The Politics of Researching Multilingually 9781800410152

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The Politics of Researching Multilingually

RESEARCHING MULTILINGUALLY Series Editors: Prue Holmes, Durham University, UK, Richard Fay, University of Manchester, UK and Jane Andrews, University of the West of England, UK Consulting Editor: Alison Phipps, University of Glasgow, UK The increasingly diverse character of many societies means that many researchers may now find themselves engaging with multilingual opportunities and complexities as they design, carry out and disseminate their research. This may be the case regardless of whether or not there is an explicit language and multilingual aspect to their research. This book series proposes to address the methodological, practical, ethical and other options and dilemmas that researchers face as they go about their research. How do they design their research methodology to account for multilingual possibilities and practices? How do they manage such linguistic complexities in the research domain? What are the implications for their research outcomes? Research methods training programmes only rarely address these questions and there is, as yet, only a limited literature available. This series proposes to establish a new track of theoretical, methodological, and ethical researcher praxis that researchers can draw upon in research(er) contexts where multiple languages are at play or might be purposefully used. In particular, the series proposes to offer critical and interpretive perspectives on research practices and endeavours in interand multi-disciplinary contexts and especially where languages, and the people speaking and using them, are under pressure, pain, and tension. All books in this series are externally peer-reviewed. Full details of all the books in this series and of all our other publications can be found on http://www.multilingual-matters.com, or by writing to Multilingual Matters, St Nicholas House, 31–34 High Street, Bristol, BS1 2AW, UK.

RESEARCHING MULTILINGUALLY: 6

The Politics of Researching Multilingually Edited by

Prue Holmes, Judith Reynolds and Sara Ganassin

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS Bristol • Jackson

DOI https://doi.org/10.21832/HOLMES0145 Names: Holmes, Prue, editor. | Reynolds, Judith, editor. | Ganassin, Sara, editor. Title: The Politics of Researching Multilingually/Edited by Prue Holmes, Judith Reynolds and Sara Ganassin. Description: Bristol; Jackson: Multilingual Matters, 2022. | Series: Researching Multilingually: 6 | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “This book offers a unique understanding of how researchers’ linguistic resources, and the languages they use, are politically and structurally constrained, with implications for the reliability of the research. The book will help readers to make theoretically and methodologically informed choices about the political dimensions of their research”—Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2021049839 (print) | LCCN 2021049840 (ebook) | ISBN 9781800410138 (paperback) | ISBN 9781800410145 (hardback) | ISBN 9781800410152 (pdf) | ISBN 9781800410169 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Multilingualism—Research—Methodology. | Multilingualism--Political aspects. | LCGFT: Essays. Classification: LCC P115 .P577 2022 (print) | LCC P115 (ebook) | DDC 404/.2072—dc23/eng/20211203 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021049839 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021049840 Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue entry for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN-13: 978-1-80041-014-5 (hbk) ISBN-13: 978-1-80041-013-8 (pbk) Multilingual Matters UK: St Nicholas House, 31–34 High Street, Bristol, BS1 2AW, UK. USA: Ingram, Jackson, TN, USA. Website: www.multilingual-matters.com Twitter: Multi_Ling_Mat Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/multilingualmatters Blog: www.channelviewpublications.wordpress.com Copyright © 2022 Prue Holmes, Judith Reynolds, Sara Ganassin and the authors of individual chapters. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. The policy of Multilingual Matters/Channel View Publications is to use papers that are natural, renewable and recyclable products, made from wood grown in sustainable forests. In the manufacturing process of our books, and to further support our policy, preference is given to printers that have FSC and PEFC Chain of Custody certification. The FSC and/or PEFC logos will appear on those books where full certification has been granted to the printer concerned. Typeset by SAN Publishing Services. Printed and bound in the UK by the CPI Books Group Ltd.

Contents

Acknowledgements Contributors

ix xi



Foreword: Towards a Reparatory Politics of Researching Multilinguallyxvii Alison Phipps



Introduction: The Imperative for the Politics of ‘Researching Multilingually’ Prue Holmes, Judith Reynolds and Sara Ganassin

1

Part 1: Hegemonic Structures 1 Linguistic Hospitality and Listening through Interpreters: Critical Reflections and Recommendations on Linguistic Power Relationships in Multilingual Research Wine Tesseur 2 Multilingualism, Shifting Paradigms and the 21st Century: Negotiating Multilingual Research in Teams through the Lens of Complexity Shameem Oozeerally 3 Multilingual Researching, Translanguaging and Credibility in Qualitative Research: A Reflexive Account Lamia Nemouchi and Prue Holmes 4 Publish or Perish, publier ou périr? How Research Publication Language Choice is Shaped among Linguistics Early Career Researchers in France Adam Wilson

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Part 2: Power Relations 5 Conducting Multilingual Classroom Research with Refugee Children in Cyprus: Critically Reflecting on Methodological Decisions Alexandra Georgiou

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6 Voice and Power Relations: Researching Multilingually with Multilingual Children in Mauritian Pre-primary Schools Helina Hookoomsing 7 Challenges for Researchers Investigating Coloniality Multilingually in Complex Linguistic Contexts in the Caribbean Olga Camila Hernández Morales and Anne-Marie de Mejía 8 Speaking Marathi Like a Punekar: Learning Class and Caste in India Jessica Chandras

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Part 3: Decolonizing Methodologies 9 Multilingual Research for New Social Realities: Towards a Transdisciplinary Approach Julie S. Byrd Clark and Sylvie Roy

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10 Transcribing (Multilingual) Voices: From Fieldwork to Publication 209 Erika Kalocsányiová and Malika Shatnawi 11 Interpreting Cognitive Justice: A Framework for Interpreters as Co-researchers in Postcolonial Multilingual Research Bridget Backhaus 12 Bilingual Theatre in British Sign Language and English: A Reflection on the Challenges Faced During a Doctoral Applied Theatre Project Michael Richardson

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Part 4: Decolonizing Languages 13 Translanguaging Pedagogy as Methodology: Leveraging the Linguistic and Cultural Repertoires of Researchers and Participants to Mutually Construct Meaning and Build Rapport Rebekah R. Gordon 14 Decolonizing Research through Translanguaging: Negotiating Practices with Multilingual Teachers in Colombia Rosa Alejandra Medina Riveros and Theresa Austin 15 The (Hidden) Politics of Language Choice in Research on Multilingualism: Moments of (Dis)Empowerment Liliane Meyer Pitton and Larissa Semiramis Schedel

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Contents vii

16 Speaking ‘No Language?’: Reflections on (Il)Legitimate Multilingualism from Fieldwork in Gagauzia Christiana Holsapple Afterword Prue Holmes, Judith Reynolds and Sara Ganassin

327 345

Index 353

Acknowledgements

We are especially grateful to all the contributors who gave their time to documenting processes of researching multilingually and who provided thoughtful and careful responses to our requests for revisions. In thanking our contributors, we must also acknowledge and thank the participants who engaged with the contributors’ research and enabled these reflective, reflexive and analytical processes to take place. Many of our contributors are doctoral and early career researchers engaged in working multilingually. They are an inspiration to other emerging researchers and doctoral students in their efforts to produce informative accounts of their researching multilingually processes. Our work in bringing ‘The politics of researching multilingually’ together into this publication has also been supported by many others. We extend our heartfelt thanks to the anonymous external reviewer and also to Jane Andrews and Richard Fay, the Researching Multilingually series editors, for their careful readings of the manuscript and their helpful and insightful comments and suggestions. We are grateful to Professor Alison Phipps for contributing the Foreword to our volume. As a researcher who embraces researching multilingually processes in her own work and from a political stance, and who has guided and followed our work, we appreciated her enthusiasm and support for this edited volume (and its title) from its inception. Along with Alison, we would also like to thank Mariam Attia and all the researchers involved in the two Researching Multilingually projects (AH/J005037/1 and AH/L006936/1), who, through workshops, discussions and other interactions, have helped to frame our thinking about the politics of researching multilingually over the past decade. We thank the Arts and Humanities Council for their generous funding of these projects, which has enabled us to develop our work, and the Theme Fellow of the ‘Translating Cultures’ theme, Charles Forsdick, who was always supportive of our work. We also thank Michael Byram for his encouragement from the start and the continued advice and support along the way. Our publisher, Multilingual Matters, has been continuously helpful in supporting this manuscript into publication and print. We thank Anna Roderick, Flo McClelland and the Multilingual Matters team who have made the publication process smooth and efficient. ix

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To you, our Readers, we hope that you will enjoy reading the contributors’ accounts and learn from their rich reflections, insights and processes of researching multilingually in undertaking your own research endeavours.

Contributors

Theresa Austin is a Professor in the College of Education at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. She draws on several critical sociocultural theories to examine language and literacy to formulate education policies and planning for multilingual learners and teacher education. Her research builds perspectives through examining the relationship between classroom and broader social contexts. Dr Austin engages in narrative inquiry, discursive analysis and ethnographic research in collaboration with teachers and students and other researchers who cross national boundaries for learning second and world languages and literacies (e.g. African American English, ESL/EFL, Spanish and Japanese). Bridget Backhaus is a Lecturer in journalism and media studies at Griffith University, Australia. A former community radio journalist and producer, her research explores the role of community media in social and environmental change with particular focus on issues of voice, listening, identity, and participation. Bridget is the author of Polyphony: Listening to the Listeners of Community Radio (Routledge, 2021). Julie S. Byrd Clark is a Professor of Language and Indigenous Education at the Faculty of Education of Western University in Ontario, Canada. Her areas of expertise are postmodern approaches for bi/multilingual education, sociolinguistics, discourse analysis and transpersonal ecopsychology. Her current work centres on the sociolinguistics of multilingualism, Indigeneity and the academy, as well as the development of critical awareness (reflexivity) in education. She is the author of Multilingualism, Citizenship and Identity (2011, Continuum/Bloomsbury). Jessica Chandras is a Visiting Assistant Professor of linguistic anthropology at Kenyon College. She received her PhD in 2019 in anthropology from the George Washington University. Her work explores the intersections of identity and multilingual education in urban India. She is a contributor and editor in the Footnotes Blog collective and Fieldworking blog while also working as the social media fellow and web commentary editor for the journal Critical Asian Studies. Sara Ganassin is a Lecturer in Applied Linguistics and Communication at Newcastle University (UK). She teaches, researches and supervises postgraduate students in intercultural communication and education, with a xi

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particular interest in migrant and refugee communities. She has published on internationalisation and mobility, on Chinese heritage language and on languages and research. Alexandra Georgiou is an Adjunct Lecturer in Education at the School of Human and Social Sciences at the University of West London. Her research focuses on inclusive education and multilingual teaching and learning drawing on sociocultural perspectives. She has been involved in numerous research projects working with multilingual and multicultural families and communities in the UK as well as with community-based organisations in Europe. Alexandra worked as a primary school teacher in London’s mainstream and Greek complementary schools. Rebekah R. Gordon is a PhD candidate in the Curriculum, Instruction and Teacher Education programme at Michigan State University (MSU). She received her bachelor’s degree in special education from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and her master’s degree in teaching English as a second language (TESOL) from St. Cloud State University in Minnesota. Rebekah teaches TESOL methods courses within MSU’s teacher preparation programme. Her current research focuses on the experiences of transnational language teachers as they negotiate their identities during and after sojourn teaching positions. Olga Camila Hernández Morales has a bachelor’s degree in Foreign Languages from Universidad Distrital Francisco José de Caldas, Bogotá, a master’s in Education from Universidad Pedagógica Nacional and a PhD in Education from Universidad de los Andes, Colombia. Her areas of research interest lie at the intersection of educational context, languages, culture, interculturality, identity and decolonial studies. Prue Holmes is a Professor of Intercultural Communication and Education, and Director of Research at the School of Education, Durham University, UK. Her research areas include critical intercultural pedagogies for intercultural communication, language and intercultural education, and multilingualism in research and doctoral education. Prue has worked on several international projects. She was the former chair of the International Association of Languages and Intercultural Communication (IALIC) and she is the lead editor of the Multilingual Matters book series Researching Multilingually. Christiana Holsapple is a PhD candidate in the Institute for Cultural Studies at the University of Tartu in Estonia. Her work explores experiences of belonging, linguistic practices, and use of identity categories in Gagauzia, particularly how they interplay with contemporary nation-building projects. Helina Hookoomsing is an academic in English at the Mauritius Institute of Education. She holds an MA in English literature from the University of Westminster and is currently studying for her PhD in ecolinguistics and

Contributors xiii

education with the University of Surrey. Her research interests include ecocritical discourse analysis, holistic education and meditation and mindfulness as contemplative practices in education. She is a published short-story and poetry writer in English and Mauritian Creole, who holds creative writing and performance workshops in Mauritius. Erika Kalocsányiová is a Research Fellow with the Institute for Lifecourse Development, University of Greenwich. She obtained her PhD in Linguistics at the University of Luxembourg in 2019. Erika’s research focuses primarily on the intersection of language, migration and integration. She has also been involved in research on multilingual pedagogies, adult language acquisition and the ability of language to reproduce or challenge social inequalities. Rosa Alejandra Medina Riveros has a PhD in Education: Language, Literacy and Culture from the University of Massachusetts Amherst. She is an affiliated researcher at Universidad Distrital Francisco Jose de Caldas and a member of the Lectoescrinautas Colciencias research group in Colombia. Anne-Marie de Mejía has a PhD in Linguistics from Lancaster University, UK and worked for many years at the School of Education at Universidad de los Andes, where she was Director of the Doctoral Programme in Education. Her main research areas are bilingualism, interculturalism, language policy and multilingual classroom practices. Liliane Meyer Pitton has been researching and working multilingually at the Universities of Neuchâtel, Tartu (MA) and Bern (PhD and postdoc) and within Switzerland’s federal and cantonal administrations. Her research is grounded within ethnographic sociolinguistics and focuses on ideologies of multilingualism and multilingual practices in private and institutional settings linked to migration and tourism. Her publications include articles in Multilingua, Langage et Société and Sociolinguistica, among others. Lamia Nemouchi is a PhD candidate in the School of Education, Durham University. Her research area is intercultural and foreign language education. She is investigating the use of literary texts as a pedagogical tool to develop intercultural communicative competence in an English as a Foreign Language (EFL) master’s course in Algeria. Shameem Oozeerally is an academic at the Mauritius Institute of Education. He holds a PhD in language studies from the University of Mauritius, and his research interests include epistemological and theoretical reconfigurations linked to research in multilingual landscapes. He is also interested in lexicography, complexity and ecolinguistics. Alison Phipps is UNESCO Chair in Refugee Integration through Languages and the Arts at the University of Glasgow and a Professor of Lan-

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guages and Intercultural Studies. She was De Carle Fellow at Otago University 2019, Distinguished Visiting Professor at the Waikato University, Aotearoa New Zealand 2013–2016, Thinker in Residence at the EU Hawke Centre, University of South Australia in 2016, Visiting Professor at Auckland University of Technology and Principal Investigator for AHRC Large Grant ‘Researching Multilingually at the Borders of Language, the body, law and the state’. She is now the co-director of the Global Challenges Research Fund South-South Migration Hub, MIDEQ and for the £2 Million Cultures of Sustainable Peace. She is an academic, activist and published poet. Judith Reynolds is Lecturer in Intercultural Communication in the Centre for Translation and Intercultural Studies at the University of Manchester, UK. She teaches and supervises in the areas of intercultural communication and research methods, and her research interests include intercultural and multilingual communication in professional and workplace contexts, legal-lay communication and ethics and reflexivity in research. Judith’s research investigates lawyer-client communication in asylum and immigration legal advice, using a linguistic ethnographic approach and drawing on the researching multilingually framework. Michael Richardson has recently successfully defended his PhD at HeriotWatt University. His research area is primarily deaf people and signed language in performance. He has published articles covering such topics as a Bourdieusian conceptualisation of deaf and hearing fields; bilingual theatre; deaf and hearing theatre; sign language interpreted performances and the significance of performance to interpreting practice. His book Youth Theatre, Drama for Life was published by Routledge in 2015. Sylvie Roy is a Professor at the Werklund School of Education, University of Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Her areas of expertise are sociolinguistics for change, teaching and learning a second language, discourse analysis, French immersion and bilingualism. Related to this work, Sylvie looks at macro and micro understanding of language issues, ideologies and discursive practices in French immersion contexts in Canada. In 2020, she wrote a book titled French Immersion Ideologies in Canada. Larissa Semiramis Schedel works as a postdoctoral researcher in multilingualism studies at the University of Bonn, Germany. She holds a PhD in critical sociolinguistics and linguistic anthropology from the University of Fribourg, Switzerland. Her research focuses on the commodification of language/multilingualism in the context of (language) tourism and on linguistic boundary-making processes on multilingual, globalised worksites. She currently conducts ethnographic research in the language travel industry in Malta and, among other things, explores the exploitation of language learners as a cheap labour force.

Contributors xv

Malika Shatnawi, PhD, is an Assistant Professor at College of Education, Humanities and Social Sciences, Al Ain University, Abu Dhabi, UAE. She holds a Master’s Degree of Arts in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL), a Master’s Degree of Arts in English Language, with specialisation in Translation, and a PhD in Educational Sciences from the University of Luxembourg. Malika has undertaken research in the area of transnational families, immigration studies, identity and multilingualism. Wine Tesseur is a Marie Skłodowska-Curie and Irish Research Council Fellow based at Dublin City University in the Centre for Translation and Textual Studies, where she is working on a CAROLINE fellowship titled ‘Translation as empowerment: Translation as a contributor to human rights in the Global South’. Her research is conducted in close collaboration with the Irish NGO GOAL. Previously, she was a postdoctoral researcher on the AHRC-funded project ‘The Listening Zones of NGOs’, led by the Universities or Reading and Portsmouth with INTRAC (Oxford). Her doctoral research dealt with translation policies and practices in Amnesty International (Aston University, 2015). Adam Wilson is an Assistant Professor (Maître de conferences) in the Department of Applied Foreign Languages at the Université de Lorraine (France) and member of the IDEA research group. His research focuses on ‘new’ sociolinguistic contexts linked to globalised forms of mobility, and especially tourism, transnational migration and higher education. He explores how linguistic and social aspects interact in these intense spaces of multilingualism and language contact with a special focus on social inequality.

Foreword: Towards a Reparatory Politics of Researching Multilingually Alison Phipps

But for educational purposes, as we have said, we must use tunes and modes too which have ethical value. (Aristotle, 1981) The Politics of Researching Multilingually sits firmly within the western tradition of scholarship. It takes concepts such as ethics, politics and poetics which have stalked the academies of the west since Plato opened his Academy and Aristotle wrote a treatise on these very subjects. The tradition of bringing critique to bear on the politics and political economies of research endeavours and their genealogies is an important element for determining the health of a discipline or field. Multilingual methods in research to critical scrutiny is nascent in the academy, but it too relies on the long-established framings of ethics, politics and poetics. The Politics of Researching Multilingually follows work led by Holmes et al. (2013) which highlighted critical questions of ethics and praxis in researching multilingually in the special issue of The International Journal of Applied Linguistics. In this work, the authors concluded: Questions concerning languages in theses, publications, and examinations point to the need for the decolonisation of the linguistic imperialism of English. Policy also needs to privilege multiple languages in the writing up of research so that researchers, researched, and the communities with which the research is concerned can all access the research. The work involved in offering critiques of the politics of researching multilingually is immense, not least as it involves discussion of language contexts ethically fraught and often linguistically remote from the traditional skills of the researcher. In particular, through its focus on multilingual communities and multilingual ideologies, this work pointed to xvii

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the multilingual needs presenting, for instance, amongst displaced peoples and in refugee determinations. It was prescient. The research since the inception of this work on researching multilingually (published in 2013) and in intercultural studies, and also across the arts, humanities and social sciences in general, has highlighted the need for researchers to be mindful of their linguistic resources, and those of others, in their research, especially in contexts of forced migration, conflict, occupation and economic marginalisation. It is even more pressing in the current context where research focuses on the needs, real and imagined, of refugees, and refugee policy worldwide. This example demonstrates the extent to which ideological underpinnings of research practice can have real-world consequences for how a range of situations are influenced by history, politics and education. This context calls for rethinking how knowledges are constructed and in what languages. Research in the arts, humanities and social sciences has also taken a turn towards other concerns which have transnational dimensions, not least international education, climate change, indigenous knowledges and international development. There are centuries of critique following from Aristotle’s work, but it is worth returning to this in this foreword to note the ways in which ethics, education and laws underscore attempts to change or form different habits. In The Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle (1976: 337) concludes his work with a treatise on ‘education in goodness’ and posits that this ‘is best undertaken by the state: “To obtain a right training for goodness from an early age is hard thing, unless one has been brought up under right laws”’. The Politics of Researching Multilingually is strongly focused on these habits; on the habits formed in the methods and disciplines of the academy through education, largely in the global north; on a critique of these hegemonic structures and power relations; on the need to decolonise methods and languages. As such we see the work before us grappling with the given habits of western state education and its implications for researchers’ multilingual praxis with regard to the politics of languages, which languages are taught, where and why; how translation and interpretation are privileged in certain contexts and not others; the role of sign language; and throughout, widening the lens of the polity to that of global citizenship, and of the non-citizenry in the body of indigenous and displaced peoples. In The Politics, Aristotle (1981) focuses on the associations of the State, the questions raised by democracy, the rights of ‘slave and free’, ‘gentleman and player’, management of the state and of the household ending, in music education as a discipline of body and mind. In his writing in both The Ethics and The Politics, a primacy is placed on education and education as provided by the state. This is well and good, but as the field of multilingual research and its methodologies are subject to critical

Foreword: Towards a Reparatory Politics of Researching Multilingually  xix

scrutiny and ethical concern, the tense question persists beneath the surface of who is free and who is enslaved. In The Politics of Researching Multilingually, this tension is explored by giving epistemological and methodological space to a view from southern contexts and therefore, while framed by those long standing conceptualisations, breaking with genealogies back to Aristotle. This choice is both an ethical and a political one. By taking a view from the south, and engaging distinctively with languages of the global south and southern epistemologies (Connell, 2007; Mignolo & Walsh, 2018; Santos, 2014), the authors in this volume are critically concerned with liberatory linguistic praxis, in documenting it, in analysing its valences and in offering trajectories which may serve both methodologically and politically at the levels of household, community and state. It is for this reason that weight is given in the book to critique of the categories which led to what Gramling (2016) has called ‘The Invention of Monolingualism’ and to the kinds of work already in play, including translanguaging, which deconstructs, decentres and otherwise privileges languages which are in a parlous situation, or have been devalued as capital and currency. If decoloniality is the process and project of building, shaping and enabling coloniality’s otherwise, interculturality […] is both a complimentary political, epistemic and existence-based project and an ­instrument and tool of decoloniality’s praxis. (Mignolo & Walsh, 2018: 57) Coloniality’s other-Wise are present in these pages. Knowledge is present not as an acquisitive production of the postcolony but as a critical, careful curation, held by speakers of many languages, and troubling the questions of liberation and language from many sides. The other-Wise are those who understand and can operate smoothly within the dictates of Empire and the vestiges of Empire, but also have reformed households and civic practices to enable research to be undertaken other-Wise too. This is a political and a Political project. Laws need to be made, and policies of multilinguality brought into the academy which have divested themselves of language departments and of languages. Lessons need to be learned from the constitutions of countries who have enabled indigenous and local languages to act as a medium for education, from Gaelic in Scotland, Welsh in Wales, Te Reo in Aotearoa New Zealand, to the constitution of South Africa with its formal recognition of 11 languages: Afrikaans, English, isiNdebele, isiXhosa, isiZulu, Sepedi, Sesotho, Setswana, siSwati, Tshivenda and Xitsonga. And lessons need to be learned in civic education, for the languages practiced in schools and in universities to be allowed a conviviality (Nyamnjoh, 2019) alongside those used by others. This book is timely. The debates within it can help navigate the legacies of colonialism and slavery at a time when there is a need for a

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steadiness of method and an approach to politics which listens to that which has been ignored, marginalised, disempowered and which has learned to be intercultural, perhaps one of the most pressing political human values of the day. Seek and learn to recognise who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space. (Calvino, 1979) References Aristotle (1976) The Nicomachean Ethics. London: Penguin. Aristotle (1981) The Politics. London: Penguin. Calvino, I. (1979) Invisible Cities. London: Picador. Connell, R. (2007) Southern Theory: The Global Dynamics of Knowledge in Social Science. London: Allen & Unwin. Gramling, D. (2016) The Invention of Monolingualism. New York and London: Bloomsbury. Holmes, P., Richard, F., Andrews, J. and Mariam, A. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23, 285–299. Merleau-Ponty, M. (2002) Phenomenology of Perception. London: Routledge. Mignolo, W.D. and Walsh, C.E. (2018) On Decoloniality: Concepts, Analytics, Praxis. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Nyamnjoh, F.B. (2019) Decolonising the University in Africa. Oxford Research Encyclopedia. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Santos, B.D.S. (2014) Epistemologies of the South: Justice against Epistemicide. London & New York: Routledge.

