill in, like if I couldn't understand something,

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they would take over. But there would have been a problem if they hadn't been there, because people would come in they'd ask about the menu, which I didn't understand. I could point to them to where the menu was, but if they had any questions about it, I wouldn't be able to communicate with them. (non-Native Anglophone resident F)

In addition to this role of French in the workplace, the more pressing concern for many Inuit is that French language skills might become a prerequisite for employment, and that without these skills, the ability to obtain employment might be jeopardized. As one Inuk leader noted, "the requirement for French has been more evident, in our community and in the whole region.... French is sometimes a necessity, but in most cases it's an asset." And as many other interviewees told me, the demand for French in the workplace will likely increase, and those who can speak French will have better employment opportunities. This has become one of the key incentives for placing children in the French stream at school when they are about eight years old. To summarize the above observations: knowledge of French is seen as necessary because Nunavik is situated in the province of Quebec. Since the vast majority of the province's population operates in French, most provincial government services are provided more rapidly in French, and many workplaces require knowledge of French or conduct business in French at least some of the time. However, despite the social linguistic dominance of French, the majority of those who have been educated in English are not actively engaged in learning French. There are many reasons for this. One is that those who have mastered English as a second language are already bilingual, and thus already have access to two of the languages operating in the dominant language market. Moreover, despite all of the explanations given for the importance of French, English remains the dominant language in North America and in international, globalized markets. It is also the community's lingua franca. As one interviewee remarked, if you can speak English, you can speak with members of every language group: Being fortunate enough to speak two languages, I can communicate in either one.... When I communicate with the Cree for example, or the French, the communication is in English, and that's no problem, everybody seems to speak English. (Inuk Municipal Council employee M)

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For many Inuit in this group, Inuktitut and English serve them well. Most Inuit and unilingual Anglophones do not see a need to learn French to function in the community, because of the prevalence of English. There are other reasons why learning French might not be a priority. One that interviewees mentioned was the limited amount of time that people were willing or able to devote to learning French. One woman noted that she would "rather be pursuing traditional sewing than to take the time to learn French, and be at home afterward", especially since she was a single parent. For some, speaking English is also a part of their social identity. This is a product of colonial history—more specifically, the fact that the agents of colonialism—the traders, the church, and the school—were also the bearers of English to the region. As one woman noted, speaking English as a second language can constitute part of Inuit identity. When asked why it was important for her to learn English, she replied: "since I'm Inuk, English is my second language. The English came here and they wanted us to learn how to speak English. I really want to understand very much in English." She then added: "I have nothing against French. If I ever need a translator my son will translate for me." (As we will see, enrolling one's children in the French stream at school is a common strategy for dealing with the recent rise of French in Nunavik.) In sum, it appears that knowledge of one second language, namely English, is often seen as sufficient by Inuit who have been educated in English. This is the case despite their acknowledgement of the importance of French in the community, which is demonstrated by the large number of Inuit who opt to place their children in the French stream at school.37 Nevertheless, some individuals are still actively involved in learning French, primarily for work-related reasons, as we will see below. 5.1.2. Access to French at home Despite the reluctance of many bilinguals to acquire a third language, there are, nevertheless, cases of adult Inuit educated in English who are motivated to learn French. Among these are members of mixed InuitFrancophone households —in particular those in which an Inuk woman is living with a Francophone man who speaks French with

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their children. Some women in these households may be motivated to learn French. The reality, however, is that very few actually learn the language fluently. In almost all cases, the husband and wife continue to speak to each other in English. Of the six French-Inuktitut mixed marriages that existed in Kuujjuarapik during the time of my fieldwork, only two families actively used French (in addition to Inuktitut and English) in the home.38 From what I could observe, a third family used French some of the time, while the other three used English and Inuktitut, but very little French. However, only one woman actively used the language—probably in large part because of the requirements of her job as a ticket agent with an airline company. Jobrelated requirements are, in fact, the most common motivation for adult Inuit to learn French. In general, children in Kuujjuarapik with Francophone fathers were exposed to some French at home. However, even if the father used French in the home, this exposure was, in practice, often very limited. The reason for this, as just noted, was that communication between husband and wife was usually in English. This is reflected in the following remarks of a Francophone man: I think [my children are] very strong in Inuktitut and then English and then French. I'm the only one who's been talking to them in French. I think school will help a lot, 'cause they'll have more exposure and... the more they go to school in French, the more they will use it. For me it was important for them to speak Inuktitut, for them to learn to read and write Inuktitut.... And then my second priority was for them to learn French. I knew they are so much exposed to English, I knew they would leam it no matter what. So I've not been encouraging them at all to speak English and they are very very fluent, but it's the exposure. It shows the importance of trying to protect your language because the exposure is so great in English. I don't think it's bad, to the contrary, I think it is very good to speak English, but uh, we have to lessen the exposure of English also. D: Where is that exposure coming from? P: Television, kids together and me and my wife speaking English together. Sometimes it's faster to say something in English, so they go for a shortcut, so I always have to remind them when they speak to me, they don't speak in English they speak in French to me. (Laughter.) (non-Native Francophone administrator M)

That it was sometimes easier for Francophone parents to use English with their children in an English-Inuktitut dominant household was noted by other Francophone men in mixed marriages. Most families

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therefore ended up relying on the school to provide access to valued French and Inuktitut language resources. 5.1.3. French and schooling One of the key responses to French dominance, as suggested above, has been to enrol one's son or daughter in the French stream at school. This not only allows children access to a symbolic resource, but legitimizes them as French speakers by the credentials offered by the school. Although parents expect education to lead to more participation in the Francophone milieu, making the decision to place a child in the English or the French stream is not an easy one for them. As noted below, French is thought to secure one's chances for the future, yet parents who cannot speak French are unable to help their children with their homework: I think I made a mistake putting my son in English. Because we are in the province of Quebec, it's going to be required that you speak French more than it will be required to speak English in the future if you want to get into the job market. But I can help him more in English, because I know English, but I can't help my daughter who is in French. You know what I mean. (Inuk Municipal Council employee F)

In addition to help with schoolwork that they may receive from parents educated in English, children studying in English also receive crucial practice outside of school, which they need to really master a second language. (These processes are discussed at length in the next chapter.) This is not the case for French, as noted by the interviewee quoted in the following passage: There's students who went to French classes, and we've lost them. They're not speaking in English and they're not speaking in French. Their Inuktitut is okay. My cousin, he went to French school here, and he does not speak in French, 'cause he doesn't use it, they don't use when they're at home, either they speak in English or Inuktitut, so they don't speak in French in the house. So they lose that after they leave the school, they lose French... (Inuk court employee F)

Due to this lack of support, both in the home and community, some parents feel that English is the better option. On the other hand, many

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parents are drawn to the fact that French-language education is a kind of investment in the future, and that its value in the community will increase. Asked whether children's chances of getting work will increase if they learn French, most people answered "yes". Yet this hope is clearly placed in an abstract future, once Inuit youth become more confident speaking the language: Some students I know take French as a second language, at secondary level, but they have to really get used to it. So, sometime, once they feel older and more self-confident, I guess they'll use it more. We don't see that too much here.... It would increase our level of confidence, if only we could speak Inuktitut, English and French. (Inuk Municipal Council employee M)

Yet confidence is not the only factor, since Inuit must also be accepted by the Francophone community as legitimate French speakers. Education is generally seen to provide that legitimization; and as proficiency in French as a second language increases, so will one's access to employment. Children enrolled in French now are thus an investment in that future. If they are too shy to speak French in faceto-face interaction in the community, this is not a real worry, since selfconfidence and language ability will come with time. This situation has parallels with English-language learning in the 1950s, when teachers reported their concern that Inuit children were not using the language enough to learn it properly. Many, of course, eventually mastered the language (see Macpherson 1991). The strategy of deferring the need to use French now but valuing the learning of the language for the future appears to have a dual purpose. It affirms the value of French while at the same time justifying the lack of enthusiasm among adults for learning the language and the minimal use of the language by young people being educated in it. This attitude toward French will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter. 5.1.4. French and the workplace Other important strategies for coping with French have been developed in the workplace and elsewhere in the community. Those educated in English find ways either to obtain services in English or to obtain translations of documents presented to them in French—again pinning

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their hopes on the younger generation's greater ability to cope in a Francophone environment. One way that the municipal council has dealt with the necessity of handling French language documents has been to hire a long-term Francophone resident, who is married to a local Inuk woman. This man's proficiency in French has proved invaluable to Inuit both at the Council and in the community, as he describes in the following interview excerpt: The French government works in French so I have to act many times as intermediary many times between the people here and the government. Many times, I have translated official letters from the government... It takes a lot of my time to translate.... Sometimes without being involved with my job, the people receive things from the government all in French, and they come and see me to see if it's important or not, and if it is they'd like to know what's the contents. Sometimes I help them to prepare an answer. ...[A]nd we try to make sure when we fill out applications that next time they will correspond in English, so they can get help from other members of the family who speak English. But it's still gonna happen, even though they [government offices] are more aware now that the speaking language here is more English than French.... Before, it was not that they were badly intended, it's just that they were ignorant of the fact that the federal government was here before the provincial government, and when they installed school, they didn't put French (in the) school, they brought English —so the people kinda got used to the English language in this way. (non-Native Francophone Municipal Council employee M)

Other workplaces cope with French by having material and directives translated before they are sent from offices in southern Quebec. However, making arrangements to have this done still appears to require considerable effort on the part of Francophone employees in Great Whale River. As one manager who works with Hydro-Québec noted: It's like, I have to ask. Even sometimes all the paper from down South, all the memos, whatever it is, they ask me to send it to the powerhouse, and it's in French. And before I was here, they just sent it like this. And I said no way, you won't do that, I asked the guy to translate it. Everything that comes here has to be in English. You know, it's no good if they send something in French and they don't understand. You want the people to understand what you want and you send it in French. They don't know and

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they throw it away. So now it's better, they've got a translation department and they translate all the paper and send it here. (non-Native Francophone utility manager M)

In other Nunavik workplaces, Francophone employees have had to do the translations themselves, in addition to fulfilling their regular job responsibilities. In the following excerpt, a Francophone woman describes her work, where she has to cope with new procedures from the ministry arriving in French, a language which most of the Native employees cannot understand: C'est à dire que maintenant, à force de chialer, j'ai réussi, on peut avoir quelques directives traduites en anglais. Mais là, ça peut prendre un mois, mais on a eu jusqu'à maintenant, trois ou quatre directives traduites en anglais. Il y a à peu près 200 directives par année. Par contre, on a eu quelque chose de bien, on a eu un patron différent un petit peu là, au début de l'année et je lui ai fait comprendre que c'était très difficile de travailler dans des conditions comme ça, puis il y avait tellement de règlements cfe loi, on a tellement de règlements de loi appliqués, j'ai dit qu'il faudrait que les manuels d'interprétation des lois soient carrément traduits... alors j'ai réussi à avoir à ce moment là, au printemps, la traduction d'un [...] opérationnel, en tout cas, c'est pas le manuel en soi là, mais ça donne... c'est pas traduit par un anglais professionnel, mais c'est suffisant. Alors [les Inuits et Cris] l'ont bien bien apprécié. [Because of my complaining, some of the directives are translated into English, but it can take a month, and we have had three or four directives translated into English so far. There are about 200 directives each year. On the other hand, there is something positive in that the new boss has a bit of a different attitude, and at the beginning of the year I was able to convince him that it is very difficult to work under these conditions. There are so many rules and policy applications, I told him that we need to have the policy procedure manuals translated. This spring an operational [procedure] was translated, it is not the complete manual, but it was professionally translated, and it was greatly appreciated [by the Inuit and Cree.] (non-Native Francophone Quebec Government employee F)

Thus, considerable effort on the part of non-Native, Francophone employees has facilitated the translation of French documentation into English for non-French speaking Aboriginal employees. Given the prevalence of French in some workplaces, many Inuit have attempted to learn the language or are keen to enrol their children in the French stream at school. Making these decisions based on the language

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requirements of the job market are not always so clear-cut. In the following section, we will examine the relation between the languages taught in school and languages required in the workplace. 5.2. Language markets and job markets Inuktitut, French, and English are each taught in Nunavik schools and each used and valued in social groups and in workplaces in Great Whale River. Although the school is responsible for producing and reproducing legitimate, standardized forms of language, other linguistic norms are also developed and maintained in the community. There can thus be a tension between what is used and valued in the community and what language forms are valued in the school. School language practices, however, are generally thought to have a higher job market value than other language forms. For Inuit deciding whether to stay or settle in Kuujjuarapik, the question of how French, English or standardized Inuktitut will benefit them and what opportunities are available to them in the community is an important one. The following section will attempt to answer this question by examining which languages are required in certain workplaces. 5.2.1. Language learning and obtaining work While there are strategies for dealing with the new Francophone reality that do not involve learning French, some adult Inuit have learned the language or made efforts to do so, generally for work-related reasons. During the course of my fieldwork I investigated three workplaces where employees were encouraged to learn French, not only for promotion, but also for dealing with customers and for fulfilling other work-related duties. These workplaces included the (federally-run) post office, a provincial government office, and a commercial airline. These sites are representative of government and service-related jobs in Great Whale River that serve the wider community. However, it should be noted that most of the employment available to local people—in the Municipal Council, the school board, stores, health and social services, and elsewhere—do not require French to the same degree. In all three places, Inuit and Cree employees had sought out language training,

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either because it was required or because it would help them to do their jobs. The post office in Great Whale River was perhaps the most obvious example of how a workplace can run effectively in four languages. The three full-time employees—an Inuk, a Cree, and a Francophone— were always ready to serve customers in their mother tongue or in English. Mina, the Inuk employee, had had some French language training in Montreal over a period of two years, before accepting the job at the post office; while Robert, the Cree employee, was taking French lessons one night a week at the adult education centre. Although I never witnessed Robert serving customers in French, I did observe Mina on one occasion, while she was helping a visitor from France with limited English sort out the prices of stamps for various destinations. The successful multilingualism of this office led me to interview both the Postmaster of Great Whale River and the District Manager of the post offices in James Bay and Northern Quebec, who was visiting one day from Val D'Or, a Francophone community to the south of Great Whale River. My interview with the Postmaster was conducted in French and English, while the interview with the District Manager was conducted in English, which was his preference, even though he was Francophone. The hiring practices of this office were a direct result of recent changes in post office policy. Political pressure from the Northwest Territories led to the creation in 1989 of a Northern Services division, which linked all post office services in northern Canadian regions. The geographical location and linguistic needs of northern communities made their requirements unique. The District Manager, who had worked for Canada Post in northern regions since 1984, described this shift in policy as follows: Post Offices are run locally; it is a contract. It can be with municipal council, band council, Northern Store, Co-ops, and in some places we have our own employees. But on James Bay, all positions in the post office... they are all Native employees. In the past we had some White people, but after our division took over, it was the mandate to whenever possible to staff offices with local employees who speak the language of the community. D: Since when? M: It started in 1989. D: What is the reason behind this change?

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M: The reason behind, well it wasn't really logical you know to see a place, like I saw in Kuujjuaq. There were three employees in the post office, all White people. One spoke English pretty good, the two others were barely speaking English, and they have to serve, let's say 90% of the population are Native. Okay. So plus, they were serving them in really poor English. D: This was in the '80s? M: In '87, '88, that's before our division was created. But we changed it. As soon as one White employee who spoke French or English left, we tried to replace them with a Native person. And here, there are no White people working here, only the Postmaster, who speaks French and English.... [I]t didn't happen in one day. In 1989 I think there were three White employees here... then you start replacing them with reliable employees. You could go through six casuals before you find one who's gonna suit the position. But that began four years ago, and even in Iqaluit, which has one of the largest post offices, the post mistress is Native, she's been there close to a year now.... On James Bay it's all Native. And there's only here and Kuujjuaq where we have a White postmaster, the rest is all Native. Well, except if we talk about Radisson, is not Native. There are no Natives living in Radisson or on James Bay Hydro Project Post Office, it's all non-Native, there's no need for Native there. Everywhere people can be served in their own language. (non-Native Francophone District Post Office Manager M)

The Postmaster in Great Whale River summarized the functioning of the local post office in a separate interview. Like the District Manager, he also highlighted its language practices and the extent to which local hiring practices have changed: Well, there might be one thing that might be special here, for the post office in Kuujjuarapik. One thing special, that no other office in Canada has, is that we offer service in four languages.... Most frequently used is English, but there's also lots of Inuktitut involved and Cree a little less. But the reason, the reason why there is a little more Inuktitut... is that we're taking care of more post offices from Inuit villages than Cree.... But locally, it's about equal I would say.... In my six years, there's been, like a three-week period where there was no Inuit employee. And there's been a four-month period with no Cree employee.... When there's an opening we call Travail Québec or UIC, and check through the applications we have, and we try to choose the most qualified.... As much as possible, we try to hire local, but Native also. The thing is you can get more permanent employees. Because among White people they might sometimes be better qualified, but (they are usually) short-term employees.... And they have to have French and English, 'cause the other employees (here) have two

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languages, either Cree-English, Inuktitut-English or it could be InuktitutFrench, or Cree-French [although the latter two combination have never occurred in Great Whale River], (non-Native Francophone Postmaster M)

Thus, in the post office, any form of bilingualism fulfilled policy requirements, as long as all of the main language groups in the community were served. While the non-Native personnel spoke French and English, most Native employees spoke English as their second language. Some post offices further north, however, were run by Inuit who spoke French as a second language: P: At the moment there's Akulivik, and like they're in the transitional stage at the moment because for about ten years the Kativik School Board (has been) promoting French as a Second Language, so now... the students that are getting out of school have French as a Second Language instead of English. D: So the people running that post office are Inuit, but they're speaking French? P: Yes, in Akulivik and there's POV, 4 0 at the moment it's English, but I notice when people call that there's more... French than before. (non-Native Francophone Postmaster M)

This particular bilingual policy, however, did not apply in other workplaces in Great Whale River. In some offices, it was obligatory to speak French to hold positions within the company, even if French was not actually used on the job. In other workplaces (as in some government offices), French was not officially required, but was so prevalent that employees felt compelled to learn it. In the following interview, the manager of Hydro-Québec, the provincially owned electricity company, describes the corporation's language policy and its requirements for both Québécois and Inuit employees working in the north: D: What are the requirements to become permanent? H-Q: I have one [Inuk] guy here. One guy and he was temporary for a while, at least five years. And we asked him to get some French, my boss in Quebec City asked him to get some French. He was doing his job very well, and uh, we just switched him from temporary to permanent about let's say, two months ago. It's only an evaluation period right now because we have to, you know because the procedure and everything, but he'll be permanent in a short while. And, we asked him to have more French, and he took some course, and we even gave him some course, like the com-

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pany. They supplied a course. We did that to a couple of the guys up the coast, that asked for it. D: Do they go away for the course? H-Q: No it's like, how do they call that, the cassettes and books. D: They can do it at home? H-Q: Yeah that's the best we can do. Even if there was a course in the village, a French course at night or something and they ask for it, we say okay, go ahead, and we pay for it and everything. Normally we try to get French and we try to get it where it is. D: ... Why is it that it's so important that they have French for their job? H-Q: I don't know, it's a policy of the company. Personally, I don't speak French anywhere else but here with my secretary and my linemen, and that's it. Up coast it's English, even here with the guy we just switched to permanent, I speak English to him, he's more comfortable and it's better understanding. (non-Native Francophone utility manager M)

As in provincial government offices, Hydro-Québec functions in French in Montreal and Quebec City, but serves an Aboriginal population that functions mostly in Aboriginal languages or English as a second language. In the case described above, Hydro-Québec meter readers and those who manned the powerhouse did not need French for their jobs. However, the company policy required that all permanent employees spoke French. Those who did not speak French were therefore obliged to take French courses in order to become permanent employees, even if they never used the language. In the excerpt below, an employee in another provincial government office, who has sought French-language training for his job feels, as many bilinguals do, that mastering two languages (Inuktitut and English) is sufficient. This is particularly true because he can perform his work duties with the little French knowledge that he has—relying, like Inuit employees in other offices, on translations of material from French into English: ... this job that I have is nothing but French, with some translation and stuff, I'm able to do this. My co-workers here don't speak French and they all... they can do the job. You get a little training, you get the hang of it and you can do the job.... (Inuk Quebec Government employee M)

In other workplaces, there were employees who wanted to learn more French because of its prevalence on the job, but whose employers had not made an investment in language training. For some managers, language training was seen as a waste of time and money,

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since employees should have been able to cope with the work with the help of Francophone employees working in the same office. This was the case in one provincial government office, where Inuit employees expressed a desire for more language training: We were supposed to continue our French course, but our boss is very reluctant to give us the French course. He said we have too much work.... We had the same work load before and we were taking French. One hour at the end [of the day], that was very helpful.... From what he says, why should we learn French? That's his question. We explain to him why, but nothing's happening.... All the pamphlets, everything, even letters from the union are in French. Even all the directives, communications, the new changes that we receive through the computer, it's all in French, it has to be translated for us before we could read it. Because some of these changes are very drastic for the files. (Inuk Quebec Government employee F)

Despite the difficulties that non-Francophone employees had with French in the workplace, everyone seemed to be able to cope by making use of translation, enrolling in (intermittent) language courses, or picking up necessary bits of French on the job. However, the level of French required for promotion or permanent status could be quite high, and thus French language skills could operate as gate-keeping mechanisms, whether this was intended or not.41 Although English is the main language of provincial law courts in Nunavik, it is necessary to have passed a French language examination in order to work in an administrative position in this department. In the following excerpt, an employee remarks on the need for French language proficiency in only certain aspects for this job, others, such as writing reports and interacting with people, being carried out in English: D: Do you need French to do your job? J: Yeah, we are in Quebec, all the papers are in French... everything is in French, [but] for northern Quebec we translate everything in English. D: Do you do that translation? J: No, no no. I do my own paper in English, and the court proceeds in English. But there is no obligation for us to do that in English. We do that because there is a principle, an agreement saying that for northern Quebec, it is recognized in the James Bay Agreement, that everything has to be translated in English. But the working language in Quebec, which includes northern Quebec, is French. So everything is in French. So you have to

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understand French, and you have to pass the exam at "la Commission des affaires". (non-Native Francophone provincial government employee M)

The last workplace that I will be describing is in the private sector— the office of a major commercial airline which serves Native and nonNative populations travelling south to Quebec City or Montreal. The airline hires local Inuit and Cree to work in the cargo department or to serve customers at the higher-paying front desk position. This latter position requires fluent French. At the time of my fieldwork, this position was held by Louisa, an Inuk woman who was married to a Francophone. Louisa began learning French when she was a pupil in the federal day school in the early 1970s. She married a Francophone, and when they had a child, her husband began speaking French to both her and their child. This is when her knowledge of the language really improved. Soon after, she obtained her present position at the airline company. This required a good knowledge of French, since it involved serving many Francophone customers. Her informally acquired listening and speaking skills were sufficient for this position and she was not required to attend an academically oriented course in French. Another Native employee, a Cree woman married to an Inuk man, was also inspired to learn French, primarily to obtain work as a clerk so that she could leave her present position as a cargo handler. During my interview with her, she said that she used English, Cree, and Inuktitut with customers, when they ask questions about, you know, the plane and the cargo, all kinds of questions. They mostly ask for us because I guess they're so used to speaking their own languages, you know what I mean. (Cree private sector employee F)

When asked why she wanted to learn French, she offered the following remarks: The reason why I decided to learn French is because I want to get a better job, more higher, like let's say where I'm working right now as a cargo loader, I need French in order to be working at the counter with the customers, the public.... I guess in some areas we need French, especially where I'm working, to deal with the public, you need English and French, and we do need the Cree and the Inuktitut, they are all important. (Cree private sector employee F)

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Although this woman already spoke three languages, her French proficiency was not sufficient to work "at the counter with the customers". In this brief look at workplace sites, we have seen that French language skills often play a role in gate-keeping situations, where Native employees can be granted or denied certain positions and promotions based on their language proficiency. This is the case in government organizations and offices and in the private airline company where workers now need French to obtain positions, or to be promoted or made permanent. Because the work, pay, and benefits associated with being an airline clerk or permanent hydro employee are attractive, the motivation to learn French in order to qualify for such positions is often high. Of course, language skills—in particular, relatively high levels of proficiency in second or third languages—are neither the only requirements for employment not the only skills needed to perform the job well. However, they are often crucial for employment and promotion in Great Whale River. Even the post office has a bilingualism policy, although here "bilingualism" means proficiency in any two of the four community languages. Because of the high workplace value placed on multilingualism and on French in most of these sites, it is worth investigating the language requirements of some of the other employers in Great Whale River. These will be discussed in the next section. 5.2.1.1. An overview of language requirements in the workplace D: A propos des postes pour les stagiaires, quel pourcentage demande le français? B: Beaucoup, beaucoup... moi, je dirais que c'est rendu, moitié, peut-être plus. C'est peut-être juste Kuujjuarapik, mais il y a beaucoup d'employeurs francophones. Donc, il demande aussi l'anglais, faut que tu parles l'anglais, sinon tu ne peux pas communiquer avec les autres personnes, ou bien Cri ou Inuktitut. Mais, c'est au moins 75% des employeurs d'ici qui demandent le français. D: Est-ce que c'est réaliste? B: Quand je dis "demandent", si tu n'as pas, ils vont quand-même vous prendre, parce qu'ils n'ont pas le choix. Si tu veux bien fonctionner, je dirais que 75% des organismes fonctionnent beaucoup en français. Regarde juste les bureaux principaux que tu as ici comme... le welfare, Transport Québec, Transport Canada.... Toutes les petites compagnies locales aussi,

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tu vois, comme le "nursing", il y a beaucoup d'infirmières qui fonctionnent en français. Tu vas du coté de Jean-Paul Picard... c'est des entreprises privées qui [sont] plus du côté français. Peut-être que je ne suis pas réaliste de dire 75%, mais disons un gros 60%. Parce que je commence à faire le tour, puis beaucoup beaucoup demandent le français. (non-Native Francophone adult education employee F) [D: Concerning the training programmes, what percentage of employers ask for French from the applicants? B: A lot... I would say it's about half, maybe more. Maybe it's just Kuujjuarapik, but there are a lot of Francophone employers. And they ask for English, you have to speak English, if not, you can't communicate with Cree and Inuit. But, at least 75% of employers demand French. D: Is that realistic? B: When I say "demand", if you don't have it, they'll take you anyway, because they don't have a choice. If you want to function well [in the workplace], I'd say 75% of the organizations function in French. Just look at the main offices we have here like...welfare, Transport Quebec, Transport Canada.... All the little local companies too, and even the nursing station, there are a lot of nurses who function in French. Take a look at [the contractor] Jean-Paul Picard, these are private companies that are more French. Maybe I ' m not being realistic to say 75%, but let's say a good 60%. Because I'm starting to go around and a lot are asking for French [language skills]. (non-Native Francophone adult education employee F)

Earlier in the chapter we saw how French has become a valuable symbolic resource in Great Whale River, the benefits of which include the improvement of employment opportunities. We also considered the reasons why some Inuit have nevertheless avoided learning French, and the strategies that they exploit in dealing with the rise of this language in Arctic Quebec. Most people in Kuujjuarapik believe that French is necessary for employment. However, as we will see, a gap exists between the perceived necessity of French and real employment requirements in Kuujjuarapik. This is made clear by the adult education counselor quoted above, who notes that employers who ask for French-language skills take a prospective employee anyway, even if this person does not speak French. We will be considering the reasons for this gap in what follows. From our earlier examination of interview data on employment opportunities in Great Whale River, we have seen that many workrelated documents are being translated into English to accommodate the non-French-speaking employees of the North. Nevertheless, the

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recognition that the job market is an arena in which French is valued and often required has been an incentive for many parents to enrol their children in the French stream at school. Currently, the school appears to be the only arena in the community where French language resources can be accessed—a point to which we will be returning in the next chapter. Yet whatever the perceived power and importance of French in Kuujjuarapik, the reality is that French is still in a transitional phase in Nunavik. In other words, there still seems to be a gap between the requirements of French in the job market and the reality of these requirements "on the ground". The practice of enrolling children in the French stream might best be understood as a symbolic accommodation by the Quebec Inuit of the French language, and a recognition of the possibility that French might in future assume a greater role in the community. Observation of other workplace sites supports the claim that French is in a transitional phase in Nunavik and has not really taken hold in the job market, despite the overall impression by community members that it has. The actual role of French in the workplace is suggested by the remarks that appear in the following excerpts, which are from two more sites, the Sûreté du Québec (the Quebec police force) and the Northern Store (formerly the Hudson's Bay Company)—neither of which requires French. D: C'est quoi la politique exactement de la SQ [Sûreté du Québec ] pour embaucher les constables? C: Concernant la langue, c'est qu'il doit, soit parler le français ou l'anglais. Parce que les rapports, la majorité des rapports, vont se faire soit en anglais ou en français. C'est normal, parce que lorsque les lecteurs, nous autres, ou des autorités à Montréal ou à Rouyn, si on doit lire un rapport, mais il comprend pas l'Inuktitut, puis il comprend pas non plus le Cri, donc, ça soit en anglais ou français. Donc, on a besoin de personnel qui peut... parler soit le français ou l'anglais. D: Est-ce qu'il y a des problèmes si les constables ne parlent pas français? C: Non, aucun problème sur le côté français, parce que tous les rapports sont faits ici en anglais.... Aucun problème parce que tout le personnel qui est attitré à la division autochtone doit parler l'anglais, il y a avant d'être attitré ou d'être assigné à la division autochtone, il y a un test d'anglais qui est donné au personnel, et si ce test-là, il n'est pas passé, ben, la personne n'ira pas dans cette division-là. Donc tout le personnel qu'on rencontre dans la division autochtone est un personnel qui parle l'anglais, puis qui écrit l'anglais.

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[D: What exactly is the policy for hiring police constables? C: Regarding language, they have to speak either French or English, because the reports, the majority of reports, have to be made out in English or French. It's understandable, because the readers, either us or the authorities in Montreal or Rouyn, have to read the reports, but we don't understand Inuktitut or Cree, well, it has to be in English or French. D: Is there a problem if the constables don't speak French? C: No, there's no problem with French because all the reports here are made in English.... No problem because all of the personnel posted here in the Native division have to speak English, they have to write an English test before being posted to this division. If they don't pass the test, then they don't come to this division. So everyone in the Native division can speak and write English.] (non-Native regional head, Sûreté du Québec M)

The second excerpt is from an interview with the manager of the Northern store, the largest department store chain in Nunavik. The Hudson's Bay Company has always hired local people. Moreover, in its long tradition of operating in English, it has not yet given way to a greater accommodation of the French reality in Arctic Quebec: D: And what about language requirements? G: English is fine... for this particular store. There are some stores where they would definitely need French, but for the most part, they don't have to be bilingual.... D: If someone came to you locally, and they spoke French and English, say an Inuk, would that make a difference to you, over someone who just spoke English? G: No, well if that was the only difference in their skills, I suppose, but I mean I wouldn't look specifically at that skill, no. But if it came down to they all had the same experience and whatnot, but that wouldn't be my main focus. D: The language used most in this store is English? G: That's right. (non-Native Anglophone store manager M)

As we have seen elsewhere in this chapter, French is the language of most government offices in Great Whale River. Both Native and nonNative people working in these offices have coped with this fact by having documents translated into English. However, in many workplaces, French is not used on a daily basis. Many workplaces, including the post office, the department store, and Native-run organizations such as the Municipal Council, the school, social services, and the nursing station do not require French.

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Nevertheless, French is needed for certain desirable positions in the community, including that of airline clerk, other permanent and managerial positions, and positions that involve direct dealings with French-speaking employees in southern Francophone communities. As one Francophone office manager noted: "I'd rather have Inuit people [as secretaries] because of the coast it's all Inuit... so that's why. But they don't have enough French, because they have to speak French with the people down south." Thus, for some positions, such as that of administrative clerk in some offices, bilingual EnglishInuktitut speakers, who lack the French-language fluency to speak to people in Francophone offices in the South, appear to be missing opportunities for employment. This gate-keeping function of French language proficiency, however, appears to be rare, since it applies mostly to positions where employees have to communicate with southern Francophone offices or to deal with a French-speaking clientele, such as at the airport or in the post office. As we have seen, most Quebec government offices have hired local people who have limited knowledge of French but who can function well in English and Inuktitut or Cree. This is due largely to the current practice —the result of much effort on the part of Québécois employees—of insisting on the translation of most French workrelated material into English. This accommodation of Inuit secondlanguage-English speakers by Francophone individuals and institutions may reflect a simple acceptance of English as having been long entrenched as a second language in Arctic Quebec communities. However, it may also reflect the desire of many in the province's public and private sectors to include Aboriginal minorities in the Québécois nation. Nevertheless, French-speaking employees, usually arriving from the South, are still required in these offices, and French is also required for most promotions. Thus, the perception in Kuujjuarapik that French linguistic resources are now required for access to the job market seems to be based only in part on a recognition of current employment practices. However, since the positions of power in government offices and in the small enterprises in the Qallunaat sector are held by Francophones, the perception that French linguistic resources are highly valued in the larger political economy of Quebec appears to be an accurate one. Two issues related to the use of French in Nunavik still remain unclear, though. One is the degree to which Inuit will have access to French language resources in order to penetrate these posi-

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tions of power within the Franco-dominant administrative sector. The other is the extent to which the accommodation of an English-speaking workforce will continue to be accepted in French-dominant workplaces. 6. Conclusion This chapter has examined the historical development of the linguistic markets operating in Nunavik and the association of English, French, and Inuktitut with certain forms of power and prestige in this northern political economy. It has also investigated the strategies that institutions and speaking subjects have adopted in order to produce, distribute, and gain access to these valued resources. Institutional processes and individual strategies have become linked to the political and economic realities of the last forty-five years, as the Kuujjuaraapimmiut, the Inuit of Kuujjuarapik, have been faced with a rapid shift to modernity, as reflected in settlement, wage labour, formal schooling, and political organization. In this chapter we have seen how the dominant linguistic market operates in relation to an alternative "traditional" linguistic market in Arctic Quebec. We have also seen that an understanding of the value currently placed on certain symbolic resources requires an understanding of the historical importance of English, French, and Inuktitut and the mechanisms by which language is linked to political mobilization of minority groups—Québécois and Inuit—in the Canadian state. The historical analysis presented here has included an examination of the roles of English in the fur trade, the intervention of the Canadian state, and the English-dominated wage labour market and education system. It has also included an examination of the rise of Québécois nationalism and the increased importance of French in the region. Coupled with the historical importance of these two dominant European languages is the rising importance of Inuktitut in Arctic Quebec—particularly in its role in Inuit mobilization—and of the strategies that Inuit have adopted to enable them as an English-educated workforce to adapt to a new Franco-dominant political and economic reality. One of these strategies is a school language policy whereby children have the option of studying primarily in French after the first three years of schooling. This option is quite popular with parents who wish to have access to French language resources.

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For now, a large part of the wage labour market in the community still functions in English, and some parts of it—such as those associated with the municipal government and services—now function in Inuktitut and Cree. Although French is linked to positions of power in Quebec and recognized as necessary for communicating with people in southern Quebec communities, there still seems to be a gap between the perception and the reality of the role of French-language skills in Arctic Quebec. French appears to play a crucial workplace role only in a few prestigious administrative, managerial, and service positions, particularly those that require direct dealings with the South. However, in most Quebec government and some private sector offices, translation of material into English has become the norm. In other workplaces, and in dealing with French-language institutions in general, residents of Kuujjuarapik can generally rely on English-French and increasing number of Inuktitut-French bilingual brokers to assist them in dealing with these institutions. As matters stand, the future place of French in the verbal repertoires of local residents remains very much dependent on the effectiveness of French-language education, on Inuit access to French-language employment, and on the acceptance and use of French by Native and non-Native interlocutors alike. To what extent the Inuit currently use the four languages in Kuujjuarapik will be discussed in the next chapter.

Chapter 5 Ethnography of language use This chapter explores what happens at the micro-level of day-to-day interaction between speakers from the four language groups in Great Whale River. The discussion focusses on Kuujjuarapik and addresses how and why Inuit speakers currently use Inuktitut, Cree, French, and English in the community and the social constraints on using these languages in the community. The analysis thereby explores the consequences that these language choices have for interlocutors, including the role these choices have in language learning. It examines what languages are used in particular circumstances and the role of language choice in the construction, maintenance, and transcendence of ethnolinguistic boundaries and in the formation of ethnic identities in this community. In order to achieve these goals, I will examine language practices and intercultural communication in a variety of community settings. This chapter summarizes both survey data and data collected through observations of actual language use. Section 3 of this chapter reports on a language survey that was used to gather data on the linguistic competences and language practices of Inuit residents of Kuujjuarapik. This survey was conducted in collaboration with the Kativik School Board and was therefore devised and written in the format of previous surveys conducted in other Nunavik communities (Taylor et. al. 1993, Taylor 1990; Taylor and Wright 1989). This method was effective in collecting self-reports of language proficiency and the domains of language use. It also enabled a description of the language practices of a large number of people. Despite this effectiveness and utility, however, it has obvious drawbacks given that it reports what people claim to do with language, but not necessarily what they actually do in practice. In light of the limitations of self-reported data on language use the survey was supplemented with observations of actual interactional encounters and analyzed in terms of the social consequences of these interactions. These observations confirmed the survey's finding that Inuktitut and English were used frequently and French relatively rarely by Inuit in the community. They also shed light on the mechanisms of

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ethnolinguistic boundary formation in this community and the politics of inclusion, exclusion, and solidarity at work in everyday interaction. The last three sections of the chapter, which are based on these observations of language interaction, consider how language choice operates to construct social boundaries between Inuit and non-Native speakers—boundaries which are not "fixed", but instead negotiated, constructed, and maintained through linguistic and cultural practices which have persisted over centuries of contact. Within the social groups described in this chapter, material and symbolic resources are exchanged and social, cultural, and economic values defined through linguistic interaction. These values are clearly distinct from each other, yet clearly linked, and include the social and cultural meanings associated with family and sharing between kin relations, traditional cultural practices associated with food harvesting and preparation, and the economic value of harvested game as a staple food resource in the community. These values are thus associated with symbolic resources such as social solidarity and friendship, and material resources such as whale meat, fat, and other harvested products. As we will see, sociolinguistic processes of boundary formation, through which these values are defined, construct particular forms of "Inuit", "Cree", "Québécois", and "Anglo-Canadian" ethnicity in Great Whale River and can serve to define, include, and exclude people of different ethnic groups. 1. Who speaks what: The distribution of linguistic resources 1.1. English and French

As we have seen in previous chapters, Great Whale River has a high level of multilingualism. Almost all of its residents—the exceptions being a handful of Anglophones, some of the Inuit elders in Kuujjuarapik, and most of the Cree elders in Whapmagoostui—speak more than one language. English is by far the most widely spoken language here. For the Inuit and Cree, it was the language of the traders, missionaries, government officials, and the school. It was also the language of higher education for those who pursued studies in the 1960s and 1970s, in the residential vocational school in Churchill, Manitoba, and in high schools, colleges, and universities in Ottawa,

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Winnipeg, Toronto, and elsewhere. It is still the language of education chosen by about half of the students, some of whom continue their studies at one of the English colleges or universities in Montreal. English is now the predominant second language of residents in Great Whale and is also the language of intercultural communication, despite the increasing role of French in Arctic Quebec and the introduction of French language education in the community. Although French is on the rise in Nunavik, and appears to be in a transitional position (as discussed in the previous chapter) it will almost certainly remain only a third language in a community like Great Whale River. This is because virtually everyone born after 1950 functions in English to at least some extent. English is a very public language, and it is the expected language of communication between members of different ethnic groups. For example, it is the sole language used for signs, schedules, and notifications in the gymnasium, which is one of the few places where speakers of all four languages congregate. It is also the language used when Native and non-Native people meet, unless each interlocutor knows that the other speaks French. Despite the prevalence of English, the non-Native community is primarily Francophone, and French is the language that is used in this group. Almost all of the Francophones—a group whose size fluctuates from from 100 to 150 people, depending on the work available in the community42—are fluently bilingual, since English is often used in the workplace and always used in intercultural communication. Despite the interest in learning Inuktitut or Cree expressed by some members of this group, very few have actually had much success in doing so. Lack of adequate language courses, materials, teachers, motivation, and opportunities to use the language (which are limited because of the prevalence of English in intercultural communication, as already noted) have made the acquisition of more than a basic level of Inuktitut phrases and greetings rather difficult. 1.2. Inuktitut and. Cree