Introduction: The Imperative for the Politics of ‘Researching Multilingually’ Prue Holmes, Judith Reynolds and Sara Ganassin

Research now is increasingly multilingual, multidisciplinary and multinational, and often takes place in contexts where multiple languages are at play and are unequally positioned. There has been an increasing focus on how researchers harness, negotiate and manage their own linguistic resources and those of others in the research process (see Andrews et al., 2020; Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014; Creese & Blackledge, 2018; Holmes et al., 2013; Martin-Jones & Martin, 2017). However, Risager and Dervin (2015: 6) remarked that power relations and the role of languages and language hierarchies in the research process are seldom reflected upon by researchers, and in a sufficient manner, notably ‘in fieldwork, in interviews, in communication to different publics, including not least the role of translation and interpreting’ (see also Liddicoat, 2016, where the same point is made). Thus, the purpose of this edited research volume is to foreground researcher experiences of the political dimensions of such multilingual research work. How researchers understand the role of their own linguistic resources and the multilingual aspects of their research, and – important in our focus here – the political implications of the conscious and unconscious decisions they make regarding their linguistic resources, is salient in all aspects of research. We argue that researchers who are working within or across multiple languages must consider these issues when they are planning, developing, conducting and/or writing up their research. Whether or not researchers mobilise their linguistic resources (or those of others) may be impacted by institutional, contextual and interpersonal matters. For example, in contexts of forced migration resulting from poverty, precarity or conflict, languages and those who speak them may come into conflict with political regimes and/or other forms of structural power such as institutionalised language ideologies found within decision-making authorities 1

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(Blommaert, 2010). In research in such contexts, these languages risk being overlooked or their speakers silenced. Furthermore, the internationalisation of higher education has led to the recruitment of international faculty and doctoral researchers. Many of these researchers bring additional languages into the academic environment, often resulting in a research context rich in diverse researcher linguistic resources that are underacknowledged (Araújo e Sá et al., 2020; Robinson-Pant & Wolf, 2017; Singh, 2017), or disregarded, in the research process. Thus, when undertaking their research, researchers must make decisions about how they mobilise and manage their linguistic resources and those of others: which language(s) to use, when, where, by and with whom, and why. We call this process researching multilingually, defined as: how researchers conceptualise, understand, and make choices about generating, analysing, interpreting and reporting data when more than one language is involved – and the complex negotiated relationships between research and researched as they engaged with one another in multilingual sites. (Holmes et al., 2013: 297)

The process of researching multilingually, and decisions researchers must make about languages, may be influenced by multiple factors, for example: (i) the topic of the research; (ii) the contexts that shape the research; (iii) the relationships among the researcher and various stakeholders (e.g. supervisors and funders of the research, gatekeepers such as governmental officials, non-governmental groups/employees and other community groups who determine access to the research site, resources, texts and other artefacts); (iv) the language hierarchies in play in the research context and (v) the languages of dissemination, e.g. for participants and stakeholders in the community, in theses (in the dominant national language only, or in multiple languages) and in publications (e.g. in highimpact journals that are often published in English). In this sense, the decisions researchers make about which languages to employ in the research process, including decisions about drawing on their own linguistic resources in the research process, are as much politically influenced as they are culturally or relationally, and they require researcher awareness and reflection. Political Questions and Concerns When Researching Multilingually

The conditions identified above invite an examination of how researchers address and negotiate power relations, and the structural and hegemonic status of their linguistic and other communicative resources, and those of others, in their research context. They also require an exploration of the multilingual dimensions of research methodologies, the relationship between languages, language ideologies and colonisation,

Introduction: The Imperative for the Politics of ‘Researching Multilingually’  3

power relations, identity politics and structural hierarchies. This examination is important for all researchers in helping them to make more theoretically and methodologically informed choices about the political dimensions of languages in their research. In our call for chapters to this edited research volume, we invited researchers to investigate, theoretically and methodologically, the following key questions: • How do researchers deal with questions of power and privilege, and recognition and non-recognition of languages in the processes of their research, and in the contexts in which the research is undertaken, formed and disseminated? In these conditions, how do researchers make choices about, and draw on, their own and others’ (multiple) language resources through processes of translation and interpretation, languaging, translanguaging, linguistic preparation, flexible multilingualism and mediation? • How do researchers negotiate the multilingual and intercultural relational and interpersonal work entailed among the various stakeholders (including supervisors and funders of the research, participants, gatekeepers, translators, interpreters and transcribers)? Under what conditions can and should interpreters be available? What can researchers do when they are not (which is often the case)? • How are languages prioritised, minimised and/or silenced in the research process? Who benefits? Who is disadvantaged? What does it mean to research (for researcher and researched) in the language of the more (or less) powerful other? Who chooses who speaks for whom, when, where and how? • What is the embodied experience of being granted access to or denied one language over another? What other communicative means – ­multimodal, affective, symbolic – are available for researchers and researched in undertaking and representing the research? • In the representation of texts, how are excluded, forgotten or neglected, and politically-sensitive languages acknowledged and recognised, or not? • What opportunities, complexities and challenges emerge in making decisions about language, given the disciplinary and/or methodological conventions that researchers work within? What languages do researchers choose to draw on during various stages of the research process? How do they decide, and what people, processes and structures facilitate or constrain those decisions, given that there is little training available to support their decision-making? • What theoretical lenses support researchers to address these questions (and others not included in this list)? These questions may also give rise to broader epistemological, theoretical and ontological questions that drive, or challenge, researchers who are researching multilingually, for example:

4  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

• How might an overtly critical approach to research, which aims to advocate for disadvantaged groups and challenge power and social inequality, be compromised if participants are excluded because of language choices made by the researcher, or conversely, be strengthened if participants are empowered through such choices? • How do researchers’ decolonising and decentring perspectives give ‘voice’ to groups whose languages are in the margins or periphery? • To what extent is working with and through translations of data representing a participant’s experience consistent with an interpretive approach to research, in which the researcher aims to understand, and then represent, that participant’s experience as closely as possible? • Given the inherent politics of language(s) and language choices, does the implementation of a researching multilingually approach automatically render a piece of research ‘critical’ in nature? The contributing researchers have all, in one way or another, addressed these questions through an analysis of how multiple languages featured in their own researcher and research processes. Aims

The 16 chapters in our edited research volume aim to: (i) document and analyse how researchers deal with questions of linguistic power and privilege, and recognition and non-recognition of languages; (ii) identify and analyse the theoretical and methodological approaches researchers draw on when researching multilingually in politically-charged contexts, and amidst structural hierarchies of power and other forms of inequality; and (iii) articulate the embodied researcher experience of researching multilingually in contexts where languages (e.g. of researchers, participants, interpreters, translators and colleagues) and discourse flows (evidenced in texts and other artefacts) are constrained and/or silenced. In addressing these aims, the chapters illustrate theoretical approaches that include decolonising, critical and social justice perspectives in educational and a range of geopolitical linguistic contexts where there is structural inequality, disenfranchisement, conflict, oppression, forced migration and economic marginalisation – whether in the global North, South, East or West (Ladegaard & Phipps, 2020). The contributing researchers are located in multiple disciplines: applied linguistics, anthropology, deaf studies, development studies, education, languages education, participatory arts, media studies, sociology and translation studies. They are also from a range of language backgrounds, countries and researcher trajectories (e.g. doctoral, early career, established researchers; and researchers working on funded projects, in project teams and alongside non-governmental agencies). Their studies illustrate contexts where researchers face structural, hegemonic and colonial linguistic barriers as

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outsiders, marginalised language speakers and in communication with gatekeepers, interpreters and researched. These conditions have important implications for the ethics and trustworthiness of the research. The contributors also bring a diversity of orientations: some of the chapters report research findings from a study, often a doctoral study; others offer reflections over time; and others address experiences of working on multilingual projects, within multilingual teams and alongside non-governmental agencies. They also demonstrate different decisions concerning the presentation of their data, sources and other multilingual and multimodal material in languages other than English. As part of our review process we have discussed, and in some cases, challenged authors on this matter, but left the final decision as to whether or not to present excerpts in the original language and in translation to each author, albeit requiring them to justify their decisions in the text. We believe that this is in line with the ‘researching multilingually’ stance of awareness, intentionality and purposeful decision-making, and the need for transparency in relation to how researchers approach and/or treat the languages in their research. Together, the chapters contribute to a discussion of how researchers’ linguistic resources, and the languages they use in the research process, are often politically and structurally constrained; and thus, they offer useful illustrations to other researchers of how researchers negotiate – and challenge – normative uses of language and language inequalities in all aspects of their research. We discuss the contributions of these researcher accounts in the Afterword. Researching Multilingually: A Conceptual Framework

The chapters in this edited research volume are grounded in an approach to research which foregrounds language, and which we describe as ‘researching multilingually’ (defined above) (Holmes et al., 2013, 2016).1 Researching multilingually invites researchers to think about how they engage with and mobilise their linguistic resources at all stages of the research process: from the initial design of the project, to engaging with different literatures, to developing the methodology and considering all possible ethical issues, to generating and analysing the data, to issues of representation and reflexivity when writing up and publishing. (Holmes et al., 2016: 101)

Figure i.1 offers a conceptualisation of the researching multilingually process. In essence, it is a three-step process through which researchers takes action. First, they develop awareness, or realisation, that it is both possible and permissible to use more than one language in the research process. Second, researchers consider the possibilities and particularities of their research, including being reflexive and reflective in their research.

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Researchers can then, as the third step, make purposeful, informed decisions about how to approach and conduct their multilingual research (which languages to use where, why and how), a stance described as ‘intentionality’ (Stelma et al., 2013). Although we have described the three steps here as linear, they are more likely to be experienced iteratively, in recurring cycles of realisation, reflection and putting into action, reminiscent of the experiential learning cycle (Kolb, 1984). Hence, we have chosen to represent these stages using cogs and arrows in Figure i.1. This three-step process in the researcher action dimension is impacted by, and in turn impacts on, two major dimensions of research. The first of these is the relationships experienced in the research process. Research is not an isolated process as funders, supervisors, gatekeepers, people in the community and research participants may all be involved. Language becomes an important part of establishing and negotiating relationships, especially around questions of who may enter the discourse (Krog, 2018). For example, anthropologists must often study a language prior to entering the field site; then to ensure credibility, authority and legitimacy as a researcher, they must demonstrate ‘native speaker’ competence with gatekeepers to negotiate access to a site (Gibb, 2020). The second major dimension involved in the researching multilingually process is the spaces within which the research is enacted: amongst them, the ‘space’ of the researched phenomenon (what is being researched); the research context (the ‘where’); the space of the researcher’s own identity, including their knowledge, skills and linguistic resources; and the academic and other representational spaces into which the research findings are disseminated. Researchers must navigate these spaces, and doing so may require them to make certain linguistic choices. For example, the project by Fassetta and her three colleagues (Fassetta et al., 2017) required them to navigate several complex and interlocking linguistic spaces as they developed an Arabic language programme with teachers of Arabic in Gaza (the ‘what’) through virtual communication via the internet (the ‘where’). The Gaza teachers’ first language was Arabic, and they had varying fluency in English. While the Glasgow researchers were all fluent English speakers, only one spoke Arabic, and none had English as a first language; two were Italian native speakers (which enabled them to provide an Italian language learning experience for the Gaza teachers); and one was a native German speaker. Although the Glasgow researchers all had language teaching experience, they questioned whether they were equipped to support the development of the language programme in Arabic (linguistic resources and skills). The ‘representation’ space was not only the online Arabic teaching programme but also publications in language journals and books. Other emergent spaces included the ‘spaces’ of friendship and resistance (given Gaza’s context of occupation). Each of these spaces posed challenges to the researchers about which languages to foreground, and how to approach and conduct their research.

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Figure i.1  A framework for researching multilingually

The framework emerged from 35 seminar presentations by a network of researchers working across multiple disciplines in the arts and humanities and social sciences, largely in the European context, who presented their experiences of researching multilingually in their research (see the ‘Researching Multilingually’ project).1 Thus, it is limited in its origins (of researcher approaches and experiences on which it is based). Further areas for exploration have emerged in the follow-up project ‘Researching multilingually at the borders of language, the body, law and the state’ (RM@ borders), which we discuss next. One area concerns the moniker ‘researching multilingually’ itself. The term ‘multilingual’ suggests named languages that are somehow countable, where individuals have a ‘first’ language and can speak a ‘second’ and ‘third’ language, as if these named languages are discrete separate entities. The result can often be the privileging of powerful languages such as world languages, or the languages taught in secondary and higher education, while neglecting tribal, regional, local, colonial and travelling languages that may be in circulation resulting from migratory flows of people (Risager, 2012). Canagarajah (2018) notes that languages are not discrete, structured, autonomous entities that can be named and counted, but resources for communicating and shaping meaning, and accommodating the messiness and unpredictability of material life and social practice. ‘Multilingual’ invokes its opposite: ‘monolingual’. Gramling (2016) argues that ‘monolingual’ is an invention that supports nation statehood and the power associated with claims to a national language that

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inevitably marginalises minority languages. He believes that ‘human speakers are always less and more than monolingual’ (Gramling, 2016: 5), but for structural reasons often beyond their control, ‘are obliged to dwell … in one language for their research despite having other linguistic repertoires’ (2016: 208). This situation raises the question of whether monolingual research is even possible, or desirable, especially where researchers’ multiple linguistic identities are concerned. This stance thus raises questions about the role of translanguaging and other semiotic repertoires in communication. A second area of interest concerns language as emotional, embodied and lived experience of ‘being a person in that language in the social and material world of everyday interactions’, which Phipps (2011: 365), drawing on Becker (1991), calls ‘languaging’. In the RMly@Borders project, the multilingual Glasgow team of four researchers (Fassetta et al., 2017) ‘languaged’ as they engaged with their group of Arabic speaking counterparts in Gaza. Through multilingual and multimodal online communication, they collaborated, established relationships and collapsed professional, personal and researcher identities. This embodied and languaged experience enabled them to inhabit one another’s spaces, build relationships, construct a language of trust, express shared respect for the Gaza context and to share a desire for the project’s success (Andrews et al., 2020). Throughout the RMly@Borders project, creative arts processes also became important as an alternative to linguistic representation, especially when words are ‘broken’. For example, the researchers – as linguists, musicians, costume designers and dramaturgs – collaborated with the young people of Noyam, Ghana and others there to devise and improvise the story of forced migration, but also resistance and safety, through cultural and multilingual forms of dance. The emergent production ‘Broken World, Broken Word’ (2017) illustrated the themes of the project – the body, language, law and the state under duress, pressure and pain. Given the limitations of language (discussed earlier), some scholars prefer the concept of ‘translanguaging’: understood as the flexible, creative and strategic use of a speaker’s full linguistic and non-linguistic, i.e. semiotic repertoire (Canagarajah, 2013; García & Li, 2014; Li, 2018), and a resource for performing identity (Creese & Blackledge, 2015). For researchers, this often means grappling with research approaches and methods, including multimodality, in order to ‘voice’ the speakers of other (e.g. minority and marginalised) languages, and how to understand and represent the texts (whether linguistic, artistic, photographic, dramatic, musical) produced in and through these languages, when researching in multilingual contexts. It may also require researchers to consider how they voice their own linguistic resources, account for their own researcher linguistic identity and address assumptions about languages in circulation in the research process. Following Canagarajah (2013), Andrews et al.

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(2018: 84) suggest that researchers may adopt a ‘translingual mindset’ to maintain an open mind. Finally, ‘translanguaging’ encourages researchers to transcend the boundaries of named language systems, disciplinary boundaries and boundaries between language and other cognitive and semiotic systems (Zhu, 2020). Beyond the RMly@Borders project, further work has focused on the importance of researcher reflexivity. For example, Ganassin’s postreflexive application of the researching multilingually framework to her ­multilingual doctoral study enabled her to understand how linguistic choices shaped power and ethical relationships. She concluded: ‘a nonjudgemental acceptance and accommodation of participants’ language skills are fundamental in building rapport and trust’ (Ganassin & Holmes, 2019: 23). This study highlighted the importance of researchers’ constant and critical (self) reflection throughout the research process. Related to this, the multiple researcher experiences in Warriner and Bigelow’s (2019) edited volume provide various illustrations of the ethical concerns that researchers confront as they become aware of, deploy and account for their own linguistic resources in their research. Discussions of these extended ways of thinking about researching multilingually – reflexivity and ethics, myths concerning monolingualism and the concepts of translanguaging and languaging – appear in various ways in the chapters in this edited research volume. Underpinning Themes

We now turn to the four inter-related, foundational themes in our volume which underpin the politics of researching multilingually and discuss how these themes are central to the authors’ contributions. These themes are: (i) hegemonic structures (Chapters 1 to 4); (ii) power relations (Chapters 5 to 8); (iii) decolonising methodologies (Chapters 9 to 12); and (iv) decolonising languages (Chapters 13 to 16). While we have structured the chapters into these general thematic headings, we acknowledge their overlapping and interconnected nature. Hegemonic structures

The focus in the researching multilingually framework on research spaces and contexts invites critical examination of the role of institutional structures – funders, gatekeepers, community organisations/non-governmental organisations (NGOs), the academy and other educational institutions, the publishing industry – in prioritising and legitimising languages in the research process. The languages in circulation within these structures are usually the result of political decisions by governments and institutions as they implement language policies that prioritise certain languages and language varieties over others (Stemper & King, 2017). For

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example, Tesseur’s study of international NGOs operating in Kyrgyzstan reveals the limitations of a reliance on English as a global language. It highlights the importance of collaborative and equitable relationships among researchers, funders and the beneficiaries of the research, which recognise and resist linguistic imperialism and marginalisation so that grassroots change is possible. Educational settings, which are central to research practice, manifest language ideologies that researchers must navigate. The internationalisation of higher education has given rise to superdiverse campuses of faculty and students, presenting the opportunity to develop new educational and social practices, open-mindedness and cultural and linguistic hybridity (Preisler et al., 2011). Yet, despite the multilingual environment of universities, monolingual expectations and practices tend to prevail (Araújo e Sá et al., 2020), and especially in Anglophone universities (Ryan, 2011; Singh, 2017). Other chapters grouped under the theme of hegemonic structures point to the challenges of researching in these multilingual environments, which are influenced by their structural determinants and the emergent interactions among researchers working individually or in teams, and doctoral supervisors and supervisees (Blommaert, 2010). For example, Oozeerally’s chapter discusses the tensions of researching in an interdisciplinary, multilingual research team in a Mauritian university, where the dominant language ideologies of surrounding institutional/departmental and disciplinary/epistemological structures (both social and conceptual) presented complex challenges for the delivery of a research project staffed by a linguistically and disciplinarily diverse team of researchers who have differing linguistic identities and epistemological perspectives. Oozeerally concludes that empathy and an understanding of the complex multilingual research space are important in making such projects a success. Where doctoral researchers are concerned, Araújo e Sá et al. (2020) point out the focus on English as the lingua franca of science in doctoral education in the multilingual European context. Yet, many doctoral researchers have English as their second, third or fourth language, requiring much investment to meet institutional monolingual norms. This situation threatens multilingualism, and knowledge expression and creation in other languages (Araújo e Sá et al., 2020; Singh, 2017). Furthermore, the expert/novice binary can tacitly shape doctoral supervisor and researcher communication; it also embodies the power relations implicit in the doctoral researcher process, thus further diminishing doctoral researchers’ agency in challenging status-quo, institutionalised academic norms and practices (Holmes et al., 2020). For example, Nemouchi and Holmes’ chapter illustrates the assumptions of a French/Arabic-speaking doctoral researcher from Algeria (Nemouchi) who uncritically prioritises English in her research in accordance with the English language norms of her Anglo university. Through her reflexive account of her fieldwork, Nemouchi shows that denying her multiple linguistic identities created

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power struggles with her participants, thus risking the credibility of her fieldwork. The study responds to Araújo e Sá et al.’s (2020) concern regarding the need for policy development and guidance on how to deal with the linguistic challenges, where doctoral researchers are frequently multilingual, and yet monolingual norms within the academy remain rooted. Both this chapter and the contribution from Oozeerally illustrate how institutional norms can prioritise certain knowledges, epistemologies and methodologies within which (doctoral) researchers are required – whether prescriptively or tacitly – to work, thereby risking the silencing of knowledge generated in other languages (Connell, 2017). The language of publication creates further difficulty, and inequality, for multilingual researchers, especially at the early career stage. Wilson’s chapter describes this situation in French universities: early career researchers (ECRs) are often required to publish in French (to protect the French language and research traditions), yet publication in both French and English can help to secure tenure and advancement, a situation that creates an additional burden. As Phipps (2019: 11) reminds us, ‘structural inequalities … endure and must be endured, as part of the disquieting and enduring dis-ease of all activism that is at the heart of all critical and decolonising work’. Thus, while the continued emphasis on publication in English, and in high-ranking journals, prevails in the global neoliberal university environment, multilingual researchers and international doctoral researchers should seek out and nurture informal local and transnational academic research networks to both support English-medium publication success (Curry & Lillis, 2010) and at the same time contest these hegemonic norms. Wilson’s chapter attests to this advice. Power relations

The second theme around which this volume is organised is that of power relations in researching multilingually. This theme supports critical reflection about the complex, intricate and multiple connections between different research spaces and research relationships, the role of language(s) in shaping and constituting research relationships and the impact of this on research outcomes. We are reminded that research is a domain of social life, involving individuals affiliated to diverse groups, communities or institutions interacting within a range of different environments. As in other social domains, certain actors will have greater power than others (Risager & Dervin, 2015). The relations of power that exist and develop within research relationships in each research space – relations that are constituted and enacted through language – may facilitate, constrain, enable or impede aspects of the research. We understand power in the context of doing research broadly in terms of ‘unequal role relations’ (Spencer-Oatey & Franklin, 2009: 106) between actors in the research process. In practical terms, power

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represents the ability to have your own interpretation or view accepted and acted upon over somebody else’s, whether by force or coercion or through persuasion, influence and consent (Fairclough, 2001: 3, drawing on Foucault, Bourdieu and Habermas). Inequality is an effect of power (Blommaert, 2005: 2), which can manifest both at the level of personal interactions in research (such as the right to define the topic in an interview) and at a more macro-social level (such as access to social goods because of institutional status as a researcher). Frequently these two levels of power are connected, and – adapting Thornborrow’s observation to apply to the research process – ‘power relations emerge in the interplay between participants’ [and researchers’] locally constructed, discursive identities and their institutional status’ (Thornborrow, 2002: 1). Thus, there is an inherent interconnection between the two themes of power relations and hegemonic structures in this volume. Although there is considerable overlap, the chapters in the hegemonic structures section engage more explicitly with the impact of macro-social structures on power dynamics in the research process, whereas the chapters in the power relations section focus more on how relations of power are negotiated between individuals at the micro-interactional level. Researchers have considerable power in the research process, and the academy seeks to promote and/or enforce the responsible exercise of researcher power through ‘procedural ethics’ (Guillemin & Gillam, 2004: 263) enshrined in institutional research ethics frameworks. Such frameworks, however, are widely acknowledged as unsuitable or inadequate for the complexities of qualitative research involving multilingual speakers (Lincoln & Tierney, 2004; Perry, 2011). Many intercultural and/or multilingual researchers therefore call for others to acknowledge, and where possible mitigate, the effects of researcher power by exercising reflexivity in their research processes and relationships, particularly with participants (e.g. Ganassin & Holmes, 2019; Martin-Jones et al., 2017; Warriner & Bigelow, 2019; Woodin, 2016). The chapters in this part of the volume provide insightful reflexive accounts from several researchers, focused on the role of language(s) in the negotiation of power in research processes. In these accounts, the related concepts of identity and voice, or ‘the capacity to make oneself understood’ (Blommaert, 2005: 255), as they are connected to language use and language choice, are salient and so we discuss these briefly here. Language is ‘a social practice in which identities and desires are negotiated’ (Norton, 2016: 2), and the question of how multilingual speakers selectively negotiate their identities through leveraging their diverse repertoires (Kramsch, 2009) is relevant to all aspects of researching multilingually. The expansive literature on identity and positionality in field research has been extended still further by multilingual researchers giving accounts of their language use in the field impacting on their status as relative insiders or outsiders, and on attendant dynamics of power between

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themselves and participants (Giampapa, 2011; Giampapa & Lamoureux, 2011; see Martin-Jones et al., 2017 regarding the deconstruction of insider-outsider positionings in research). The accounts of these scholars illustrate that language acts as a source of symbolic power (Bourdieu, 1991), facilitating or impeding access to the social field, in research settings as in other social arenas. Our volume extends this scholarship with a range of contributions foregrounding different sets of research relationships in different research spaces. The connection between researcher– participant power relations, and the multiplicity of individuals’ linguistic and cultural identities (as enacted through their communicative practices), is explored in Part 2 in relation to heritage language learners (Chandras); multilingual child (Hookoomsing) and refugee child (Georgiou) participants; and in a postcolonial context (Hernández Morales and de Mejía); as well as in other contexts in other parts of the volume. Bringing in a different research relationship, Tesseur and Backhaus in their contributions examine the complicating yet enriching impact of involving an interpreter on the negotiation of identities and power relations in two very different research projects. Further, Hookoomsing and Oozeerally both shed light in their contributions on how language can impact on power relations within a research team. The range of contributions thus complicates and complexifies the notion of the social field of research and the role of language and identity negotiation within it. Decisions about language use in research can disenfranchise or empower, which is where voice comes in as a second major concept in researching multilingually practice. Critical sociolinguistic studies have shown how power over others can be exercised in a multilingual situation by one party prescribing the choice of language, or imposing a certain way of using language, thus constraining the other’s voice (e.g. Blommaert, 2005; Maryns & Blommaert, 2002; Moyer, 2011). Researchers can also silence others, or be themselves silenced, by the linguistic practices they exclude from their research or are excluded from using (e.g. in publications and other outputs), as is highlighted by the chapters by Wilson and Tesseur in this volume. Conversely, researchers have the capacity to make purposeful choices about language in their research which can empower themselves and their participants, helping to ensure that they have a voice in the academic or policy context. While some authors describe the consequences of an initial lack of awareness here (Backhaus, Nemouchi and Holmes), the contributors to Part 2 evidence how purposeful decisionmaking is central to managing issues of voice, whether through adopting a certain epistemological stance (Hernández Morales and de Mejía, Hookoomsing), making choices about particular methods or methodologies (Georgiou, Hookoomsing), or opting to acquire a particular set of linguistic resources oneself (Chandras). Overall, our contributors demonstrate through this theme that power relations are thus a consideration for researching multilingually not just in the field, but throughout the research

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process: we must at every stage make purposeful and careful decisions, bearing in mind whose voice(s) we intend to foreground. Decolonising methodologies

The four chapters in this third theme of decolonising methodologies respond to calls (over the past four decades or more) to decentre, decolonise and transform Eurocentric epistemologies and prioritise the myriads of ways of understanding knowledge produced locally and in the periphery (Connell, 2017; Mignolo & Walsh, 2018; Said, 1978). This response includes calls to decolonise the position occupied by English as a global language and other colonial languages, recognising the multiple languages, forms of engagement and modalities employed to express such (localised forms of) knowledge (Canagarajah, 2018; Phipps, 2019). The researching multilingually framework, with its focus on the research spaces, invites researchers to adopt methodologies that are sensitive to and empathetic towards local languages, epistemologies and methodologies when investigating how knowledges are understood in these spaces (Smith, 1999/2012). In doing so, researchers can extend these spaces to include a plurality of knowledges and practices that recognise local and indigenous, and not just colonial and dominant, languages (Menezes de Souza & Guilherme, 2019). The contributions in this section focus on how, in designing research and making deliberate and critical choices about the methodologies employed and their underpinning epistemologies, researchers can work to recognise and foreground other ways of being, knowing and expressing the human condition. In decolonising methodologies, researchers might also focus on their research relationships (within the researching multilingually ­framework) – to work with and for the research participants and not on or about them, to decentre and question their own power in the research process and resist hegemonic narratives (Ladegaard & Phipps, 2020; Phipps, 2019). According to Phipps, this positionality would require researchers to undertake their fieldwork from a position of ‘lack, limitation, wound and partiality’ (2013: 336). Relationality also invites researchers to engage dialogically and relationally with those in the research spaces in a process of ‘intercultural intersubjectivity’ (Holliday & Macdonald, 2019) and through languaging and embodied experience (Phipps, 2014). Byrd Clark and Roy explore these relational processes in their research on language education for multilingual migrant youth in Canada. They reflect on the transdisciplinarity of their own diverse, complex linguistic, social and pedagogical backgrounds as multilinguals to critically investigate whose voices (researchers and researched) are audible in the context of French as an official and colonial language. Decolonising methodologies problematise social science methods and associated theories that use coding and categorising of data to reveal

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patterns and regularities, methods that result in ‘static knowledge’, risking ‘closure’ and ‘stasis’ (MacLure, 2013: 659). Instead, MacLure (2013) envisages research as ‘entanglement’ – of epistemologies, disciplines, methods, languages and other communicative resources – as researchers access the multiple voices, and hence, multiple truths of their research. Kalocsányiová and Shatnawi’s chapter is a collaborative exploration of this entanglement, between researcher and translator, concerning judgements about how to represent voice in writing, what level of detail to choose, in which language(s) and for whom. Through an interdisciplinary framework, they disrupt translation conventions to account for the unorthodox communicative resources and mixed language practices of forced migrants who are learning a named language, French, in Luxembourg. Continuing the theme of translation in methodologies, Backhaus adopts a cognitive justice framework in researching alongside interpreters in the multilingual context of south India. Her research demonstrates the value of cognitive justice (Viswanathan, 2009) as a framework for engaging with postcolonialism, and when researching multilingually. The framework offers a collaborative approach that is inclusive and respectful of interpreters as contributors in co-creating knowledge through translation in complex, multilingual environments. The fourth chapter in this theme, by Richardson, explores the colonising practice of audism – the ideology that it is preferable to be, or to behave as though one is, hearing. Richardson states that audism results in the oppression of deaf people and the denial of their language preferences, limiting their participation in wider society. Richardson adopts decolonising methodologies, drawing on Freire (1970) and participatory action research (PAR), to question this practice and introduce both British Sign Language and hearing methods into his research to address inequalities. He critiques his methodological decisions to foreground British Sign Language while also considering the actions of interpreters, the institutional context and the hegemony of spoken (and written) language over signed language. The studies within this theme (and others throughout the volume) present researchers’ attempts to decolonise and decentre their research epistemologies and methodologies through processes of (self) criticality and reflexivity, and with awareness of and sensitivity towards the multiple modes of communication mobilised by researchers and researched in the research process. Kalocsányiová and Shatnawi argue in their chapter that ‘one of the main rationales for researching multilingually is to achieve a more democratic and inclusive research praxis’. Yet, as the researchers demonstrate, their attempts to engage in democratic researching multilingually praxis are fraught with struggles and tensions, and successes and failures in enabling voices and languages – their own, and others – to be visible, audible, represented and circulated.

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Decolonising languages

The poststructuralist critique of ‘named languages’ as ‘politically named linguistic entities’ (Li, 2018: 18) has been an emergent issue in applied linguistic research foregrounding language-in-use for some decades (Blommaert, 2005). This understanding of named languages as inherently political, and as ‘constructs of the frameworks that make them’ (Makoni & Pennycook, 2012: 445), has also informed related work in postcolonial and decolonial thought (Gandhi, 2019; Mignolo, 2000; Phipps, 2019). Drawing on these influences, the fourth theme of the volume, decolonising languages in researching multilingually, supports critical reflection about researchers’ conceptualisations of language itself, and how these feed into the research spaces of the researched phenomenon and the research context. In the contributions to this part of the volume, the researcher action dimension of the researching multilingually framework is foregrounded, as researchers discuss their realisations about the historicity and the political dimensions of (the constructs of) named language(s) in their research; their reflections on and consideration of the implications of working on or with these languages and their purposeful decision-making regarding how to engage with these implications in their research. The theme has two interconnected dimensions. The first is the recognition of ‘the political entities of named languages’ (Li, 2018: 19) as inherently political instruments, leading to critical examination of the effects on research practice of working in and through particular named languages in a range of research contexts. In this dimension, contributors are asking, in the context of their research, ‘who benefits and who loses from understanding languages the way we do, what is at stake for whom, and how and why language serves as a terrain for competition’ (Heller & Duchêne, 2007: 11). The second dimension is the implications for research of the inadequacy of the traditional understanding of (named) languages to describe and represent our lived experience of doing and being through a diverse and multimodal range of communicative practices – in other words, our languaging (Becker, 1991; Phipps, 2011) and translanguaging (García & Li, 2014). Throughout this part, and indeed elsewhere in the volume, contributors draw on the potentially transformative and emancipatory impact of conceptualising language not from above (i.e. in terms of normative, separated linguistic systems) but ‘from below’ (Baynham & Lee, 2019: 5), i.e. from everyday linguistic and communicative practices. This stance invites researchers to recognise ‘who has access to such linguistic resources and under what conditions, given that such resources do not exist in a social or power vacuum’ (Menezes de Souza & Guilherme, 2019: 239). This is a decolonial approach to thinking about language (Mignolo, 2000) that seeks at once to recognise, and resist, the imposition of constructed

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linguistic (and thus identity-related) categories and categorisations from above on participants and researchers whose diverse communicative practices do not neatly conform to such categorisations (see also García & Li, 2014; Makoni & Pennycook, 2007). It is in this sense that we mean decolonising in relation to language. Our contributors offer a range of possibilities for finding a way forward in the effort to decolonise languages when researching multilingually. As a first step, all authors in this part argue for researchers to develop a critical consciousness of the ideological baggage carried by the languages they are working with. This entails an awareness of linguistic hierarchies and how they operate in different contexts (Blommaert, 2010), as well as of any political associations (whether of colonial practices, language policy related to promotion or suppression of ethnic identities, or otherwise) invoked by the language for different individuals and groups. In the context of Western European-based research, Meyer Pitton and Schedel’s contribution illustrates how impactful different values and perceptions attributed (by self and other) to different linguistic repertoires can be on the research process, right through from job applications to dissemination; they point out that this linguistic dimension of power dynamics in research is largely underreported in the literature. In their chapter, speaking from the very different context of postcolonial South America, Medina and Austin also emphasise the importance of developing awareness of the histories and sensitivities attached to language practices and acknowledging these in the research approach and design. Both examples illustrate that researching multilingually of necessity involves a politics of difference, and processes of categorisation attached to language, that researchers must negotiate. Responding to the recognition (discussed above) that in the reality of communicative practice, languages are not bounded, sealed, discrete systems, three of the four contributions in this part (from Gordon, Holsapple, and Medina Riveros and Austin) advocate the adoption of a translanguaging stance, in different ways, as a means to address linguistic power dynamics in research. With her development of a classroom-based translanguaging pedagogy (García et al., 2017) into a translanguaging methodology for use in working multilingually with participants, Gordon proposes a tool for researchers to mitigate power imbalances between researcher and participant in research interactions. Holsapple charts the development of her own awareness of languages as political categories during an ethnographic project on language practices in the Eastern European region of Gagauzia, where translanguaging is prevalent and argues for researchers to adopt the stance of a ‘non-knower’, focusing on actual language practices over any pre-defined categorisations of named languages. And Medina Riveros and Austin explore how, in a postcolonial context, researchers can carry out more sensitive and effective research by explicitly engaging with both researchers’ and participants’

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linguistic repertoires, adopting fluid language practices in research activities, and critically reflecting on the linguistic dimensions of the research. These contributions, responding to the inadequacy of the construct of named languages when researching multilingually, highlight the potential of the concepts of languaging and translanguaging for critical and emancipatory multilingual research practice. The outline of the chapters presented next is organised according to the four thematic parts of the volume: hegemonic structures (Part 1), power relations (Part 2), decolonising methodologies (Part 3) and decolonising languages (Part 4). The 16 chapters can be read in any order or according to the thematic structure that we propose. Part 1: Hegemonic Structures

Chapter 1, Linguistic Hospitality and Listening through Interpreters: Critical Reflections and Recommendations on Linguistic Power Relationships in Multilingual Research, takes us to Kyrgyzstan. The chapter draws data from a larger project that aimed to raise the profile of languages in the development sector, and particularly in contexts in which international NGOs claim to listen to their so-called beneficiaries. Wine Tesseur draws on her experience of conducting interviews with staff from local development organisations to investigate the role of languages and culture in their work. Tesseur’s analysis demonstrates that the concepts of listening and linguistic hospitality helped her to gain insights into the personal, institutional and sociopolitical issues that influenced her linguistic choices and assumptions. The chapter also offers practical recommendations for researchers that can help in designing, delivering and reporting multilingual research in a more linguistically equitable way. Methodological complexities and challenges in team-based research on multilingualism are the focus of Chapter 2, Multilingualism, Shifting Paradigms and the 21st Century: Negotiating Multilingual Research in Teams through the Lens of Complexity. Shameem Oozeerally provides an account of the ‘ECE Project’, a research project aiming to explore the implications of using a complexity-based approach to investigate heterogeneous language practices of pre-primary school children in Mauritius (see also the discussion in Chapter 6). The findings highlight several linguistic and ideological issues, which were both challenging and useful to the research process and required negotiations regarding the multilingual identities and representations of the researchers, who were all at least trilingual. The multilingual researcher experience is also central to Chapter 3. Multilingual Researching, Translanguaging and Credibility in Qualitative Research: A Reflexive Account is located in the context of the internationalisation of higher education. Lamia Nemouchi and Prue Holmes offer a critique of monolingual policies, particularly in Anglophone universities.

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The chapter is based on Nemouchi’s experience as a multilingual-­ international doctoral researcher, who is engaging with multilingual ­participants in the multilingual context of a university in Algeria. The chapter builds researcher awareness of the need for an ethical stance concerning languages in the research process. Such awareness should go beyond matters of informed consent to acknowledge how individuals negotiate and affirm their identities and positionalities in and through languages, all of which impact the trustworthiness of the research. In the final chapter in the first part of the volume, Publish or Perish, publier ou périr? How Research Publication Language Choice is Shaped among Linguistics Early Career Researchers in France, Adam Wilson problematises how publishing can be a key issue in the politics of researching multilingually for researchers working in contexts in which there are multiple, competing scientific languages. Wilson explores the publication strategies and the related language choices and ideologies employed by ECRs in French academia, showing how these are aimed primarily at improving employment prospects. The findings of the chapter demonstrate that these ideological dynamics are linked to institutional gatekeeping: They contribute to the reproduction of a certain linguistic order, safeguarding the positions of established academics and shaping the linguistic practices of ECRs. Such ideologies thus, potentially, sit at the heart of questions relating to the (re)production of institutional exclusion and inequality in academia. Part 2: Power Relations

As a result of migration flows and of the recent refugee crisis, classrooms around the world are now becoming more linguistically and culturally diverse. Yet, the multilingual complexities of conducting research in these contexts are underexplored. Chapter 5, Conducting Multilingual Classroom Research with Refugee Children in Cyprus: Critically Reflecting on Methodological Decisions, focuses on power relationships when engaging refugee children as active research participants. Alexandra Georgiou discusses her ethnographic research with refugee children in Cyprus whose language repertoires (i.e. Arabic and Farsi) did not overlap with those of the researcher. A repertoire approach allowed the researcher to take informed methodological decisions that balanced power relations to allow authentic representation of the children’s voices. Georgiou argues that an inclusive research practice that relates researchers’ methodological decisions to their language choices is needed so that ethnographic researchers can develop an awareness of their researcher practices with vulnerable participants whose linguistic and cultural experiences they do not share. The complexities of doing research with multilingual child-­ participants who do not share the same linguistic repertoire as the

20  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

researchers are also explored in Chapter 6, Voice and Power Relations: Researching Multilingually with Multilingual Children in Mauritian Preprimary Schools. Helina Hookoomsing draws insights from the ‘ECE Project’ – which was introduced in Chapter 2 – to explore the ethical and linguistic issues of informed consent when researching multilingually with young children in the colonial context of the Mauritius. In Chapter 2, Oozeerally investigates the challenges emerging in a multidisciplinary, multilingual research team where the researchers bring differing researcher backgrounds and trajectories. The focus is on the implications of working across these trajectories when one particular theoretical approach – ­complexity theory (from the French scholarship) – is foregrounded. Instead, Hookoomsing draws on an autoethnographic framework to reflect on her experience as a researcher formed within the Anglo research tradition. Her work highlights the tensions that emerge when applying this research approach to the Mauritian context where both French and English have different positions vis-à-vis Mauritian Creole (KM), the ­language of everyday communication. Overall, Chapters 2 and 6 are ­complementary in that they draw on the same research project, but they also provide contrasting insights informed by the authors’ different ­positionalities as researchers. Chapter 7, Challenges for Researchers Investigating Coloniality Multilingually in Complex Linguistic Contexts in the Caribbean, explores the challenges and tensions faced by a doctoral student from the Colombian mainland conducting critical ethnographic research in San Andrés Island in the Caribbean, where she is an outsider and does not speak the native language, Kriol (Creole). Olga Camila Hernández Morales and Anne-Marie de Mejía draw on a decolonial perspective to discuss the nature of the power relations that emerge in this multilingual research context. The chapter examines decisions made on how to accompany the research process, in order to give access to the voices of the participants and place these in dialogue with other voices, while at the same time taking responsibility for constructing an account rooted in the socially situated subjectivity of the researcher. Furthermore, the issue of legitimacy in speaking on behalf of others from the perspective of an outsider researcher is addressed and power relationships between researcher and participants are reflected upon. Chapter 8 addresses power relationships in multilingual research through negotiating a heritage language learner identity. In Speaking Marathi Like a Punekar: Learning Class and Caste in India, Jessica Chandras reflects on her experiences as a bi-racial American female anthropologist of Maharashtrian descent collecting data in Pune, a city in the western Indian state of Maharashtra. Complexities of learning a heritage language as a field language, specifically in the multilingual setting of urban India, ultimately impacted Chandras’ access to research participants as well as shaping research findings. Simultaneously, during the

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fieldwork, the politics and power embedded within balancing one’s identity as a cultural and linguistic insider/outsider impacted on her own identity as a researcher as this became embedded within networks of power structures of caste, gender and classed expectations. Part 3: Decolonizing Methodologies

Chapter 9, Multilingual Research for New Social Realities: Towards a Transdisciplinary Approach, opens up the theme of decolonising methodologies. Julie Byrd Clark and Sylvie Roy draw from an ongoing longitudinal research project on the significance of bi/multilingualism for multilingual students of immigrant origin participating in French language education programmes in Canada to discuss their own researching multilingually practices in relation to larger discourses and representational systems of power (e.g. official bilingualism, the complex position of French in Canada). Although a number of researchers and educators worldwide are investigating multilingual youth and the impact of multilingual practices, few have focused on what multilingual researchers do when researching multilingually and interculturally. The chapter addresses this gap, and it examines, in particular, the contextual, intercultural and relational aspects of the research processes, including the researchers’ own interpretations and blind spots when trying to make decisions on what information to include, and whose ‘voices’ to share, vis-à-vis their own complex trajectories. Several authors have argued in the past that transcribing is a political act: It involves judgements about how to represent voice in writing, what level of detail to choose, in which language(s) and for whom. In Chapter 10, Transcribing (Multilingual) Voices: From Fieldwork to Publication, Erika Kalocsányiová and Malika Shatnawi provide one of the first indepth accounts of the processes and politics of multilingual transcribing. In reflexively analysing different transcript formats, the chapter casts light on the complexities, challenges and opportunities that emerge in making collaborative decisions about the translation of speech to a written medium, as well as into other languages. The transcripts for the analysis have been taken from a qualitative study on forced migrants’ linguistic integration in Luxembourg. Particular focus is given to transcripts that capture the sometimes-unorthodox resources and mixed language practices of migrants, and their reception in an interdisciplinary framework. Chapter 11, Interpreting Cognitive Justice: A Framework for Interpreters as Co-researchers in Postcolonial Multilingual Research, focuses on the role of interpreters in multilingual postcolonial and anthropological research contexts. Drawing on ethnographic work conducted at two community radio stations in South India, Bridget Backhaus uses cognitive justice as a framework for theorising multilingual research, and she explores the role of interpreters within this framework as co-creators of

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knowledge alongside the researchers. Backhaus argues that engaging with the politics of interpreting in the context of ethnography offers insight into how researchers might navigate this complex, multilingual environment. The chapter also proposes practical steps towards ethical, respectful recognition and valuing of the role of interpreters. Chapter 12, Bilingual Theatre in British Sign Language and English: A Reflection on the Challenges Faced During a Doctoral Applied Theatre Project, draws on a multilingual research study with deaf and hearing participants. Michael Richardson provides an understanding of audism as a colonising practice within which the preferable positionality is to be hearing or to accommodate to this. The chapter provides methodological insights from a multilingual Applied Theatre project using the principles of PAR to interrogate the potential for equality of participation for deaf and hearing people in theatrical performance processes. The chapter seeks to critique the researcher’s decision-making in the design and realisation of the study, identifying how such decisions and their consequences influenced language practices within the project. It concludes with recommendations for researching multilingually when using a PAR approach. Part 4: Decolonizing Languages

Chapter 13, Translanguaging Pedagogy as Methodology: Leveraging the Linguistic and Cultural Repertoires of Researchers and Participants to Mutually Construct Meaning and Build Rapport, introduces the theme of decolonising languages. In this chapter, Rebekah Gordon shares her reflexive experiences as a doctoral student working with transnational language teachers. Gordon considers her methodological decisions through a translanguaging pedagogy lens in an effort to leverage the linguistic resources of her research participants, five Chinese language teachers in the USA, while confronting her own perceived monolingualism. The chapter proposes four methodological purposes for translanguaging to support researchers and participants. The chapter also recognises the potential of such translingual practices in dismantling the power hierarchies of research relationships as well as standard language ideologies. With globalisation and connectivity, people, their languages and cultures come into contact and sometimes clash with each other, producing hybrid linguistic practices. In Chapter 14, Rosa Alejandra Medina Riveros and Theresa Austin explore how researchers and participants use critical multilingualism and translanguaging as decolonising research tools that illuminate how to navigate such hybridity and semiotic diversity. Their chapter, Decolonizing Research through Translanguaging: Negotiating Practices with Multilingual Teachers in Colombia, draws primarily on two views of multilingual practice: critical multilingualism and translanguaging. Through a yearlong transnational professional development project with multilingual teachers of English as a foreign language in

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Colombia, Medina Riveros and Austin discuss the five research practices they developed, which could prove useful for other researchers trying to examine the use of multilingual resources across time. Overall, this chapter contributes to decision-making processes in heightened awareness of a heuristic and decolonising use of translanguaging in pedagogy and research. While language choice is a common focus in research on multilingualism, few studies explicitly problematise language choices as related to questions of power/(dis)empowerment in a holistic perspective throughout all stages of research projects. In Chapter 15, The (Hidden) Politics of Language Choice in Research on Multilingualism: Moments of (Dis)Empowerment, Liliane Meyer Pitton and Larissa Semiramis Schedel address this gap by providing a detailed autoethnographic analysis of three projects investigating multilingualism in the context of migration and tourism in Switzerland and Malta. They propose a genealogical approach to language choices using a Foucauldian perspective to analyse the various forms of power, hierarchical structures and underlying linguistic ideologies, which inform and ensue from those choices. Language choices and their consequences are discussed in relation to the research process, with a focus on situations of (dis)empowerment of the people and languages involved in or excluded from the research. The authors argue that a critical analysis of language choices at every stage of the research is crucial as it reveals the hidden politics of language choice and its impact on research outcomes. Chapter 16, the final chapter of the volume, Speaking ‘No Language?’: Reflections on (Il)Legitimate Multilingualism from Fieldwork in Gagauzia, draws data from a 12-month ethnographic study exploring the politics of belonging in Gagauzia, an autonomous region in southern Moldova. Christiana Holsapple scrutinises how ‘no languages’ or nonstandard language has played a role throughout the research process, thereby problematising normative notions of multilingual research practice that often make visible only codified, named languages. The chapter positions languages as political, not ontological or linguistic categories, and it draws attention to the larger geopolitical embeddedness of linguistic choice and positionality in research. Arguing that multilingual researchers should give attention to the historic and political ‘baggage’ of the languages in/through which they work, Holsapple maintains that critical reflexivity of one’s own multilingualism allows researchers to unpack how often only a particular kind of multilingualism is legitimised in our research processes. Conclusion

Together, the 16 contributions from the authors of this edited research volume open up space for discussion, reflection and debate about the

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importance of focusing on languages in the research process – of the researcher, researched and the research context. The authors illustrate the importance of being critical of their own researcher praxis through reflexive and reflective investigation of languages in their research process and context. In doing so, they acknowledge that communication in research is not just about linguistic choice but involves translanguaging, language as embodied expression and multimodal repertoires and symbolic forms of communication. More importantly for this volume, and in response to its aims, the researchers shed light on the dangers of uncontested, uncritical, theoretical and methodological researcher stances when undertaking research multilingually. By focusing on power relations, agency, hegemonic structures and decolonising approaches to and understandings of languages and research, the authors offer insights into the political dimensions of researching multilingually. We invite readers to take inspiration from these offerings by acknowledging and accounting for the political dimensions of their own research endeavours. Note (1) The concept ‘researching multilingually’ has been developing through two Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC)-funded projects Researching Multilingually (AH/J005037/1; http://researchingmultilingually.com/; led by Prue Holmes) and Researching Multilingually at the Borders of Language, the Body, Law and the State (AH/L006936/1; http://researching-multilingually-at-borders.com/; led by Alison Phipps). We acknowledge the role of Jane Andrews and Richard Fay in the development of this concept across these two projects.

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Perry, K.H. (2011) Ethics, vulnerability and speakers of other languages: How university IRBs (do not) speak to research involving refugee participants. Qualitative Inquiry 17 (10), 899–912. Phipps, A. (2011) Travelling languages? Land, languaging and translation. Language and Intercultural Communication 11 (4), 364–376. Phipps, A. (2019) Decolonising Multilingualism: Struggles to Decreate. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Preisler, B., Klitgård, I. and Fabricius, A. (eds) (2011) Language and Learning in the International University: From English Uniformity to Diversity and Hybridity. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Risager, K. (2012) Linguaculture and transnationality: The cultural dimensions of language. In J. Jackson (ed.) The Routledge Handbook of Language and Intercultural Communication (pp. 101–115). London: Routledge. Risager, K. and Dervin, F. (2015) Introduction. In F. Dervin and K. Risager (eds) Researching Identity and Interculturality (pp. 1–25). New York, Abingdon: Routledge. Robinson-Pant, A. and Wolf, A. (2017) Researching Across Languages and Cultures: A Guide to Doing Research Interculturally. Oxon: Routledge. Ryan, J. (2011) Teaching and learning for international students: Towards a transcultural approach. Teachers and Teaching 17 (6), 631–648. doi: 10.1080/13540602.2011.625138. Said, E. (1978) Orientalism. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Singh, M. (2017) Post-monolingual research methodology. Multilingual researchers democratizing theorizing and doctoral education. Education Sciences 7, 28. doi: 10.3390/educsci7010028. Smith, L.T. (1999/2012) Decolonising Methodologies. London: Zed Books. Spencer-Oatey, H. and Franklin, P. (2009) Intercultural Interaction: A Multidisciplinary Approach to Intercultural Communication. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Stelma, J., Fay, R. and Zhou, X. (2013) Developing intentionality and researching multilingually: An ecological and methodological perspective. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 300–315. Stemper, K. and King, K. (2017) Language planning and policy. In M. Aronoff and J. Rees-Miller (eds) The Handbook of Linguistics (2nd edn, pp. 655–673). Hoboken: Wiley-Blackwell. Thornborrow, J. (2002) Power Talk: Language and Interaction in Institutional Discourse. Harlow, London: Pearson Education. Visvanathan, S. (2009) ‘The search for cognitive justice’, KNOWLEDGE IN QUESTION: A Symposium on Interrogating Knowledge and Questioning Science. India Seminar. See https://www.india-seminar.com/2009/597/597_shiv_visvanathan.htm (accessed 15 October 2021). Warriner, D.S. and Bigelow, M. (eds) (2019) Critical Reflections on Research Methods: Power and Equity in Complex Multilingual Contexts. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Woodin, J. (2016) How to research interculturally and ethically. In H. Zhu (ed.) Research Methods in Intercultural Communication: A Practical Guide (pp. 103–119). Malden, MA; Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Zhu, H. (2020) Making a stance: Social action for language and intercultural communication research. Language and Intercultural Communication 20 (2), 206–212.

1 Linguistic Hospitality and Listening through Interpreters: Critical Reflections and Recommendations on Linguistic Power Relationships in Multilingual Research Wine Tesseur

This chapter explores the linguistic characteristics of my research visit to Kyrgyzstan in January 2018, during which I conducted 34 interviews with staff from non-governmental organisations (NGOs). As a Western researcher who did not speak Russian or Kyrgyz and worked with an interpreter for half of the interviews, I reflect on how my linguistic choices and limitations as well as the sociopolitical and institutional context affected the research process. Throughout my stay in Kyrgyzstan, I drew on the theoretical concepts of ‘listening’ and ‘linguistic hospitality’ to help me identify and redress skewed power relationships in my research to the extent possible, and I here share these experiences as well as lessons learned. My research visit to Kyrgyzstan was part of a larger three-year research project called ‘The Listening Zones of NGOs: Languages and Cultural Knowledge in Development Programmes’, which aimed to raise the profile of languages in the work of international UK-based development NGOs (University of Reading, 2020). The project explored the way in which international NGOs (INGOs) listen to the communities that they aim to serve as part of their efforts to be more accountable to them 31

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and to address any overemphasis on accountability to their institutional donors (Banks et al., 2015; Crack, 2013). These donors, often Western government departments, are considered as powerful agents in shaping the international aid agenda, and this power is also manifested through language. English is the lingua franca of the international development sector, and many of the concepts that shape the sector have their roots in Western frameworks of economic progress (Cornwall & Eade, 2010). In the Listening Zones project, we aimed to investigate the powerful role of English, and how it shaped INGO listening. An important part of the data consisted of three country case studies on Kyrgyzstan, Malawi and Peru, in which one researcher per location conducted approximately 30 interviews with staff from international and national NGOs on their linguistic and cultural experiences of working in partnership. This chapter relates to my listening experiences in the Kyrgyz case study, for which I was responsible. In the early stages of the project, I became increasingly aware of the irony of exploring this topic as a Western researcher affiliated to an English-speaking university, where our working conditions were influenced by similar neoliberal forces as those that determine the working spaces of INGOs: We were aiming to deliver clearly defined objectives as part of a fixed-term project that had been designed largely in response to the agenda that was set by our funder, the UK’s Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC). Much emphasis was placed in our project on creating ‘impact’ outside academia, an aspect of research that has become prioritised in recent years in the UK under impulse of structural frameworks for evaluation such as the Research Excellence Framework. This was similar to the growing pressure that INGOs experience in needing to demonstrate ‘value for money’ by measuring project progress against strictly defined indicators and tight timeframes (DFID, 2014). Furthermore, similar to INGOs, much of our work was by default conducted in English. As a research team, we needed to consider the multilingual dimension of our work and how unequal power dynamics may be reflected in our relationships with research participants, in data collection and in disseminating research findings. In recent years, researchers have started to place more emphasis on the role of languages in research, such as through the AHRC-funded projects on researching multilingually (‘Researching Multilingually’, 2020; ‘Researching Multilingually at the Borders’, 2020) and the Multilingual Matters book series with the same name (Multilingual Matters, 2020). Other publications have addressed the challenges involved in working with interpreters or multilingual research assistants in fieldwork, most notably Borchgrevink (2003), Temple and Edwards (2008), Turner (2010), Caretta (2015) and Evans et al. (2017). However, little has been said about the role of research funders and other stakeholders such as non-academic partners in influencing researchers’ language choices. In an academic

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climate in which intersectoral and interdisciplinary research collaboration is encouraged (often also between those based in the Global North and the Global South, see, e.g. UK Research and Innovation, 2020), I argue that researchers need a broader framework that allows them to take into account how all stakeholders in the research may influence researchers’ linguistic decisions. A key contribution that this chapter aims to make to researching multilingually theory is to offer the concepts of ‘listening’ and ‘linguistic hospitality’ as theoretical lenses that allow us to become more conscious of (a) our linguistic choices as researchers; (b) how they may be influenced by broader sociopolitical and institutional constraints or expectations and (c) what we could do to address some of the resulting skewed power dynamics between researchers and participants. The second key contribution I aim to make is to my home discipline of Translation Studies. There is a widespread presumption that ‘researchers working in some specialisms (e.g. translation studies) are likely to be aware of some of the intricacies of researching multilingually’ (Holmes et al., 2013: 296), and this is the case both outside and within Translation Studies (see, e.g. Saldana & O’Brien, 2014: 46). My argument is that while it may be true that translation scholars, like me, are more aware of the implications of working across different languages, it does not automatically make them well equipped to make informed decisions and to spot potential multilingual challenges early on in the research process. There is a need for more guidance on these issues in a discipline that is starting to engage more overtly with sociological contexts in which power relationships are unequal, such as translation in refugee and asylum settings, crisis and development (Delgado Luchner, 2020; Federici & Declercq, 2019; Federici & O’Brien, 2020). In addition, as Translation Studies as a discipline is making efforts to break the pattern of being ‘Eurocentric’ (Van Doorslaer & Flynn, 2013), discussions on how to collect, analyse and represent multilingual data become all the more relevant. In what follows, I first discuss the concepts of listening and linguistic hospitality. I then reflect on my listening practices during research by drawing on fieldnotes, journal entries and interview quotes. I conclude with a brief set of recommendations for researching multilingually in a linguistically hospitable way. Conceptual Framework: Listening and Linguistic Hospitality

Listening generally tends to be associated with passivity and is often considered as an easy task, expressed through everyday phrases such as ‘just listen’. In academic work, scholars have given priority to exploring aspects of voice rather than of listening. Yet Wolvin (2010) has argued that a solid theoretical foundation for understanding the listener is critical to an integrated theory of communication. In an overview of listening research, he describes that efforts to define the concept have referred to at