Inuktitut and Cree are spoken in the communities of Kuujjuarapik and Whapmagoostui, respectively, and are still the first languages of these communities. As mentioned above, these languages are not generally learned as second or third languages, although there are a few excep-

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tions. Historically, traders, Hudson's Bay Company employees, and missionaries learned one or both of the Aboriginal languages. In addition, quite a few Inuit learned Cree as a second language in the early twentieth century, when they shared camps with Cree and played together as children. Currently there are also examples of Inuit with Cree ancestry who have placed their children in the Cree school, where they have access to Cree in pre-kindergarten and kindergarten; and mixed Cree-Inuit families in Kuujjuarapik, whose children may grow up speaking both languages or go to the Cree school but play in Inuktitut with Inuit children. Finally, there are a few non-Inuit spouses attempting to learn Inuktitut. At the time of my fieldwork, there was also an Anglophone woman living in Kuujjuarapik who had lived in Arctic Quebec for a number of years as a Protestant missionary and who was functional in the Aboriginal languages. Despite the long-term presence of English in Great Whale River and the power associated with French and English, both Inuktitut and Cree are widely used in their respective communities. However, as previously mentioned, almost everyone born after 1950 speaks English as a second language. In the Inuit communities in Arctic Quebec, this rate of bilingualism has led some language activists and language researchers to worry about language shift and the potential influence of English on both the structure of Inuktitut—particularly with regard to English borrowings and other matters of vocabulary—and its vitality (Dorais 1997: 82-86; Taylor et al. 1993). This concern has led school board educators, community and regional representatives, and researchers to address the issues of minority language maintenance and Inuktitut survival—issues that I will, too, be addressing, in the next section. 2. Endangered languages and the "survivai" of Inuktitut Languages—especially small, "less used", or minority languages —are often described as "living things" (Dorian 1989b, 1981), and either as vibrant, thriving, strong, or surviving or as threatened, dying, or dead. Languages are usually said to "live" or "die" depending on a range of social, historical, political, and economic factors. Of course, these factors affect the living speakers of those languages rather than the "languages" per se. Language descriptions tend to describe relatively "fixed" forms of language structure, and do not necessarily

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reflect the language used by actual speakers, who vary their language use as a result of the social factors and processes mentioned above. It is the social processes that affect people's lives, which in turn affects their language use. Indigenous languages are generally considered to be the most "threatened" languages in the world today. This is because they usually do not have any national status and are spoken by peoples who have entered into colonial and political economic relationships that favour the use of one or more dominant languages or language varieties. In North America, there has been a linguistic tradition of documenting and classifying grammatical and phonological aspects of a language, usually in consultation with older, more "authentic" speakers. While much of this work continues, and is deemed necessary for codifying and standardizing these languages for the purpose of language maintenance efforts, this work raises many questions. One is, which language variety or varieties are being chosen for codification and on what basis? Another is, whose interests are being served by such choices and procedures? And, as some scholars of endangered languages have asked, should linguists continue in this "salvage work" and record dying languages for science, when the process itself tends to reify language categories and essentialize the relationship between language and ethnic identity? (Grenoble and Whaley 1998: xii; Dorian 1990b: 159; Collins 1992: 407; Freeland and Patrick, forthcoming). One might wonder whether it more fruitful to focus one's attention on trying to understand the processes of language maintenance and on adopting community-based standards and norms for promoting language maintenance and raising awareness of the community issues at stake. Many indigenous communities are currently developing indigenous language programmes for young or adult learners in order to revive an already "dying" language or to maintain a "threatened" one. (On this topic see e.g. Jacobs 1998, which describes the revival of Mohawk in Kahnawà:ke, a community near Montreal). These linguistic maintenance efforts are often directly linked to the political mobilization of indigenous groups and to ideologies of linguistic and cultural "survival" fostered by cultural activists at the local and institutional level. As we have seen elsewhere in this book, and as I will continue to argue in this chapter, minority languages "survive" under specific political, social, economic, and historical conditions. These need to be

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understood in relation to the language practices of living speakers, who make specific language choices, with particular social consequences, every day of their lives. The continued survival of Inuktitut is based on a complex interplay of history, politics, economic activities, and Inuit cultural persistence. Its survival is more than a question of prestige or of its use in domains such as the media, religion, or the job market (Grenoble and Whaley 1998: ix). And it is more than a reflection of political progress towards autonomy, as might be the case in Greenland, where greater political autonomy and a higher status for Greenlandic speakers were achieved with Home Rule in 1979 (Dorian 1998: 14). The persistence and vitality of Inuktitut is a combination of all of these factors and of its perceived value as a resource in intimate relationships and exchange networks that operate daily in the community. As a resource, Inuktitut is exchanged in social networks for other valued symbolic resources such as friendship, kinship, a sense of cultural belonging, and community solidarity. It is also a language used in accumulating material resources, such as food, shelter, and money. In all of these activities, the local language is often highly valued as a way of producing, reproducing, and circulating local ideologies associated with these social exchanges. A language that is used by a particular minority group, to the exclusion of those outside the group, can be extremely useful and valuable in intercultural situations, where local ideologies and belief systems might conflict with those of the outsider group. This is particularly true in colonial encounters, where the need to preserve what is considered "indigenous" might be strengthened, given the particular historical relationships and patterns of resistance and accommodation to social domination and change. The use of a particular language—whether it is indigenous or not— is ultimately linked to the wider community and to the historical construction of ethnicity and ethnic boundaries. In Inuit villages, Inuktitut is spoken in a wide variety of settings and is used more than any other language in family and work settings. Despite the prevalence of the language in informal settings, there appears to be widespread community support for its increased use in other institutions, including the school, the media, and the local government. This indicates a general recognition among Inuit that their language has a place in modern institutions and can benefit from such institutional support.

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The prevalence of Inuktitut in Nunavik can be seen most clearly in the schools. During the first three years of school, pupils are taught entirely in Inuktitut; in subsequent years, they receive six to eight hours per week of Inuktitut-language instruction in Inuit language and culture and in physical education classes. In addition, the local FM community radio station broadcasts Inuktitut-language programming up to eight hours a day.43 The radio station is run locally in each Inuit community and almost every household tunes in to it to keep informed about local news and events through local broadcasts, and about national news, provided through Inuktitut-language programming by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) services in Iqaluit. In addition, the Inuit Broadcasting Corporation (IBC) regularly broadcasts television programmes in Inuktitut—although the amount of Inuktitut programming has decreased in recent years. (See S0rensen 2000 on the changing role of the IBC in the Eastern Arctic.) Inuktitut is also regularly seen in print, not only in local announcements and the like, but throughout the Eastern Arctic in "about three dozen bilingual Inuktitut-English periodicals" (Dorais 1989: 199). Historically, the Anglican Church has also operated in Inuktitut. The first task of missionaries was to learn Inuktitut, in order to preach in the language and to introduce literacy to the Inuit. Inuktitut-speaking ministers were a presence in Great Whale River until the arrival of a unilingual Englishspeaking minister in the mid-1980s. The current minister still conducts services in Inuktitut, however, with the help of lay interpreters. More recently arrived evangelical missionaries also work with Inuktitut material and make attempts to learn the language. Finally, the local government, run by an elected municipal council, functions completely in Inuktitut, and allocates local resources based on the needs of the Inuktitut-speaking community. Inuktitut is also associated with much of the employment available in the community, including work associated with road and building maintenance, waste disposal, and the running of community events. As we have seen in the previous chapter, work that involves little or no use of Inuktitut includes that associated with airport maintenance, government offices, a few commercial enterprises such as the Northern Store and some local contractors, and the health clinic and the school, which are both dependent on a relatively large number of non-local employees. From an outsider's perspective, Inuktitut appears to be thriving. It is an important resource in the social life and institutions of the com-

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munity—that is, in everyday practices between community members and in institutional settings such as the school, where Inuktitut is legitimized through standardized language practices. Yet given Inuit concerns about language loss, it is worth taking a closer look at the role of Inuktitut in community life. This will be the goal of the following sections. These will review the results of previous surveys on language use in Nunavik and Nunavut, and the results of a survey that I conducted in Kuujjuarapik. The latter investigated reading, writing, speaking, and listening proficiency and contexts of use of the community's four languages. These will also relate survey findings to the political economic shifts that characterize the history of the region. 3. Language survey data: Self-reports of language use During the 1980s, several language surveys were conducted in the eastern Canadian Arctic. What these surveys found was that Inuktitut was widely used, but always with English alongside it. The threat of language shift was thus always present (Dorais 1989; Dorais 1990a; Taylor and Wright 1989; Taylor 1990; Taylor et. al. 1993). In spite of the caveats associated with these earlier surveys—that they relied on self-reported data and failed to capture the complexities of language use, including the use of code-mixing in certain contexts—language surveys can be valuable tools. In particular, they can provide information about the languages associated with some of the more salient contexts of language use in communities. Even though self-reports may not accurately reflect what is actually happening, they still allow us to gauge tendencies toward the use of one language variety over another in a particular domain. Survey data can also be a useful supplement to face-to-face data on language choice in the community, given the high numbers of speakers that they involve. The coupling of language surveys with ethnographic data has proven effective in more recent studies on language use, such as those to be described in the following sections, in particular the study by Dorais and Sammons (2000, 2002) on language use in Nunavut. In this section, I will briefly consider the results of these earlier surveys, and then provide the results of the survey that I conducted in Kuujjuraapik inl993-1994. I will then discuss these data in light of the findings from Dorais and Sammons' more recent Nunavut survey.

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Survey results from Arctic Quebec appear to indicate that "the Inuktitut language remains strong and vibrant" there (Taylor and Wright 1989: 95). Yet, linguists and language activists still recognize that there is always a possibility of language shift to English (Dorais 1990a). These concerns have stemmed from a number of factors relating to language shift. First is the belief that the very high rate of English/Inuktitut bilingualism, which has been steadily increasing (Dorais 1989), is a threat to Inuktitut. This is because bilingualism in minority language communities is often taken to represent a phase that minority language groups go through before shift takes place. However, there are at least two reasons to question this belief. One is that the connection between bilingualism and language shift does not appear to be a necessary one—communities can maintain a high level of bilingualism and still retain a minority language. Such a language can maintain its association with particular articulations of cultural identity and remain appropriate to particular contexts. Another is that the process whereby a minority language shifts to a dominant language is not triggered by the emergence of bilingualism. Although bilingualism goes hand in hand with increased use of a dominant language, it does not itself indicate whether a shift is indeed underway. One needs to consider other factors—including the use of the minority language in raising children and its continued use into adulthood—to tell whether a minority language is threatened. A second cause for concern regarding the future of Inuktitut is the perception, at least among older members of the community, that the Inuktitut of young speakers is "deteriorating" (Dorais 1990a, 1997). Although these perceptions are widely acknowledged, it is important to put them in perspective. Older speakers of almost any language are quick to criticize younger speakers for their impoverished vocabulary and flouting of the "norms" of the language. The real issue is whether younger speakers are still communicating in the language, despite certain minor lexical and grammatical changes. Different ways of speaking may not necessarily signal language "deterioration" or "loss". (Dorais 1997:82), for example, notes that linguistic research has documented very little grammatical loss among younger speakers. The third cause for concern about Inuktitut is that there is a long and extensive history of Aboriginal language loss in the Americas. Of particular relevance here is the situation of other members of the Eskimo-Aleut family, such as Inupiaq and Yupik, which both have

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vastly reduced numbers of speakers in the Western Arctic (Dorian 1990a: 143; Woodbury 1984, 1998). Yet another cause for concern, and a source of pessimism for some researchers, is that English holds a great deal of power in Northern communities, especially in institutional domains such as the media, education, and employment. This power is reflected, for example, in the use of English as a lingua franca by English-, French-, and Inuktitutspeakers and in the increased influence of Euro-Canadian culture, particularly on children and teenagers. However, despite the dominant role of English in the media and popular culture, these factors alone will not lead to language shift. Various factors can militate against a shift to the dominant language. These include the strength of community ties to local language ideologies, particularly as regards the choice of language directed at young children (see Dorais and Sammons 2000); the prevalence of local cultural practices in which a minority language is valued; and the integration of the minority language into the market economy, whereby competence in the language is valued as a "job skill" and valued alongside English and French. Finally, concerns are often raised by those who feel that minority languages such as Inuktitut are threatened by the perceived impact of language ideologies associated with Western European contact, domination, and modernization. The ideologies in question include the European "ideology of contempt" for non-standard or subordinate languages (Grillo 1989: 173-174); and the ideology that English is linked to "progress" and that progress is inevitable. The latter ideology is consistent with a notion of the "linguistic survival of the fittest" (Dorian 1998: 10): in other words, that those languages that can adapt and spread are "naturally" endowed for survival. Other powerful ideologies guiding language policy include the ideology that running a state is more "efficient" with "modern"—often European-based —languages, since indigenous languages must be "modernized" if they are to function on par with dominant languages (Blommaert 1996: 210); the ideology of "national unity", which views minority languages as potential causes of ethnic and regional divisions and thus of national instability (Blommaert 1996: 211-212); and lastly the commonly held Anglophone belief that bilingualism is "onerous" to individuals and detrimental to cognitive ability (Dorian 1998: 11-12). Of course, all of these ideologies have supported the existence of unilingual schools in which the dominant language is the language of instruction.

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What may be the most worrying for some researchers and language educators is the rise of English-Inuktitut bilingualism and the possibility that the cultural and economic impact of English will increase its usage among the younger generations. Yet, despite this dominance of English, however, Inuktitut language use among Inuit in Nunavik and Nunavut remains very high, as I have already noted. In fact, the language appears to be even stronger in Nunavik, if we consider a comparative study of Inuktitut language use between the two regions (reported in Dorais 1989). In this study, the amount of English used in everyday life was found to be greater in the Nunavut communities of Igloolik, Lake Harbour, and Iqaluit in Nunavut than in the Nunavik communities of Puvirnituq and Ivujivik, in Nunavik. These results are supported by other surveys conducted in the Quebec region. For example, Taylor (1990), reporting on a survey conducted by the Kativik Regional Government (KRG) in 1987, notes that 94% of Inuit adults in Arctic Quebec indicated that they were functional in Inuktitut. In their own survey of the largest Arctic Quebec settlement—which is 75% Inuit, 15% Francophone, and 10% Anglophone—Taylor and Wright (1989) found similarly high levels of Inuktitut proficiency among native speakers, and noted that the "Inuit respondents are as fluent and literate in Inuktitut as Anglophones and Francophones are in English and French respectively" (1989: 93). Thus, the vitality of Inuktitut in Nunavut and Nunavik emerges clearly from these findings, although the increasing bilingualism that also emerges continues to be a worrying development for some. The number of bilingual adults appears to be increasing as the number of unilingual Inuktitut speakers in Arctic Quebec decreases. The 1981 census reported that 73% of the Arctic Quebec population were unilingual in Inuktitut, whereas the 1987 KRG survey reported that 27% were. Although these figures have to be read with extreme caution—a 46% increase in bilingual speakers over six years is probably exaggerated—bilingualism is definitely increasing. This is something to be expected, as young people educated in English or French enter adulthood and the number of older unilingual speakers dwindles. Because French as a medium of instruction really took hold in Nunavik communities only in the late 1970s, language surveys tend to report very low French language proficiency among the population. In a 1987 survey, for example, only 1.1% of the population of one Nunavik community were reported to speak French as a second language; the study concluded from this "that the Inuit community does

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not make any use of the French language" (Taylor 1990: 14). More recently, however—as I myself observed during the course of my fieldwork in Kuujjuarapik—younger French-educated Inuit have been using the language more, especially in more isolated northern communities.44 However, English remains the lingua franca of the region. According to one survey based on self-reports, a "significantly greater use of English was reported in the job context than in the home or while engaging in traditional activities of hunting and fishing"; and "the trend toward English is especially noticeable among young people" (Taylor and Wright 1989: 99). At the same time, other studies have remarked that Inuktitut is often used among Inuit speakers in job settings in smaller communities. As Dorais (1991: 22) notes: "The native language is also commonly heard in the work place, except for linguistic interchanges with nonInuit co-workers. In this case, English is used except at the nursing station, where the interpreter is a French speaking Inuk." Despite the widespread use of Inuktitut, the general perception that young people are using more English has had some consequences. For instance, the surveys revealed concern in the community that children were losing interest in Inuit language and culture (Taylor and Wright 1989). These perceptions are linked, in turn, to the apparent attraction of younger people to "southern" culture and to the belief, echoed in conversations that I had with fluent adult Inuktitut speakers, that younger Inuit are losing Inuktitut vocabulary and certain aspects of the language's grammatical system. While some observations and vocabulary testing reported in Dorais (1990a: 254-55) show that younger people might be losing vocabulary related to Inuit cultural practices, and that they might not use certain grammatical endings that were prevalent in earlier times, it is not clear that these are unusual or alarming aspects of language change. Earlier studies may have been slightly more alarmist in the shift of Inuktitut to English since, in the Eastern Arctic (now called Nunavut) there have been reports of a "systematic use of English when addressing one's own children" (Dorais 1989: 199).45 However, in a later study, Dorais and Sammons (2000) (see section 3.2 for discussion) find results that suggest that the age of the children in question is crucial to understanding the role and maintenance of Inuktitut in child-rearing. In two communities investigated—Iqaluit (the capital of Nunavut with about 6000 residents) and Igloolik (a

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community of about 1200 residents)—Inuktitut is the preferred language when talking to younger children (before they enter Englishmedium school around age eight). In fact, in the over 60 families investigated, younger children were addressed mostly or exclusively in Inuktitut, even in families where one of the spouses was non-Native. Moreover, more younger parents than older parents were found to address their children in Inuktitut—more specifically, 43% of those under 30 as compared to only 13% of those between 30 and 50. While these figures might indicate that a revitalization of Inuktitut has occurred among younger adults, a more plausible explanation is simply that younger parents have younger children and, as mentioned above, Inuktitut is the language of preference for younger Inuit (Dorais and Sammons 2000: 98). Although only two communities were investigated, similar results would likely obtain in other Nunavut and Nunavik communities. In general, the picture that emerges from this research is a fairly optimistic one, given the sociolinguistic finding that Inuktitut is still dominant in certain forms of intergenerational communication and, most significantly, is being passed on to young children. However, the investigation of Inuit communities that has so far been undertaken —including Dorais and Sammons study as well as my own—indicates that English is prevalent among school age children and adolescents. Despite this, the retention rates of Inuktitut in Nunavut and Nunavik remain quite high. The estimated rate of retention of Inuktitut in Nunavik according to Dorais (1997) is 98%. That is, approximately 98% of Inuit children will continue speaking their language in the home all their lives. Based on census data, there is no conclusive evidence that this rate is diminishing in Nunavik, and thus nothing to indicate that a shift toward English is currently taking place. However, further investigation of the language practices of adolescents and their language choices when interacting with younger children still needs to be undertaken to confirm this. In the next section, we turn to the results of a language survey that I conducted in Kuujjuarapik in 1993-1994. These results will supplement both the study of language choice that I will be giving in this chapter and other language surveys conducted in Arctic Quebec and Nunavut. The purpose of this survey was to provide general background information on the extent of bilingualism and a profile of language use among Inuktitut speakers in the community. In general, the results show that Inuktitut is widely used in verbal interaction

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among Inuit in the community and that English is in a relatively dominant position with respect to reading and writing and in the workplace. As we have seen, the dominance of English coincides with its powerful historical role in the political economy of the region, especially in the area of education. Although these results are similar to those of other surveys, some interesting differences emerge given the position of Kuujjuarapik as the most southerly Inuit village and the presence of Inuktitut-Cree bilinguals in the community. 3.1. The language survey of Kuujjuarapik