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least four dimensions of listening: the physiological (how a message is received physiologically), the psychological (how the listener constructs meaning from the message), the sociological (how the listener responds to the message; and how the response is conditioned by sociocultural influences) and the communicative (the listener takes an active role by sharing the responsibility for the outcome of communication and by following up on what was said). Covering aspects of these four dimensions, the International Listening Association has proposed a definition of listening as ‘the process of receiving, constructing meaning from, and responding to spoken and/or nonverbal messages’ (Wolvin, 2010: 9). When relating this definition to NGO listening, the notions of shared responsibility and following up on outcomes are important. When INGOs speak of listening to local communities, this tends to refer to formal activities organised in the shape of focus groups, interviews and community consultations, intended to collect the voices of those participating in aid programmes (Footitt et al., in press). These processes are protracted over long periods of time: from the initial stages of project preparation to final reporting. Therefore, it is helpful to understand listening as a long-term, interactive process (Purdy, 2000). This understanding also draws more attention to the various actors involved in a listening event. In the case of INGOs, these would not just be INGO workers and project participants, but also institutional donors, partner organisations, translators and interpreters. All of these actors influence listening practices: what shape they take, when and where listening takes place, who is being listened to and who is doing the listening, what exactly is being listened to, what action might be taken as a consequence of listening, and, of specific interest here: in which language(s) listening takes place. Equally, we can apply the concept of listening to academic research by asking questions about how the sociopolitical and institutional contexts of our research influence who we listen to, when, and in what language (Tesseur, 2020). Asking these questions can help researchers identify the inherent power dynamics of their listening. In addition, Ricoeur’s concept of ‘linguistic hospitality’ or ‘hospitalité langagière’ (Ricoeur, 2004, 2006) can assist researchers in thinking through how they may redress some of the linguistically skewed power dynamics. Ricoeur extensively discusses the nature of translation, which he considers as more than just a means of communication: it is an ethics of exchange with the Other. For Ricoeur, a good translation implies being open to the Other, aiming to host the foreign without claiming that our own language is sufficient. Linguistic hospitality then refers to ‘the act of inhabiting the word of the Other paralleled by the act of receiving the word of the Other into one’s own home, one’s own dwelling’ (Ricoeur, 2006: 19–20). The concept refers to openness, a willingness to learn others’ languages and cultures. More radically, linguistic hospitality is a form of activism that resists pretentions of self-sufficiency and cultural

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hegemony but that instead fully allows the foreign to mediate (Ricoeur, 2006: 4). Finally, the notion of linguistic hospitality is accompanied by a strong sense of humility: a recognition that we cannot completely know others through translation. In development work and humanitarian aid, but also as academic researchers, it is important to remember that as outsiders, we cannot fully understand the local context, and we will always be learners (O’Mathúna & Hunt, 2019). Researching Listening and Languages in Kyrgyzstan

Before I discuss my linguistic experiences, some basic background information on the linguistic makeup of Kyrgyzstan is in order. When Kyrgyzstan became independent in 1991, Kyrgyz gained the status of national language. This was an important move in the country’s efforts to establish a stronger national identity. However, Russian still has the status of official language in the country, which means it continues to be used widely in official settings, in business and in higher education. Kyrgyzstan’s capital Bishkek is largely Russian-speaking, and ethnic Kyrgyz citizens in the city often do not speak Kyrgyz. Rural communities, on the other hand, tend to be Kyrgyzspeaking. English has little currency as an international language: an estimated 0.5% of the population speak English as a foreign language (Aminov et al., 2010). However, it is more widely spoken in the international development sector. In what follows, I reflect on how the linguistic characteristics of my research visit influenced the research process. Listening to whom? Recruiting participants

One of the first steps in preparing the case study was establishing connections with potential research participants. In other words, decisions needed to be taken on who would be listened to during data collection. Our selection strategy for the Listening Zones country case studies was to interview a wide range of NGO representatives, who worked on various development issues and were funded by different donors. Within this selection, it is important to reflect on who was included or excluded from the study, and on the role that language played in this process. I used a two-pronged approach to select participants for the Kyrgyz case study. In the first instance, I recruited participants who worked in INGOs through INTRAC (International NGO Training and Research Centre), a UK non-profit organisation. INTRAC was the official nonacademic partner organisation in the Listening Zones project, and its role was to help the research team to establish connections with INGOs. It had a small office in Bishkek, where it supported local civil society through training and support programmes. The contacts that INTRAC helped me to establish were complemented by interviewees from local and national NGOs, which were recruited through my interpreters’ professional and

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personal networks. Contact with two interpreters who spoke Russian, Kyrgyz and English was established two months before fieldwork. One interpreter later fell ill and did not participate in the actual interviews, yet my other interpreter, Cholpon,1 and I still visited some of the NGO contacts that the first interpreter had provided. It is also important to note that I focused on NGOs based in Bishkek and in the country’s second biggest city, Osh. This was because of time and practical restrictions, such as the difficulty to reach rural areas in winter due to snow and ice. Both selection strategies had drawbacks and advantages, and I briefly reflect here on their linguistic characteristics. Interviewees from INGOs were mostly Kyrgyz nationals and spoke English. This was not a deliberate selection strategy. Rather, it was a case in point of what interviewees related about the Kyrgyz INGO sector, i.e. English proficiency was a key criterion in INGOs’ recruitment strategies. These interviewees shed light on informal translation practices in the Kyrgyz NGO sector: although translation work was not usually part of their job descriptions, they often found themselves translating documents or interpreting conversations. Recruiting interviewees through my interpreters gave me access to staff from local and national NGOs who spoke Russian or Kyrgyz. The initial stage of listening (as recruitment) was thus influenced, first, by my interpreters’ understanding of the project goals and what type of NGOs were needed to reach those goals, and second, by their networks. The following extract from my field journal illustrates my interpreter’s role as a gatekeeper. It describes the scene of an interview we conducted in a café early in the morning. This interview went really well, but it also revealed all the more to me how much I need Cholpon to make this research work, not only in terms of translating for me but also as a gatekeeper. This lady, whose breakfast I paid, said she felt bad about me paying because I wasn’t eating. I told her that I had already had breakfast in my hotel, and said: ‘But I am so grateful you came, I want to pay’. She said: ‘But you know if Cholpon asks something, I cannot say no!’. When she and Cholpon greeted each other and when they said goodbye, they hugged. There were conversations about this lady’s grandson, because he is ill, and she has to take care of him. It is amazing to realise that with this pressure, she still agreed to meet us today. After our meeting she leaves straight away to return to her grandson.

This extract illustrates that the existing relationship with my interpreter played a key role in convincing potential interviewees to participate. My experience is certainly not unique. Academics, journalists and development practitioners frequently rely on interpreters’ personal and professional networks to recruit participants for studies or interviewees when they are working in contexts where they are outsiders. Interpreters who fulfil these tasks are often referred to as ‘fixers’ or ‘brokers’ (Lewis & Mosse, 2006; Palmer, 2019). Their position as gatekeepers has been

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problematised, as interpreters may have diverging loyalties: to local actors, to the researcher, or they may rather have their own (financial) benefit in mind (Bierschenk et al., 2000). Reliance on interpreters’ networks for participant selection also raises questions on study representativeness. By combining my two recruitment strategies, I was able to widen my sample of participants, and this presented a broader picture of the NGO sector in Kyrgyzstan. Nevertheless, despite these efforts, my recruitment strategies had one major drawback, which points to broader structural and sociopolitical characteristics of the development landscape in Kyrgyzstan and to my identity as a Western researcher: With my interpreter, we conducted 12 interviews in Russian, but only three in Kyrgyz. The low number of Kyrgyz speakers in the interviews raises questions particularly because an estimated 71.4% of the population speak Kyrgyz as their first language (Central Intelligence Agency, 2017). Two underlying issues for the limited number of Kyrgyz speakers in interviews are, first, my focus on conducting interviews in urban areas, where Kyrgyz is less widely spoken, and second, my reliance on my interpreter to select participants. Because most of my interpreter’s assignments were for international donors and larger NGOs, she did not have pre-existing connections with Kyrgyz-speaking NGOs. Coming into the country as an outsider, it took me a while to understand this. The same type of limitation applied to INTRAC: Because INTRAC was based in Bishkek and did not employ Kyrgyz speakers, most of its connections were with organisations in urban areas and who spoke Russian. The way in which the Kyrgyz NGO sector is shaped points to two dominant hegemonic influences in the region. Linguistically, the widespread use of English in the INGO sector is an illustration of the West’s hegemonic influence and its efforts to support the growth of a local civil society sector ever since the breakup of the USSR (Buxton, 2011). In addition, Russia continues to have influence in the country, which is reflected in the sustained high status of the Russian language. The fact that so few interviewees were Kyrgyz-speaking can be understood as an illustration of this hegemonic architecture, where those who speak Russian and English have easier access to well-paid jobs, international contacts and financial means (Simpson, 2010). Despite my efforts to listen to a wide range of NGOs and to practice ‘linguistic hospitality’ by ensuring that I was listening to ‘the word of the Other’ (Ricoeur, 2004: xvi), those who are often excluded from international aid assistance were also largely excluded from the study because of some of the very issues that I was studying, such as language barriers. Researcher roles during interview listening

My identity as a Western outsider who communicated in English also affected rapport-building with interviewees. When the researcher and

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interviewee do not share the same language, establishing rapport can be challenging. Researchers such as Borchgrevink (2003) and Caretta (2015) share strategies to enhance rapport-building in these situations, which include maintaining eye contact with participants during interviews with interpreters or learning short phrases in the participants’ language to demonstrate interest and respect. I followed this advice and learned short phrases in Russian and Kyrgyz to be able to introduce myself and thank interviewees for their willingness to participate. In contrast to Borchgrevink’s (2003) and Caretta’s (2015) experiences, my interviewees did not tend to respond to my efforts. By contrast, the fact that I was visiting interviewees with a local interpreter who spoke both Russian and Kyrgyz had a more pronounced positive effect. Participants’ responses to my interpreter’s presence can be better understood when relating it to the wider sociopolitical context. As mentioned, Kyrgyz is mainly spoken in rural areas. International organisations were frequently described by interviewees as ‘consulting with the wrong people’ when preparing and delivering development projects in Kyrgyzstan (KYR 8, Director of national network, Bishkek), meaning with ‘government agencies at the central level’, but not with rural communities. Interviewees shared that when international organisations did visit rural areas, they would often do so with an interpreter who spoke Russian, and no or limited Kyrgyz, which meant that local people only had limited opportunity to interact with the international visitors. The following interview extract provides more details. Most of the freelancers [=interpreters] in Bishkek, they are either ethnic Russian, or, even if they are ethnic Kyrgyz they cannot speak Kyrgyz. So, when they go to rural areas, not only in terms of knowing culture, but first of all the language, it means that Kyrgyz people, who cannot speak Russian, either they have to keep silent, because they know that the interpreter will not be able to translate, or if they start speaking Russian then they cannot really express themselves 100%, so they have to look for words. So for them it’s really important that the interpreter speaks Kyrgyz. (KYR 11, professional linguist, Bishkek)

According to my interviewees, one reason for not recruiting an interpreter with the appropriate skill set was that international visitors often had flawed assumptions about language use in Kyrgyzstan, such as the idea that Russian was widely spoken, or that a Kyrgyz interpreter would logically speak Kyrgyz. Another reason was a lack of interpreters who could work between English and Kyrgyz. Thus, the fact that I was working with an interpreter who could deliver interpreting between English and Kyrgyz gave me legitimacy in the eyes of interviewees. Even though we only conducted three interviews in Kyrgyz, interviewees were told that they could choose the interview language. The mere availability of Kyrgyz interpreting demonstrated my respect for the country’s national language and culture. In addition, the topic of my research also helped in establishing

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rapport: in nearly all interviews, participants expressed their appreciation for the topic of the research. It’s for the first time that such kind of research is being conducted and I think that the topic of the research is very important because the language barrier is a serious barrier in addressing issues, because donors, governments and local communities, organisations, they all come together to address a problem, to resolve a problem for local people, and if you speak one and the same language it helps a lot to understand each other and to address the problem. (KYR 8, Director of SNGO, Bishkek)

Although these experiences were positive, in some cases, my very presence and the questions that I was asking created distorted expectations. Rather than an empathic outsider, participants sometimes cast me in the role of aid funder, or at least as someone who could have an influence on organisations’ funding income. This tended to happen in interviews with organisations that my interpreter did not have a pre-existing relationship with. For example, in one of these interviews, we visited a local health clinic. In my journal entry of that day, I wrote: What stood out for me for this interview and how it was different from others up until now: I got a tour of the offices and the health clinic they built, because apparently, giving tours and showing people their offices has helped them before in securing funding.

The realisation that some interviewees attributed me the role of funder took some time to materialise. The most striking example was when my interpreter and I visited a small Kyrgyz-speaking organisation, whose contact details I had received through a British organisation that had given them a funding award for their work with underserved children. The following journal extract describes the welcome that I received at the organisation when I visited for what I thought would be a one-hour interview with the director. The taxi drops us at the gate. There is a lady in an elegant blue cardigan eagerly awaiting us. We greet each other and she leads us onto the porch. There are three children waiting for us in traditional clothing. They are carrying trays of baking and an accompanying dipping sauce. Cholpon tells me: ‘This is a traditional Kyrgyz welcome’. There are three more girls in this welcome committee, who are slightly older. As we enter the office, another four people are waiting for us. I wonder if they just come to say hi and will then be off to return to their work while we talk to the director, but I am completely wrong. They all stand in a circle, and make us sit down. Then one of them stands up and takes the lead: she welcomes us, says how happy they are to have us there. She continues: ‘We will now all introduce ourselves’. We go around the circle. Cholpon and I are also asked to introduce ourselves. Then they announce: ‘Now we will start the performances!’ One of the girls is asked to play the komuz, a traditional string instrument and a well-known national symbol. It’s beautiful.

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The visit lasted for several hours and involved more live music, singing and food. In my email to my research colleagues that evening, I wrote that I was welcomed like a celebrity or an international ambassador, and that ‘I was starting to get worried that they hadn’t understood I was just a researcher coming to ask about language’. Yet during my visit, it had soon become clear that the purpose of my visit had been very well understood. While seated in a circle, each person had given examples of the language challenges that they had encountered in their activities with the NGO. The reason for the warm welcome, besides being part of Kyrgyz tradition, became clearer to me as I listened to my hosts. Then, the only man present, who is the Chair of a larger, umbrella organisation, asks if he can add a few words. He says how important he thinks the work that I am doing is, that the language barrier for them is a very big obstacle in their work. He acknowledges several of the points I made in my ‘introduction’, and how good it is that I am here to speak to them and listen to their experiences. I am very touched by their welcome. The amount of effort that they have put into preparing this, the eagerness, apparently, with which they have awaited me, how they have looked forward to this day. Why? Apparently, it is because I am taking the time to come all the way here, with my interpreter, and listen. They tell me this has happened once before, an American lady from the UN came, listened, took pictures. This has had huge impact for them, because it meant their stories were published in English, and people all around the world could read them. I now understand better why they value my visit so much. The combination of my association with their British funding organisation and their previous experience with an international visitor meant that I was perceived as a powerful gatekeeper. In this case, this power did not directly relate to potential financial gain, but rather referred to my linguistic skills, i.e. I spoke English, and I would be able to share the organisation’s experiences in an international context. As Kyrgyz speakers, members of this organisation faced pervasive challenges in accessing training activities, information on NGO work, and international aid funding, for which English or Russian were generally required. The visit drew my awareness to a critical gap in our reporting plans for the Listening Zones research, i.e. we had not planned to produce research outputs in local languages. A linguistically hospitable approach that demonstrated active listening in this case implied sharing back the research findings with this NGO in their language. I discuss the implications of this realisation later when I describe the Listening Zones’ reporting strategy. Listening through Western, hegemonic concepts?

Another challenge of working through translation in international development is that many of the key concepts of development are rooted in Western culture and tradition, which makes it difficult to translate them with clarity

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into other languages (Cornwall & Eade, 2010: 4). The Listening Zones interviews provided an opportunity to explore how translation of such concepts was dealt with during interpreted encounters. Interviewees shared a plethora of examples of Western concepts that were difficult to translate: For a lot of people in the country, if you say human rights, these are just two empty words for them. And normally … they think that, it’s not here, it’s somewhere else, and some people will say: ‘ah, human rights, it’s there! These are European values’. And let alone the concepts like sexual rights or reproductive rights … So, if you want to have a dialogue with someone about these concepts, then you have to unpack these words for this person. You need to explain exactly what is meant by that. (KYR 10, Director of SNGO, Bishkek)

The Listening Zones project itself was framed around frequently used development concepts: It explored INGO ‘listening’ as a way in which INGOs aimed to be ‘accountable’ to their so-called ‘beneficiaries’. I here reflect on how the term ‘beneficiary’ was dealt with in my interviews as an illustration. Development concepts often exist in other languages as loanwords. This is the case for the term ‘beneficiary’, which is translated in Russian as ‘бенефициар’ (‘benefitsiar’). During interviewing, I did not use the word ‘beneficiary’ in my questions, because it has become a somewhat contested concept in development circles. The term suggests that what is received is good (‘bene’) and implicitly places beneficiaries in a relationship of dependency where they are portrayed as passive and where their right to expect that NGOs are accountable for their actions is undermined (Crack, 2013). However, after one of the first interviews, I noted in my fieldnotes: ‘I noticed that Cholpon used the word “beneficiaries” in Russian in the interview, while I try to avoid using it in English. I have to ask her about this’. Although I adapted my language use, this passed by unnoticed in the interview context and the language of dependency crept back into my questions when they were being translated. Adapting the terminology is an important first step in changing a system that is characterised by unequal power dynamics, yet the example shows how closely related (imported) terminology and people’s understanding of development as a (Western) system are. Changing the words does not automatically dissolve the exported Western aid framework in which local communities are constructed as depending on international aid. The role of the interpreter in how discourse is presented in translation is apparent in this example. A key skill for interpreters is often considered as ‘the ability to accurately and faithfully interpret what is said’ (UNHCR, 2010: 33). However, research has shown that interpreters frequently engage in linguistic mediation, meaning that they make choices on omitting, expanding or linguistically adapting speech in a way that is appropriate to participants’ cultural background and knowledge to ensure understanding (Baraldi & Gavioli, 2015). Furthermore, interpreters are influenced in their

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translation choices by their personal, cultural, institutional and sociopolitical identity and positioning. In other words, an interpreter’s linguistic choices may influence the meaning and understanding of what is being said. Because interpreters are active participants in knowledge construction, I wondered how my interpreter’s translation choices affected my understanding of typically Kyrgyz or Russian concepts or traditions. As part of my approach to linguistic hospitality, I asked interviewees for examples of Kyrgyz or Russian concepts that were difficult to translate. Interviewees did not tend to engage with this question extensively. However, by using a process in which I asked my interpreter to transcribe and translate interview recordings after the interview and by comparing this translation with her live interpreting, I came to understand that in some cases, my ambition to ‘inhabit the word of the Other’ (Ricoeur, 2004: xvi) was hampered by my limited knowledge of the Kyrgyz language and culture and that in some cases, my interpreter’s efforts of linguistic mediation meant that Kyrgyz expressions were not translated. This is illustrated in the extracts below, which present one interviewee’s response to my question on challenges with translating concepts between English, Russian and Kyrgyz. Extract A contains the interpreting that was provided during the interview, and Extract B is the translation that was produced later based on the Russian transcript of the interviewee’s response. Extract A: Interpreting during the interview There is always a problem with concepts and terminology, because it’s one thing when you are providing a training, or when you are organizing an event, you can speak in simple language, either Russian or Kyrgyz, but when you are writing up a report, a project proposal, when you are writing a document, then you have, you cannot use very simple language. You have to use terminology and concepts, and, because, you, you want to show to people who read the document that you are an educated person, so in those terms, terminology they are a challenge, and uh, also in, uh, translating into Kyrgyz or from Kyrgyz, just recently we were laughing that in Kyrgyz there are a lot of words that mean absolutely different things in different phrases. And, so, yeah, language differences they are a challenge. (KYR 3, Director local NGO, Bishkek)

Extract B: Translation based on Russian transcript Sure. Even if I’m confident about my Kyrgyz or Russian, when you’re writing a document, you cannot write it in a simple language. The language must be intelligent and accessible. It is like your face. So it is difficult. They will judge about your level of competence based on this document or knowledge of terminology. In Kyrgyz there are a lot of words that do not have direct translation. If we do direct translation then we may lose the meaning. How can I say correctly … Just recently we were laughing: Why Kyrgyz people very often use the word ‘blue’. It can have different meanings depending on the context. Just a simple example.

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While both renderings may give the same overall message, the second translation provides more detail that is related to Kyrgyz culture, such as the reference to expressions with the word ‘blue’. In Kyrgyz culture, colours are closely related to nature; ‘blue’ primarily refers to the sky, and ‘red’, for example, refers to the sun. While my interpreter related that she omitted the example of ‘blue’ in the live interpreting so as not to digress into a cultural explanation that seemed irrelevant to the interview question, I myself perceived the reference to ‘blue’ as one that could enrich my limited understanding of Kyrgyz cultural values, in which nature plays a central role. The example emphasises the need for a sense of humility when aiming to conduct multilingual research and to recognise that despite our efforts, interviewees’ responses may well be stripped of their cultural richness and subtlety in translation, and we simply cannot fully understand the local context. I purposefully did not include the Russian transcript here to convey these limitations. The difference between the two translations problematises the act of conducting research in languages that one is not familiar with, and of translating research data. Although I had planned to use the strategy of comparing translated transcripts throughout the case study, I was only able to do so for the first three interviews because of time and financial restrictions. The strategy is uncommon (although note Evans et al. (2017) for an impressive example), and the role of translation in academic guidance on interviewing and transcription tends to receive little attention. If it is discussed, the problematics of how meaning may change in translation is largely overlooked (see, e.g. Copland & Creese, 2015). Because translation does not tend to be problematised, it can be challenging to finance its cost from research budgets. However, the above example shows that not spending additional time and resources on the effects of using an interpreter for data collection may hamper researchers’ listening efforts. Learning from listening: Adapting reporting and dissemination strategies

As mentioned, while listening to interviewees, I became aware that as a research team we had overlooked the need to produce research outputs in local languages. Interviewees frequently complained about INGOs’ not sharing results in local languages, as illustrated in the following extract. All international monitors and evaluators … their working language is only English. Reports of local monitoring groups are all translated into English. Not all final monitoring reports are translated [into Russian or Kyrgyz]. The wider public does not have access to them. We have very little understanding of what’s going on there. (KYR 02, Director of national NGO network, Bishkek)

INGO reports were primarily intended to demonstrate value for money to donors. By not translating them into local languages, INGOs made their

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learning inaccessible to local organisations. The parallels between INGO listening and our own practices as UK-based researchers became evident again here: we too had planned outputs targeted at our funder and our key stakeholders, namely UK-based INGOs, but not at local organisations that provided the input for our case studies. There was thus a crucial power imbalance in the way in which our project was conceptualised and designed. Aiming to become more linguistically hospitable, we adapted our output plans and translated our final report into five languages: Chichewa, French, Kyrgyz, Russian and Spanish. In addition, we invited guest speakers from each of our case study countries to our final project conference to share their views on the report. For the Kyrgyz case study, we invited my interpreter as a speaker, thus aiming to acknowledge her important contribution in conducting the fieldwork and in knowledge construction. Another important aspect of listening as a long-term event was to continue to engage the participants in the research after our country visits. One of our strategies was to share our draft report with participants so that they could give feedback before we finalised it. Maintaining this multilingual dialogue was challenging. For example, the draft was translated into Russian and into Spanish for comments, but we only succeeded in producing the Kyrgyz translation almost a year later. Part of the problem was a lack of translators who could translate from English directly into Kyrgyz. In fact, this was a challenge that several interviewees had mentioned when discussing translation of development-related material. A common solution, which we also opted for, was to translate the report into Russian first, and then from Russian into Kyrgyz. Because of time pressure to finalise the report before the end of the project, Kyrgyz participants could not be included in the report’s feedback process. Overall, there were at least two stages for the Kyrgyz case study where Kyrgyz-speaking organisations were disadvantaged: during participant selection, and during feedback and receiving information about results. Structural and inherently political constraints resulted in Kyrgyz-speaking voices largely being silenced in the case study, despite our efforts to listen to them. Recommendations and Conclusions

In my discussion, I have aimed to illustrate how the concepts of listening and linguistic hospitality helped me understand and address some of the unequal linguistic power dynamics in my research. Drawing on my learning, I provide a set of recommendations to multilingual researchers in Table 1.1 in parallel to the recommendations to INGOs that we shared in our Listening Zones final report (Footitt et al., 2018). Given the many parallels between NGO development projects and academic research projects, this seems fitting. Naturally, the list is non-exhaustive and is not applicable to all research contexts. For the Listening Zones project, one of the key gaps identified in our own practice was the lack of initial planning of research outputs in local

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languages. The concept of linguistic hospitality was helpful in aiming to redress some of these identified gaps and tensions, although there were also issues that were beyond my own power or capacity, such as the inability to continue with producing contrastive translations of interviews, or our inability to produce outputs in other formats for participants due to a lack of planning, and financial and time constraints. From participant feedback, we know such outputs would have been welcomed, and this is why the recommendation has been included in Table 1.1. Table 1.1  Recommendations for multilingual academic research projects Recommendations from the Listening Zones project for INGOs (Footitt et al., 2018)

Recommendations for multilingual academic research projects

When planning international development projects: • Think about language at the design phase of a project. Listen to the words that the community uses in the needs assessment stage • Provide language support during early discussions with communities, helping to facilitate a dialogue, and to create relationships of trust • Include a budget line for translation and interpreting

When planning multilingual research projects: • Think about language at the design phase of a project. Who speaks which language, which languages (skills) will you need to conduct the research and to report on the research? Which words are appropriate to talk about your project with your participants? What literature (from where, in what language) is shaping your research? • Seek out colleagues in your research context that you can collaborate with and co-publish with, potentially in other languages. Think of working with participatory research methods • Include a budget line for translation and interpreting. Think about costs during all stages of your research: preparation, data collection, analysis and writing up results

When starting a project and during monitoring and evaluation: • Translate successful project applications into local languages so that partners and communities can have an in-depth understanding of what is planned. This will give them access to the information and knowledge needed to increase involvement and local ownership • Work with local interpreters wherever possible and seek to establish a register of translators and interpreters who have worked in and have an understanding of development. This register, and good practice in interpreting, could be shared with partners and communities • Feedback regularly to the community to check that the project is meeting original expectations, and make necessary amendments • Translate reports into local languages and feed back to partners in their first languages

During data collection, analysis and reporting: • Translate project-related information into the languages of your participants (next to consent forms), e.g. translate your project website • Work with local interpreters who have relevant contacts and who are familiar with research processes. Allow sufficient time to brief and debrief, and to discuss the translation of concepts and questions that are central to your research • Reflect on linguistic power dynamics with the research team regularly and be open to adjusting plans if necessary. Share your emerging findings with participants in their languages (e.g. draft reports, presentations) and take their feedback into account • Translate reports into a language accessible to your research participants and end-users. Think of other formats that might be more appropriate, such as video or audio messages. Think about dissemination events: where do these take place, in what language, and who can access them?

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These recommendations indicate openness and present a deliberate effort to move into the realm of the Other and to receive the Other into one’s own home (Ricoeur, 2006). While they hopefully provide useful guidance for researchers, my analysis has also demonstrated that there is a need for the structural frameworks surrounding academic research to help researchers in devising more linguistically hospitable approaches. For example, research funding application forms often ask about outreach to the wider community (of where the funder is based) and about gender issues in research but do not tend to ask about feeding back to research participants and about language (budget) needs. Furthermore, while much emphasis may be placed on equality (e.g. equal numbers of male and female participants), the notion of ‘equity’ and how to ensure equal access to the design, operation, feedback and outputs of the research is given little attention. These are inherently political issues, in which language plays an important role. They are not only important considerations for researchers but are particularly relevant for those academic funders who have started to place emphasis on the need to work more collaboratively with colleagues and partners in the Global South and who aim to fund projects that will lead to co-creation of knowledge. If funders truly intend for such processes to emerge, it is necessary that they take into account how specific language choices or assumptions may exclude people from participating and that conducting collaborative work in languages other than English may lead to more equitable relationships. Acknowledgements

This work was supported by funding from the AHRC (AH/ M006808/1) and from the Irish Research Council and from the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under the Marie Skłodowska-Curie Grant Agreement No. 713279. Thank you to Hilary Footitt, Angela Crack and the editors for their helpful comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. Note (1) My interpreter Cholpon has given explicit and enthusiastic consent to be named in this chapter.

References Aminov, K., Jensen, V., Juraev, S., Overland, I., Tyan, D. and Uulu, Y. (2010) Language use and language policy in Central Asia. Central Asia Regional Data Review 2 (1), 1–29. Banks, N., Hulme, D. and Edwards, M. (2015) NGOs, states, and donors revisited: Still too close for comfort? World Development 66, 707–718.

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Baraldi, C. and Gavioli, L. (2015) Mediation. In F. Pöchhacker (ed.) Routledge Encyclopedia of Interpreting Studies (pp. 247–249). Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Bierschenk, T., Chauveau, J.-P. and Olivier de Sardan, J.-P. (eds) (2000) Courtiers en développement: Les villages africains en quête de projets. Paris: ADAP et Karthala. Borchgrevink, A. (2003) Silencing language: Of anthropologists and interpreters. Ethnography 4 (1), 95–121. Buxton, C. (2011) The Struggle for Civil Society in Central Asia: Crisis and Transformation. Sterling: Kumarian Press. Caretta, M.A. (2015) Situated knowledge in cross-cultural, cross-language research: A collaborative reflexive analysis of researcher, assistant and participant subjectivities. Qualitative Research 15 (4), 489–505. Central Intelligence Agency (2017) The world factbook. Central Asia. Kyrgyzstan. See https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/kg.html (accessed 5 January 2021). Copland, F. and Creese, A. (2015) Linguistic Ethnography: Collecting, Analysing and Presenting Data. London: Sage. Cornwall, A. and Eade, D. (eds) (2010) Deconstructing Development Discourse: Buzzwords and Fuzzwords. Rugby: Practical Action Publishing with Oxfam GB. Crack, A.M. (2013) Language, listening and learning: Critically reflective accountability for INGOs. International Review of Administrative Sciences 79 (4), 809–828. Delgado Luchner, C. (ed.) (2020) Translation and Development. Special issue of Journal for Translation Studies in Africa (1), 1–75. See https://journals.ufs.ac.za/index.php/ jtsa/issue/view/434 DFID (2014) Sharpening incentives to perform: DFID’s strategy for payment by results. See https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/ file/323868/Sharpening_incentives_to_perform_DFIDs_Strategy_on_Payment_by_ Results.pdf (accessed 14 October 2021). Evans, R., Mccarthy, J.R., Kébé, F. and Bowlby, S. (2017) Interpreting “grief” in Senegal: Language, emotions and cross-cultural translation in a francophone African context. Mortality 22 (2), 118–135. Federici, F.M. and Declercq, C. (eds) (2019) Intercultural Crisis Communication: Translation, Interpreting and Languages in Local Crises. London: Bloomsbury. Federici, F.M. and O’Brien, S. (eds) (2020) Translation in Cascading Crises. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Footitt, H., Crack, A. and Tesseur W. (2018) Respecting communities in international development: Languages and cultural understanding. See www.Reading.ac.uk/listening-zones-ngos/ (accessed 22 June 2020). Footitt, H., Crack, A. and Tesseur, W. (2020) Development NGOs and Languages: Listening, Power and Inclusion. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Lewis, D. and Mosse, D. (eds) (2006) Development Brokers and Translators: The Ethnography of Aid and Agencies. West Hartfort, CT: Kumarian Press. Multilingual Matters (2020) Researching multilingually. See https://www.multilingualmatters.com/page/series-results/researching-multilingually/ (accessed 18 August 2020). O’Mathúna, D.P. and Hunt, M.R. (2019) Ethics and crisis translation: Insights from the work of Paul Ricoeur. Disaster Prevention and Management 29 (2), 175–186. Palmer, L. (2019) The Fixers: Local News Workers and the Underground Labor of International Reporting. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Purdy, M.W. (2000) Listening, culture and structures of consciousness: Ways of studying listening. International Journal of Listening 14 (1), 47–68.

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Researching Multilingually (2020) See http://researchingmultilingually.com/ (accessed 18 August 2020). Researching Multilingually at the Borders of Language, the Body, Law and the State (2020) See https://researching-multilingually-at-borders.com/ (accessed 18 August 2020). Ricoeur, P. (2004) Sur la traduction. Paris: Bayard. Ricoeur, P. (2006) On Translation. (E. Brennan, Trans.) London: Routledge. Saldana, G. and O’Brien, S. (2014) Research Methodologies in Translation Studies. London: Routledge. Simpson, M. (2010) Unpacking East/West tensions: Women’s NGOs and Islam in contemporary Kyrgyzstan. Anthropology of East Europe Review 28 (1), 268–301. Temple, B. and Edwards, R. (2008) Interpreters/translators and cross-language research: Reflexivity and border crossings. International Journal of Qualitative Methods 1 (2), 1–12. Tesseur, W. (2020) Listening, languages and the nature of knowledge and evidence: What we can learn from investigating ‘listening’ in NGOs. In R. Gibb, A. Tremlett and J. Danero Iglesias (eds) Learning and Using Languages in Ethnographic Research (pp. 193–206). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Turner, S. (2010) Research note: The silenced assistant. Reflections of invisible interpreters and research assistants. Asia Pacific Viewpoint 51 (2), 206–219. UK Research and Innovation (2020) Global Challenges Research Fund. See https://www. ukri.org/research/global-challenges-research-fund/ (accessed 10 April 2020). UNHCR (2010) Improving Asylum Procedures: Comparative Analysis and Recommendations for Law and Practice. See http://www.unhcr.org/protection/operations/4ba9d99d9/ improving-asylum-procedures-comparative-analysis-recommendations-law-practice.html (accessed 9 November 2021). University of Reading (2020) The Listening Zones of NGOs: Languages and cultural knowledge in development programmes. See http://www.reading.ac.uk/listeningzones-ngos (accessed 10 April 2020). Van Doorslaer, L. and Flynn, P. (eds) (2013) Eurocentrism in Translation Studies. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Wolvin, A.D. (2010) Listening engagement: Intersecting theoretical perspectives. In A.D. Wolvin (ed.) Listening and Human Communication in the 21st Century (pp. 7–30). Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.

2 Multilingualism, Shifting Paradigms and the 21st Century: Negotiating Multilingual Research in Teams through the Lens of Complexity Shameem Oozeerally

Brief Introduction

This chapter is a reflexive piece which does not necessarily bring answers to questions regarding language studies but poses more questions, much like the epistemological premise it is based on: complexity. It represents a series of interweaved questionings stemming from interrogations following a research project led in the period 2016–2017, and submitted in 2017, which aimed to explore the implications of using a complexity-based approach to investigate heterogeneous language practices of pre-primary school children in Mauritius. The research team, initially comprising nine researchers from different backgrounds, was engaged in research within a paradigm of uncertainty. This contrasted with institutional discourses on research, which, while admitting the need for innovation, remain grounded in fixed procedural roadmaps. This contribution proposes to discuss the epistemological issues, research processes and methodological challenges associated with doing research based on an epistemology of complexity, in a (linguistic) environment which is fundamentally and intrinsically heterogeneous. It is divided into three main sections. The first one introduces the local context of the research and the research project itself, which leads to the second section focused on researching multilingualism through the lens of complexity. Epistemological and methodological challenges facing the research team, and associated with the multilingual nature of the research, are discussed 49

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in this section. The third section is articulated around a reflection on the process of researching multilingually (Holmes et al., 2013) within the team composed of members with heterogeneous backgrounds. To conclude, some implications are presented for other researchers engaged in researching multilingually, whether in teams or alone. The Local Linguistic Context

In this section, I describe the multilingual context of the research project. Mauritius is a small island in the Indian Ocean, with a population of about 1.2 million, and is a fundamentally heterogeneous space. It gained independence in 1968, after being colonised by the French and British, respectively. In terms of demographics, the island is constituted by people originating from different countries, such as Africa, India, China and France. More than 21 languages are in use in Mauritius, with Mauritian Creole (KM) being the most widely spoken (86.5% of the population, according to the 2011 statistics (Central Statistics Office, 2011)). English and French are the other supracommunal languages in the local environment (Carpooran, 2007). This heterogeneity is also encompassed in local language practices (Oozeerally, 2015, 2017), with speakers engaging in complex language productions which oscillate between different systems (French, KM, English). Likewise, the research team’s observations while visiting preprimary schools revealed the same diversity among children, who can seamlessly navigate different systems to produce mutually intelligible productions which go beyond classical definitions of language. National educational policy, however, does not seem to be compatible with the observed diversity and is geared towards the learning of discrete languages, with English and French being compulsory at primary level (see further, Hookoomsing, this volume). While KM is the most widely spoken language, it is also the language which has the least official value, despite significant upward social movement in past years, notably since its introduction at Primary School level in 2012. Nonetheless, it remains confined to its relatively unofficial place, one of the reasons being the significant ethnic connotations associated with the term ‘Creole’ (see further in the following sections). The debates around its introduction to the context of parliamentary debates are still ongoing. At the other end of the spectrum is English, which is the de facto official language of the country. Even though the constitution does not explicitly mention any official language, English is the language of the Parliament, of education, of administration and legislation. This official status is contrasted by the lack of actual interpersonal use, as English remains relatively confined to its official and written status. French is situated somewhere in between English and KM, having a semi-affective and semi-official status. Its

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lexical proximity to KM partly contributes to its larger diffusion. It also has a certain degree of prestige, with many families choosing to speak in French to the younger generation (Baggioni & Robillard, 1990). French is also a language which is accepted and relatively widely used in formal instruction, administration and in the parliament. Both French and English are languages of the former colonial powers of the island. The research project

The research project on which this chapter is based was carried out from 2016 to 2017 in 13 pre-primary schools in Mauritius Oozeerally et al. (2017). It aimed to reflect on the process of researching the language experienciations (as a form of humanised experience) of preschool children in a multilingual and heterogeneous environment. It also aimed to critically evaluate the dialectic between observed heterogeneous practices and the colonial language-centrism which is pervasive in Mauritian national policy documents. The epistemological stance adopted for the project was also informed by my doctoral research, which was carried out in French and explored the implications of alternative theoretical postures to approach language studies. This decision was taken before the constitution of the team and had an impact on the research process; it partially explains the discourse-related challenges for the team that I discuss in the third section of this chapter. The genesis of the research project, ‘Vers une modélisation complexe des pratiques (socio)langagières dans les écoles pré-primaires à Maurice: pistes, perspectives et implications’ (Towards the Modelling of Language Practices in Pre-Primary Schools in Mauritius: Avenues, Perspectives and Implications; my translation), was the result of observations in pre-­ primary schools, as part of the researchers’ professional practice. The language practices of the children were marked by instability, fluidity, the capacity of children to move seamlessly through different ‘language systems’ and a spontaneity that pointed to inherent heterogeneity and multiplicity. These practices contrasted with policy recommendations which encouraged the ‘use of languages’ defined as specific, identifiable systems. The multiple interpersonal and environmental interactions were also observed to be crucial in how children experienced language. These interactions non-linearly operate depending on the individuals (classmates, teachers, assistants), the objects (talking about books, toys), the discursive modalities (storytelling, discussion, role play), the time of the day and the space where they are, among others. The schools, as systems within the local social system, isomorphically map onto an epistemology of complexity and the team invested this knowledge in methodological considerations. The various ‘constraints’ related to theoretical postures, which trickled down to how the human-experiencer is conceived within Morin’s (2008) paradigm of complexity, were central in these methodological

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reflections. Observations were anchored in the notion of experienciation instead of language practices, as per our complexity posture, and complemented by what Blanchet (2012) calls ‘participation observante’, which can be translated as ‘observing participation’. Compared to participant observation, observing participation places more stress on the fact that the researcher is part and parcel of what/who is being researched and is an active ‘actor’ in the co-construction of experiences, grounded in a context of the co-presence of the observer and the observed. In the beginning of the project, nine researchers from different disciplinary backgrounds, i.e. Mathematics, English, French and Education studies were involved. Each had a specific linguistic profile, with a specific linguistic identity and attitude towards different languages, which directly influenced the process of researching multilingually. While the group agreed that a different epistemological orientation was needed so that meaningful knowledge could be generated, disciplinary background represented an issue. Members had to step out of their comfort zones and question the very basis of how they interpreted reality, languages and research in languages. The research design, therefore, was based on the need to move beyond how we had learned to carry out research in language. The paradoxical situation of KM

KM is the object of a paradoxical situation. In practice, it is the most used language, while in policy, it is considered as an ancestral language, especially in the educational context. The issue of ethnicity is important in the socio-historical landscape as it is a major factor in how members of the population identify themselves. More importantly, the constitution of Mauritius uses ethnicity as a basis for the creation of ‘communities’ which demarcate the local population sections (see Constitution of Mauritius 1968, Schedule 1, $4). A related issue is the notion of ancestral language, which Carpooran (2010) identifies as an ‘epistemological impossibility’, given the monolithic nature of the term (ancestors can identify with more than one language, above the possibility of being bi–multilingual) and the impossibility of pinpointing the exact genealogical point where the term ‘ancestor’ is semantically relevant. However, ancestrality is a defining factor not only of ethnicity in the local context but also in how languages are represented and offered at school level. The language-ethnicity associations are also directly incorporated to optional language teaching policy. These are often associated to an ethnic group. Urdu, Hindi, Marathi, for example, are the perceived ancestral languages of Muslims, Hindus and Marathis, respectively. KM was introduced in the Mauritian educational sector in 2012 as an optional language, despite being the home language of 86.5% of the population (Central Statistics Office, 2011); but in the addendum to the National

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Curriculum Framework Kreol Morisien (Mauritius Institute of Education, 2012),1 the basis for the introduction of the language is as follows: […] it is legitimate that the Creole community identifies itself with Mauritian Kreol, on the cultural and ethnic dimensions … Today, it is also in this perspective of reclamation and repair that Mauritian Kreol is being introduced in schools as “ancestral language” “at par with other ancestral languages.” This decision allows us to honour the demands of the Creole community which claims Mauritian Kreol as their “ancestral language” because their great grandparents and children invented and gradually started to speak this language … Historically and anthropologically, the Mauritian Kreol language represents an unequalled cultural wealth that the slaves and their children gave this country and its population. (2012: 8–9, original emphasis)

This also reinforces the representations around KM, which, despite significant progress during the past years (Oozeerally, 2015), remains an oral and affective language and still ‘suffers’ from being the language of low prestige within the local diglossic dynamics (Carpooran, 2007). There is an inherent tension between its status as the language of the whole population, and as the claimed ancestral language of a certain section of the population. This is exacerbated by the fact that the term ‘Creole’ (Kreol) in Mauritius is simultaneously a glossonym (the name of a language) and an ethnonym (the name of an ethnic group). Consequently, as explained by Carpooran (2010), it is also the object of a ‘taboo’. One of the ways this taboo is manifested is through the avoidance of the word ‘Creole’ as well as the recourse to circumlocutions and reformulations, especially in public documents. In the same line of reasoning, similar strategies are used in textbooks. In the former National Foundation Year Programme, for example, which aimed to use the first language of children explicitly in the curriculum (Rughoonundun-Chellapermal, 2017) instead of citing Creole, the notes for teachers mentioned the ‘language with which the learner was most comfortable’. This is one example of how the local linguistic landscape is complex, with multiple levels of interweaving and causality relationships, going beyond the school context, and spanning various socio-historical and contextual dimensions. Epistemological Insights Emerging from the Mauritian Context

Local researchers in the field of linguistics have been interrogating the epistemological underpinnings of language, expressing the need to move beyond the ‘known’ theories and instruments associated with sociolinguistics for example. My doctoral thesis (Oozeerally, 2015) explored the epistemological reconfigurations in language studies, in the context of globalisation and internet expansion, and proposes to view language

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practices from the lens of chaos and complexity theories (Oozeerally, 2016, 2017). Tirvassen and Ramasawmy (2017) also critically analyse the notion of multilingualism by anchoring their argument in the Mauritian sociolinguistic landscape. The work of Robillard (2008), who is of Mauritian origin, has been instrumental in framing language practices from the lens of complexity. In the first place, instead of using the term ‘langue’ (language), Robillard uses ‘L phenomena’ which comprise the representational and reflexive dimension of what is constructed; the L is conceived as ‘une zone de contact, de tension, d’attractions-repulsions, comme un champ ou (sic) sont possibles des relations qui construisent la société, l’individu  …’ (Robillard, 2008b: 132–133) (‘a zone of contact, tensions, attractionsrepulsions, like a field where the relationships that construct society, and the individual, are possible’, my translation). He then critiques the notion of languages as conceived in structural perspectives (which he calls ‘technolinguistique’ (Robillard, 2008b: 148) ‘technolinguistics’, my translation), described using the term LSDH (phénomènes L conçus Stables, Décontextualisés, Déshistoricés, Homogènes) (L phenomena when considered as stable, decontextualised, ahistorical and homogeneous; my translation) and proposes the contrasting and more fluid notion of LICH (phénomènes L conçus comme Instables, Contextualisés, Historicisés, Hétérogènes) (L phenomena when considered as unstable, contextual, historical and heterogenous; my translation). Therefore, the research project based on complexity was constructed around this notion of unstable language practices and used the concept of experienciation (from French expérienciation) as an instrumental concept, notably in methodological terms. The notion of experienciation (Engel, 2007; Robillard, 2008) posits that the observed goes beyond traditional conceptions of ‘experiments’ as decontextualised processes and considers experiences as contextual experienciations where aspects such as affectivity, volition, intuition, etc. are fundamental. For the research, we observed the ‘language experienciations’ of the pre-primary school children. An epistemology of the unstable

The term complexity comes from Latin ‘complexus’, which means that which is weaved together (Morin, 2008). As an epistemological trajectory, complexity has been the subject of debates for several years. Waldrop (1992) has done significant work in the popularisation of the concept, but it is the seminal work of Morin (2008) that paved the way for important reflections in many fields such as education. Applications of complexity thinking stem from the consideration that social realities cannot be understood through hegemonic theoretical systems stemming from positivist philosophy Jörg (2009). The idea of

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interrelatedness is essential in complexity thinking; complexity studies the connections between different units which are interdependent, along with the emergent relationships that arise (Blanchet, 2012; Le Moigne, 1999; Morin, 2008; Robillard, 2008). In our school observations, this interconnectedness stood out. Children’s language practices were a function of their own social experienciations and interactions, at family level and school level, and the way they used language was heavily context-­ dependent. In other terms, it mattered to whom they were talking, when (during play or during story-time) and depending on the objects they were interacting with. The construction of linguistic dynamics was also dependent on the interplay between different connected factors such as language anxiety/security, linguistic power relationships between teacher and learners, the location of the school, the philosophy and culture of the school among others. Each linguistic space was constituted in an emergent way through nonlinear weaving of those factors. Complexity represented a solid theoretical grounding in light of this empirical diversity. As a concept, complexity encompasses a certain level of epistemic multiplicity, grounded in historical and contextual dynamics. Alhadeff-Jones (2013), drawing from the work of Morin (2008), enumerates several principles regarding complexity, which formed the basis for the theoretical, and thus methodological, considerations of the 2017 research project: (1) Recognition of the principles of organisation and self-organisation. (2) The principle of complex causality (including mutual causalities and recursive loops). (3) The interpretation of phenomena through the circular logic linking order, disorder, interactions and organisations. (4) The principle of distinction (and not disjunction) between the object, the subject and the environment. (5) The principle of the relationship between the observer and the observed. (6) The principle of dialogical thinking through macro-concepts within, between and beyond disciplines. The epistemological diversity of complexity

The term complexity is dynamically interconnected to different knowledge configurations, which are all historically and contextually determined. This proved to be a challenge for the team of researchers working on the abovementioned project in two respects: the epistemological and practical dimensions. From the epistemological perspective, the team interrogated the navigation of the field within foundational epistemic postulates that are intrinsically multiple. This led us to ask questions about dealing with fundamentally complex entities, to adopt a plan

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for research. One of the most significant questions concerned the negotiation between the ‘non-method’ stance of complexity (Oozeerally, 2019) and the need to construct common instruments which would allow team members to ‘gather data’ during class observations. It was therefore important for us to problematise the notion of complexity and evaluate the methodological possibilities. The work of Alhadeff-Jones (2008, 2009, 2013), Morin (2008), Robillard (2008), Morin and Le Moigne (1999) and Dewaele (2001) were particularly useful in the heterogeneous, ‘plurilingual’ local context for grounding the theoretical and methodological dimensions of the project. Right from the beginning, therefore, the researchers questioned their assumptions about how they conceived languages. This was even more prominent among colleagues coming from non-language backgrounds, as they were not exposed to such discussions in their practices. The notions of ‘L’ and LICH were especially difficult to grasp, not only because of the conceptual ‘strangeness’ associated to it, but also because it was in French. This was a significant barrier, in terms of communication as well as in terms of conceptualisation. The practical aspect emerged retrospectively, after the research itself. It was found that researching multilingually was a complex process, with the researchers having their own conceptions, identities, language attitudes and epistemic postures, owing to their disciplinary and multilingual backgrounds. With hindsight, negotiating such aspects proved challenging not only for the team members but also for me as the lead investigator (see also next section on multireferentiality, and the subsequent section on researching multilingualism multilingually). The issue of multireferentiality and language

One of the main obstacles the research team encountered concerned what Alhadeff-Jones (2009) calls multireferentiality. Considering the different roots of complexity and education, he explains that there is an inherent difficulty in using complexity theory in education; the same difficulty applies to the use of complexity in language studies. Complexity theories, as he explains, emerged from fields that do not traditionally consider the specificities of human complexity, as opposed to biological, computational or physical complexities. He uses the notion of interaction as an example, comparing how the interaction of a biological organism within an ecosystem can have multiple points of reference. In relation to the child with respect to a given school environment, AlhadeffJones (2008: 67) states: One of the main stakes appears, in my view, to consider the multireferentiality of educational situations (Ardoino, 1993) and the heterogeneity of languages used to interpret them. The uncertainty of the researcher aiming to understand strategically the way heterogeneous languages are

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articulated involves therefore the making of choices, to make them be explicit and to justify them in regard of the contingencies of her/his own environment.

In other terms, multireferentiality, according to Alhadeff-Jones (2009), represents the semantic interpretation of a single notion which can have different meanings depending on who is reading, using and interpreting the notion. While this definition of multireferentiality is limited to ­discipline-related interpretations, additional interpretive filters, such as language/multilingual identity and personal historicity, can further ­complexify meaning-making situations, which sometimes prevail despite careful definition and referencing of research terminology. The first challenge we encountered with multireferentiality concerns its methodological consequence. Even the researchers who were comfortable in French, including me, had to undergo a process of ‘unthinking’, especially with respect to concepts which represented our comfort zones. We had all been used to analytical thinking, which is common in academic contexts. The ‘unthinking’ process had to be accompanied by a rethinking process which required the use of terminology which was compatible with our epistemological stance of complexity. Owing to the epistemological grounding of the research, the process of building a common academic positioning and vocabulary among the research team was particularly complex. This was notable in terms of addressing the issue of how the researchers from diverse disciplinary backgrounds and discourses came together to work within a complexity that was new to many of us. The second challenge is articulated around two additional intermeshed levels: language and methodology. The initial research team was composed of nine individuals, with different backgrounds, both in terms of subject area and usual language of communication. While the team meetings were carried out mostly in KM, the home language, the project was conceived in French. This was a significant obstacle because many of the team members did not usually communicate in French, in their personal or professional lives. The technicity of academic French was a challenge, and the project work progressed slowly, at least partly owing to this linguistic dimension. The ways in which the team addressed this challenge are described in the following ‘Researching Multilingualism Multilingually: Reflections from the Research Project’ section. Researching Multilingualism Multilingually: Reflections from the Research Project

While the first section is focused on the discussion of the Mauritian context, and the second on the theoretical premises of researching complex multilingualism and associated language-related challenges faced by the research team, this third section deals with the processes pertaining to researching multilingualism multilingually. The research project was a

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process built around the notion of experienciation and generated further issues within the research team, much of which were articulated around language use. I will first discuss challenges, solutions and complexities connected to team working within the project and will then turn to questions connected to dissemination of the research. French as the language of the project: Choice and dilemmas

One of the reasons, the project was conceptualised and written in French from the proposal stage was my positionality as lead investigator: I hailed from the French Department. Departmental affiliation is an important piece of information required under institutional policy to apply for funding. Thus, the intention was also to spell out the departmental affiliation and visibility through this linguistic choice. Another reason was that I, as the lead investigator, carried out doctoral research in French and was already exposed to a body of literature on complexity which informed the research project in question. Hence, the language choice was down to convenience, as well as the possibilities of direct conceptual mappings of doctoral work onto the research project. It was also about ascertaining a linguistic-institutional identity and making it visible through research. This choice, however, was confronted to the reality that not every team member was necessarily comfortable with French, and even less in academic French. This largely depended on the profile of everyone, their own departmental affiliations, and their level of exposure to French and academic French. Eight out of nine team members had KM as first language, and two members were from the French Department, including myself. The team, as a block, was highly heterogeneous, and while French was initially chosen for convenience, it proved to be a major challenge for the team in at least two ways: (dis)comfort with the language and ­(dis)­comfort with the French epistemic alignment of the project. The researching multilingually spectrum and its impact on project staffing

The team of nine researchers, since its inception, fell into roughly three different groups regarding comfort with French (Fr), and comfort with the conceptualisation and expression of complexity in French (complexity FR), as shown in Figure 2.1. Some members, especially those in departments which did not make extensive use of French, were relatively uncomfortable with French, and displayed the same level of discomfort regarding the French perspective on complexity (Group A). These team members left the project at different points. At the other end, there were team members who were both comfortable with French, as well as the French perspective on complexity

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Figure 2.1  The RMly spectrum

(Group C). Close to this pole were colleagues who were not necessarily comfortable with French as a language of expression but were able to read and understand it. They were also comfortable with the French take on complexity (Group B). Team members from Groups B and C were able to work till the submission of the report. Each team member’s comfort and security in French, as well as their ability to navigate the theoretical perspective of complexity in French were both determining factors in their recruitment for and adhesion to the research project. Despite my assumption regarding the potential ability of the whole team to research multilingually, and therefore engage in French, it turned out that the language was a major hindering factor. In the end, the members from Groups B and C saw the project to the end. Overcoming the obstacles of researching multilingually

Difficulties associated with researching multilingually were only partly overcome, mostly due to the issues with the French language (see also Hookoomsing, this volume). One of the ‘linguistic coping mechanisms’ some team members employed was the translation into French of certain segments they had conceptualised and written for the research report in English using cloud-based machine translation software, notably Google Translate. While this allowed the production of a rudimentary form of French, it affected readability and coherence: for example, the difference with the rest of the text was apparent due to the awkward construction of sentences. Consequently, this led to another issue of having to go through the text again to reformulate and ensure expressive coherence in the report. Below is an example taken from the working version of the research report. Original written in English: Denzin (1989: 83) brings forth the sharing nature of research as an ethical anchor to the process and states that ‘… our primary obligation Is always towards the individuals we study, not towards our project or towards a larger discipline …’

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Machine translated: Denzin (1989: 83) met en avant la nature de partage de la recherche comme une ancre éthique au processus et affirme que «… notre obligatoire primaire (sic) est toujours envers les gens que nous étudions, pas envers notre projet ou envers une discipline plus large … » Reformulated: Denzin (1989: 83) accentue la nature collaborative de la recherche comme une élément fondamental au processus et affirme que « notre devoir principal est toujours envers les gens que nous étudions et non envers notre projet ou une discipline plus large …»

In this section, the segment in italics is a calque which was operated by the machine translation algorithm, resulting in incorrect formulation, as well as grammatical issues. ‘obligatoire primaire’ (obligatory primary) is a syntactic error, ‘obligatoire’ being an adjective, and ‘primaire’ representing an awkward, calqued formulation. It had to be reformulated not only to ensure morphosyntactic correctness but to stylistically fit into the general writing patterns for coherence. Consequently, machine translation was not a completely effective strategy to counter problems associated with the use of French. Researching multilingually constructivist strategies

By drawing on a retrodictive posture, i.e. using the present reflections to interpret and ‘predict’ past events (Robillard, 2008), I found that the researching multilingually strategies used by the team of researchers were aligned with Alhadeff-Jones’s (2013) discussion about complex constructive strategies which allow for adaptation and (re)formation of actions with respect to the heterogeneous multilingual identities of the researchers. This retrodictive posture allows me, as a project leader, to reflect on the affordances of researching multilingually in a multilingual team, which at the time, were not visible, and more importantly, are not available in a project which is led in a primarily monolingual way. I illustrate this here with three examples using evidence from the document archive pertaining to the research project and associated personal recollections. The first example relates to the team’s meeting processes. A large portion of the teamwork was cloud-based. Google Drive was used as a document repository and collaborative writing hub to facilitate the research process in a context where face-to-face meetings were not always easy to organise because of the different timetables of the team members. However, during the research, five face-to-face meetings were organised. While these meetings were in KM, despite the project being conceptualised in French, the minutes were written in English. Local heteroglossic

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language practices were automatically adopted within the team’s working processes. This represented a form of triadic polarity which mapped onto the local diglossic dynamics (discussed earlier). KM was used during meetings not only to facilitate interpersonal communication but also largely because the group was composed of colleagues who shared a certain level of collegiality. This at least partially ‘piloted’ the use of KM as a natural choice, as it is the main language of informal communication at the workplace. However, beyond this functional-affective dimension, the use of KM to also talk about concepts associated to researching within the paradigm of complexity also underlined the negotiation of multilingual competencies, which were implicitly translated into the process of researching multilingually. The research team read literature in both English and French, and during the discussion in the meetings, they were all expressing themselves in KM, and thereby demonstrating the capacity to understand the original readings in English and French and translate them into KM for the purposes of oral communication. Likewise, English was also a ‘natural’ choice for the writing of the minutes, as such communications always occurred in this language. However, the researching multilingually dimension of the project was represented in one of these documents, as evidenced by the screenshot from the relevant minutes in Figure 2.2 (the initials have been greyed out for ethical purposes). The image in Figure 2.2 illustrates how the work was distributed in three sub-teams articulated around specific themes. In the diagram, the themes were written in French: langue/linguistique; philosophie/méthodologie; didactique (language/linguistics; philosophy/methodology; didactics). The intention was to remain true to the project language and to maintain the semantic nuances in French, notably for the methodological dimension. In the context of the study, ‘méthodologie’ implied the notion of ‘a-méthode’ following the epistemology of complexity as expounded previously in ‘Epistemological Insights Emerging from the Mauritian Context’.