The language survey consisted of a written questionnaire, with 23 questions, to which respondents provided short answers or answered on a scale of 1 to 10. It could be answered in English, French, or Inuktitut, according to the respondent's preference. It examined how well and in what contexts Inuit reported using the four languages of the community. The survey (see appendix 1) was distributed to all residents of Kuujjuarapik sixteen years old and older. This included all of the secondary 4 and 5 students (most of whom were 15 to 17 years old and in their penultimate or final year of public schooling), and all adult Inuit, and their Cree, Anglophone, or Francophone spouses. The inclusion of the high school students both broadened the age range of the sample and provided important input from adolescent speakers. The survey was distributed to households with the help of Inuit assistants, who also answered questions and offered help to those who had difficulty completing the surveys themselves. Respondents were asked a series of questions, which included those about their age, sex, and ethnic background. This was meant to ensure a representative number of respondents from each age group—especially important for comparative purposes. Questions in the survey proper consisted of questions about how well respondents spoke, understood, wrote, and read Inuktitut, English, French, and Cree. These questions were intended to provide general information about the level of language proficiency in both productive and receptive skills. In addition, there were questions about language use in the workplace, home, community, and school—key sites where symbolic resources are exchanged for material and other symbolic resources. The last few questions asked about the amount of time respondents spent listening to the radio and music and watching television, and the kinds of music and

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radio and television programmes that they enjoyed. These were intended to measure the dominance of English-language media in people's homes. The results that follow are based on the questionnaires obtained from 89 Inuit who completed them. At the time of the survey the combined Inuit, Cree, and non-Native population of Great Whale River was approximately 1100. In Kuujjuarapik, there were approximately 250 Inuit over the age of 18 (the number of inhabitants in the village is subject to some fluctuation because of movement required for work or schooling). The fact that less than half of those surveyed actually submitted completed questionnaires is primarily a result of the limited human resources available to return to people's homes when they were in to help them fill out the survey and to collect the questionnaires once they were completed. Notwithstanding such limitations, the sample proved to be an adequate representation of age and gender groupings. As already noted, gender did not prove to be a significant factor in the survey results, indicating that a more in-depth analysis of gender differences than the one to be reported below—in particular, one that focusses on the use of language in various domains—may ultimately be necessary to determine the role of gender here. 3.1.1. Survey results The results are presented in Figures 1 to 6 given in the Appendix. These figures and results will be discussed in three sections: (1) language ability, (2) use of languages in different contexts, and (3) language and the media. 3.1.1.1. Language ability: Speaking, understanding, writing, and reading Figure 1 indicates how well people felt that they could speak, understand, write, and read in Inuktitut, English, French, and Cree. These results highlight the difference between spoken and written language ability. The results show that almost all of the Inuit surveyed felt that they could speak and understand Inuktitut "very well". This finding is in sharp contrast to that regarding their ability to speak and understand

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English, which they described, on average, as "adequate". Thus Inuktitut appeared to be the dominant language in the community with respect to speaking and understanding. In writing and reading ability, however, the situation was very different. Many people felt that there was little difference between their Inuktitut and English literacy skills. On average, the Inuit surveyed in Kuujjuarapik felt that they could read and write "adequately" in both of these languages. Thus, while Inuktitut may be the dominant spoken language in the community, it is not the dominant written language. Figure 2 displays the same results broken down into three age groups that are relatively the same size: those younger than 28 years old; those 28-39; and those 40-78. While all age groups spoke and understood Inuktitut "very well", in general speakers under the age of 40 had a much greater command of English than those over 40. As for the use of Cree and French, however, those over 40 were more likely to be able to speak and understand Cree, whereas those under 28 were most likely to be able to speak, understand, read, and write French. If we look more closely at the English and Inuktitut abilities of those under 40, we notice a significant difference between their reported ability to speak and understand and their ability to read and write. While this group reported speaking and understanding more Inuktitut than English, the opposite was true for reading and writing: they reported being able to read and write better in English than in Inuktitut. This is in sharp contrast to the older generation, who reported being able to read and write better in Inuktitut than in English. 3.1.1.2. Use of language in different contexts Figure 3 illustrates the use of languages in various domains. The results show that Inuktitut was used the most by Inuit when talking with friends, in the community, while hunting, and at home. However, there was a significant drop in the use of Inuktitut on the job and a corresponding increase in the use of English. In general, English and Inuktitut were used in relatively equal proportions on the job, while French was used very little and Cree not at all. In all other domains, French was used a little, while a small amount of Cree was used while hunting and in the home. Figure 4 offers a more detailed view of the use of languages at work. As it shows, respondents felt that they spoke Inuktitut much

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more during breaks and while socializing at work. However, during actual work activities, use of Inuktitut decreased and use of English increased. This seems to indicate that although Inuktitut is an important "social" language at work, the use of English increases when one is actually "doing work" in the workplace. Figure 5 indicates that people believed Inuktitut to be more important than English for securing employment in Kuujjuarapik, notwithstanding the prevalence of English in many workplace situations. 3.1.1.3. Language and the media Like other communities in Nunavik, Kuujjuarapik has a communitybased FM radio station, which broadcasts information about various activities and events and relays messages in Inuktitut. However, as in other communities, television has become a popular means of entertainment in most households. Figure 6 shows respondents' estimates of the number of hours that they spent watching television and the language of the programmes that they watched. Respondents reported that they watched, on average, two hours of Inuktitut programming per day and about twice as many hours of English-language programming. The number of hours of Inuktitut-language viewing may have been higher in 1994, the year that this survey was conducted, since at that time there was more Inuktitut television broadcasting, through the Inuit Broadcasting Corporation and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation Northern network. Thus, we might expect that the amount of television viewing in Inuktitut has decreased in the last few years. 3.1.1.4. Discussion of results The results of the survey indicate various tendencies in the use of Inuktitut, English, French, and Cree that are consistent with the conclusions reached elsewhere in this study. These results can be described as follows: Inuktitut is very important as a spoken language in the Inuit community, where it is used within local social networks and serves as a key element in the construction of local identities and ethnic boundaries. English is important as a vehicle of intercultural communi-

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cation and as a language of power, particularly in written form and as a major language in the workplace. In general, language proficiency in French and Cree varies according to age group. This variation is linked to the political and economic shifts that occurred throughout the last century, the result of which is that older Inuit speak Cree with varying degrees of proficiency, but speak no French; while younger Inuit educated in French do use this language, although no one in this age group speaks Cree. French, despite its growing importance as a language of power, still has not gained the importance that English continues to have, since only a very small proportion of the Inuit population actually uses French on a daily basis. 3.1.1.5 Inuktitut and English The survey results show that Inuktitut, though the community's dominant spoken language and the language used most in early elementary school classrooms and among children outside of class, is less commonly used as a written medium of communication. Overall, literacy skills in English were almost as good as those in the mother tongue. These results, when broken down according to age, reveal that those under 40 reported having slightly higher skills in English. This is not surprising, given the role of English in education and its current status as the lingua franca in Great Whale River. English is also used for written communication, at the gymnasium and the arena and in stores and other places frequented by all four ethnolinguistic groups. In addition, English is, as already noted, gaining an important role among Inuit in the workplace, since it is often needed to communicate with Cree or non-Native employees or customers. The rising importance of written English in Kuujjuarapik appears to have a number of sources. One is that students may be exposed, in numbers of hours per day, to more second-language than first-language texts over the course of their school careers. Ever since the Inuit takeover of the Kativik School Board in 1978, students have been receiving solid training in Inuktitut literacy during the first three years of school. However, after these first three years, there is far less exposure to Inuktitut texts in school. There is also far less exposure to Inuktitut than to English reading materials outside of school. More specifically, newspapers, books, magazines, information about consumer products, and, as mentioned above, announcements and schedules at places

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shared with Cree and non-Natives are all in English. This reveals another source of the rise of written English in the Inuit community: the limited number of texts available in Inuktitut. This follows simply from the very small number of Inuktitut speakers in the world and the limited resources available for the production of texts in the language. A final source of the importance of written English in the community is the lesser importance of Inuktitut vis-à-vis English and French in securing wage employment or higher education. Since the mid-1950s and the shift to a wage economy, English and, to a lesser degree, French have figured prominently in the domain of work. In the wage economy, securing employment usually requires the attainment of a certain level of formal education and certain linguistic and other skills. These demands may affect the importance that people in the community attach to such skills. While it might be necessary to speak Inuktitut for certain types of employment—and, as the survey results show, people feel that speaking Inuktitut is very important for obtaining employment—it is important to look at the requirements for reading and writing the language. While certain jobs do require some reading or writing in Inuktitut, the skill level required for the position is usually not specified and does not carry the same currency as English literacy skills. In Kuujjuarapik, spoken Inuktitut is vital in consolidating family and community ties. It is also, by far, the predominant language heard on community radio, during Inuit church services, and at community gatherings such as picnics and games. The same seems to hold for the use of Cree in Whapmagoostui.46 Each community has its own events and activities, which function in the local indigenous language. Sometimes members of one community will be invited to feasts or gatherings hosted by the other, and often funerals and marriage ceremonies are joint community affairs, but for the most part, the distinction between Whapmagoostui and Kuujjuarapik community events and language use is maintained. Written Inuktitut and Cree do not seem to play the same role in their respective communities that their spoken counterparts do. Although the prayer books and hymnals used in church services are all in Inuktitut, only a fairly small proportion of people regularly attend church. The only other texts found in the community that are written in Inuktitut are school materials, official Nunavik publications, which are usually co-published in English and French, and housing notices and

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other written information from the municipal council or school prepared for unilingual Inuktitut speakers.47 The discussion so far has focussed on certain language issues that concern Nunavik in general and Kuujjuarapik in particular. An important question about the future of Inuktitut in Nunavik concerns the elderly population. When the last unilingual speakers of Inuktitut die, what will happen to written and spoken Inuktitut in the community? Since the start of the political mobilization of Inuit in Nunavik, there has been continuing support for Inuktitut from political organizations and institutions and a perceived need for Inuktitut language requirements for employment and participation in the community. If Inuktitut is perceived as both economically and culturally important—valued in the maintenance of community networks and closely tied to economic advancement—its future in the community will be more certain. In Kuujjuarapik, Inuktitut, English, Cree, and French constitute symbolic resources whose respective values differ according to the social, cultural, and economic positions of speakers. Inuktitut and English are by far the most widely distributed languages in the community. Inuktitut is valued by its speakers as a language of social solidarity and of sociocultural practices associated with being Inuit. English linguistic resources, in contrast, are widely valued in employment and intercultural communication. Historically, Cree resources were valued by some Inuit for maintaining key social relationships with Cree hunters and trappers and for active participation in certain "traditional" cultural practices on the land around Kuujjuarapik. However, since the sedentarization of Inuit in the 1950s, the role of Cree has diminished. Today, very few younger Inuit speakers learn more than a few phrases of Cree. The opposite is true for French, which has a relatively large number of fluent younger speakers, while the rest of the community tends to know little more than a few stock words and phrases. French, though in competition with Inuktitut and English in the dominant linguistic marketplace, has yet to become a large part of Inuit speakers' verbal repertoires. The role of French, Inuktitut, and English in face-to-face interaction will be explored in section 4 below. Before proceeding to this, though, it is worth examining some of the results of a more recent ethnographic investigation of language use in Nunavut, in order to point out some potential areas for further research.

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3.2. Language choice in Nunavut A long-term study of Inuktitut use in two Nunavut communities was reported in Dorais and Sammons (2000, 2002). The two communities in question were Iqaluit, the fast-growing capital of the new territory, where about 60% of the 6000 residents are Inuit;48 and Igloolik, a much smaller, more "traditional" settlement, where about 95% of the 1200 residents are Inuit. Dorais and Sammons's study involved observations of language use in 45 Iqaluit homes and interviews with over 180 people (68 adults and 116 children) in Iqaluit and almost 60 people (20 adults and 38 children) in Igloolik. Although Dorais and Sammons asked similar questions about language proficiency and use and employed a research methodology similar in many respects to that of the Kuujjuarapik study reported in this chapter, their methodology was also different in important respects. In particular, they collected their data through interviews rather than written questionnaires and, unlike the Kuujjuarapik survey, included children in their study. The investigation of children's language use involved Inuit research assistants asking children questions about their language proficiency, using a five-point scale similar to that of the Kuujjuarapik survey. They also asked children about the languages that they generally spoke with their parents, grandparents, siblings and friends, again using a five-point scale, which ranged from "only Inuktitut" to "only English". Adult interviews were more in-depth and open-ended, and involved questions about ethnic identity, language use, and the reasons for particular language choices. In addition to conducting these interviews, the researchers made observations about language use in Inuit homes, spending about three hours at a sitting in 45 different homes in Iqaluit, noting what was said, by whom, and in what language (Dorais and Sammons 2000: 94). The use of "oral" questionnaires and openended interview questions about language use and the inclusion of children served to reveal subtler patterns of language use than the Kuujjuarapik survey was able to. Dorais and Sammons noted that while English has great value in Nunavut as the language of the labour market, popular culture, and communications in the wider world, Inuktitut has, since the founding of Nunavut, also come to be valued in the labour market (Dorais and Sammons 2000: 109). In addition, Inuktitut continues to be valued by many Inuit as a language of intimacy and for its close link to "being

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Inuit" (Dorais and Sammons 2000: 108). Thus, the link between language and identity remains quite strong, as does the link between cultural values and the use of Inuktitut with younger children. This may account for one key finding of the study—and one that bodes well for Inuktitut maintenance. This is that almost all young adult parents were continuing to transmit Inuktitut to their children, interacting with them in this language even while English was widely used among younger Inuit in both Iqaluit and Igloolik and bilingual language practices were favoured by older children especially. On this basis, Dorais and Sammons concluded that, for the time being, there was reason for guarded optimism regarding the future of Inuktitut in Nunavut. Similar social, economic, and cultural factors that favour Inuktitut use may also be operating in Nunavik—and perhaps with an even stronger effect, given that Nunavik displays even higher rate of Inuktitut use than Nunavut. However, English use also appears to be on the rise among young people there—and especially among adolescents and in larger settlements such as Kuujjuaq. Although no longitudinal research has yet confirmed this trend, the trend itself has been widely remarked upon informally (Dorais and Sammons 2002: 114) and reported to me by Kuujjuaq residents, and perhaps parallels the situation in Iqaluit. In Kuujjuarapik, the amount of English that Inuit use depends on their position in the community and—since English is the community's lingua franca—on the extent of their daily interaction with French, English, and Cree speakers.49 The amount of English (or French) used also depends on who is present during the interaction and the social costs associated with speaking a dominant language in contexts where social solidarity is an important factor. These patterns of language use, which I found during my own investigation of language choice in Kuujjuarapik, are reported in the following sections (see also Patrick 2001, 2003). 4. Ethnic boundaries and social space In the previous section, I presented the results of a language survey of Kuujjuarapik, which indicated that Inuktitut remains vital to the community but is feeling the pressure of English, particularly in the economic sphere. This remains a concern for Inuit who wish to maintain Inuktitut and for those in positions of political power, who can

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demand higher standards of Inuktitut literacy for the job market.50 This section will supplement these results with an ethnographic examination of language use in the Inuit community. Among the most striking features of Great Whale River are its particular patterns of language use and construction of social groups and ethnic identities. Cultural and political practices appear to define social spaces along lines of ethnic or "racial" difference. These divisions are manifested in the informal social networks that define the community, as well as in recreational activities, geographical boundaries, and language practices. Both the patterns of language use and the construction of ethnic groups and identities are crucial for understanding the sociolinguistic context of this community. Linguistic, cultural, and political practices help to construct ethnic groups; and patterns of language use develop within and across these groups. In what follows, we will be examining the construction of social groups in Great Whale River and how this is related to the use of dominant and minority languages, to language policy, and to the social and political processes that shape and constrain language acquisition and use. More specifically, we will be investigating how the choice of one language over another serves to negotiate identity, relations of power, and solidarity. The analysis will centre not on how or to what extent contact with English and French has led to the "deterioration" of Inuktitut, but rather on how and why Inuktitut is used and maintained in the face of domination by French and English. 4.1. Ethnicity, social groups, and boundaries in Great Whale River

Ethnicities are socially constructed categories, and as Stuart Hall has noted, if these categories are "not stabilized by Nature or by some other essential guarantee, then it must be the case that they are constructed historically, culturally, politically" (Hall 1992a: 257). In Nunavik, distinct ethnicities have been constructed through shared and distinct histories, cultures, traditions, and languages; through political economic processes that have brought the Aboriginal peoples of this region into a world economic system; and through changing colonial discourses about Aboriginal peoples, as described in chapter 3. These distinct ethnicities—which encompass the two broad categories of "Native" and "non-Native" and the various narrower

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categories of "Inuit", "Cree", "Québécois", and "Anglo-Canadian" that have figured so prominently in this study—have given rise to the distinct racial and social realities that we still find in Great Whale River and other Northern communities today. Our observations of Great Whale River throughout this study have revealed that ethnicity and "race" as experienced by its residents are historically linked to linguistic, cultural, and social practices. The boundaries that exist between "us" and "them", between "Natives" and "non-Natives", are, in a general sense, boundaries between those whose ancestors have hunted, fished, and trapped in this region for generations and those (in Northern Quebec communities, at least), who have no such historical connection to the land.51 But they are also boundaries constructed through historical imbalances in power and the struggles that these imbalances gave rise to. Those who came to the North, as traders, sailors, explorers, and missionaries, were white, European, and male; and their power derived from their links to Europe and their access to valued material resources. From this European perspective, Inuit were the "savage" and "heathen" Other; and, as we saw in chapter 3, Inuit resistance to the power that these uninvited visitors wielded merely confirmed their "savage" and "heathen" nature. Yet while the Inuit were seen by the "civilizing" forces of Western Europe as the Other, Inuit themselves, of course, saw the "Whiteman" —and before that their Cree neighbours—as fundamentally Other. This can be seen most clearly in the various terms that Inuit use to refer to themselves and to others. The word Inuit itself, which means 'the people', is used by Inuit to refer to themselves and themselves only. Others whom they encountered were referred to as Allait, Qallunaat, or Uiguit—Cree, English, or French, respectively. Allait is said to mean simply 'the others', and was used in the days before contact with Europeans to refer to those that Inuit had encountered. Qallunaat (sometimes anglicized as Kabloona) is said to mean 'people who pamper their eyebrows' and, as such, might indicate the look of large or bushy eyebrows. According to at least one source, however, it "can imply that these people pamper or fuss with nature, or are of a materialistic nature" (Pauktuutit n.d.). The term Uiguit refers to French people — 'those who say oui-oui7—who are perhaps best seen only as a subgroup of Qallunaat, distinguished primarily by their language and religion.