Figure 2.2  Screenshot from minutes of meeting

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The second example stems from the team’s process for working with the literature. The documents uploaded in the ‘Fiche de lecture’ (‘Reading notes folder’) shed further light into the RMly strategies of the researchers. In the four documents uploaded, three have been written in French and one in English. In the two written in French, one was based on an English article by Alemi et al. (2011). The researcher who wrote the document, therefore, read and understood the article in English and wrote the reading notes in French, highlighting the translational processes and the enactment of translational skills which underline competence in both English and French. In this case, it was a researcher belonging to the category ‘+ comfort Fr + comfort complexity FR’ (Group C, see Figure 2.1). This can be contrasted with the use of machine translation by another member of the research team to produce reading notes during the literature review and to write sections in the final report in French, which represented the language of anxiety. The third example concerns the project’s document filing processes, which evidence the team’s heteroglossic linguistic practices. The screenshot in Figure 2.3, taken from the main page of the dedicated cloud folder, indicates the presence of English in many of the labels, English being the accepted language of research administration. Alongside English, KM is also present in the naming of the first folder: ‘Dernie lalinn drwat’ which can be translated as ‘the final stretch’. The folder contained final documents including the working version of the research report. The intention behind using KM to name the folder was to rally the remaining members in a final effort to complete the report, through the language which brought all of us together. The seventh folder is also named in French, ‘Fiches de lecture’, i.e. reading notes.

Figure 2.3  Screenshot from the online repository of working documents

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Additionally, one of the earlier versions of the report working ­ ocument was called ‘gro kari melanz’, which is literally translated as d ‘big mixed curry’. ‘Kari melanz’ is an expression in KM derived from the preparation of mixed curried offal, and which, by semantic extrapolation, refers to something where everything is mixed. My intention, as the lead investigator, behind the naming of the document as such was to ‘defuse’ what I perceived to be the ‘heaviness’ associated to this research and represent a language choice of affectivity and familiarity (see earlier). This choice was later found to be judicious as it had the intended effect: Members were comfortable to refer to the document as ‘kari melanz’ and share their progress regarding the work which was attributed to each of them. The same comfort and motivation were noted when it came to working on the final document in the folder ‘dernie lalinn drwat’ (‘the final stretch’). The labels in KM not only bought a sense of familiarity and belonging to the project that English could not express but added a sense of purpose towards the later stages of report writing. Interestingly, the dynamics of researching multilingually within the team were not all that different from the school-based observations. Despite obvious contextual differences, the same epistemic interrogations as the team applied to the research process and complex multilingual data collected were also relevant to the process of researching multilingually as a team: it turned out that traces of the range of the researchers’ multilingual competencies were evident in the working documents present in the common shared repository. Beyond these competencies though, the issues of identity, language anxiety and relationship with French discussed previously had the largest impact on the progress of the research. Additionally, some aspects of researching multilingually were unpredictably and tacitly foregrounded in the documents, notably when it came to KM (e.g. in choosing KM to name the folders), which is not a usual language of research even in Mauritius. It would therefore appear that the practices of the researchers within the research team were automatically configuring around their multilingual identities. The complexities of researching multilingually

Retrospectively, and as a result of my reflections in this chapter, it appears that the process of researching multilingually captured the same complexity as the research itself and can be interpreted in terms of the constructivist take on complexity (Alhadeff-Jones, 2013; Le Moigne, 1999; Morin, 2008). The shared identity of the research group was formed by the heterogeneous multilingual identities of each member, who occupied their own positions within the spaces of their professional, disciplinedriven identity, personal historicity (Robillard, 2008), language securities and insecurities and comfort or discomfort with regard to the French take

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on complexity theory. The shared group identity was not only teleologically driven (Le Moigne, 1999) (as the intention was to work towards the completion of the research project), it was also emergent and dynamic in nature in the sense that it transformed in the temporal axis and self-­ organised at different points in time during the progression of the research. However, disturbances interfered with these self-organisation dynamics and caused significant reconfigurations. These disturbances essentially gravitated around the dialectic between the multilingual identities of the researchers, including their linguistic preferences, and the dominant language and conceptual posture of the project. As a result, some members left the research at different points and the team had to reconfigure around each new state arising, both numerically (from nine to four team members) and regarding team functioning. For the five members who left, the tensions were unresolvable, while for those who remained, the tensions were reabsorbed by the team, through the foregrounding of other aspects such as motivation, group bonding and the volition to go beyond the boundaries of language anxiety (see also Hookoomsing, this volume). As far as possible, the group comfortable with the dominant language for the study attempted to support those who were not, through discussions about the complex conceptual aspects, as well as reading and amending parts written through machine translated software. In some instances, they also assisted in translating segments that were written in English. The analysis of the cloud-based, documentary evidence of the interactions between the team members has also revealed the complexities of researching multilingually, with the use, as well as interpenetration of different languages in the minutes of meeting and reading notes uploaded by different members, which were also a window to the processes of researching multilingually. Dissemination and the Politics of Researching Multilingually

The second area of reflection on the process of researching multilingualism multilingually in the project is concerned with dissemination. At a macroscopic level, the politics of researching multilingually, in the case of this research, appeared to replicate the Mauritian socio-political and linguistic matrix characterised by a diglossic hierarchical and functional organisation. While English is the usual language of research, owing to its status as written-formal language, KM is not used in research, except in specific instances such as topics and programmes dealing with KM. For instance, the newly formed Akademi Kreol Repiblik Moris, which is roughly a Kreol academy, has research in KM (and Kreol Rodrige; Rodriguan Creole) as one of its terms of reference. French, with a higher level of prestige, is accepted in conducting and writing research. These politics are nowhere more apparent than in the sphere of research dissemination.

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Beyond the diglossic dynamics, language choice for carrying out research is also about the issue of impact factor and recognition among the body of academics. The highest impact factor journals are in English, in the sense that they represent the most widely circulated, highest prestige journals. According to Canagarajah (2002), the classification of academic work is also a function of the geopolitics of academic writing and publishing, and the process of disseminating results is affected by this. Dissemination of Mauritian research is mostly done in English, and to a lesser extent, in French. KM is almost non-existent in the dissemination process. In addition to written dissemination, as lead investigator for this research, I did a presentation during a seminar. While on a personal level, I have no manifest issue in writing or presenting research in English or French in practical terms, using French continues to be an obstacle, notably in front of members of an audience who do not usually communicate in French but do often communicate in KM. Paradoxically, the audience for this seminar comprised mostly ‘multilingual’ Mauritians, and I had assumed that given the local (socio)linguistic dynamics, the use of French for a presentation would not represent much of an issue. I thus proceeded to give the presentation in French. The communication, however, did not appear to be fluid: members of the audience appeared disengaged, and occasional jokes I made in French failed spectacularly. This experience has prompted me to reflect on the relationship that the audience, mostly constituted of Mauritian academics, have with the French language, and on what the implications of presenting research in French are for their engagement with the content. At this time, the report was already written in French, and I had intended to orally communicate certain concepts having specific meanings in French, the most important one being ‘a-méthode’. Those concepts do not have exact equivalents in other languages, thus I judged that if I chose to present in English, I would risk the loss of subtle meanings and nuances (Halai, 2007). These unfamiliar forms of expression in French may, however, have been perceived as ‘ramblings’ (Robinson-Pant, 2009), disengaging the audience. For the few colleagues who reacted to the presentation, personal communication at the end of the presentation indicated that they did not necessarily understand the ‘a-méthode’ approach that I used. This is diametrically opposed to the linear and sequential, institutionally endorsed protocols adopted by many academics across disciplines present in the audience. Thus, the difficulties I encountered in orally disseminating research findings may well have related not only to language choice but also to the issues of epistemological strangeness discussed earlier. It must be noted that even though the report was written in French, a section called Qui sommes nous? Micro-étude de cas réflexive et expérientielle (Who are we? A reflexive and experiential micro casestudy) allowed each of the project members to talk about themselves in

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the language of their choice: Two chose English, one chose French and I chose KM. It was a deliberate attempt to slightly subvert the political order of research and to give some visibility to what I consider to be my language. However, it remains a fact that the section written in KM was marginal. Concluding Comments

True to the concept of complexity, which is more of a ‘word problem’ than a ‘word solution’, this chapter has attempted to highlight some of the implications and challenges in conducting multilingual research multilingually from a paradigm that challenges the very notion of ‘method’. The complexity of the linguistic situation of Mauritius, which we were researching, was found to be complementary to the complexity of linguistic practices within the research team. This was uncovered during the process of researching multilingually. The heterogeneous linguistic dynamics within the group, which were observable through interactions, communication during meetings, language attitude and choices among others, were analogous to the complexity of the linguistic context of the research. Working on this chapter also shed light on the intricate link between researching, as a macroprocess, and the multilingual aspect which runs through all the associated sub-processes, from epistemological alignment to communicational dynamics and psychological postures. Researching in a fundamentally linguistically and ethnically diverse context showed that the language issue is significantly more important than just communication. The complexity perspective provided insights into how the relationships between language-mediated factors are intrinsic to the research process. For instance, the configuration of the interactional language dynamics within the group was the result of emerging patterns which were themselves dependent on how we negotiated our linguistic identities, (in)securities and (dis)comfort with respect to the research topic and associated epistemological interrogations. Despite sharing a common multilingual repertoire, team members were not necessarily conversant with the concepts being dealt with, especially given that they emanated from French. In a context of linguistic and disciplinary heterogeneity, researchers bring their own philosophy and epistemological stance, which directly contribute to the generation of knowledge, or the failure thereof. It is important for researchers, particularly those who are in positions of leadership, to pay attention to the emergent weaving of these patterns, as they are often indicators of group cohesion and thus research effectiveness. Hence, sensitivity to the local-individual, as well as the global-group dynamics, in line with the complexity principle of distinction (Morin, 2008) and via altero-reflexivity (Robillard, 2008; see

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also Hookoomsing, this volume) is a skill which should be explored as part of researching multilingually. Even though those who were comfortable with the dominant language attempted to support those who were not, there remained space to bring in additional empathy in the research process. (Socio)political intricacies also play a part in how the process of researching multilingually unfurls. In this research, the prevailing diglossic situation of Mauritius excluded the use of KM as the language of report writing and oral dissemination. However, KM appeared naturally as the language of oral communication during the process of researching multilingually, and this motivated my choice of naming certain documents and folders in the shared cloud folder in KM, to bring a sense of belonging, and ‘casualness’ to the research process. From a personal endeavour of visibilisation, I also chose to use KM in one paragraph of the report, where French, a politically and institutionally accepted language of research (after English), was used. The dialectic between the more accepted linguistic and epistemological norms of research and the unconventional stance we attempted to adopt was apparent throughout the whole research process. The awareness of (socio)political realities, especially in a context where languages are strongly imbued with ideological, cultural and (ethno) political aspects, is also an inextricable part of doing research. The questions pertaining to the process of the researching multilingually emerged during the research process but were only reflected upon during the writing of this chapter, through a retrodictive posture (Robillard, 2008). This shed light on the deeper research processes I was not attentive to during the time of the ongoing research. The interpersonal dynamics within the research group, as well as the individual linguistic and epistemological postures of each member were backgrounded during the research itself. Multilingual identities were taken for granted, as a ‘normal’ state without any problematisation in terms of impact on the research process. As this chapter suggested, however, they were found to be as complex as the research being carried out, and the sidestepping of these issues is a limitation of the original study and can form part of further research into the process of researching multilingually, especially in fundamentally heterogeneous contexts. Note (1) The original document was written in KM and was uploaded on the website of the Younit Kreol Morisien of the Mauritius Institute of Education (Piblikasion – Younit Kreol Morisien (google.com)) and hosted on Ministry of Education website. As member of the Younit Kreol Morisien in 2012, I was asked to translate the document in English, which is the reference used in the text. However, the English version was not published online. As at the time of writing this chapter, the original document in Kreol Morisien has been taken down and can no longer be accessed online.

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References Alemi, M., Daftarifard, P. and Patrut, B. (2011) The implication of chaos/complexity theory into second language acquisition. BRAIN: Broad Research in Artificial Intelligence & Neuroscience 2 (2), 34–40. Alhadeff-Jones, M. (2008) Three generations of complexity theories: Nuances and ambiguities. Educational Philosophy and Theory 40 (1), 66–82. Alhadeff-Jones, M. (2009) Revisiting educational research through Morin’s paradigm of complexity. Complicity: An International Journal of Complexity and Education 6 (1), 61–70. Alhadeff-Jones, M. (2013) Complexity, methodology and method: Crafting a critical process of research. Complicity: An International Journal of Complexity & Education 10 (1/2), 19–44. Baggioni, D. and de Robillard, D. (1990) Île Maurice, une francophonie paradoxale. Paris: L’Harmattan. Blanchet, P. (2012) La linguistique de terrain. Méthode et théorie, deuxième édition revue et complétée. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes. Canagarajah, A.S. (2002) A Geopolitics of Academic Writing. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press. Carpooran, D. (2007) Appropriation du francais et pédagogie convergente dans l’Océan Indien: Interrogations, applications, propositions. Paris: Editions des Archives Contemporaines. Carpooran, A. (2010) Ethno-glossonymie et gestion des langues à Maurice. Télescope 16 (3), 157–174. Central Statistics Office (2011) Housing and Population Census Republic of Mauritius Volume III: Educational Characteristics. Constitution of Mauritius. See http://mauritiusassembly.govmu.org/English/constitution/Pages/constitution2016.pdf (accessed 12 August 2015). de Robillard, D. (2008) Perspectives Alterlinguistiques, 2 Vol. Paris: L’Harmattan. Dewaele, J.M. (2001) L’Apport de la théorie du chaos et de la complexité à la linguistique. Revue La Chouette, No. 32. Le Chaos. See http://www.bbk.ac.uk/la chouette/ chou32/Dewael32.PDF (accessed 14 May 2010). Engel, P. (2007) Expérience. In M. Blay (ed.) Dictionnaire des concepts philosophiques (pp. 304–305). Paris: Larousse & CNRS Editions. Halai, N. (2007) Making use of bilingual interview data: Some experiences from the field. The Qualitative Report 12 (3), 344–355. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Jörg, T. (2009) Thinking in complexity about learning and education: A programmatic view. Complicity: An International Journal of Complexity and Education 6 (1), 1–22. Le Moigne, J.L. (1999) La modélisation des systèmes complexes. Paris: Dunod. Mauritius Institute of Education (2012) Addendum to the National Curriculum Framework. Standard 1–6. Reduit: Younit Kreol Morisien. Mauritius Institute of Education. Morin, E. (2008) La méthode, tomes 1–6, Paris: Opus Seuil. Morin, E. and Le Moigne, J.-L. (1999) Lʹintelligence de la Complexité. Paris: LʹHarmattan. Oozeerally, S. (2015) Vers une refonte des principes ontologiques et épistémologiques des études sur le plurilinguisme face à la révolution numérique et aux mutations socioécologiques: le cas de Maurice. Unpublished Doctoral Dissertation, University of Mauritius.

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Oozeerally, S. (2016) De la pensée écologisée à la systémisation dissipative: quelques pistes et enjeux épistémologiques-théoriques émergeant d’un regard rétro-anticipateur sur le bhojpuri de Maurice. Glottopol, Revue de sociolinguistique en ligne, numéro 28,  99–120. See http://glottopol.univ-rouen.fr/telecharger/numero_28/ gpl28_06oozeerally.pdf. Oozeerally, S. (2017) Aborder la (socio)linguistique mauricienne à travers le chaos et la complexité: réflexions autour des commentaires en ligne. Cahiers internationaux de sociolinguistique 12 (2), 257–277. doi:10.3917/cisl.1702.0257. Oozeerally, S. (2019) Epistemological marginalization and research in language sciences: confessions of an anarchist. University of Wollongong Research Online. See https:// ro.uow.edu.au/mauritius50/papers/1/2/ (accessed 14 October 2021). Oozeerally, S. et al. (2017) Vers une modélisation complexe des pratiques (socio)langagières dans les écoles pré-primaires à Maurice: pistes, perspectives et implications. Research Project Report. Mauritius: Mauritius Institute of Education.  Robillard, D. (de) (2008b) Perspectives Alterlinguistiques, Volume 2: Ornithorynques. Paris: L’Harmattan. Robinson-Pant, A. (2009) Changing academies: exploring international PhD students’ perspectives on “host” and “home” universities. Higher Education Research & Development 28 (4), 417–429. Rughoonundun-Chellapermal, N. (2017) Autopsie de l’échec d’un projet d’éducation ­multilingue. Cahiers internationaux de sociolinguistique 12 (2), 155–177. doi:10.3917/ cisl.1702.0155. Tirvassen, R. and Ramasawmy, S. (2017) Deconstructing and reinventing the concept of multilingualism: A case study of the Mauritian sociolinguistic landscape. Stellenbosch Papers in Linguistics Plus 51 (2017), 41–59. Waldrop, M. (1992) Complexity, The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order and Chaos. Middlesex: Penguin.

3 Multilingual Researching, Translanguaging and Credibility in Qualitative Research: A Reflexive Account Lamia Nemouchi and Prue Holmes

Internationalisation in the 21st century has led to Anglophone universities receiving large cohorts of international students and staff. Relevant curriculum content and pedagogical and academic practices are beginning to be addressed (Magyar & Robinson-Pant, 2011), but the processes and policies to support multilingual doctoral researchers who may be researching in a second, third or fourth language have been largely neglected (Ryan, 2011; Singh, 2017). Araújo e Sá et al. (2020) highlight the importance of multilingualism in understanding a research topic, but the little attention given to the education of doctoral researchers (and their supervisors) in using their linguistic resources in doctoral programmes, especially where many of the candidates are international students. Furthermore, whether and how researchers come to realise the significance of their linguistic resources in their research often seems to be missing in the discussion of the literature (Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014) and in doctoral theses. In this chapter, we draw on aspects of the first author’s (Lamia’s) doctoral research project – the research site in Algeria, and her plurilingual identity (her mother-tongue Algerian-Arabic, French, Modern Standard Arabic [MSA] and English) – to demonstrate how her multilingual resources were in tension with the dominance of English in the UK university where she was supervised. Following Bourdieu (1986), we show how a doctoral researcher’s assumptions about Anglophone universities affected the researcher’s decisions and meaning-making processes, and how linguistic agency shaped identities and power relations throughout data generation. We investigate and problematise linguistic choice: how the researcher and participants perform (Goffman, 1959) their linguistic identity in the research contexts of the supervisory institution and the 70

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multilingual research field site; how they use their linguistic resources to negotiate positionality and power (Bourdieu, 1986; Chen, 2011) and the role of named languages and translanguaging (Li Wei, 2018) in these processes. We aim to show the importance of a multilingual researcher approach, including translanguaging (Li Wei, 2018), to ensure the credibility, and ultimately, trustworthiness, of qualitative research. The following are our research questions: RQ1: How does a plurilingual researcher perceive an Anglophone university as influencing her approaches to the multilingual aspects of her research? RQ2: W hat multilingual opportunities and challenges emerge when undertaking the research? RQ3: How does the researcher handle these opportunities and challenges to address the credibility of the research?

First, we discuss the literature underpinning our investigation. Next, we describe Lamia’s plurilingual identity, her doctoral study and its multilingual dimensions; followed by the methodology we adopted to answer the research questions and analyse her reflexive accounts. We then present our findings. Finally, we return to our research questions and discuss implications for multilingual researchers in Anglophone and internationalising universities. The ‘Monolingual’ University: Myth or Reality?

Following Bourdieu (1986), we understand the Anglophone university as a field – a set of positions and practices within a particular social domain. Doctoral supervisors, researchers and administrators conform to the habitus – the deeply ingrained habits, expectations, values and dispositions that are created and reproduced unconsciously – which shapes and defines doctoral supervision and constitutes the institutionalised cultural capital. International students, who bring their own linguistic assets (their linguistic capital) and academic culture, undergo processes of adaptation into the academic culture of British universities (Robinson-Pant & Wolf, 2017), often following pre-sessional courses in English that emphasise academic English and the expectation that theses should be written and presented in English (Turner & Robson, 2008). These processes often ignore the linguistic and other capital that international students bring. Furthermore, supervisors receive little or no training on the academic backgrounds and linguistic resources of international students (Holmes et al., 2020). In the research and supervision process, international doctoral researchers must negotiate the tensions and struggles that emerge between their own linguistic habitus and identity, and the taken-for-granted,

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supervisory practices and policies enshrined within the (potentially) ‘monolingual’ social structure of the university (field). These conditions may constrain their researcher possibilities. Challenging Research Epistemologies and Methodologies

The constraints identified earlier have been perpetuated by coloniser researcher practices or ‘ways of knowing’ about ‘the Other’ by universities in the Global North through their vocabulary (‘Western discourses’), scholarship, and even colonial bureaucratic styles (Said, 1978). Thus, Smith (2021) calls for a decolonising of researcher processes: Cultural protocols, values and behaviour need to be incorporated into the methodology and reflexively considered in writing up and presenting research in culturally appropriate ways and in language(s) that can be understood by the subjects of the research. The dominance of Euro-Western languages has been a fundamental part of ‘imperialism, colonization and globalization in the construction of knowledge’ (Chilisa, 2012: 117). Phipps (2019: 1) states, ‘multilingualism and its attendant language pedagogies are largely experienced as a colonial practice for many of the world’s population’. In Algeria (the context of this study), the use of languages is a sensitive matter, as French (the language of the coloniser) operates alongside Arabic and the languages of multiple ethnic minority groups (Benrabah, 2013). To decolonise research methodologies, Chilisa (2012: 156) advises the use of texts in different languages, including indigenous languages, in research reports. Gonzalez and Lincoln (2006) encourage the use of more than one language in research, e.g. literature reviews in local languages and data presented in the original language. And Singh (2017) argues that doctoral researchers should use their full linguistic repertoires to develop their capabilities for theorising to construct potentially valuable theoretical tools. While some continental European universities (e.g. Germany, Luxembourg) may expect that theses are multilingual (Byram et al., 2020), in English universities, where English is enshrined in everyday practices, policies about presentation of doctoral theses generally make no reference to named languages (except in modern foreign languages departments) (Holmes et al., 2020). Reflexivity, Translanguaging and the Trustworthiness of the Research

Against this backdrop of hegemonic research practices, international doctoral researchers bring their own values, beliefs and knowledge to the research context (Robinson-Pant & Wolf, 2017). Byrd Clark and Dervin (2014) note that researcher reflexivity – the interconnected dimensions of critical reflection and awareness – is important in accounting for these.

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They define reflexivity as ‘a multi-faceted, complex, and on-going ­dialogical process, which is continually evolving’ (Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014: 2). This dialogical process is demonstrated in the power relations among researcher and participants, the identities they avow and ascribe to others, and the codes of conduct and research protocols which govern these relationships (Holmes, 2014; Smith, 2021). Reflexivity also involves acknowledging linguistic agency, where certain languages are privileged over others. Through language, speakers negotiate trust, ethics, power dynamics and face; and their assumptions about each other’s cultural capital, e.g. who may enter the discourse, who speaks for whom, and how, when and where (Krog, 2018) as a ‘social act’ (Zhu, 2020: 206). ‘Translanguaging’ is important in the dialogical process of reflexivity (Canagarajah, 2013; Li Wei, 2018). Translanguaging shifts the focus from named languages to the agency of the individuals as they deploy, ­co-construct and interpret linguistic signs and multimodal forms of communication. Interlocutors, through their fluid communication practices, ‘transcend socially-constructed language systems and structures to engage diverse multiple meaning-making systems and subjectivities’ (Li Wei, 2018: 27). Ganassin endorses this position in her reflexive account of her multilingual researcher positioning in a Chinese community school. She urges researchers to be alert to the multilingual possibilities in a study and make informed decisions about how, when and why to mobilise languages throughout the research ‘to ensure the trustworthiness of the research and its representation to wider audiences’ (Ganassin & Holmes, 2019: 23). In our study, we seek to understand how processes of meaning-making, through the use of named languages and translanguaging, may affect the trustworthiness of the research. Trustworthiness refers to the quality of data and conclusions in qualitative, interpretive research and is based on four criteria: credibility, transferability, dependability and confirmability (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). However, the concept of trustworthiness is ‘open-ended’; it cannot be fully addressed to the degree that it would be unquestionable (Lincoln & Guba, 1985: 329). ‘Credibility’, crucial to any qualitative study, concerns the ‘confidence in the “truth” of the findings […] for the subjects […] and the context [of the study]’ (Lincoln & Guba, 1985: 290). It also requires that researchers build a relationship of trust to elicit data that represent participants’ genuine views. In this chapter, we revisit the concept of trustworthiness, and in particular, credibility. We draw on these theoretical understandings to inform our investigation of how a researcher problematises her multilingual resources in a multilingual research context. We explore the researcher’s language choices and their implications for the credibility of the emergent findings, and ultimately, the trustworthiness of the research. Next, we describe Lamia’s doctoral research, on which our chapter is based.

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Lamia’s Plurilingual Researcher Positioning, and the Doctoral Research

Lamia describes herself as a plurilingual rather than a multilingual speaker. Multilingual speakers recognise ‘the coexistence of different languages at the social or individual level’ whereas ‘plurilinguals have a single, inter-related, repertoire that they combine with their general competences and various strategies in order to accomplish tasks’ (Council of Europe, 2018: 28). Lamia grew up in a family environment where French is spoken daily, alongside Algerian-Arabic. At school, she was taught Modern Standard Arabic, the only official language of the country at that time (Tamazight became an official language in 2016). Currently, she is a doctoral researcher in a UK university. Her supervisors are native speakers of English, who can also speak French (and other languages), but neither is familiar with the terminology or rhetoric of the discipline. All supervisions and interactions are in English, reflecting the monolingual field of the university. The study we report here emerged from Lamia’s doctoral research, an action research project based in two Algerian universities (Burns, 2010). Drawing on social constructionism (Berger & Luckmann, 1966), the study aimed to investigate teachers’ and students’ experiences of literary texts as a vehicle for developing intercultural communicative competence within two modules in postgraduate English language and literature programmes. Lamia designed the materials and collaborated with two other teachers to teach the modules. The context of Lamia’s research, the North-east of Algeria, is highly multilingual. The student-participants spoke Algerian-Arabic as their first language; a minority also spoke a Berber language (Shawi), although ­neither Lamia nor the teacher-participants spoke Shawi. The student-­ participants had been taught MSA as the official language, and English and French as foreign languages, but MSA is considered a formal l­ anguage, and in educational contexts, used mainly officially or in meetings. One teacher (T1) describes herself as a bilingual speaker of French and Algerian-Arabic; the second (T2) describes herself as a speaker of Algerian-Arabic as her first language, and as fluent in French. Both were teachers of English as a foreign language and could express themselves in English confidently. Throughout the data collection process, these languages were used intentionally, sometimes intuitively, and for different purposes with the participants, and with different consequences. The qualitative data for the doctoral project emerged from semiformal audio-recorded interviews and informal personal communication with teachers and students, from observations and from the researcher’s reflections. Semi-formal interviews with teachers (two) were in English but included some translanguaging (a communicative norm in Algeria where words and phrases in French, Arabic, Berber and

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Spanish are part of Algerian-Arabic, but it is unusual to use English words or phrases when translanguaging); personal communication also included translanguaging. Classroom discussions and interviews (22) with students were in English with occasional translanguaging. Lamia’s classroom observation protocols (24) were designed in English, but she wrote her responses in English, French and MSA. Lamia also used these languages in her reflective journal (55 pages). When entering the research context in Algeria, Lamia discovered the importance of her linguistic resources in negotiating relationships with gatekeepers and participants. This process underpins our research questions (presented earlier) and provides the focus of our chapter, to which we now turn. A Reflexive Account of Researching Multilingually in a Doctoral Study

Our three research questions aim to investigate how a plurilingual doctoral researcher’s approaches to the multilingual aspects of her research are affected by the Anglophone university where she is studying; the opportunities and challenges that emerged from these multilingual aspects; and the choices and decisions she made, together with their consequences for the research. To answer our research questions, we followed three processes holistically. We drew on bodies of experiences (Holliday, 2015) from the data collection process (what is seen and heard). We also used thick descriptions (Geertz, 1993) to show the complexity of multiple languages in the fieldwork by ‘giving the context of [the] experience, stat[ing] the intentions and meanings that organised the experience and reveal[ing] the experiences as a process’ (Denzin, 1994: 505). Finally, using a reflexive narrative enquiry, we tried to ‘consider the many facets which make up [the] full social complexity’ of the research site (Holliday, 2015: 83). We retrospectively present and analyse Lamia’s reflexive accounts of her researcher ‘researching multilingually’ experience, guided by the three dimensions (intentionality, spatiality and relationality) of the researching multilingually framework (Holmes et al., 2013). The analysis also involves Lamia’s post-reflections on her decision-making about language before and during the research process and her choices regarding the research methods employed to ensure the trustworthiness of the research. We also refer to the concept of reflexivity, which encourages researchers to question assumptions and raise awareness in their research, acknowledging that ‘neither our representations (e.g. identities) nor our social and linguistic practices (as well as others’) are transparent, unidimensional, entities sitting in isolation’ (Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014: 3). Next, we present the three major themes emerging from our analysis: assumptions about languages at the outset; researcher realisation once in

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the field and the challenges encountered; and relationality and context (negotiating identities and power relations through language). Researcher assumptions about language in the initial stages of the doctoral research

Before starting her doctoral programme, Lamia assumed that, as an international doctoral student in a UK university, English would be the main language of the research. She assumed that she had to speak, read and write only in English – ‘good English!’1 She started learning English in school and majored in English at university, but to meet admissions criteria, she started practising the language six months before coming to the UK to attend a six-month pre-sessional course. On entry, her assumptions were soon confirmed. During the induction week, a Language Centre tutor informed all the doctoral students, most of whom were international students, about the writing courses available. She handed out a leaflet on which was written: ‘Academic English is no one’s native language’. At this point, Lamia felt that her assumptions had been confirmed: Academic English was the language of the institution. She had tried to develop her academic skills and knowledge monolingually. Having studied mainly ‘academic’, she began to feel more confident in her academic English abilities. However, with this focus, and in prioritising English, she had overlooked the value and importance of her own multiple linguistic resources. Researcher realisation: Linguistic opportunities and their challenges

Lamia’s ‘academic English’ linguistic security and monolingual approach began to unravel as she developed both her study, and her awareness of the opportunities afforded by her plurilingual resources and the challenges they engendered. These realisations concerned the literature review, ethics procedures and transcribing and translating multilingual data. Reviewing the literature in languages other than English

Two months into her doctoral programme, Lamia’s two supervisors encouraged her to read literature in the other languages she knew (MSA and French) to establish her understanding of the research already undertaken on her topic. This suggestion challenged Lamia’s existing assumptions about the role of English in her doctoral research. She realised the importance of consulting literature about the Algerian context in French and MSA: Publications in English were limited. She found the process enjoyable because she was more confident in using French and MSA than English. In her researcher journal, Lamia wrote:

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J’aurais dû chercher des ouvrages en Français et en Arabe dès le début de mon doctorat car mon thème de recherche a été essentiellement dans ces deux langues vis-à-vis du contexte Algérien […] J’ai pu [par la suite] consulter beaucoup de publications vu leur disponibilité, et il m’a été aisé de les comprendre car ils ont été produites dans un contexte qui m’est familier et dans des langues que je maitrise mieux que l’Anglais. (January 2018) I should have searched literature in French and Arabic since the beginning of my PhD because my research topic is essentially in these two languages in relationship to the Algerian context […] I have [later on] consulted many publications that were available and it was easier for me to understand because they were produced in a context I am familiar with and in languages I master better than English. (Lamia’s translation)

However, acting on her assumptions about presenting the literature in English in her thesis created concerns. Lamia worried about misinterpreting the literature. She found translating from French into English much easier than from Arabic to English. Translating terminology was also challenging when searching for literature – for example, using the term ‘intercultural education’. ‘Intercultural’ is ‘interculturel’ in French, but the translation from/into Arabic is problematic because there is no exact equivalent in dictionaries and no clear consensus on the use of terminology in the literature. Furthermore, Lamia noticed that in the Arabic literature ‘cultural’ and ‘intercultural’ are used interchangeably. For example, ‘intercultural learning’ in Arabic is ‘‫( ’التعلم الثقافي‬al-taelim althaqafiu) which literally means ‘cultural learning’. Usually, the term ‘culture’ in Arabic ‘‫( ’الثقافة‬althaqafa) is followed by the term ‘civilization’ ‘‫( ’الحضارة‬alhadara). Understanding ‘culture’ in Arabic is problematic because the term did not exist in ancient times. According to Bennabi (2017/1957), the word ‘culture’ has been borrowed from European languages, mainly from the French language (‘cultivé’) which is coined more with ‘science’, ‘knowledge’ or ‘education’ and the development of ‘culture’ leads to ‘civilisation’ (in French). Bennabi encourages Arabic scholars to shift the conceptualisation of ‘culture’ to social development towards civilised nations, rather than limiting it to ‘education’. The difficulty Lamia encountered in translating these key terms led her to read literature in French rather than Arabic, because for her, it was easier to translate. Lamia also located important documents from the Algerian Ministry of Education in French. However, in considering the time and space, translation would take to work these documents into her thesis; she uncritically abandoned the idea and began searching for and reading literature in English again. In reflecting on this decision later, Lamia realised that her assumptions about university language requirements influenced her to overlook the literature in Arabic and French and privilege literature in English. This decision, she concluded, prevented her from elaborating her research

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context and topic. As Singh (2017) argues, by encouraging international doctoral researchers to use their full linguistic repertoire (metaphors, images, concepts and modes of critique) to theorise and construct theoretical tools, doctoral education can be democratised. Ethics procedures

In her induction programme Lamia encountered for the first time the ethics procedure as a policy requirement in her UK institution. Following the policy, she uncritically adapted to this ‘new’ methodological procedure of gaining approval before starting the data collection, and preparing consent forms in English with the university logo and a space for participants’ signature. In the Algerian academic context, researchers ask for consent verbally at the different levels of the institution: if student-participants attend the researcher’s interview, they tacitly agree to participate in the research. Although initially afraid of explaining the ‘new’ procedure to her participants, she hoped that they would naturally accept it. However, one student-participant commented: Wow [silence]. Which university is this? [silence] It’s a serious interview, I should be careful with what I say.

Lamia did not attribute much importance to this reaction and explained that this institutional policy requirement aimed to ensure an ethical research process. Rather than following the Algerian research procedures (familiar to researchers and participants), Lamia had become ‘the researcher accountable primarily to their institution […] where practice was shaped by institutional values and priorities’ (Smith, 1999, cited in Robinson-Pant & Wolf, 2017: 6). At the time, she did not think that this procedure might influence the credibility of her data, as implied by the student-participant’s comment, ‘I should be careful with what I say’. Relationality and context: Negotiating identities, power and relationships through languages

Lamia’s linguistic choices in the field site were important in c­ o-constructing and negotiating identities and power relationships with ­participants. We use the first person ‘I’ to represent Lamia’s voice as she reflects on her researcher data (observational notes and researcher journal). Lamia’s post-reflections on interviews with student-participants in English

The working languages of the two Algerian universities were MSA and French. Following UK university ethics procedures, I submitted the data collection plan – interview questions and observation protocols,

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which I had designed in English – to the ethics committee for approval. I assumed that the two teacher-participants and the student-participants (as students of English) could communicate in English. However, as I was unfamiliar with the students’ English language abilities, I had decided that I would not limit them to English. I also expected the students to translanguage between Algerian-Arabic and French, a common practice in Algeria. On starting my fieldwork, I introduced myself to the teacher- and student-participants as a doctoral student in the UK. As I was afraid that the participants would perceive me as an ‘outsider’, I mentioned that I was a former student of the University of Constantine (in Algeria). I hoped that this would put them at ease and establish common ground. However, this was not the case, and had implications, which I was unaware of then. I introduced the questions in English to the student-participants and informed them that they could answer in their preferred language (i.e. Algerian-Arabic, MSA, French or English). However, I did not consider that I had limited myself to one language – English – in asking the questions, nor did I consider its effect on my participants. Would they expect that they must also answer in English, or would they answer in the language in which they were most comfortable? I was not aware that it is ‘through language (or linguistic practices) that people co-construct, negotiate, impose and represent their identities in […] intercultural encounters in everyday life’ (Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014: 10). I wrote my reflections and observations mostly in English and asked the interview questions in English and received answers from my participants in English which, then, I found totally acceptable. Simultaneously, I felt a discomfort in my participants and that I was perceived as an ‘outsider’. At that point, I made several realisations. My whole research approach had been shaped by the field of the Anglophone university (e.g. asking the students to sign a consent form, preparing interview questions in English). I did not question my linguistic approach. I did not consider that asking the questions in English had affected their language choice. In the transcription process, I became aware of the importance of linguistic choices in the fieldwork as I realised that some students struggled to express their ideas in English. They used very short answers to end the interview, which lasted for only 10 to 15 minutes. By comparison, the interviews of the more confident speakers lasted up to 50 minutes. On reflection, I believe that, by asking the questions in English, the students seemed to think that English was the preferred language. Using English restricted them from expressing themselves freely. Lamia’s reflections on the use of her linguistic resources to negotiate power relations with teacher participants

A methodological decision to conduct the study in two universities posed an unexpected threat to my two teacher-participants. One appeared

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to think that I was evaluating her understanding of the intercultural dimension. She asked me in a worried tone when she first read the consent form: T1: Why do you want to do the same study twice? Why do you choose two universities? Will you compare and evaluate us and our work?

Furthermore, the teacher appeared to consider me as a threat. In her eyes, it seemed, as a doctoral researcher coming from a UK university, I held institutionalised cultural capital. By asking her questions about her teaching practice, I was therefore ‘evaluating’ her work; by asking her to sign the consent form, I appeared to be placing myself in a superior position. I tried to reassure her by explaining that my intention was not to ‘compare’ or ‘evaluate’ the two universities or teachers’ work, and the analysis from the two universities would be treated separately. I intuitively explained this to the teacher in French to make her feel more comfortable: I had the feeling that English sounded too formal and scared her. Like Chen (2011), who argued that in ethnographic interviews, power is always negotiated and the languages spoken play a significant role, I wanted her to have the power, take over the discussion and develop a good relationship with me in order to generate data in an ethical and trustworthy manner. I wanted her to know that my intention was not to evaluate her work or knowledge of the intercultural dimension. By using French, I thought she would understand that we did not need to have a formal relationship. Furthermore, English is considered formal and not used outside the classroom context. French was more spontaneous and ‘conversational’. I was not fully aware of the importance of languages for these different purposes, and my switch to French was intuitive. When we started speaking French, and sometimes translanguaging, it seemed like our perceptions of each other’s identities were changing. Thus, through these different language strategies, we were constantly negotiating power relations. To remove the formality I explained: Researcher: No, no, no [silence] c’est pas du tout mon intention euh [silence] je vais vous expliquer mmm mon but n’est pas de comparer votre travail a un autre prof c’est plutôt pour avoir une idée sur ce que vous faites maintenant, y’aura pas d’évaluation ni de comparaison. No no no [silence] it’s not my intention uh [silence] I will explain to you mmm my aim is not to compare your work with another teacher it’s rather to have an idea about what you are doing now [in your teaching] there won’t be any evaluation or comparison. (Lamia’s translation)

At the beginning, I said ‘No, no, no’ unconsciously. Then, the silent moment represented my thinking about how I could explain this to reassure her. Then, I finally chose to continue in French because I was more

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fluent in French, more spontaneous, and it sounded less formal. While I was unconvinced of my explanation, she seemed more comfortable. She immediately switched to French and Algerian-Arabic, translanguaging, thus lessening the tension. Relaxing, she started telling me stories about incidents that happened in her classroom. Then, we both started translanguaging. I felt that she no longer perceived me as the doctoral student in a UK university, but as a younger, less experienced teacher, and she was the experienced one. She also used French to avow the identity of the more experienced teacher who knows and understands her students well, compared to me, the outsider and less experienced one. At one point, she made this explicit: T1:  ‫ أن ت‬tu connais pas mes étudiants [silence] tu n’as pas eu de contact avec eux […] déjà, tu es si jeune tu n’as pas d’expérience mais tu vas apprendre tout ça avec le temps. T1: [Arabic] you [French] you don’t know my students [silence] you haven’t been in touch with them […] you are so young and you don’t have experience, but you will learn all that through time. (Lamia’s translation)

In translanguaging, she seemed more confident than when we tried to communicate in English. I tried to return to the interview by asking another question in English again, following the interview protocol that I had planned in the UK. The teacher answered in English which again sounded ‘too formal’, but I sensed less tension after the discussion using translanguaging strategies. Reflecting on this now, as with the student-participants, my approach seemed to influence her choice of language: By asking the questions in English (following the protocol), I was pushing my participants to think that English is the preferred language. Through linguistic choice, I was constantly negotiating power and relationality with my research participants, especially the teachers. Our linguistic resources played a major role in defining our identities and perceptions of one another. Speaking the local language (Algerian Arabic) and translanguaging between AlgerianArabic, French and English (English being the unusual language to speak in Algeria) outside of the formal interviews with T1 gave her more power and confidence. This linguistic strategy enabled Lamia to develop a good relationship based on trust, and therefore, she could elicit credible data to ensure the trustworthiness of the research. Lamia’s reflections on university communities as ‘circles of relations’

The informal relations I established with the teacher-participant (T1) in the university context, and the languages we used, were important in gaining trust. I was able to establish a good relationship through our informal contact outside the classroom (e.g. during car rides where she

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shared stories about her children). The closer and less formal our relationship became, the less we spoke English and the less formal were the interviews. For example, on our way to the classroom, she discussed some issues they faced in their teaching practices such as the limited access to the internet. She compared the university where she was teaching (Uni1), a regional university, to the university of Constantine (Uni2) (my home university), located in a large city and considered more prestigious. In Algeria, universities are not ranked and higher education is free; however, generally, people perceive that the level of education is better in larger cities. She was addressing me as part of Uni2: T1: Ici, pour utiliser la salle d’internet, il faut faire une demande d’abord, et on peut pas l’avoir pour longtemps et l’internet ‫عاطلة‬. ‫ ماتشوفيش كيما انتوما في قسنطينة‬le niveau est meilleur ‫ وعندكم ب زاف‬les docteurs et les professeurs. T1: [ French] Here to use the internet room, it is necessary to make a request first, and we cannot have it for long and the internet [Arabic] is slow. Don’t see it as in Constantine [French] the level is better [Arabic] and you have many [French] doctors and professors. (Lamia’s literal translation)

Here, I introduce the literal translation because the first part in Arabic aligns with her sarcastic tone of voice (suggesting that I am not aware of the situation of universities beyond my home university). If I do not provide the literal translation, it may seem incorrect if the reader is not familiar with Algerian-Arabic, and the meaning may be affected. From her comment, I realised that I was not perceived just as a doctoral student in the UK, but also as a former student at the University of Constantine. I expected that by introducing myself as a former student of Uni2 I would gain some privilege and be perceived as part of a shared Algerian university community. However, it was not so and may have created a bigger gap between myself and my teacher-participant. Chilisa (2012: 113) states that ‘the researcher becomes part of circles of relations that are connected to one another and to which the researcher is also accountable’. In my doctoral study, the ‘circles’ are the university communities to which my participants and I belonged, or in Bourdieu’s terms (1986), the ‘institutionalised cultural capital’, and in which we were negotiating power within our relationships. When she said ‘‫ – ’ماتشوفيش كيما انتوما في قسنطينة‬in a tone which implied in English ‘don’t even compare Uni1 to Uni2’ (as if Uni2 is superior), I realised that – in addition to being the ‘young novice teacher’ in the classroom and ‘doctoral student in the UK’ when conducting the formal interviews – I was also a ‘graduate from a better university’ in Algeria when we were outside the classroom, and therefore, worthy of her respect. Thus, by introducing myself as a former student in Uni2 and a doctoral researcher in a UK institution, I improved my ‘standing’ in the eyes

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of my teacher-participants. T1 appeared to ascribe to me higher institutionalised cultural capital (Bourdieu, 1986). Yet, while my educational experiences in Algeria enabled me to participate in the different circles of the two university communities, I felt the need to negotiate these constantly to develop a relationship of trust with the teacher-participants. In the case of T1, the use of the local languages and translanguaging strategies helped to establish a less formal relationship. With T2, however, an informal relationship was not possible, and the classroom setting defined it. She, like T1, used translanguaging strategies and seemed more comfortable in giving me feedback on my teaching practices, which, simultaneously, enabled her to demonstrate her greater experience and power inside the classroom. She avoided further communication with me outside the classroom, except for the initial formal interview, conducted in English (discussed next). Lamia’s reflections on the credibility of findings from interview data when using English and when translanguaging

In the data analysis phase, I was surprised to find a contradiction in the data generated by the teacher-participant, T1. In the formal interview (in English), she expressed satisfaction about her students’ achievement in terms of intercultural competence, but in one of our personal communications (two weeks into the fieldwork) and where we translanguaged, she explicitly said the opposite: Formal interview (at the beginning): T1: If for example you ask Master 2 students […] they can say that they know many things about both American and British cultures. […] Knowing all these details can help them to evolve in an intercultural context […] and I am confident to say that they can now communicate and manage an intercultural communication effectively at this stage.

Informal interview (after two weeks): Researcher:  ‫ واش رايك ف ي‬tes étudiants ‫ والشي لي يق راو‬par rapport à ça? Researcher: [Arabic] What do you think about [French] your students [Arabic] and the things they learned [French] compared to this? (Lamia’s literal translation) T1: I don’t have high expectations from them, ils ne s’intéressent qu’aux examens et à avoir de bonnes notes. T1: I don’t have high expectations of them, they are only interested in exams and having good marks. (Lamia’s translation)

This contradictory finding, revealed through the use of English, and later when translanguaging, directly affects the credibility of the interpretation

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of the data. Through our use of translanguaging strategies, T1 had become more comfortable, and we developed a relationship of trust. It seems that the data using translanguaging are more authentic. By comparing both versions of the transcripts (English and translanguaging), I noticed that the English version appears to reflect what the teacher assumed I wanted to hear; by contrast, the translanguaging transcript, recorded in an atmosphere where she was more relaxed and comfortable, exposed her real perceptions. Unfortunately, I could not apply member checking as this would have compromised the relationship of trust that we had established. Similarly, in my communication with T2, language choice also defined our status vis-à-vis the other. In one exchange, T2 tried to demonstrate her understanding of the intercultural dimension in English: She explained to me that X defined the intercultural dimension this way, and Y defined it that way, and I have also read what Z said, but she did not say what she thought herself. I tried to understand her meaning, but similar to Chen (2011), I felt like the doctoral student in a UK university. T2 wanted to display a more authoritative identity using English: first, by trying to ‘show off’ her knowledge in telling me how many theories in the field she knew; and then, by trying to ‘check’ how much I knew about them. However, when we spoke French, Algerian-Arabic or translanguaged, it seemed to me that, in her eyes, I had become a less experienced teacher assistant and she was trying to give me feedback on my teaching practice. For example, while observing my teaching during the action research project, she approached me and, pointing to a small group of students, remarked: T2: Tu vois ce groupe d’étudiants? C’est de bons éléments mais ils ne prennent pas le travail de groupe sérieusement ou je crois que tu leur donnes beaucoup plus de temps qu’il en faut. T2: Do you see this group of students? They are good students but they are not taking the small group work seriously, or I think you are giving them much more time than they need. (Lamia’s translation)

The aforementioned examples illustrate that the languages we were speaking defined our position and status with one another. However, when speaking French, or Algerian-Arabic, or translanguaging between both, our roles appeared to change. T2 tried to demonstrate her own position as superior to me: a more experienced teacher and knowledgeable about her teaching content. T1 placed me as a less experienced teaching assistant who, having graduated from a more prestigious institution (in her eyes) and coming from the metropole, was not familiar with managing the students from this particular region. I realised, when going over the transcriptions, that the data examples where we translanguaged appeared to be more authentic and exposed both teachers’ real beliefs and

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values;  by  contrast, the English language transcriptions of the formal interviews seemed to reflect what they thought I wanted to hear. In such educational action research studies, where the researcher is also the teacher, managing this dual identity relationally is often problematic (Merriam et al., 2001). As my communication with the teacher-­participants illustrates, language choice is key in negotiating how our identities and positionalities play out. Conclusions and Implications

In this chapter, we aimed to show how the plurilingual identity of a doctoral researcher and the multilingual aspects of her research were challenged by the monolingual field of the Anglophone supervisory institution, and the monolingual disposition she adopted to fit in. The researching multilingually framework (Holmes et al., 2013) provided a useful heuristic to guide post-data collection reflections on the importance of Lamia’s use of her linguistic capital – influential in raising her awareness of the complexity of languages in her study and the unrecognised opportunities they afforded – which, in turn, impacted the credibility of the research in various ways. The first research question invited a reflection on how the Anglophone university context influenced Lamia’s assumptions about the role of English in her research, prompting her to realise that, in prioritising English, she had suppressed her plurilingual identity at the outset to conform to what she perceived as ‘academic English’ institutional requirements. This English habitus led to problems with relationships and collecting credible data in the field site later. The second research question encouraged Lamia to reflect on the multilingual opportunities and challenges offered by her plurilingual identity. Through this reflexive analysis and guided by the researching multilingually framework, she began to question her monolingual (English) habitus, recognising that a plurilingual/translanguaging orientation is possible, permissible and advantageous in the different stages of her research, especially in fieldwork (e.g. when interviewing participants). However, in mobilising her full linguistic repertoire, she encountered challenges in the translation process in relation to both literature (discussed earlier) and data transcription (not explored in this chapter but to be addressed in future work). These experiences encouraged her to reflect on the credibility of her methods and interpretations. The third research question invited reflection on the affordances of a researcher’s plurilingualism in adopting methods that promote the credibility of the data, thereby ensuring the trustworthiness of the research (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Lamia made two realisations: First, when prompted by her supervisors to access literature in French and Arabic, she recognised this as an important step in theorising her study. However,

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understanding and translating key terms was crucial, as the meaning and credibility of the research may be affected. Second, by adopting translanguaging dialogic processes in the field, she could intuitively address the limitations of interview protocols prepared in English and elicit authentic responses in informal communication. The relational aspect of the researching multilingually framework encouraged her to reflect on the importance of linguistic choice in establishing identity, constructing relationships and negotiating power positions with her research participants. Speaking English sounded too formal and seemed to give Lamia a higher position and outsider status. By contrast, translanguaging strategies – where Lamia used her full linguistic repertoire (Algerian-Arabic, French, English) – lessened the tension and enabled participants to perceive her as an insider; she negotiated positionality, identity and status in her relationship with T1, and empowered T2 by making her feel more comfortable. Ultimately, translanguaging – including using English in addition to local languages – enabled her to develop a relationship based on trust and, thus, elicit authentic data ethically, and generate credible findings. Although our conclusions emerge from a reflexive account of doctoral research, we believe the following implications are applicable to all researchers. To ensure the trustworthiness of their research, researchers should value their own linguistic resources throughout the research process and the languages in circulation in their study. Andrews et al. (2018: 231), following Canagarajah (2013), refer to this as a ‘translingual mindset’. On this basis, researchers can then make informed linguistic choices. Second, researchers should also constantly engage in critical reflective practice concerning their linguistic habitus. This may include challenging their own assumptions about language hierarchies and the status of other languages in monolingual universities by prioritising their own linguistic resources and those of their participants, rather than the language of the institution (Ryan, 2011; Singh, 2017). Further, rather than uncritically following assumptions about ethical procedures in their supervisory institution, researchers need to recognise and respect the language and ethical conventions where they are conducting their research. This may require some negotiation with procedures and policies in the supervisory institution. Third, researchers should be critical of research processes established in the Global North that are incompatible with generating new knowledge relevant to their research context. Researchers should review literature in the languages available to them to gain a full understanding of the established knowledge, terms and concepts in the language(s) of the research context and draw on this multilingual knowledge in theorising their data (Singh, 2017). This includes generating and presenting data in the languages of the participants to ensure credibility.

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Finally, we suggest that researchers recognise and reflect on their institutionalised cultural capital (Bourdieu, 1986) and consider their position vis-à-vis their participants, how they perceive one another and how they develop informal relationships. Language plays a key role here. As this study has shown, linguistic choice is crucial in managing power relations and developing trust in order to generate credible data. Concerning universities, this study highlights the need for awarenessraising workshops for (doctoral) researchers and supervisors. Multilingualism then becomes an asset in internationalised doctoral programmes. Rather than appropriating practices and policies established in Anglophone universities in the Global North, universities undergoing internationalisation should adopt procedures that allow for the emergence of multiple voices and languages and resist the hegemony of Global North research methodologies and ‘academic English’ as the sole/primary medium for research. Finally, this reflexive analysis has been undertaken as Lamia writes up her thesis. We therefore do not explore issues around languages of publication. Institutional regulations require Lamia to present her thesis for examination in English. However, she intends to include examples of translanguaging and analyse them in the languages in which they were produced to acknowledge the complexity of the data for readers of Algerian-Arabic, MSA and French and provide her own translations and interpretations in English for English readers/examiners. Concerning examination of the thesis, it would be preferable to have examiners who are able to understand French and/or Arabic or who are sensitive to the complexity of languages raised in this chapter. The outcomes of her doctoral study will have implications for intercultural programmes in universities in Algeria, suggesting the need for publication in French or Arabic, which brings its own challenges – a matter for future research. Note (1) ‘Good English’ refers to the eponymous poem by Tawona Sithole (2014) where he critiques the power of English, considered a mark of educational success in Zimbabwe and residual from English colonisation.