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It is worth noting that the terms Qallunaat and Allait are only superficially similar to their English counterparts White and Indian. Qallunaat has a range of associations in Inuktitut, which are tied to the structural, political, and economic imbalances of the colonial relationship. Allait refers to other indigenous peoples with whom the Inuit had limited contact, who led a subsistence life in neighbouring regions. Allait were simply different from the Inuit, but did not colonize or dominate them. In contrast, Qallunaat introduced modernization and social selection, which they controlled through new practices and institutions and new forms of knowledge. Although the new social order imposed constraints on how Inuit could live and hunt, it also provided them with the resources to resist complete co-optation and to maintain the distinctiveness that would become the basis for assuming institutional and political control of their territory. It is in this political economic context that we need to situate the study of linguistic practices and social networks operating at the micro level of interaction in Great Whale River. 5. Social networks in Great Whale River In order to gain a clearer understanding of the patterns of language use in Great Whale River we need to examine the formation and structure of social networks and the constraints on language use that these networks impose. The "social network" is a useful concept in the analysis of linguistic communities, where strong social ties between speakers constrain language use in everyday, informal contexts (Gumperz 1982; Gal 1979; Milroy 1987). This concept is particularly relevant to the study of language maintenance and to the questions of how and why vernacular languages are used to the exclusion of dominant varieties. As Milroy and Wei (1995:139) observe, "closeknit social networks consisting mainly of strong ties seem to have a particular capacity to maintain and even enforce local conventions and norms —including linguistic norms." In other words, social interaction within tightly knit networks constrains linguistic and social behaviour, and operates to favour the use of one language variety over another. For this reason, it is important to look at how social networks operate in Great Whale River, and to what effect. Network analysis has often been used to examine language use of socially differentiated groups in urban contexts (Labov 1972; Milroy

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1987). In such analyses, interactive networks have been contrasted with exchange networks. The former (which would include the relationship between a store clerk and a customer) are considered to be "weak" links; while the latter (which would include friendships) are considered to be "strong" links between people who exchange support, advice, and information. Exchange networks are further strengthened if they are multiplex, as they are when speakers have social ties in their capacity as neighbours, kin, friends, employees, etc. Multiplex networks are said to be strongly associated with social class, and operate as systems of exchange to form tightly knit communities (Milroy and Wei 1995: 138). Concerning a working-class district of Belfast in Northern Ireland, "it was quite common for relatives to live next door, have frequent voluntary association with each other, and travel together to a common place of work" (Milroy 1987: 52). Milroy contrasts this with an upper-middle-class professional district of Belfast, in which such multiplex relationships were rare. In Great Whale River, network ties are based more on ethnicity than social class.52 To a certain extent, class is associated with work-related networks, but most friendship and other network associations are built around shared ethnicity and kinship. This is particularly true of Inuit networks in Kuujjuarapik and Francophone networks in Poste-de-laBaleine,53 which are similar to the multiplex situations outlined by Milroy, and operate to produce similar outcomes favouring local language usage in close-knit social groupings. In Kuujjuarapik, relatives often live very close by, even next door to each other, and have "frequent voluntary association with each other", although they are unlikely to have a common place of work. (This is largely because jobs for Inuit in the community are scarce, and those that do exist are very diverse.) In contrast, family relations in Poste-dela-Baleine are generally limited to one's spouse or children—although many neighbours have "frequent voluntary association with each other", and perhaps even "travel together to a common place of work". The majority of non-Native workers in Poste-de-la-Baleine have middle-class occupations (as managers, teachers, or health care professionals) or perform skilled manual labour, as carpenters, electricians, and the like, often at wages higher than they would receive in the South. Thus, while informal social networks in Kuujjuarapik develop around friendship and kinship, those in Poste-de-la-Baleine often develop among co-workers and arise from common interests and attitudes. In both cases, however, close-knit associations and loyalties

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between speakers are formed, along with particular patterns of social and linguistic interaction. 5.1. Informal family and friendship

networks

The structure of a community and the ties that link people in various relationships are situated in a particular historical, political, and economic context, as I have discussed in previous chapters. Structural inequality between the Inuit community of Kuujjuarapik and the Qallunaat community of Poste-de-la-Baleine, the struggle over economic development in the region, and the struggle over English, French, and Inuktitut linguistic dominance in Nunavik are key elements in the construction of ethnicities in Great Whale River. Linked to these social processes are social networks, which develop in response to the needs of the group itself and in relation to other social groups in the settlement. In Kuujjuarapik, family networks are central to the informal structure of the community. Although friendships often develop between kin of the same age group, certain obligations and practices exist among kin of all ages. These pertain to the sharing of meat after a hunt, childminding, visiting, and helping and providing companionship for the sick and elderly. Poste-de-la-Baleine, in contrast, operates as a temporary migrant community. There are a large number of young single people who have moved to the community for employment-related reasons. Of those with families, most do not intend to stay past the time when their children reach school age. For the few families who do stay, most will send their children to the Cree school, which offers a pre-kindergarten programme for four-year-olds. However, very few of these children continue past grades 1 or 2, since it is usually at this point that their parents decide to move back to southern Canada. During the time of my fieldwork, only three non-Native families had children enrolled in higher grades, and it was not clear how long these families intended to stay in Great Whale River. The structure and role of kinship or family networks are markedly different in Kuujjuarapik and Poste-de-la-Baleine. Like anywhere else, cohesive networks are formed between people who socialize together and who share similar social values and experiences. However, because Kuujjuarapik is "home" for many Inuit, and Poste-de-la-Baleine is a

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"work site" for many Qallunaat, friendship networks in the two communities can carry rather different meanings. For instance, there is a difference between growing up as part of various tight overlapping neworks in a community and living in such a community only as an adult. The experiences one shares with those one grows up with, and the knowledge that one has of their family backgrounds, character traits, and so forth, bonds that are different from those developed later in life. In this respect, Inuit are linked with Cree in their experiences of place and local knowledge about community members. In contrast, cultural misunderstandings and conflicts often arise with outsiders, including police and health care and social service workers, and particularly when local knowledge and institutional procedures clash.54 An important kind of social "glue" in Poste-de-la-Baleine, which holds most of its residents together, is shared experiences of working and of living in a "foreign" environment—a situation which, for most, is a temporary one. Most residents of Kuujjuarapik, in contrast, have grown up there or have settled there permanently, so the relationships that they develop with one another are based on neither narrow nor temporary interests and experiences. In other words, the experience of growing up Inuk and negotiating relations with the Euro-Canadian presence connects people in ways fundamentally different from those in which Qallunaat in Poste-de-la-Baleine are connected to one another. In sum, while the two communities construct rather different contexts for friendships and other relationships, friendship networks in both communities operate in a similar manner. Both construct tightly knit groups and feelings of loyalty, which can have specific linguistic and political economic consequences for speakers and—in the case of stereotyping and the reproduction of social inequality—for the whole ethnic group in question. Co-ethnic social networks are the norm in Great Whale River: people of similar ethnic backgrounds are most likely to associate and form tightly knit groups with one another. Despite this clear tendency, friendships between Native and non-Native residents are more common than might first appear. Of course, intercultural friendships develop for a variety of reasons, including shared work-related and other interests, the need for a support network, and the mutually beneficial goal of exchanging information or material goods. Workplaces are particularly important arenas of intercultural communication. This is not only because they often bring together people who would

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not otherwise cross ethnic boundaries and come into social contact, but also because it is here that symbolic resources are often exchanged directly for material resources.55 Work-related social networks involve groups of people who interact at the workplace, while on the job, during breaks, and outside of work if they meet by chance. These kinds of networks provide the greatest opportunities in Great Whale River for intercultural communication and boundary crossing, since many workplaces are in the service sector, and have to serve the settlement in four languages. Yet many work-related social networks develop between members of a single ethnic group. This is especially true if friendships overlap with work relationships—as in multiplex networks—and divisions are created in the workplace between groups with different interests. While most workplaces are multi-ethnic and multilingual, there are a few sites in which the majority of the staff come from one ethnic group. One example is the Municipal Council office, set up specifically to permit Inuit affairs to be looked after by an Inuit staff. Private businesses, such as those involved in construction and household maintenance, may also limit their hiring to one ethnic group. The hotel and the coffee shop have, at times, also engaged in such hiring practices, depending on the availability of local staff and the needs of the business. Some government sectors, such as Transport Québec and Transport Canada—which together manage the airport, flight services station, and air traffic control—have operated without Cree or Inuit. This contrasts, for example, with the practices of the Sûreté du Québec, the provincial police force, which has an established policy of hiring local Cree and Inuit constables, and has sometimes had difficulty filling the Inuit post. In Great Whale River, social networks operate to negotiate and maintain boundaries within and across groups. These networks are unified by shared languages, history, and cultural practices. In the next section we will see how boundaries are maintained by means of specific Inuktitut, Cree, French, and English language practices, which can serve to define and to include or exclude interlocutors. Intercultural and work networks, on the other hand, cross and sometimes level ethnic boundaries through communication conducted primarily in English. Details of these social and linguistic processes will be examined in the next section.

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6. Language practices 6.1. Social networks and boundary maintenance To a large extent, the language used between members of relatively stable social networks is more predictable than that used in interactive environments where speakers are brought together for the first time. However, even in less predictable environments, certain patterns emerge in intercultural communication, which have specific consequences for speakers and their respective communities. In this section, I will be examining patterns of language interaction in the community that have developed within the exchange social networks described above and in interactive networks such as those formed through the administration of services. I will be showing how language choice is used strategically to negotiate relations of power and solidarity. I will also be showing how linguistic interaction constructs social boundaries, and can serve to define and include or exclude social players of different ethnic groups. What this means is that social groups, including Cree, Québécois, Anglo-Canadian, and Inuit, are not fixed, but constructed, at least in part, by language practices, either between members of the same social or ethnic group or between members of different groups. In these situations, the language chosen becomes crucial. I will be concentrating on two aspects of linguistic interaction. One is the established patterns of language loyalty that have developed when speakers of similar linguistic backgrounds interact. The other is the situations in which language choice is used, intentionally or unintentionally, to exclude others present in the interaction and in turn to define social identity and to reassert ethnic and cultural affiliation. I will be drawing my examples from observations of various institutional and recreational settings, including the Inuit school, the health clinic, law courts, gymnasium, workplace, and community events; and from my own experiences as a bilingual French and English speaker with limited knowledge of Inuktitut. 6.1.1. Boundary-defining language practices In close-knit social networks whose members have similar ethnolinguistic backgrounds, language defines the group, at least to a certain

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extent, and is an important element in constructing social identities. In the relatively large Inuit and Francophone communities, Inuktitut and French are important elements in boundary-construction processes, reinforcing the ethnolinguistic divisions between groups.56 At the same time, language use is a product of group cohesion and solidarity. Language practices thus operate dialectically to construct ethnic boundaries: while these practices are a product of ethnic group solidarity and cohesion, they are also a crucial element in creating and maintaining the group boundaries in the first place. In Great Whale River, the reproduction of social groups is observed in the established patterns of language use. When two people with the same first language meet, they will almost invariably speak in that language, even if they share a second (or third) language. That is, two Inuktitut speakers will speak Inuktitut, and two Francophones French, even if each also speaks English. This pattern of language use has been established across different networks— work-related, friendship, and family—and regardless of the setting, and in particular the presence of others in the interaction. Despite the high level of Inuktitut usage in Kuujjuarapik, concerns (as already noted) have been expressed about the increased use of English, particularly among young people. While I was living in the community, adult Inuit speakers often told me that young people used much more English among themselves than young people used to use. What is not clear is what their comments really meant. That is, are people referring to the greater use of English words that have become "Inuktitutized"; or of English words and phrases mixed in with Inuktitut, which would be discernible to those who do not speak Inuktitut; or of entire sentences or conversations conducted in English? Or were these comments more likely expressions of anxiety regarding the increasing presence of English in music and on television, to which young people tend to gravitate? My own observations of a large number of children and adolescents—in or near the house where I was living, in the community, and in the school—indicate that they use a minimal amount of English and virtually no French among themselves. Although I sometimes heard English expressions such as "let's go!", "not fair!", and "post office" inserted into a sentence, the use of whole sentences such as " I had an accident" and "how could they?" was less frequent, and complete English conversations were extremely rare.57 These observations are striking because they indicate that younger Inuit speakers are

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resisting the pressures exerted by English and French inside and outside the community. But they are also striking in that they are clearly at odds with the view, as expressed by older Inuit, that younger speakers are using less Inuktitut.58 During my period of fieldwork, I heard only one conversation conducted in English where Inuktitut would normally have been used. The conversation took place in the household where I had been living for six months. The permanent members of this household were an eightyear-old boy, his sixteen-year-old brother, and their grandfather; and there was a constant stream of younger and older people coming to visit. The one interaction in English that I observed occurred when the older boy gave instructions to his brother to buy him a soft drink at the corner store. In every other case I witnessed, such a request was made in Inuktitut. In fact, all household and other matters were discussed in the indigenous language. On this occasion, however—as I noted in my fieldnotes— the English interchange took place near the kitchen where their grandfather was seated. It seems possible that the older boy chose English to exclude his grandfather, who understood little English, from the interaction. One reason for this might be that the older boy wanted to separate his actions—commanding his younger brother to run his errands for him—from his grandfather, who may not have approved of this behaviour. On other occasions, when the older boy asked his brother to go to the store for him, their grandfather was nowhere in sight. While it is not certain that exclusion motivated the use of English in the above incident, the exclusionary intent of other interactions that I observed (or in which I unintentionally became a participant) was quite clear. The relation of language choice to the construction of identities and social boundaries will be the topic of the following section. 6.1.2. Negotiating exclusionary boundaries The interaction just described demonstrated how English could be used by younger speakers to exclude elders. English may also be used as a status symbol, representing a form of knowledge acquired in school, which is then used to construct emerging Inuit youth identities. I became aware of this use of English by younger Inuit many years ago now, during a conversation with an Inuk student during the academic year 1989-1990, when I was teaching adult education in a

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village on the Ungava coast. This student, a woman in her early twenties, had dropped out of school at a young age, and now wanted desperately to learn English. One day she told me why: her classmates, two other young women with whom she had grown up in another village, would use English words and phrases when they were together, and in doing so excluded her from the group. Even though this exclusion might not have been intentional, it was nevertheless real: the linguistic choices her friends made significantly limited her ability to participate in their conversations. This caused her a great deal of frustration—which could be overcome, she felt, only if she learned English. In this case, as in the one described above, English use was related to the negotiation of power within peer groups and between generations. However, the observation that Inuit youth are turning increasingly to American culture suggests that the use of English in peer group interaction will be increasingly used as a means of group identification. As more youth become proficient in the language, one would expect that English will not be used to exclude peers, although it may continue to (perhaps inadvertently) exclude older members of the community, who may not share the same cultural interests as the youth. Of course, if some Inuit youth can use English to exclude, others can use French. While I was told that this was happening—that young people were using French around those who did not speak French to prevent them from understanding the conversation—I did not actually observe this during fieldwork. In general, the use of French among youth studying in French seemed to be rare—so rare, in fact, that the first time I witnessed it was seven months after I arrived in the community. Moreover, from what I observed, this use of French was generally used in the interest of humour. The following two incidents illustrate this humorous use of French. The first occurred in the household where I was living. A group of children came in one day speaking Inuktitut together, as usual. On this occasion, however, an eight-year-old boy uttered the French phrase, "assis-toi William!" to one of the other boys. His tone of voice clearly suggested authority, and the rest of the boys responded with giggles. Around the same time, I recorded another, similar use of French in my fieldnotes. A nine-year-old boy who was studying in French approached me outside the school, obviously showing off to his friends and laughing: "Bonjour... Il y a des poissons en bas... Un avion!" These French phrases, which literally mean 'Good morning...

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There are some fish down there... An airplane!', convey very little direct content. Clearly, children were not using French in these circumstances to engage in conversation in the language, but to create humour in their peer groups through the mimicry of classroom-based discourse. That is, through commands like "assis-toi!" and decontextualized vocabulary and phrases drawn from second language classrooms, children were using French as a communicative resource in peer group construction and, presumably, as a way of mocking authority figures such as teachers. In my fieldnotes, I recorded two other instances of French being used to humorous effect. In one of these, a man in his late 40s or 50 s was speaking Inuktitut to a small group of adolescents outside the school. At the end of his utterance, he said "Tukisivit?" ('Understand?'). Then, looking intently at the young woman he was talking to, and with a large smile on his face, he added, "Compris?" ('Understood?'), at which point everybody burst out laughing. One reason why this man's use of French was considered humorous was almost certainly its incongruousness—this use amounting only to a single word in a conversation otherwise conducted entirely in Inuktitut, and uttered by someone who obviously could not speak the language and had probably picked up little more French than this. But another likely reason for the humorous effect of this French word was its ironic mimicking of the new "power" language of the community— and perhaps a gentle allusion to a view of Francophones as being kind but condescending to Inuit when speaking French to them. Through the use of this one word, the older man made common cause with a new generation of educated youth—whose knowledge of French otherwise widened the gap between them—thereby facilitating his interaction with them. We can understand why children might mimic classroom-based discourse and teacher authority and why older Inuit might indulge in similar "deflating" varieties of humour by examining the power relations between French and English in both the school and the larger community. English, as noted throughout this study, has long been the dominant language in the area and, for the youth, it has especially been associated with prestigious cultural practices. Moreover, as demonstrated above, English has come to be a resource used by young English-speaking Inuit for negotiating new forms of "Inuit" identity. In contrast, French has only recently emerged in the economic and political arenas of northern Quebec. Though children are exposed to it

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in school, they appear to treat it as a "foreign" language rather than as a viable second language for use outside of school. This is arguably because French still has little association with prestigious cultural practices. For example, almost all of the popular music that young people listen to is in English. (One notable exception is the group Kashtin, whose second language is French, although they frequently sing in their native Montagnais.) And even popular Francophone ice hockey stars speak English or play for Anglo-dominant teams. French thus remains restricted to the institutional, economic, and political realms; and as far as the generation currently being educated in French is concerned, French language practices are valued and developed only in the school. So while community life still hinges on Inuktitut, and the cultural practices of younger Inuit depend to a significant degree on the consumption of English-language media such as television, music, and film, there is little doubt that French is emerging as a dominant language in the region. Mocking the way it is taught and used by those in authority is one way to resist this emerging status. Moreover, the fact that many Inuit still find the language so artificial and incongruous that its use give rise to laughter means that it will be some time before it becomes a legitimate substitute for English in various second-language contexts. 6.1.2.1. English and French, inclusion and exclusion As the above discussion has suggested, English is almost always used in intercultural communication in Great Whale River. Of course, it is also the language used between members of the small group of Anglophones living in the community. Although the majority of nonNative residents in Great Whale River speak French, the occasions for using this language are limited to interactions with members of thenown group, with Anglophones who have learned French, and with Inuit students studying French at school. However, the use of French in intercultural communication is not only more limited than the use of English; it is also governed by a more complex set of restrictions or constraints on language use, which involve assumptions about the level of fluency and the language attitudes of the participants and bystanders in a given interaction. The nature of these constraints became clearer to me both through my observation of linguistic interactions in the community and through

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my participation in these interactions as a bilingual English-French speaker and a learner of Inuktitut. The pattern that I had established for myself was to use French with Francophones, my limited Inuktitut with unilingual speakers of the language, and English in all other situations. These language choices were generally successful, permitting the conversation to continue in the language that I had chosen. There were times, however, when I would address Francophones in French and receive an answer in English. If after two exchanges, I had not been successful in establishing French as the language of conversation, I would switch to English, believing that my efforts to establish French had been sufficient and acceptable to my interlocutor. Though rare—I recorded only three such instances in my notes—these switches from French to English nevertheless struck me as significant. This is because such switches had not been part of my linguistic experience in Montreal or other Francophone communities in the South, and suggested a tacit acknowledgement by Francophones of the dominance of English in this northern community. The three instances of code-switching that I recorded are described below. One involved a Francophone who had recently arrived in the North and wanted to practice his English, and who thus resisted conversation in French. The other two involved Francophone interlocutors who did not need help with their English, but still insisted on using it. One of these incidents occurred in the home of two Francophone teachers whom I was visiting with William, the eightyear-old boy living in my household, for whom I often acted as a caregiver. It may have been that they were used to using English with visitors who did not speak French and were particularly inclined to use English with William present. The other occurred at the health clinic, where a pattern of English use with non-Francophone patients was well established. The circumstances surrounding the health clinic incident were as follows: I had been out on the land the day before in -35° C weather and my toes had become frostbitten, so I had decided to seek the advice of the nurse at the health clinic. When I began to explain this situation to the nurse in French, she responded in English. After two attempts I switched to English. What struck me was not that a Francophone whom I had never met before insisted on speaking English with me, but that it was a nurse at the public health clinic, where one might expect French to be used or even preferred. The first thought that entered my mind, as recorded in my fieldnotes, was not "Why is she

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doing this?" but "What would this mean to an Inuk attempting to speak French?" While I felt able enough to describe my plight in French, the nurse was obviously more accustomed to using English with those who were not native Francophones. On subsequent visits to the clinic, I was able to use French with different nurses, except when I was there with William, who I took to the clinic one day when he fell ill. Although William was in the French stream at school, the nurses had no way of knowing this.59 So, although the Inuit interpreters greeted William and engaged him in a brief conversation in Inuktitut, he was treated by the nurses in English without the benefit of Inuktitut translation, which is reserved for older Inuit. It was unclear, however, how much he really understood about the medicine that he was being prescribed, given that the nurse spoke to him only in English (although, admittedly, his comprehension was not crucial given his young age and my role in insuring that he took his medicine at the prescribed times). What became clear from this situation was that English was the language that the nurses used when interacting with Inuit at the clinic, even when both the health-care provider and the client actually spoke French. This demonstrated the existence of institutionalized patterns of English-language use between non-Natives and younger Inuit, even in settings where second-language learners might have been expected to use French. Use of English instead of French with Inuit was wellintentioned: by using English, Francophones were seeking to include Inuit students, patients, clients, and others—and to avoid negative reactions, such as being seen as rude or secretive. Use of English might also have reflected a tacit recognition by these Francophone residents of a community where English remained so prevalent that the place of French in the "communicative hierarchy" was still lower than English. Such assumptions about French and English were consistent with the recognition that English was the second language of most Inuit, and the expectation that younger Inuit especially would be able to understand English, whether or not they were studying in English. Unfortunately, such patterns of language use may also have serious repercussions for students of French who want to master the language for employment or higher education, since the persistence of these patterns serves to restrict the opportunities available to young language learners to use French outside the classroom. As it happens, my own experiences as a French speaker included those in which I found myself using the language with a certain

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amount of trepidation. This was because of the risk to which I was exposing myself—similar to that of the nurses, as just described—that I would be excluding those who did not speak French. In the following sections, I will be examining certain cases in which language choice served to include and other cases in which it served to exclude. 6.1.2.2. The politics of inclusion The practice of including through language choice in multilingual settings is a risky business: every time one chooses to speak a particular minority language—that is, one not spoken by everyone, like French or Inuktitut—one risks excluding others from the interaction. Yet by choosing English as the language of interaction, one risks weakening solidarity with other minority language speakers. These practices and their consequences become heightened in politically charged social contexts, such as in Great Whale River at the time of this study.60 In such contexts, choices between two competing languages, and thus between potential exclusion and inclusion, can make for extremely uncomfortable situations. One such situation arose at the airport, when I was about to leave Great Whale. I started talking to Mary, an older Cree woman I knew. We were talking in English about her job, an important one in the community, and about people we both knew, when Céline, a close Francophone friend of mine, approached and happily started speaking in French. The difficulty was that I had never spoken to Céline in English before, and I had been right in the middle of an English conversation with Mary. I thus had to decide immediately whether to respond to Céline in French or in English. I did what had made the most sense at the time, and responded in French, expressing my appreciation to Céline for coming to see me off. I then quickly switched to English, introducing Mary to Céline and telling Mary that Céline was a friend of mine who worked in a Quebec government office. By bringing Mary into the conversation near the beginning of my interaction with Céline, I sought to negotiate the use of English as an inclusive language, without jeopardizing my friendship (and solidarity) with Céline, which had been constructed with the aid of French. I also sought to maintain my solidarity with Mary by choosing not to continue in French, which would have excluded her. The situation was complicated by the sociopolitical context, mentioned above. That is, the fact that broader political relations between the "ethnic groups" to

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which these women belonged, Québécois and Cree, were highly conflictual at that time—and both of these "ethnic groups" were, to a lesser extent, in conflict with the Anglo-Canadian group to which I belonged. This complex set of power relations shaped the context and the outcome of the interaction. My language choices became significant to the extent that I valued the relationships that I had built with others and felt that a particular language choice would jeopardize these relationships. In other words, the potential cost in using a language that excluded others guided my own language choices. Nevertheless, although using English allowed us all to engage in conversation, it did little to address the power inequities in this particular setting. English was a second language for Mary and Céline, whereas it was my first language. Speaking the language of Anglo-Canada is a compromise for Inuit, Cree, and Québécois alike: it is the dominant language of the state and the product of colonial domination and the assimilative schooling of indigenous peoples. Experiencing the political complexities of language use firsthand provided me with insight into other situations in which speaking one language instead of another in intercultural settings can be a matter of political necessity as much as personal preference. Language choice in a given social setting may be constrained by various factors and result in particular patterns of behaviour with particular consequences. This is illustrated by the following excerpt from an interview with Maryse, a Francophone woman who had been a resident of Poste-de-la-Baleine for over five years. When I asked her whether Inuit high school students used French in the community, she responded, "Non, jamais" ('No, never'). The interview continued as follows: D: Est-ce qu'ils parlent français avec toi? ['Do they speak French with you?'] M: Pas beaucoup. Mais, moi quand je sais qu'ils étudient en français, je vais leur parler en français. Et c'est drôle que tu dis ça, parce que la fille à Maggie, elle étudie en français et mardi passé j'ai joué au badminton avec, et je sais qu'elle et Eva étudient en français, puis à un moment on jouait et elle m'a posé des questions en anglais. Elle sait que moi je parle français, elle sait queje sais qu'elle étudie en français... mais moi je dis que c'est correct ça. Il faut leur laisser leur temps, mais moi j'ai répondu en français. Mais si elle n'est pas confortable, même si je pousse, je pousse, mais je

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Maryse then described how she continued to speak French with Maggie's daughter. She noted how other Francophones often used English with Inuit whom they did not realize were studying in French. Maryse, however, made an effort to use French. In the interview, she continued to describe her approach to interacting with Maggie's daughter: Mais quelque fois comme quand j'étais avec elle, elle me posait des questions en anglais. Je vais répondre en français et des fois je vais dire les choses et elle ne comprenait pas, quand elle ne comprenait pas, j'utilisais quelques mots en anglais, puis là, je revenais en français. Mais elle, elle ne me parlait pas en français. Mais je dis c'est correct si elle ne le fait pas tout de suite. [But sometimes when I am with her, she asks me questions in English. I respond in French, and sometimes I say things that she doesn't understand. When she doesn't understand, I use some English words, and then, I switch back to French. But she doesn't speak to me in French. But I say to myself, it's okay if she doesn't do it right away.] (non-Native Francophone resident F)

Maryse had developed a pattern of using French with people who were just beginning to learn French or who were second language speakers like myself. I had witnessed her speaking French slowly and clearly, waiting patiently for responses, and continuing in French with Inuit and Cree who were taking beginning Adult Education courses. But, as she remarked, she was one of the few Francophones who

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insisted on using French in public places with Inuit French-language students, even though they often replied to her in English. The experience recounted by Maryse was supported by my own observations of students whom I knew were studying in French but who did not use the language outside of class. From time to time, I did witness high school students using French with teachers, during school hours and, toward the end of the school year, during afterschool preparations for a graduation ceremony. However, I did not observe any real exchanges in French between Francophones and students of French outside of a school context. What I did witness, though—for example, at the gymnasium or at the store—was students not responding to Francophones, or offering one-word responses in French and then continuing, if they did so, in English; or simply answering in English. The reasons offered to explain why younger Inuit learning French in school might nevertheless use English in the kinds of situations described by Maryse include the following ones. (1) Inuit students of French—consistent with the belief, common among Inuit and nonInuit alike, that Inuit are shy—will not use the language unless they feel comfortable speaking it and know their interlocutors. (2) At least some members of the Inuit community still seem not to recognize the importance of French to the northern economy. Finally, (3) French is still not widely accepted as a language of intercultural communication in the community. It is arguably just a question of time, then, until French is more generally accepted and used as an informal community language. There may be some truth to the view that most young people are shy about using a language that they have not mastered and that the Inuit community is not yet prepared to embrace a third language for daily interaction. However, there are other reasons why young people choose English over French in community situations. This choice is dependent on the language in which the interaction is initiated, the participants in the interaction, and the patterns of language use that have developed for particular speakers under particular social conditions. Underlying these choices is the continuing dominance of English in Nunavik, as a language not only of popular culture but of inter-ethnic communication, established over decades of contact. In the latter capacity, English appears to have a solidarity function similar to that of Inuktitut. That is, it is a way of expressing solidarity between Inuktitut-speaking and French-speaking interlocutors in situations

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where the use of French or Inuktitut would risk excluding one or another of the participants in an interaction. That the use of French in public places represents a linguistic and cultural minefield for Inuit students of French can be seen from an examination of one exchange between one such student and a Francophone teacher, which I observed at the gymnasium. The difficulties that await students in such situations make it quite clear why they often have such difficulty responding in French. The gymnasium, where I went quite regularly, was one of the few places where Francophones came into contact with French-speaking students outside of school— although this interaction was, in fact, quite limited, occurring only when people came together to watch or participate in tournaments or to play such sports as floor hockey, badminton, and volleyball. Often, during the periods set aside for adult badminton, I would see only non-Native players; but one evening I saw a group of three older Inuit adolescents —two of whom I recognized from school, one from the French senior high school class, one from the English class. At the end of their game, a Francophone teacher in the next court greeted the student who studied in French with the words "Salut Anna! Comment ça va?" ('Hi Anna! How are you?'), to which Anna replied, "Bien" ('Well'). Anna did not continue this conversation, but instead quickly returned to the Inuktitut that she had been using with her friends. The Francophone teacher who addressed her was not her own teacher; and perhaps Anna did not have a close enough relationship with her to continue the conversation, or was simply too shy to use French in a public place. What was likely an even more significant factor in Anna's language choice, though, was the high social cost that she would have paid for continuing a conversation in French in front of her friends. Since she would have been speaking a language that neither of her friends understood, she would, in doing so, have been displaying allegiance to a teacher and a Francophone instead of to her own friends. In addition, she would have been demonstrating knowledge of a language that her friends did not have and thus risked presenting herself as more knowledgeable—and by implication "better" —than her friends by demonstrating this knowledge publicly. From my own observations, I would judge this particular interaction between a French-speaker and an Inuk student of French to be typical. Maryse's account of a similar interaction with Eva did not mention whether the girl had been alone or not. However, since young people in the settlement tended to participate in activities in small groups, one

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might assume that she was with at least one friend, who possibly did not speak French. Even if she had been with a French-speaking companion, her behaviour would not have been surprising—given the importance of loyalty to her peer group, language, and community. From my own experience at the airport, as described above, I knew the risk of using French in cross-cultural encounters. By using French in front of someone who did not speak the language, I risked excluding that person, in this case, someone whose allegiance and collegiality I cared about. At the same time, this language act would have positioned me on the "other side" of an ethnic divide. In contrast, the use of English between Inuktitut- and Frenchspeakers puts them on an equal footing, given that it is a second language for both of them. This and other factors, including loyalties to friends and to the Inuit community, Inuit ambivalence about new forms of French domination, and reluctance to use a "school language" with strangers, may also reduce the use of French outside the classroom. These patterns are, of course, reinforced when Francophones use English with all non-Francophones, even in cases when they know that their interlocutors are studying French. While such practices reflect the long-standing sociolinguistic reality of this region, whereby English is the sole language of intercultural communication, they also have the unintended consequence of reproducing this reality, by creating a learning environment hostile to the development of fluency in French. 6.1.2.3. Defining "us" and "them": The exclusionary use of Inuktitut and French As we have seen, language is an important resource for including people in a group and for maintaining important relationships. For this reason, French is not spoken very often in public settings between Inuit and Francophones. English is a "brokering" language and its use has become established in such intercultural interactions. Just as interlocutors can choose a language in order to include, they can also choose one in order to exclude, as Inuit youth might do when they choose to speak English among people who do not fully understand the language, or French among older people, or Inuktitut in a class with a non-Native teacher who is not likely to understand it. The same systems of exclusion operate among adult speakers as well, as demon-

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strated by the following two events, which I observed during my fieldwork. One evening, I attended a baby shower (a party where one brings gifts for a new baby) in Kuujjuarapik. There were about twenty women in attendance, most of whom were under the age of forty-five and three of whom—a Francophone, a Cree, and myself—did not speak Inuktitut. It was a pleasant social event, during which a mixture of Inuktitut and English was spoken. When the gathering was over, I walked down the road with three Inuit women: Mary (in whose honour the shower had been given), another woman with whom I was friendly, and a third from out of town. Given the expectations I had developed since moving into the community, I thought that these three friends would converse in Inuktitut; and did not expect them to accommodate my poor Inuktitut. However, Mary (who was married to an Anglophone who understood very little Inuktitut) switched into English and translated some of the conversation that had taken place, which had been about the shower. The woman from out of town then mentioned something about the weather before the conversation switched back into Inuktitut. I then said in English that I was turning down the next road, and we said goodbye. Though brief, the walk had been memorable for me because it had been marked by the effort of this small Inuit group to include me in their conversation. In many of my interactions in the community, Inuktitut served, often unintentionally, to exclude me from conversations taking place between members of small groups. However, at public events like picnics, someone standing nearby often translated announcements for me; people would also—although less frequently—switch to English to include me in the conversation, as in the case just mentioned. It became apparent to me, however, that Inuktitut had become a valuable resource for maintaining boundaries, whether intentionally or not, between " u s " and "them". Inuktitut was thus used to negotiate and exchange important symbolic resources, such as social solidarity and friendship, within the social network and the community. French can also be used as an exclusionary language and, as such, figure in the process of constructing ethnic boundaries. This became apparent to me one day in June 1993, after I had been in the community about a month. As I was walking through the village towards the river, I noticed a group of people gathered just south of the Northern Store. There were two whales lying in the small grassy area there. A man was carving up the meat and a younger man from the Municipal

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Council was collecting samples of the skin to send away for testing. The Cree police officer appeared with a Francophone officer, and asked the man from the Council to go with him. As I was standing there, I noticed a Francophone man whom I recognized from the airport. We had never met, but I had gathered that he worked for Air Inuit and was a friend of the Francophone manager. To my surprise, he spoke to me in French, commenting, "il y a beaucoup de gras" ('there is a lot of fat') and showing some disgust. He then commented on how beautiful these animals were and how they should have been left alone in the water, since in a short time few of them would remain. I told him that there were quotas and that I thought that the whales were protected. He was not convinced that the quotas were effective, and expressed his belief that these endangered animals should be left alone. From his perspective, the animals provided nothing of importance—the meat had too much "fat" on it to be of any value—and the symbolic and material value for the Inuit of the hunt and of the butchering of these animals was of no consequence. In expressing these views, which were completely at odds with the values that lay behind Inuit hunting practices, he seemed oblivious to the presence of the twenty or so Inuit gathered there. But, of course, his ability to express such unsympathetic views of Inuit cultural practices within earshot of Inuit depended on his use of French—a language that none of them were likely to understand—to express these views. Thus, by using French, he exploited a particular set of symbolic resources to contest the material and symbolic value that the Inuit gave to the whale. I first felt surprise at his reaction to the butchering of the whale, then discomfort that he had chosen to express his views about this right where Inuit were gathered, and finally relief that the conversation was in French, and thus would not be understood by anyone else present. This situation demonstrates how ideological differences can be formulated, presented, and represented through language choice and how they can be reproduced, when they effectively go unchallenged. In the case described above, French became a valuable resource in a situation where different cultural values, "Western" and Inuit, were in conflict. The response to the whale-hunt, expressed in French, drew on two dominant Western discourses, concerning health and the environment: namely that "fat is bad" and "endangered species should not be hunted". These are in fact oppositional to the minority Inuit discourses on fat and whales—discourses that in very simple

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terms reproduce ideologies that "fat is good" and "whales are an important source of food, and to be celebrated if caught".61 The use of French in this example provided the speaker with a means of reproducing Western ideologies and, in effect, reinforcing ethnic boundaries. This was a case of intentional exclusion: my interlocutor had chosen French over English, and I had chosen to continue the conversation in French, because this language was able to conceal the cultural inappropriateness of the comments in this setting and thus to avoid cultural conflict. Exclusionary language practices can involve the use of a minority language, to exclude speakers of a dominant language; or the use a politically and economically dominant language, such as French, to exclude people who do not have access to that language. In either case the "exclusionary" language can serve to access important symbolic resources such as social solidarity; to reproduce cultural and social values with respect to both material and ideological matters, such as the cultural value of whales and cultural attitudes toward fat, the environment, and the natural world; and to hide remarks that might be considered offensive to others in the speech context. The use of Inuktitut or French in intercultural situations also carries a social risk, particularly when these situations involve people who do not speak the language. In one case, French was used between two Francophones to clarify a Cree cultural practice of tanning caribou hide. The incident occurred during the first celebration of what has become an annual event known as the "Gathering", which involves workshops and activities based on traditional Cree cultural practices (see Adelson 2001: 292-294 for a description of this event). Although this event was geared specifically toward the Cree, many Inuit also participated; and more than once I noticed an Inuk elder conversing in Cree in friendly exchanges about food preparation, net-making, and the preparation of skins and hides. At the "Gathering", I met up with a small group, consisting of an Inuk elder, bilingual in Inuktitut and Cree; his two nieces, one in her late twenties, the other in her early thirties; and two Francophone men, who were about the same age as the Inuit women and who worked with them on a nearby archaeological dig. The Inuk elder was leading us around the different demonstrations and workshops, asking questions and gathering information in Cree, and then translating it into Inuktitut for his nieces. One of them, Linda, then translated the Inuktitut into English.

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Our first stop was a site where some Cree women were preparing caribou skins. We arrived just at the point when they were rubbing oatmeal paste on the stretched-out skin as part of the preparation. After much discussion in Cree, then in Inuktitut, Linda told us how long the process of scraping the skin and treating it with oatmeal would take, and why this process was used. It immediately became clear that one of the Francophones, Stéphane, spoke much better English than the other, and was interacting far more often with Linda. His colleague, André, asked him, "Qu'est-ce qu'elle a dit?" ('What did she say?'); then, pointing to the oatmeal, asked, "C'est quoi ça?" ('What is that?'). "Gruau" ('Oatmeal'), the other answered. Stéphane then went on to explain in French how the Cree used oatmeal to help clean and prepare the hide. At this point, Linda became annoyed, and asked them what they were talking about, sarcastically answering her own question: "Probably about fat. White people are always talking about fat and how we Native people eat too much fat." Before they could respond, she added, "It's not fat, it's oatmeal!" Despite Stéphane's protestation that he had only been translating what Linda had told him, the use of French in this situation had led Linda to distrust him. In certain culturally sensitive situations—like the whale-butchering incident described above—French, like Inuktitut, is perceived as an exclusionary language, permitting negative remarks about the Other to be communicated. Contexts like the present one, in which we were learning about the Cree preparation of hunted game, typically gave rise to disparaging remarks in French about Native practices. What surprised me was the reference to fat, which echoed the remarks made by my Francophone acquaintance during the butchering incident two months earlier. It was quite obvious that Linda had already heard negative comments from Euro-Canadians about the Inuit use of fat, which has long been an important element of the local diet.62 This background knowledge led to a reasonable suspicion that French was being used negatively in the current context. Directly after this incident, Linda made a clear shift towards her cousin, engaging with her in Inuktitut conversation and distancing herself from the men. She did not translate the explanation of the process that followed, but provided some explanation when I asked her directly what the Cree woman had said. Although I had not been directly involved in the French dialogue, I was still "White" and was only an

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acquaintance of Linda, who had joined the group to learn something about Cree practices. Cross-cultural communication is a sensitive, risky practice, especially since misunderstandings, domination, and abuse have historically characterized cross-cultural encounters. The assumption that a "foreign" language was being used to restrict comments from entering the public domain was an understandable one under the circumstances—particularly since Inuktitut might be used in a similar way to talk about Western or Euro-Canadian practices. Of course, there is an asymmetry in the exclusionary uses of Inuktitut and French. Western practices, knowledge, and values have been in a dominant position since the introduction of European goods almost 400 years ago. From this perspective, the exclusionary use of Inuktitut can be seen as a form of resistance. In the incident just reported, French had not been used in the same way as it had been in the whale-butchering incident, although the Inuit women clearly felt that it was. This is not to say that the use of French always brings suspicion on its users. Rather, specific contexts—such as the discussion of "traditional" Aboriginal practices—are more sensitive than others. This is because boundaries are produced and reproduced through cultural practices, and reinforced through language choice. From an Inuit perspective, the use of French in such situations reinforces a boundary between "us" and "them". It is a boundary which English admittedly does not erase, but which French nevertheless reinforces. French, as an exclusionary language and thus a potential resource for negative discourse, can serve to increase negative attitudes to the language among Inuit. In this section we have seen how language choice becomes a means to reinforce relations between "us" and "them" or to cross boundaries and include everyone present in the interaction. In some settings, speakers of one language may intentionally or unintentionally exclude, include, or define speakers of different language backgrounds. What we find in Great Whale River is that speakers of Inuktitut and French may use these languages to exclude those who do not speak them—although this function, it is worth emphasizing, is not integral to the use of these languages in the community, which are more often used within the communities whose members speak them. Notwithstanding the latter possibility, Inuktitut and French more often serve an exclusionary role than English does. As the community's lingua

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franca, English regularly serves to include speakers in intercultural communication. 6.1.2.4. Negotiating power among Anglophones The previous discussion has focussed on language choice and the practices that serve to construct French and Inuit ethnicity. Such practices may involve the contestation of particular ideological positions by individuals employing French- or Inuktitut-language resources, who reinforce ethnic boundaries through such actions. Anglophones who do not speak French may also place themselves culturally in positions similar to those of Francophones as regards "Western" cultural values. The difference between this rather small group of unilingual English speakers and the larger group of French speakers is that for the former group, English does not play the same role in consolidating social solidarity that French or Inuktitut (or Cree) do. This is because English is the language of power and the norm in intercultural communication. Thus unilingual Anglophones, despite their relatively limited linguistic resources, are served extremely well in all aspects of community life by their competence in English. Members of this group, however, achieve solidarity with members of other groups more by recognizing symbolic resources that they do not possess — including French, Inuktitut, and Cree language skills—than by thenactive use of English. This does not mean that these individuals have no means other than a shared language to become more fully integrated into the Aboriginal or Francophone communities. But it does mean that their participation is limited through their reliance on English language brokers to participate in intercultural group activities. 7. Summary and conclusions This chapter began with a description of the distribution of linguistic resources in Kuujjuarapik and the precarious place of Inuktitut with respect to English in the Canadian North. Drawing on sociolinguistic and ethnographic data collected in Nunavik—and comparing these with data collected as part of a more recent study in Nunavut—I showed that documented patterns of language choice suggest a (fairly) positive outlook for Inuktitut use in the Eastern Canadian Arctic. Although

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bilingual practices are on the rise, bilingual speakers' sense of their own "Inuitness" does not seem to be compromised by their use of English. This is because language choice in face-to-face interaction in Nunavik is a complex sociolinguistic process, in which economic, cultural, and social-psychological factors all come together to shape language patterns. As it happens, these patterns support Inuktitut language maintenance in the region; and there are a number of indications that Inuktitut continues to be viable. The analysis of language use in Kuujjuarapik as presented in this chapter has centred on the role of Inuktitut, Cree, French, and English in this community and on speakers' uses of these languages in various contexts. The survey and the ethnographic data that have figured in this analysis have led to the same conclusions about language proficiency and language use in the Inuit community: namely, that these are closely tied to political economic factors, and that language, in this community at least, plays a key role in constructing ethnic group identities and in reproducing cultural and social values specific to these ethnic groups. In particular, the results reveal that Inuktitut language proficiency is widespread across all age groups of Inuit speakers and is highly valued in such key domains as the home, the workplace, hunting, and the community. This contrasts with English language proficiency, which is highest among those born after 1950, and valued in fewer domains —although almost as much as Inuktitut in one key domain, that of the workplace. Another noteworthy finding of the language survey is that some Inuit born before 1950 remain proficient in Cree, being able to speak it as well as French-speaking Inuit under the age of twenty-eight can speak that language. These survey data were corroborated by ethnographic data. Together, they clearly show that language choice plays a significant role in constructing and maintaining ethnic boundaries, social identity, and cultural values important to specific groups of speakers. Inuktitut is thus highly valued in maintaining social solidarity in friendship, family, and community settings and in negotiating and maintaining the cultural and economic value of resources, such as whales and other harvested products, associated with the "traditional" hunting economy. Other social boundaries, such as those that define "Francophone" and "Anglophone" (or a more general "non-Native") ethnicity, are constructed through similar linguistic processes. Thus, while a harvested whale might signify prestige and a valued form of food for Inuit, who will use Inuktitut while hunting, butchering, and distributing it, it

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might represent an endangered species with no economic value for certain non-Natives, who might affirm these values in French or English. Symbolic resources are thus bound up with control over the definition and valuing of other symbolic and material resources. Within particular social groups, these symbolic resources constitute a site of political struggle, which has consequences for the maintenance of both linguistic and cultural practices. In daily contact between Inuit and non-Native residents, language can be used to create boundaries—for example, during harvesting activities, community functions, and in intimate friendship groups. Alternatively, it can be used to level boundaries, in situations where communication between members of different groups is desirable, and English is chosen as the lingua franca. Language choice is thus a key element in boundary processes and in the construction and negotiation of relations of solidarity and power. Through an examination of these processes, I have tried to show the importance of Inuktitut for Inuit and the role of English as a lingua franca, and suggested the reasons why some Inuit students may be reluctant to speak French even in a community with a fairly high proportion of French speakers. In a particular context, a language may be chosen because of its habitual uses or because it simplifies communication. Language choice may also be an explicit solidarity marker, indicating difference and, in some cases, resistance. In the latter, it can signal an intense struggle for the maintenance of distinct social spaces, as the choice to use Inuktitut or French does in Great Whale River. In this community, the spaces associated with these groups are ones where their respective cultural and linguistic meanings can flourish, distinct from each other and from Anglophone pressure. In the specific multilingual context of northern Quebec, language choice can be an effective way to negotiate and maintain the historically constructed boundaries that structure indigenous language communities. One is not so much a "member" of a group as engaged in interactive practices that are part of a process of group formation. Group boundaries are constantly being defined and redefined in the process of articulating some form of cultural identification regarding "Inuitness", "Creeness", and "Whiteness". In all of these cases, language choice can be linked to issues of identity, power and solidarity, which can be better understood through sociolinguistic investigation, as I hope to have demonstrated here.

Chapter 6 Summary and conclusions This study has offered a political economic analysis of language choice in the quadrilingual settlement of Great Whale River. It has focussed on the Inuit community of Kuujjuarapik, where many of the older residents are fluent in Cree and Inuktitut and many of the younger residents speak Inuktitut, French, and English. The study has asked how and why Inuktitut persists, despite increasing pressure from English and French, the two dominant colonial languages in the region. The answers to these questions have highlighted the historical role of Inuktitut and the settlement's three other languages in local and global economies, social boundary levelling and maintenance, the establishment of national, ethnic, and social identities, and the accessing of education, employment, and positions of power. This investigation has also suggested that French and Inuktitut hold transitional positions of power in Arctic Quebec—consequences of the relatively recent roles of these languages in the ethnic mobilization of the French in Quebec and the Inuit in Nunavik, respectively, and in the changing political economy of the region. Both languages have accordingly entered into competition with English, the historically established language of power, in the dominant linguistic market. In this concluding chapter, I want to discuss the implications of the ethnographic approach used here for further studies of minority language maintenance and language movements in general. The question of why some languages fall out of use—as in the numerous cases of "language death" documented in the literature—is related to the question of why some "smaller" languages somehow persist. 1. Discussion of the study In this study, we have seen how language use in Arctic Quebec is linked to the political, economic, and social reality of Inuktitut speakers. The dominant linguistic market, in which French, English, and Inuktitut compete, is separate from but not completely independent of the alternative "traditional" linguistic market. The alternative language

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market comprises a hunting economy and other "traditional" activities, in which local forms of Inuktitut are valued. I have argued that a tension exists between these two markets, since Inuit participation in the dominant market is dependent upon claims and justifications of Inuit "distinctiveness". That is, in order to make legitimate claims to power within Canada, based on an inherent right to self-government and a special status under Canadian law, Inuit must remain distinctly "Inuit" and avoid categorization as "assimilated" or "ordinary" Canadians. One way of articulating this "distinction" has been to invest in the maintenance of the harvesting economy and the symbolic practices associated with this—that is, to add contemporary meanings and importance to the practices associated with the "traditional" harvesting economy, an economic and symbolic system that has persisted among Inuit for generations. Thus, political interests have become intertwined with a complex cultural and social system, which includes Inuit relations to the animal and spirit world, personal naming rituals and links to individuals from previous generations, and a profound sense of continuity with the past. A paradox lies in the fact that in order for Inuit to engage in a modern political struggle for control over economic resources in Nunavik, they must rely on legitimization through the maintenance of this "traditional" system and the linguistic, cultural, and economic practices that characterize it. At the same time, a continuation of the harvesting economy, which defines the alternative "traditional" language market, currently relies on the resources gained through modern political struggles. This study has also shown how a historical analysis of the political economic shifts linking Inuit to a system of world trade can help to explain how dominant and alternative linguistic markets, and the value of languages within these markets, have developed. I have argued that social groups, which each value particular material and symbolic resources over others, have been historically constructed through relations of colonial power and the material economic practices associated with the fur trade. While Inuktitut-English language brokers existed at the trading post, Inuktitut thrived on the land and in the settlements surrounding the post. In the early twentieth century, during the lean years of the fur trade, many Inuit families hunting south of Kuujjuarapik had extensive contact with Cree. Economic hardship fostered cooperation between Cree and Inuit in order to ensure Inuit survival. As a result of this, many Inuit elders today speak fluent Cree. During this stage of social history, Inuit ethnicity was constructed through "traditional" Inuit practices associated with the fur trade and the exchange of resources harvested from the land for European goods

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at the post. At the same time, an Inuit Other was constructed and defined by Europeans through the production of images during different periods of colonial contact. These images served to legitimize the dominant role of Europeans in "civilizing" the "natives", exploiting their labour and resources, and founding a new sovereign nation under Euro-Canadian control. The shift to wage labour in the 1950s brought a new era to the Inuit of Kuujjuarapik and to the development of the dominant linguistic market. At this time, it became clear that access to particular linguistic resources, like English, French, and Inuktitut, accessed particular material resources in the wage economy. The acquisition and use of Cree became less prevalent among Inuit, as life on the land and the fur trade economy shifted toward settlement in Great Whale River and participation in the wage-based economy. With settlement, a host of other social problems developed, including social stratification based on ethnicity and the social positioning of Inuit (and to a much less extent, Cree) as "labourers" in the new economy. This kind of social stratification, based on the inequitable distribution of material and symbolic resources, fuelled the rise of Quebec nationalism in the 1960s and the mobilization of Inuit in the 1970s— two struggles in which language and "cultural distinctiveness" were key elements. This political mobilization, in turn, created a dominant linguistic market in Nunavik in which French, English, and Inuktitut would now compete. This situation is paralleled somewhat in the Cree territory of Arctic Quebec, where material resources obtained through the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement have been allocated for the maintenance of the minority languages. These policies, which include indigenous language programmes in schools and hunters' support programmes, are intended, at least in part, to help maintain "cultural distinctiveness" and a "traditional" alternative economy, which constructs "Inuitness" and "Creeness" in terms of local community practices. Mobilization by Inuit and Cree in Quebec has rallied around the land claims agreement and subsequent negotiations as a way of gaining the environmental safeguards and revenues necessary to control their lands and to play a greater role in the modern Quebec economy. This mobilization has thus created greater financial resources to preserve local harvesting practices and other "traditional" activities that define "Inuitness" and "Creeness". It has also provided institutionalized roles for Inuktitut and Cree in the dominant market. In Nunavik, institutionalization has increased the need for the standardization of Inuktitut and for the unification of Inuit within

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Nunavik. Understanding these unifying practices, and local resistance to them, means understanding the value of language varieties and their place in the cultural, political, and economic realities of Inuit. At the local level, this tension between language forms and the values attached to them is played out in the school and the everyday language practices of local residents. In this study, I have sought to analyze this tension between legitimate language use and everyday practices by investigating, by means of a language survey and ethnographic observation, the value of certain languages as used by various speakers in different settings. While the language survey data confirm the importance of Inuktitut in various domains, such as the home, workplace, and community, they also reveal relatively high levels of English language proficiency among Inuit born before 1950 and high levels of English language use in the workplace. In contrast, the use of French was confined almost exclusively to younger speakers, and their levels of French were considerably lower than those of English among their English-speaking counterparts, and comparable to the level of Cree among older Inuit who knew the language. The survey data provide us with a useful but admittedly limited view of the population and their access to languages valued in the dominant and alternative markets. Ethnographic observaion and interview data thus served the key role of supplementing these survey results, providing more detail about the use of Inuktitut, English, and French in various domains. The ethnographic component of the study included an analysis of the dominant language market, characterizing this market in terms of the languages valued in the workplace, where symbolic resources are most directly exchanged for material ones. One aspect of the language market that the study explored was the transitional status of French there. Interviews with employers and employees at various workplaces revealed what appear to be symbolic gestures acknowledging the importance of French rather than actual requirements that Inuit employees speak the language. What this has meant is that French has often been asked for, but not actually required of an Inuk employee on the job. What is more, Francophone employees of Quebec government offices or private enterprises have often pushed for English translations of documents and other work-related material coming from the South, in order to accommodate non-French-speaking employees. The delicate position of Nunavik within the Quebec state, as an Inuit nation moving toward self-government within Canada and Quebec, seems to necessitate this sort of accommodation of English from southern French-speaking offices.

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Ethnographic study has further revealed how particular language practices serve to construct ethnic boundaries and social groups. Within these boundaries, particular forms of Inuit, Québécois, and Anglo-Canadian ethnic identities are constructed, and the values of certain material and symbolic resources are defined. In other words, ethnicities emerge within these socially constructed groups, these ethnicities being defined and maintained through the negotiation of the cultural, social, and economic values of resources ranging from friendship networks to harvested food. The values of the symbolic resources represented by Inuktitut, Cree, French, and English are thus determined as much by the respective positions of these languages within the political economy as by the values accorded to them by various speakers and social groups. Thus symbolic resources are accorded values based not only on their exchange value in the workplace —although this determines a large part of their value in the dominant market—but also on the social value of linguistic resources in negotiating ethnic identity, social solidarity, and the value of goods, such as whales and fish, that are part of the everyday cultural practices that characterize local life. The current construction, maintenance, and transformation of ethnic boundaries in Great Whale River are processes in which particular languages are assigned values. They are also processes that play a role in the continued use and maintenance of certain language varieties in the community. Language choice, as we have seen in this study, is involved in constructing boundaries, which can serve to include and exclude social players from particular groups and to define others as either Inuktitut speakers or French speakers. In turn, these processes create a distance between these groups, while at the same time promoting Inuktitut and French language use. Since English remains the lingua franca of Kuujjuarapik, unilingual English speakers are defined more by processes that exclude them—that is, by the use of French or Inuktitut—than by their use of linguistic resources to exclude others. Thus, while this group of Anglophones enjoys a position of power through their access to the dominant language in Great Whale River, they are excluded from French- and Inuktitut-speaking groups, and hence have no influence over the way in which the resources valued by these groups are defined and controlled. Power is, in this respect, negotiated through language choice: resources are defined and controlled by social groups, which articulate particular forms of ethnicity and thereby assign particular values to these resources, in part through the language choices that they make.

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conclusions

In Nunavik, French, Inuktitut, and English are currently competing for access to the same material and symbolic resources, each negotiating a place of importance in the verbal repertoires of speakers. Depending on the circumstances, friendship and solidarity might outweigh a desire for economic advancement and hence influence language choices in everyday settings. In this study, I have provided examples of delicate negotiations of social relationships in which the use of Inuktitut or English has been favoured over French. As regards French, I have argued that it has a transitional status in Great Whale River. That is, although French is the language of state, private enterprise, and administration in the province, it has not gained the position of dominance that one might expect in this multilingual community. Only time will tell whether French achieves greater acceptance as a language of intercultural communication and the social constraints on its use change. The social conditions necessary for such a change might include increased numbers of students enrolled in French classrooms, a greater economic influence of Quebec in North America, and a resolution to the larger political question of the status of Quebec and French within Canada. An important goal of this study has been to gain a better understanding of why certain languages have persisted in Great Whale River and how power has been linked to particular language varieties and forms of ethnicity. We have seen how historical, political, economic, and social processes are linked to linguistic and cultural practices, through forms of dominance and resistance; and how they have played a role in the persistence of particular social groups and forms of ethnicity over others. In this study, resistance has been seen as a product of the particular colonial history of Arctic Quebec. It is linked to the more recent political mobilization of the Inuit and access to the resources needed to support minority languages, as provided by the 1975 JBNQA land claims settlement. This support has been most noticeable in the development of various institutional domains of language use. Among these domains are local and regional governments and the school, which legitimize particular forms of language use. The school has also fostered language standardization and the development of language curricula. Each of these domains is thus an integral part of the larger historical and political economic picture of language use. Changes in these domains, as described above, thus reflect the results of both accommodation and organized resistance to the cultural, ideological, and economic dominance of English and French in Arctic Quebec.

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2. Implications of the study In this ethnography, I have tried to demonstrate how language is valued and why language issues have become so important to so many Inuktitut-speakers in Arctic Quebec. This study has sought to understand the historical complexity of settlement along the Hudson Bay coast and the role of language choice in structuring the patterns and politics of interaction, and in constructing ethnic and social groups. It has also documented Inuit perceptions of their use of languages in various domains, in addition to investigating how and why Inuktitut is valued by its speakers. In the Eastern Canadian Arctic, Inuktitut is still linked to notions of cultural identity and Inuit "peoplehood", as demonstrated in recent political movements for regional governance and the assertion of aboriginal rights under Canadian law. Language and politics have thus become intertwined, and consciousness-raising about language has gone hand in hand with the movement for increased Inuit autonomy within Canada. Language is thus an important issue, both culturally and institutionally. As such, it is often noted as a key element—albeit just one among many—in the construction of Inuit identities. While one can be ethnically self-identified and identified by others as being Inuk without speaking Inuktitut, the cultural, political, and institutional strength of Inuktitut in Nunavik means that there are now very few Inuit who do not speak the language. The ethnographic investigation described in this book adds support to the notion that Inuktitut will remain strong in Nunavik for some time. This is based, in part, on the complex interplay of French and English in this region and on the relation of these two dominant languages to Inuktitut. The ethnographic description of the use and social positioning of Inuktitut, French, English, and to a lesser extent, Cree, in institutional, economic, and everyday interactional settings shows the complex social organization of language in a multilingual community. The results of this investigation suggest that social "difference" does not necessarily translate into social inequality; that "ethnicity" is not composed of unifying, absolutist elements, traits, or dispositions; and that subjectivities and social identities are constructed by means of complex processes, in which language choice plays an important role. As such, this study might be of use to those who wish to understand and respond to the local concerns of Inuit and non-Inuit regarding the role of language education and language issues in Nunavik. Although this ethnographic study does not offer a definitive answer to the question of how and why Inuktitut persists, it does offer insight

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into the social life of language in the daily interactions of speakers. More specifically, it provides access to both macro and micro levels of analysis and how these are related in everyday encounters between members of various social groups. Among the questions about Nunavik that can be better understood on the approach taken here are: Why is Inuktitut taught in schools? Why is maintaining this language so important to speakers? How and why are French and English valued among the residents of Nunavik? Who speaks what languages to whom and why? And what are the consequences of these choices for the sociolinguistic landscape of Arctic Quebec? From a more theoretical angle, this ethnographic study has also shed light on some of the social, political, and economic aspects of the ability of certain minority languages to persist against a backdrop of colonial domination and twenty-first-century globalization. One of the implications of this ethnographic study is that interviews, observations, and survey data can help Native and non-Native people alike to better understand how multilingualism operates in Nunavik. In Nunavik communities, French, English, and Inuktitut are considered to be crucial for future generations of Inuit. The current situation of these languages, as we have seen, is the result of Inuit resistance to Anglo assimilation over time, the sociopolitical ramifications of Nunavik's geographical location in Quebec, and the effect of Inuit politics on language policy in the 1970s and in turn on resource allocation to language programmes in the schools. These sociohistorical circumstances also figure in the remarks of Inuit and non-Native residents of Kuujjuarapik regarding their attitudes toward language learning and the importance of multilingualism in their community. The kind of investigation pursued in this study might also lead to a greater understanding of sociolinguistic processes, including the formation of language ideologies and the process of language standardization. In any language community, language varieties will be accorded different values by local speakers. The role of standardization is particularly relevant here, since it plays a key role in the formation of institutional structures and in the modernization of the North. The standardization of Inuktitut has legitimized this language in Nunavik and has been closely linked to the development of language programmes in schools. The success of this process—as indicated by the appearance of Inuktitut in government publications and by the high rates of Inuktitut literacy among young Inuit—is the result of a combination of social factors. Inuit culture and identity are rooted in the historical and geographical circumstances of the Inuit people. Inuktitut is also strongly

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linked to place, history, and the cultural practices that characterize local life. These strong attachments to land, language, and culture are now drawn upon in contemporary political struggles—struggles which pursue common benefits for Inuit, including the cultural and social well-being of communities and economic advancement. These attachments to language, identity, and political process also manifest themselves in the tacit Inuit acceptance of the modernization of Inuktitut and the drive to secure its place in modern institutions. This tacit support for the institutionalization of Inuktitut and its competition with English and French in the modern political economy has been crucial to Inuktitut language maintenance. The ethnographic investigation undertaken in this study has also shed light on the development of language policy and on the social effects of this policy. In northern Quebec, political and economic processes have promoted, maintained, and given political and social meanings to English, French, Inuktitut, and Cree. While English has been in a position of dominance, French, Inuktitut, and Cree have each been the objects of language legislation initiated by the governments respectively concerned with these languages. It is only through an examination of what languages people speak and what people do with language that we can begin to see what effects, if any, language policy has on everyday language practices. The language survey and ethnographic investigation of language use described in this study can be seen as steps in the direction of a fuller understanding of such effects. Significantly, this study has implications for an understanding of the mechanisms involved in the persistence of minority languages and for a sociolinguistic theory of language "survival". By means of an investigation of the social processes at both macro and micro levels of analysis, we have seen how Inuktitut language maintenance is crucially dependent on social, cultural, political, and economic values attached to Inuktitut, Cree, English, and French. These values are clearly linked, yet distinguishable, and include the maintenance of social networks and cultural practices that shape various kinds of Native and non-Native identities. For the Inuit, Inuktitut, French, and English can be used to accommodate to a rapidly changing world or to resist any measure that could undermine "Inuit" identity. This resistance includes personal and community commitments to continue the cultural practices associated with harvesting game and Inuit ways of life. It also includes supporting contemporary political and economic means to maintain the supply of harvested game. This can be achieved through the provision of financial resources both to protect the environment and to supply

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hunters, fishers, and their families with the equipment and means to continue harvesting. The real work of language maintenance takes place at the level of social networks and daily interaction. In close-knit social networks, especially those that are structured around ethnicity, language can be a key factor in defining groups. At the micro level of analysis we have examined the complex interaction between four languages in Great Whale River, these languages being used either to level or to maintain ethnic boundaries. Individual language choices are often linked to constraints imposed by peer and other social groups, including those related to the maintenance of social solidarity. These language choices in turn are linked to the historical and political specificity of Great Whale River and the values attached to Inuktitut, as mentioned above. In this study, we have seen how sociolinguistic rules that operate in peer groups and other social networks have played a major role in language maintenance. At the time that this research was being carried out, in the early 1990s, two speakers of the same first language meeting in Great Whale River almost invariably spoke in that language, even if they shared a second (or third) language. That is, two Inuktitutspeakers would speak Inuktitut and two Francophones French, even if each also spoke English. This sociolinguistic pattern was observed across all types of networks and settings. One can speculate that as long as these sociolinguistic rules of language use persist—even if, as noted in chapter 5, the pattern just described is now exemplified among young adults in Nunavut only in their interactions with young children—Inuktitut will remain viable. Yet such patterns, crucially, do not operate independently of the larger historical, social, and political context, which shapes language attitudes, prestige, and policy; and the maintenance of Inuktitut is inextricably linked to this context. In other words, Inuktitut language maintenance in Great Whale River must be seen as linked to its role (1) in consolidating social solidarity through local social networks; (2) in structuring and maintaining cultural practices and local ideologies related to Inuit values, beliefs, and practices; (3) in Inuit political mobilization, where language has been taken up as an element in the construction and legitimization of Inuit "difference" and traditional rights to the land; and finally, (4) in the local "traditional" harvesting economy and in certain forms of employment in the wage economy. Given the history of language shift in other Arctic settlements and the language survey and ethnographic data that we have examined, all of these factors appear to be important. However, we might speculate that it is the increased use of Inuktitut in this last domain that would most reliably ensure its

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215

survival in modern Inuit communities. This is because politics, identity, and language learning have become linked to both traditional and modern economic pursuits. Perhaps most important to the survival of Inuktitut are the speakers themselves and the feelings that they have about their language. Such feelings reflect an individual's attachment to her or his ethnic identity, origins, and position in the social world. For many Inuit, language is linked to the land, history, community, and family, which have endured for generations. The Inuit of Nunavik are in a fortunate position sociolinguistically: they have both political and economic structures to promote their language institutionally, and locally based movements to work against the marginalization of Inuktitut in the face of greater English and French dominance. More importantly, they can also promote multilingualism and claim French, English, and Inuktitut as their languages, all three of them crucial to their future in Nunavik, Canada, and the world.

Notes 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6. 7.

8. 9.

In this study, I will be using Inuktitut to refer to the language of the Inuit unless quoting from a source that uses Inuttitut, the other transliteration currently in use (which is especially common in northern Quebec). The number of Inuit in Quebec according to the 1996 census was 8,300. This figure rose to 9,535 (21% of the total Inuit population in Canada) in 2001 and continues to grow rapidly. A report on Inuit health by Health Canada (www.hc-sc.gc.ca) notes that sixty percent of the Inuit population is under the age of 25. The median age of Quebec Inuit was 19.0 in 2001, while the Canadian non-Aboriginal median was 37.7. In 1991 there were 38,000 Inuit in Canada (although not all of them were Inuktitut speakers). This figure rose to 45,070 in 2001 and is expected to increase to 60,300 by 2016. For a description of the status of Aboriginal languages in Canada and an estimate of the number of speakers of these languages in the 1990s, see Drapeau (1998). Some of these forces derive from Canadian federal policy initiatives and could be aptly characterized as "internal colonialism" as described in Brody (1975) and Paine (1977). (See especially Paine's description of "welfare colonialism" (1977: 7-28)). In this book, I take the term colonialism to refer to the colonial processes both before and after the Second World War. Thus, I understand the social and economic policies and practices associated with "internal colonialism" —i.e. Euro-Canadian and Euro-American contact with the Inuit after the Second World War— as a continuation of the earlier forms of colonialism that brought the Inuit into a world system of trade and created profound socioeconomic change. The colonial policies and practices in question include those that brought the Inuit into the fur trade and led to widespread destitution when the fur trade collapsed; the actions of the Canadian government in promoting Canadian sovereignty during the Cold War, which led to the forced sedentarization and increased consumerism, and the introduction of formal schooling and a southern Canadian justice system into Inuit communities. An example of this levelling of racial boundaries and unequal power relations is demonstrated in the "anti-racist" communication described by Hewitt (1986) and Rampton (1995). For a detailed discussion of this notion, see Eagleton (1991). One sociolinguistic study of Kuujjuarapik, which concerned language use and language choice in this community, was conducted by Johanne Seguin in 1979. This study, however, was never published and, to my knowledge, remains unavailable. Louis-Jacques Dorais, personal communication. Interestingly, Kuujjuarapik has also been home to various mixed Native households. During my time in the community, there were eight Cree women

218

10 .

11. 12. 13. 14.

15. 16.

17.

18.

19.

Notes married to Inuit men and one English-speaking man of mixed Inuk-Cree parentage, who did not speak Inuktitut. It is interesting to note that the suffix -vik in the word Nunavik is different from the suffix -vik in a word like Kativik. The former -vik (or -pik when following a consonant) means 'big' and is not very productive. It is found in only a few lexicalized combinations, especially in the names of people or places, such as Inuvik 'big Inuk' and kappiaartuvik 'the big fearful place' (i.e. 'hell'). In contrast, the -vik suffix used in Kativik, which means 'place', can be attached only to verbal stems, as in the following words: illinniavik 'the place where one studies' (i.e. 'school') and aanniavik 'the place where one is sick' (i.e. 'hospital'). Taamusi Qumaq, the author of the Inuit dictionary Inuit Uqausillaringit, defines Nunavik as Νuna angijuq, i.e., 'a land which is so big' (Louis-Jacques Dorais, personal communication). On the link between the Inuit syllabary and identity, see Shearwood (2001). What follows is based on Patrick and Shearwood (1999). The Cree School Board in Quebec introduced a similar week-long "goose break". Roméo Saganash, a lawyer and spokesperson for the Grand Council of the Cree of Quebec, noted in an interview with the Montreal La Presse journalist Nathalie Petrowski (2001) that in 1969, at the age of seven, he was taken from his reserve home in Waswanipi along with 26 other Cree to La Tuque, Quebec, where they attended French school while residing in an Englishspeaking Anglican residence. This French programme was abandoned the following year, although these 27 children did finish their schooling in French. In 1982, the Canadian constitution was repatriated without the consent of Quebec. For a detailed investigation of Arctic colonial history from a rather different perspective—one that emphasizes the development of class relations—see Mitchell (1996). This area included vast territories extending from Labrador to the Rocky Mountains and from the Red River settlements to the northern Hudson Bay. The area was named after Prince Rupert, a cousin of King Charles II of England and the first governor of the Hudson's Bay Company. The sources for this section are Graburn (1969: 78-86); Honigmann (1962); and Francis and Morantz (1983). All rely on Hudson's Bay Company records as sources of information. At times, however, dates are inconsistent across these different sources. In these cases, I have relied on Francis and Morantz, since its focus is the history of the fur trade. Interviewees are identified by their position in the community and by their gender (F or M). Interviews published by the Avataq Cultural Institute are indicated by Ά ' . It should be noted that while gender does not figure prominently in the historical analysis to follow, it is significant with respect to the domains of cultural practices, such as hunting and the gathering of sea creatures, and is particularly relevant in the narratives and discussion of twentieth-century hardships.

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20. The Moravians first established outposts in Labrador in the 1770s; these had the dual purpose of establishing trade and bringing Christianity to the region. The missionaries also laid the groundwork for the writing of an Eskimo grammar in the early nineteenth century, which the Anglican missionary Rev. James Peck was able to use in his own writings and translations of English into Inuktitut. 21. Udgarten is mentioned in some of the elder narratives recorded during fieldwork for this study; see note 29 and the excerpts of these narratives in chapter 3, section 2.5 and in chapter 4, section 3. 22. There were instances of traders attacking Cree further south at Fort George, after the North West Company entered into competition with the Hudson's Bay Company in 1805-1806. These attacks on Cree by the North West Company traders were used to deter Cree from trading with the Hudson's Bay Company (see Francis and Morantz 1983: 108-109). 23. Although the Cree appear to have sided with the post, at times they also engaged in passive forms of resistance, such as preferring to hunt caribou for food and clothing rather than trapping marten and beaver for the trader. On this, see Francis and Morantz (1983). 24. Although the precise means by which the Inuit were brought into the fur trade is not known, it is reasonable to assume that they were offered gifts (brandy or other goods), as was the usual practice of the Hudson's Bay Company until 1865 (see Francis and Morantz 1983: 169). 25. Although missionaries were not always excluded from profit-making. As Bitterli (1989: 47) notes, there is some disagreement "as to how far the missionaries operated a sideline as profit-oriented traders", although the degree to which they did so "no doubt... varied from place to place". 26. Peck consistently refers to Inuit and their language as "Esquimeaux", which he often shortens in his journals to "Esqx". 27. The syllabic systems of Cree and Inuktitut are similar but not identical: because the phonological system of Cree is different from that of Inuktitut, Cree syllables are used in slightly different ways to represent the different sounds. They are therefore not mutually readable. 28. A UNESCO document (1976) states that literacy leads to good things like "increased productivity, a greater participation in civil life and a better understanding of the surrounding world; and should ultimately open the way to basic human knowledge" (UNESCO, in the British Committee on Literacy, 1976: iv, cited in Stairs 1990). 29. Radar sites were built at various points along the 55th parallel, including one other site in Quebec, namely Schefferville. 30. Although the specific aim of the family allowance program was to respond to children's needs, it is not clear that concerns regarding the use of family allowance monies were directed at other social groups in Canada or that the programme was monitored or regulated among other groups to the same extent as it was among the Inuit population. 31. Harold Udgarten (who is often referred to by his first name in elder narratives) was raised by a Métis mother and a Norwegian father in the James Bay region

220

32.

33.

34.

35.

36.

37.

38.

39.

Notes and moved to Kuujjuarapik as a Hudson's Bay Company employee. He married an Inuk woman, learned to speak fluent Inuktitut, Cree, and English, and became highly respected in the community. In the words of the translator, Harold "really protected Inuit from White people too, he even knew where women were when they were picking berries to keep an eye on them, he didn't want them to go too far." Recent negotiations in Nunavik to achieve increased autonomy provide an example of the link between political process and economic benefits from resource development. In a document entitled Amiiqqaaluta/Let us share: Mapping the road toward a government for Nunavik (March 2001), the Nunavik government is described as a "public form of government founded on a territorial base... [where] rents and royalties could be the main source of self-revenue in a sparsely-populated area" (p. 37). The amount of economic rent or royalty would depend on the development, whether it be a small-size outfitting camp or a major mining or hydroelectric project. On the history of French-English relations in Quebec and the development of French language policies and the French bureaucracy in the 1960s and 1970s see Amopoulos and Clift (1984) and Levine (1990). The claim that Inuit occupied the territory for centuries does not necessarily apply to all of the land currently referred to as Nunavik. For example, the Inuit settled on the mainland around Kuujjuarapik only in the nineteenth century. See chapter 1, section 1.2 for an explanation of this settlement history. There are fifteen Inuit communities if we include Chisasibi, which has a small Inuit population. Some members of this community moved to Kuujjuarapik when the island community of Fort George was relocated to the mainland in the early 1980s, as a result of the environmental effects of hydroelectric development on La Grande River. The aim of preserving "traditional" harvesting and land resources in the James Bay Agreement has often been ignored in the media, which have tended to focus on the large financial compensation involved in this agreement (see Patrick and Armitage 2001). Interestingly, by the academic year 2002-2003, the number of children enrolled in the English stream in Kuujjuarapik had increased, while in other Nunavik communities French had become the more popular school choice. This difference between communities seemed to depend on the popularity of certain teachers in the different streams (personal communication from a school board employee). There was one case of a mixed couple: a Francophone woman was married to an Inuk man. However, they had no children and used English in the home when communicating with each other. A. F. Applewhite, who taught in Inukjuak from 1954 to 1957, noted that his students "didn't speak much English —actually refused—although most of them understood English. They could read quite well. They could read words, but I never really knew if they could understand what they read. There seemed to be an underlying feeling that they didn't really want to learn English.

Notes

40.

41.

42.

43.

44.

45.

46. 47.

48.

49.

221

However, they really did quite well in mathematical skills and language skills. Speaking English wasn't one of the things that they could do, or wanted to do" (A. F. Applewhite, in Macpherson and Macpherson 1991: 76). The community of Puvirnituq, on the northern Hudson Bay coast, is often colloquially referred to as P.O.V. (based on an older transliteration of the name as Povungnituk). Language often plays a gate-keeping role in important contexts, such as interviews for jobs and social services, testimony, counselling, and so forth (see e.g. Erickson and Schulz 1982). In such contexts, decisions are made which have serious consequences for an individual's future. In Arctic Quebec, perceived low proficiency in French can prevent local Inuit from obtaining employment and reduce their options for upward mobility. The most common type of transient work is in construction. Francophone labourers may arrive in the summer, in which case they greatly increase the population of the settlement. In Kuujuarapik, as perhaps in other larger, multilingual communities, some radio personnel may use English phrases in their broadcasting—although this is not usual practice and appears to reflect the idiosyncrasies of particular broadcasters. While Inuit in Kuujjuarapik appear reluctant to use French, I found that in the smaller community of Quaqtaq, where English is not so widely used, many young people educated in French addressed Francophone teachers in French outside of class. During my stay there, I also had occasion to observe an Inuk woman using French with the Francophone judge and lawyers throughout a hearing of the "travelling court". The postmaster in Kuujjuarapik also commented on a rise in the use of French in the more northern communities along the Hudson Bay coast. A high school teacher in Great Whale River also reported that young mothers who were former students of hers would, when coming to visit her with their babies, use some English with them. However, in these cases English use was not systematic, and my own observations did not support this finding. Detailed study of the Cree community was not a part of the research for this book and awaits further investigation. This use of Inuktitut in Kuujjuarapik appears to be paralleled by the use of Cree in Whapmagoostui—although more systematic observation of Cree use is needed to verify this. Because of the relatively high birth rate among Inuit and the large influx of newcomers to the capital of Nunavut, the population figures has continued to increase from year to year. 6000 is an approximate figure based on recent census data. It should be noted that in smaller communities, even less English is heard. This may be because of the importance of social solidarity and the social costs associated with speaking a dominant language, just as we have seen in Kuujjuarapik. At least for the time being, then, these factors, together with relatively small non-Native populations, appear to militate against an increased use of English or French in these communities,

222

Notes

50. These concerns about Inuktitut language requirements, particularly in the mining sector, have been brought up in recent annual meetings of the Makivik Corporation. However, language policy that would promote Inuktitut is limited to "the predominant use of Inuttitut in the operation of the Nunavik Government and other public institutions of Nunavik" (as outlined in the Nunavik self-government negotiations, Nunavik Commission 2001). 51. In other Arctic and sub-Arctic regions of Canada, Euro-Canadians might have greater "historical" connections to the land and to subsistence living and as such identify more with this reality. However, in Northern Quebec, the nonNative population is largely a transient one; this would tend to militate against their identification with the indigenous population in this historical sense. 52. See Mitchell (1996) for a detailed analysis of the association between class relations and land claims settlements, and especially pp. 449^152 for discussion of the rise of an Inuit elite and its subordinate position in the Canadian class system. 53. For a discussion of how Kuujjuarapik and Poste-de-la-Baleine are distinguished from each other in this study, see chapter 2, section 1. 54. One such conflict arose in the summer of 1993, when the Sûreté du Québec, the Quebec provincial police force, brought in a large number of armed officers to deal with an Inuk man who had armed himself with a rifle and refused to leave his apartment. Many local people considered the use of heavy reinforcements to be an overreaction. They remarked that the man in question had no history of violence and that his father might have been of greater help in defusing this situation than armed police officers. 55. For a discussion of the role of language in the workplaces of Great Whale River, see chapter 4. 56. This is not to say that language is the only element in constructing group identities, but rather that language use becomes salient in defining the broader ethnic group boundaries in this community, given the specific social, historical, and political context of this region. 57. These observations suggest that Inuit children and adolescents may be far more at home in Inuktitut than in English. This conclusion is supported by one observation I made about the eight-year-old boy I lived with, who had received Inuktitut-language instruction for the first three years of his schooling. This was that he readily consulted the Inuktitut telephone book to find the number for the gymnasium, rather than simply asking someone for it. This indicates that his ability to read Inuktitut was quite strong. 58. Such views, as expressed by older Inuit, may be based on the perception that social change has brought with it more English-Inuktitut bilingualism, more English use in intercultural encounters, and perhaps more frequent use of English expressions, such as those that I mentioned. But this perception also reflects ideologies of language purism, which are prevalent in other language communities as well—particularly among older speakers who are critical of the speech of young people.

Notes 59.

223

In fact, it is impossible for nursing staff to know whether a child is studying in French or in English unless they have obtained this knowledge elsewhere. My own observations suggested that even a child studying in French would not always say so when asked directly in French. Even school teachers sometimes had difficulty keeping track of which children were in the English and which in the French stream. This became clear to me when two upperlevel French teachers chose not to engage in a French conversation with me while William was present, obviously not knowing that he was in the French stream. 60. At the time of my fieldwork, Inuit and Cree were involved in a struggle to halt the construction of a hydroelectric dam and the diversion of the Great Whale River. This project was supported by Hydro-Québec and the Quebec government and at the time of my study was subject to a controversial environmental review. See chapter 2, section 3 for discussion. 61. On the importance of fat in indigenous cultural views of health, see Adelson (2000). 62. See Adelson (2000) for a cultural account of the Cree diet and concepts of health and well-being.

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Appendix

Map 1. The region of Nunavik (source: Makivik Corporation)

244

Appendix

ESKIMO TENTS

INO! ANS

PORT HARRISON

L NESTAPOKA SOUND

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^ L E

MM*

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RUPERT

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Map 2. The James Bay District in 1949, with inset of Great Whale River post (source: Honigmann 1952: 511)

Appendix

Map 3. Nunavik and Nunavut (source: Makivik Corporation)

245

246

Appendix

Figure 1. Survey results: Speaking, understanding, reading, and writing abilities

Appendix

Figure 2. Survey results: Language abilities by age group

248

Appendix

Figure 3. Survey results: Use of languages in various domains

Appendix

Figure 4. Survey results: Use of languages at work

249

250

Appendix

Figure 5. Survey results: Importance of languages for gaining employment

Appendix

Figure 6. Survey results: Hours spent watching television in each language

251

252

Appendix s

b > m v s f c > s b>r'T k LANGUAGE SURVEY

b I W e

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L

s

d ^^s>n % u c

Kativik School Board: Kuujjuaraapik Language Survey

Project Coordinators: Donna Patrick

ta.

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