References Andrews, J., Fay, R. and White, R. (2018) From linguistic preparation to developing a translingual orientation: Possible implications of plurilingualism for researcher education. In J. Choi, S. Ollerhead and M. French (eds) Plurilingualism in Learning and Teaching: Complexities Across Contexts (pp. 220–233). London: Routledge. Berger, P.S. and Luckmann, T. (1966) The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge. New York: Doubleday. Araújo e Sá, M.H., Hu, A., Pinto, S. and Wang, L. (2020) The role of language and languages in doctoral education: A transversal perspective. In M. Byram and M. Stoicheva (eds) The Doctorate as Experience in Europe and Beyond: Supervision, Languages, Identities (pp. 229–252). New York: Routledge.

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Bennabi, M. (2017/1957) Le problème de la culture. Alger: El Borhane. Benrabah, M. (2013) Language Conflict in Algeria: From Colonialism to PostIndependence. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Bourdieu, P. (1986) The forms of capital. In J.G. Richardson (ed.) Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Capital (pp. 241–258). New York: Greenwood Press. Burns, A. (2010) Doing Action Research in English Language Teaching: A Guide for Practitioners. New York, Routledge. Byram, M., Hu, A., Hofmann, S. and Mizanur, R. (2020) University of Luxembourg. In M. Byram and M. Stoicheva (eds) The Doctorate as Experience in Europe and Beyond: Supervision, Languages, Identities (pp. 107–141). New York: Routledge. Byrd Clark, J. and Dervin, F. (eds) (2014) Reflexivity in Language and Intercultural Education: Rethinking Multilingualism and Interculturality. New York: Routledge. Canagarajah, S. (2013) Translingual Practice: Global Englishes and Cosmopolitan Relations. London/New York: Routledge. Chen, S.H. (2011) Power relations between the researcher and the researched: An analysis of native and nonnative ethnographic interviews. Field Methods 23 (1), 119–135. Chilisa, B. (2012) Indigenous Research Methodologies. London: Sage Publications. Council of Europe (2018) Common European Framework of Reference for Languages: Learning, Teaching, Assessment. Strasbourg: Council of Europe. See https://rm.coe. int/cefr-companion-volume-with-new-descriptors-2018/1680787989 (accessed 15 October 2021). Denzin, N.K. (1994) The art and politics of interpretation. In N.K. Denzin and Y.S. Lincoln (eds) A handbook of Qualitative Research (pp. 500–15). Thaousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Geertz, C. (1993) The interpretation of culture. London: Fontana. Ganassin, S. and Holmes, P. (2019) ‘I was surprised to see you in a Chinese school’: Multilingual opportunities and challenges community-based research. Applied Linguistics. See https://academic.oup.com/applij/advance-article/doi/10.1093/applin/ amz043/5583826?guestAccessKey=1cfe766f-b1db-49c6-bff6-3821dbe7ac3e (accessed 15 October 2021). Goffman, E. (1959) The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Doubleday. Gonzalez, G. and Lincoln, Y. (2006) Decolonizing qualitative research: Non-traditional forms in the academy. In N.K. Denzin and M.D Giadina (eds) Qualitative Inquiry and the Conservative Challenge (pp. 193–214). Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press. Holliday, A. (2015) Doing and Writing Qualitative Research (3rd edn). London: Sage. Holmes, P. (2014) Researching Chinese students’ intercultural communication experiences in higher education: Researcher and participant reflexivity. In J. Byrd Clark and F. Dervin (eds) Reflexivity in Language and Intercultural Education: Rethinking Multilingualism and Interculturality (pp. 100–118). New York: Routledge. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Holmes, P., Reynolds, J. and Chaplin, M. (2020) Durham University. In M. Byram and M. Stoicheva (eds) The Doctorate as Experience in Europe and Beyond: Supervision, Languages, Identities (pp. 52–88). New York: Routledge. Krog, A. (2018) In the name of human rights: I say (how) you (should) speak (before I listen). In N. Denzin and Y. Lincoln (eds) The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research (5th edn, pp. 485–491). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Li, W. (2018) Translanguaging as a practical theory of language. Applied Linguistics 39 (1), 9–30. Lincoln, Y.G. and Guba, E.G. (1985) Naturalistic Inquiry. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage.

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Magyar, A. and Robinson-Pant, A. (2011) Special issue on university internationalisation – Towards transformative change in higher education. Internationalising doctoral research: Developing theoretical perspectives on practice. Teachers and Teaching 17 (6), 663–676. Merriam, S.B., Johnson-Bailey, J., Lee, M., Kee, Y., Ntseane, G. and Muhamad, M. (2001) Power and positionality: Negotiating insider/outsider status within and across cultures. International Journal of Lifelong Education 20 (5), 405–416. Phipps, A. (2019) Decolonising Multilingualism: Struggles to Decreate. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Robinson-Pant, A. and Wolf, A. (2017) Researching Across Languages and Cultures: A Guide to Doing Research Interculturally. Oxon: Routledge. Ryan, J. (2011) Teaching and learning for international students: Towards a transcultural approach. Teachers and Teaching 17 (6), 631–648. doi: 10.1080/13540602.2011.625138. Said, E. (1978) Orientalism. London: Vintage Books. Singh, M. (2017) Post-monolingual research methodology. Multilingual researchers democratizing theorizing and doctoral education. Education Sciences 7, 28. doi: 10.3390/educsci7010028. Sithole, T. (2014) Good English. See http://researching-multilingually-at-borders. com/?p=393 (accessed 15 October 2021). Smith, L.T. (1999) Decolonising Methodologies. London: Zed Books. Smith, L.T. (2021) Decolonising Methodologies (3rd edn). London: Zed Books. Turner, Y. and Robson, S. (2008) Internationalizing the University. London: Continuum. Zhu, H. (2020) Making a stance: Social action for language and intercultural communication research. Language and Intercultural Communication 20 (2), 206–212. doi: 10.1080/14708477.2020.1730393.

4 Publish or Perish, publier ou périr? How Research Publication Language Choice is Shaped among Linguistics Early Career Researchers in France Adam Wilson

Introduction

Very early on in my journey as an early career researcher (ECR) in linguistics, it became clear to me that if I was going to ‘make it’, I was going to have to publish a lot, and publish well. It seemed to me, then as now, that those who went the distance in the field – that is, those who landed a coveted tenured position – had publication records defined not only by quantity but also by ‘quality’. Without really thinking about it at the time, I had clearly internalised the now global ‘publish or perish’ mantra. In an increasingly globalised world in which English has become the de facto scientific lingua franca (Ammon, 2001), researchers, and especially ECRs, are pushed to publish extensively in the English language. This allows ECRs a chance to increase both the quantity and the perceived ‘quality’ of their research output, making it a no-brainer strategy in an increasingly competitive, neoliberalised professional context. However, this situation is complicated in some countries around the world in which another language sits at the heart of an influential publishing culture. For instance, German remains an important language of written scientific communication in Germany, Austria and Switzerland, and the same can be said for Spanish in Central and South America (to name just two obvious examples). Therefore, in order to remain competitive on both international and national employment markets, ECRs in these 90

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territories face difficult choices when selecting which language(s) to use when writing up their research. My aim in this chapter is to explore this type of difficult linguistic choice through an empirical study in a context which provides an excellent example of interplay between an international and a national scientific language: France. As an ECR in France, I have had to (and still have to) make a number of choices regarding the language(s) in which I publish my work, something which is common to many of my colleagues. In my specific field of linguistics, these choices can have a significant impact on obtaining employment in French academia. This chapter aims to take a critical look at the choices that France-based linguistics ECRs make in terms of language of publication, exploring how the different, often political, dynamics around this question lead to ECRs researching, or at least publishing, multilingually. In an attempt to achieve this aim, I first explore certain aspects of ECR life in France, before taking a general look at language choices in French academic research. Following this, I set out the methodological and theoretical frameworks used in this study. In the first part of the analysis, I briefly examine the choices made by ECRs in terms of language of publication before exploring the ways in which the ECRs rationalise these decisions. I then show how certain language ideologies contribute to these rationales and explore the way in which these ideological dynamics are intertwined with institutional gatekeeping in French academia. This leads me to exploring how the choices made by the ECRs, and the ideological dynamics that surround them, contribute to the reproduction of a certain linguistic order, simultaneously shaping the linguistic practices of ECRs and allowing established academics to protect their own positions of authority. Finally, I briefly propose potential ‘solutions’ for ECRs and link them to potential avenues for further research. In sum, through the example of ECRs in French academia, this chapter presents an illustration of how questions of political economy within institutions shape individuals’ behaviour while also having wider social and political effects. Being an Early Career Researcher in France

First, a key terminological precision needs to be made. In France, ECRs are referred to as jeunes chercheurs or jeunes chercheuses (literally ‘young researchers’). In the French context, this term englobes PhD candidates and post-doctoral researchers as well as lecturers, professors and researchers in both permanent and temporary positions who are at the beginning of their career (defined as the first 10 years following PhD defence by the overarching national research body, the Agence nationale de la recherche). Therefore, in a break with the English language norm, I will be using ECR to refer to individuals at all of the aforementioned stages of their career.

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To set the scene, it should be noted that French universities and research centres remain, to a large extent, a centrally governed public service in which a relatively large number of permanent positions become available every year (when compared to other contexts around the world). In 2018, 1189 lecturer (or MCF, Maître de conferences) positions were made available at the entry level (post-PhD) across all disciplines according to government figures, leading to permanent employment and civil servant status following a probationary year. Other routes into academia are possible, though positions are fewer and further between, making MCF positions the main target for many ECRs. To apply to become an MCF, candidates require both a PhD and a qualification issued by the Conseil national des universités (CNU, National Council of Universities). In order to become ‘qualified’, candidates submit a CV and accompanying documents to the CNU section(s) that correspond(s) to their field(s) of expertise (the focus here being CNU section 7: Sciences du langage (language sciences)). Documents are reviewed by two experienced members of the section, who then emit a favourable, or unfavourable, decision. Obtaining the qualification allows a candidate to gain access to the central recruitment system used for all MCF positions in France. From this point on, recruitment is similar to other countries, in that candidates submit application materials to individual job postings, following which they may be called for interview. In the system described earlier, there are two stages at which ECRs are evaluated as candidates: the qualification process and job application ­procedures. It should be noted that, despite the relative abundance of positions each year, French academia is nevertheless characterised by the same supply-and-demand imbalance seen across the world. In most disciplines, the number of candidates far outweighs the number of jobs available (sometimes reaching more than 100 applicants per vacancy). These dynamics make these evaluation procedures highly competitive. As I explore here, publication plays a key role, with number and type of publication being taken into account as well as, for the following reasons, the language(s) of publication. Research Publication Language Choice in France

First, it should be noted that Article 11 of the Toubon Law (loi Toubon) of 1994, relating to the use of French in France, stipulates that any thesis undertaken in schools or universities must be written in French. Although exceptions to this law are possible and universities vary considerably in how strict they are in enforcing the policy, the vast majority of PhD candidates in linguistics in France write their PhD thesis in French. However, this law does not apply to research published outside of theses or dissertations, leading to more variation in the linguistic choices made by researchers. No official figures exist that establish which

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languages are used for research publications published by researchers based at French universities. However, a blog was set up by members of the academic community in 2015 aimed at documenting research publications in French through extensive analysis of bibliometric data (Recherche Scientifique Francophone, 2016). These data show that, while there are substantial differences in patterns of language use across disciplines, the use of both English and French as languages of publication by researchers in France is widespread. These general findings have been more or less reflected in the raw figures used in other research projects on the topic (see Héran, 2013, or the collection of studies published by Cavalla et al., 2019). According to the data featured on the Recherche Scientifique Francophone blog, the domain of language and linguistics remains consistently prolific in terms of research published in the French language, with publications in French regularly totalling more than 400 per year in the period 2000– 2015. Although no official figures are forthcoming, brief bibliometric reviews of publications by French-based researchers show that Englishlanguage publications are also extremely common. Overall then, research practised by France-based researchers within the field of linguistics is characterised by a vibrant publishing culture in both English and French. Attitudes towards language choices

Active publishing cultures in both French and English are not the only reason that linguistics is a particularly interesting domain to study in terms of the language choices made in publication. As one might imagine, researchers in linguistics tend to be among the most outspoken on issues such as language choice in academic research, often communicating on the topic in the form of articles, conferences, media appearances and posts on social media or academic mailing lists. These elements merit brief attention here. Perhaps the most mediatised position in terms of language choices in research publication centres on the potential ‘dangers’ of the increasing influence of English. This is nothing new. In the late 1970s, Fondin (1979) was already outlining the dangers of what would become known as the publish or perish culture as well as the threats posed by the related increase in English-language publications. At the heart of these concerns is the idea that English brings with it the de facto imposition of one single, hegemonic model of doing and reporting science. Of course, this idea and its repercussions have been widely studied around the world (e.g. Ammon, 2001; Lillis & Curry, 2010). Most of the discourses on the topic in the French-speaking world tend to promote the use of French as a scientific language by positioning it as a way to counteract this increasing dominance of English. French is often presented as a tool that can be used to defend not only specific French research traditions but also as a protector of multilingualism, and thus the

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multiplicity of scientific methods and approaches more generally (see Frath, 2011). Certain authors have linked these questions to the feeling that French researchers, or indeed any non-native English-speaking academics, find themselves disadvantaged on the international stage as they do not follow the expected publishing format or scientific approach expected in the English-speaking world (Frath, 2011). According to Frath (2016), such dynamics may lead to French academics self-censoring their own work, leading eventually to a formatting of thought and a drop in research quality and creativity in order to conform. Another argument, alluded to by Blanchet and de Robillard (2012), centres on the idea that the dominance of English over French may lead to the exclusion of certain scientific communities who do not have the necessary linguistic competency in English to participate in an Englishdominated scientific world, but who do have the required linguistic skills in French. Clearly, these attitudes are all examples of significant language ideologies with potentially far-reaching influence, given that they are promoted by experienced researchers in the field. They are presented here in order to paint a picture of the background against which ECRs make their language choices. A more critical look at their ideological underpinnings and wider ramifications is proposed during the main data analysis. English and/or French?

Taken together, the factors explored in this section underline the complex interplay between French and English as scientific languages in France. Although certain experienced scholars militantly defend the use of French, publication in both French and English is commonplace. If ECRs look to these dynamics as a model to follow, the conclusion is relatively simple: Publishing should be done in both English and French. Of course, this concerns mainly the French national context and ECRs wishing to branch out onto the international stage are confronted with the same dominance of English that affects any globally-minded researcher. ‘Publish or perish’ thus becomes ‘publish or perish and publier ou périr’. In what follows, I look at how linguistics ECRs in France make sense of these dynamics and go about deciding which language(s) they will publish in. Methodology and Research Questions

For the past seven years, I have been involved in the academic field of linguistics in France. I began my academic life as a PhD candidate in 2012, defended my thesis in 2016 and was ‘qualified’ by the CNU shortly after. Following my PhD, I spent two years as a temporary lecturer, applying for permanent positions both in France and elsewhere, before being appointed

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as an MCF in 2018. This chain of events was above all a professional experience for me. However, it also places me in a privileged position from which to investigate how ECRs make sense of, and act upon, the different issues surrounding language choice in research publications. In-depth conversations on the topic of language choices in research have been a regular feature of my seven years of professional experience and have played a central role in helping me understand the actions and representations of others, as well as shaping my own. To take this further for this study, I organised 12 interviews with ECRs over the course of 2019. I tried to speak with ECRs at different stages of their career, who are speakers of various different languages, who work (and have worked) in a number of different French universities, and who represent a wide range of disciplines within linguistics.1 I also organised interviews with six established researchers, selected according to similar criteria of representation. My professional experience can also be seen as a long-term period of participant observation, or perhaps even ‘observant participation’ (Moeran, 2009: 139). Since the beginning of my PhD, I have applied the same theoretical and methodological apparatus I use in my other research to observing my own professional field, critically and analytically paying attention to the questions that form the central theme of this study, all while playing out my main role as a social actor in the field. Taking inspiration from Moïse’s (2009) conceptualisation of reflexivity, I aim to make sense of how I made sense of the activities in which I was, or am, engaged, as well as striving to understand what I did with such knowledge, why, and how I was involved in contributing to the dynamics of the activity in question. This type of reflection is also applied to the acts, discourses and representations of other observed social actors in the field. The act of writing up research is viewed here as a ‘pratique langagière’ (Boutet, 2002: 458), or ‘language practice’, in its own right: an act of communication that is inherently influenced by the context in which it is produced, and contributes in turn to the social elaboration of that same context. My aim then is to explore this relationship by examining how specific, situated language practices – linguistic choices made in research publication by ECRs in France – are both influenced by, and constitutive of, the wider sociolinguistic dynamics that characterise (French) academia. With this in mind, three main research questions are addressed: • What choices do ECRs make in terms of the languages they choose to publish in? • What are the different rationales that underpin these choices? • How do these choices, and their rationales, interact with wider social, political and ideological concerns? In order to address these questions, this study adopts an interpretative framework designed to link the analysis of specific, situated (academic)

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language practices to wider dynamics (of academia), thus echoing the ‘social practice approach’ to professional writing espoused by Lillis and Curry (2010: 19). The framework developed here draws heavily upon the paradigms of critical sociolinguistics (Heller, 2003) and political sociolinguistics (Canut et al., 2019). Canut et al.’s approach provides a comprehensive framework for examining the way in which contextualised language practices produce effects that can have far-reaching individual, social and political ramifications (Canut et al., 2019: 345). Heller’s paradigm is integrated here as it contributes tools adapted to studying the way in which, and by whom, the production, distribution and valuation of linguistic resources are controlled, thus unveiling whose interests are served by the sociolinguistic configurations that are uncovered. Early Career Researchers’ Language Choices

All except one of the ECRs interviewed were explicitly aiming for a long-term career in academia. It is thus perhaps unsurprising that the ways in which they report their experiences with publishing were very similar (and very similar to my own experiences). Most of them were very much aware of the key role that publishing may play in their career prospects, perhaps best encapsulated in the following example: ECR2:  si tu publies pas, et si tu publies pas bien, tu seras ni qualifé, et puis après tu auras encore moins de postes if you don’t publish, and if you don’t publish well, you won’t be qualified, and afterwards you’ll have even fewer jobs [than you have qualifications]. 2

ECRs show themselves to be aware of the importance of having multiple publications while also having publications which are seen as ‘high quality’, that is in high-impact, well-respected journals. This leads to ECRs developing a strategic approach to publication very early on in their career in order to stand themselves in the best possible stead for the future: the ‘publish or perish’ mantra in full swing. When discussing publication strategies, very few of the ECRs interviewed spontaneously refer to language choices. When asked about these choices, all but three of the ECRs report having publications in both French and English. Two of the three ‘exceptions’ report having publications only in French – though both hint at having English-language publications in the pipeline – while one reports having publications solely in English. Relatively clear disciplinary patterns can be seen in the language choices made by the ECRs interviewed. Those in formal and experimental linguistics seem to tend towards using English, whereas ECRs in sociolinguistics, didactics and the field of French as a foreign language tend towards French, or a mix of both French and English. This latter finding

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reflects my own experience as an ECR in sociolinguistics, with a publication record which is currently relatively balanced between output in French and in English. These basic descriptive data seem then to be in line with the pattern explored earlier in this chapter: research in linguistics in France is published in both English and French. While the very small sample interviewed for this project can never claim to be a faithful representation of all linguistics ECRs in France, it does provide a basis that allows us to begin investigating the motivations underlying these choices. Explaining Language Choices

In their strategic approach to publishing, the ECRs interviewed tended to focus on three general objectives which are deemed to have a probable positive effect on their career prospects: to be read, to develop a reputation as a high-quality researcher and to present themselves as ‘ready’ for employment. For many, the reasoning that underpins their choice of language is inherently linked to these three objectives. As will become apparent, the practices and rationales reported here have strong ideological underpinnings (though these underpinnings are almost never explicitly mentioned by the ECRs). My first aim here is to report, as simply as possible, how ECRs explain their language choices, before moving onto the ideological aspects of these explanations. Being read

When discussing approaches to publication, the main concern for almost all of the ECRs (as it was for myself) is to get their work read, which they hope will lead to their name becoming known within the field. On one hand, ECRs seek to be read as widely as possible, aiming to disseminate their work to as broad an audience as possible. On the other hand, ECRs try to get their work read by the ‘right people’: big names in the field, possible collaborators or, crucially, potential employers. Depending on the way in which a given ECR understands the dynamics within their field, these aims can lead to the selection of French, English, or both, as a language of publication. Very simply, English is seen by the majority of ECRs interviewed as the best way to ensure their research is read by a large audience: ECR4:  pour pas mal de gens publier en anglais c’est le moyen de se faire connaître de faire une carrière de transmettre la recherche de faire partager sa recherche for a lot of people, publishing in English is the way to get themselves known, to make a career, to transmit their research, to share their research

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Of course, the fact that English is seen as the language choice to ensure that research is widely read is nothing surprising, reflecting its (ideological) positioning as the de facto language of science around the world. However, French is also seen as being important in terms of being read. In a reflection of my own situation, almost all of the ECRs interviewed wish to remain in academia in France and thus spoke of the importance of publishing (in French) for ‘leur public’ (‘their public’) or ‘leur famille de recherche’ (‘their research family’), that is, the French academic community. In sum then, there is a complex interplay between English and French in terms of language choices made by ECRs when publishing their research with a view to being read. ECRs undertake strategic decisions which involve publishing in both languages in order to reach as many (‘right’) people as possible and thus give themselves what they perceive to be the best possible footing on the job market, both nationally and globally. Being (seen as) a good researcher

The interviewed ECRs often raise a second point related to their rationales for choosing certain languages: the will to present themselves as a good, high-quality researcher. Many ECRs seem to have integrated the idea that they must publish a lot in order to achieve this. This is not necessarily about being read but more about showing the capacity to have a high research output in terms of quantitative number of publications. Given that there are more English-language journals active around the world than there are French-language journals, a strategy in which ECRs aim to publish as much as possible implicitly favours publishing in English. Of course, multiplying the languages in which one writes also multiplies the possibilities one has to be published. Indeed, some senior academics advise on publishing the same (or similar) research twice, in two languages, in order to increase research output: ECR9: [a senior academic] told me that there’s no shame in publishing one article in English and then publishing almost the exact same thing in French, that way you get two publications out. 3

As well as being prolific, another factor related to being seen as a good researcher is publishing in ‘high-quality’ or ‘headline’ journals, that is, journals with a big impact factor, a large readership or simply a good reputation within the field. Certain ECRs see publishing in these journals as indispensable to ensuring a future career, with one ECR suggesting that doing so could lead almost single-handedly to being seen as a ‘legitimate’ researcher. As one might expect, these ‘headline’ journals are often (but not always) English-language publications and, as such, aiming to publish in them favours writing up research in English.

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Adapting to the (inter)national market

Choosing certain languages of publication can also help in projecting a certain professional identity. In the case of France, some ECRs suggest that publishing research in French is key to being viewed as someone who could be part of the French academic system. Some reported that their advisers had insisted on this when helping them to position themselves on the job market: ECR10: [my adviser said] it would only really be important [to publish in French] if I were planning to pursue a career in France

This advice suggests that publishing in French is indispensable in order to gain access to employment in French academia (as well as insinuating that such French publications may be ‘useful’ only within the confines of the French system and not necessarily internationally). This first idea is seconded by one of the more experienced academics I interviewed. In fact, they explain how French-language publications are considered a near necessity by the National Council of Universities (CNU): PROF1:  les premières années c’était net, quelqu’un qui a tout en anglais qui ne fait pas la preuve qu’il est capable de faire du français qu’il est capable de publier en français n’était pas qualifié the first few years [of my time at the CNU] it was clear, someone who had everything in English does not prove that they are capable of doing French, that they are capable of publishing in French, was not qualified

While PROF1 later notes a slight evolution in the system over recent years, becoming more lenient towards candidates having published only in English, the basic dynamics remain unchanged. Clearly then, and especially if an ECR’s PhD is in a language other than French, French-language publications can be instrumental in terms of obtaining the qualification or, later on in the process, getting a job. The rationale behind this approach is based on ensuring individuals are fit to be able to work in linguistic departments in France, which almost universally involves teaching and undertaking administrative tasks in French. French publications are thus seen as providing evidence of a candidate’s ability to work in French. Of course, certain ECRs highlight similar dynamics in relation to English: publishing in English is seen by some as a way to cultivate an identity as a researcher ready to fit into an English-language professional milieu outside France, keeping doors open to job opportunities in other employment markets. Language choices as a product of strategy

The findings presented here highlight how the language choices made by ECRs when publishing their work are the product of an overarching

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strategy that relates to their (future) careers. ECRs seem conscious that publishing their work, and, especially, publishing in certain places and in certain ways, is likely to enhance their employability. The languages that ECRs use to publish are seen as integral to achieving this. In the context of France, and for the reasons outlined earlier, many ECRs are compelled to publish their research in both French and English. Such choices have potentially far-reaching ramifications – both for individuals and for the field more generally – which are explored in the following section along with the ideological underpinnings of the rationales outlined here. Language Choices: Influences and Repercussions

Although very rarely expressed in this manner, ECRs would seem to harbour an understanding that the use of (a) certain language(s) for publication purposes can potentially be ‘traded’ for other advantages down the line: a certain (positive) professional image, a foot in the door in the recruitment process, and so on. This clearly echoes a Bourdieusian (1982) view of language: a set of resources that can be exchanged for other resources or forms of capital, depending on the particular conditions of a given ‘market’ at a given time. ECRs show an acute understanding of these conditions, knowing which languages (French and/or English) constitute highly valued, ‘exchangeable’ resources, even if they very rarely express any knowledge pertaining to how the linguistic marketplace came to be configured in this way. Given this, the remainder of this chapter is dedicated to exploring this configuration: How do these particular linguistic resources come to be so highly valued? How do ECRs’ choices and rationales contribute to the conditions of the market? What are the wider underpinnings and knockon effects of these linguistic marketplace dynamics? Following Heller (2003), the main focus of such an exploration will be on how marketplaces come to be configured in a certain manner and how this leads to different individuals coming to be positioned in ways that constrain or facilitate their access to, and use of, valuable resources (and thus to the benefits associated with them). Language ideologies play a key role in the way in which value is attributed (or not) to linguistic resources and thus constitute an ideal starting point for a discussion that aims to uncover how English and French – explored in that order – come to be so highly valued in the linguistic marketplace of French academia. Academic language ideologies

As has been shown, publishing in English is seen as being a particularly valuable resource in getting one’s research read, being seen as a highquality researcher and being perceived as a researcher who is ready for work in academia. It would seem then, for the ECRs interviewed, that

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publishing in English is equated with producing high-quality research and, in turn, with presenting oneself as a high-quality researcher. This is a reflection of the ‘textual ideologies’ (Lillis & Curry, 2010: 23) found around the world that index English as a language of scientific excellence. In fact, this could even be considered as a form of ‘iconization’ (Irvine & Gal, 2000: 37), in that a given linguistic practice (publishing in English) comes to depict the inherent nature (high-quality, or perhaps even ‘worldclass’) of a particular social group (ECRs (with good employment prospects)). Of course, this doesn’t mean that this indexical link always rings true. A number of ECRs show themselves to be aware that, while Englishlanguage publications may indeed index high-quality, world-class research, publishing in English does not necessarily automatically produce world-class research: ECR4:  [en parlant de plusieurs collègues] tous étaient d’accord pour dire que le ou les articles […] qui est écrit en anglais […] c’était leurs articles les plus cités mais pour autant pas forcément les meilleurs. On sait que ça a un impact au niveau mondial. [speaking of a range of colleagues] all agreed that their articles […] which are written in English […] were their most-cited articles but without necessarily being their best. We know that it has an impact on a global level.

However, this apparent paradox between ideology and reality is not overly important. Rather, it is the perception that there is a link between Englishlanguage publication and portraying oneself as an employable researcher that compels ECRs to publish in English. In fact, one of the ECRs ­interviewed spoke of an ECR colleague reacting as if it were their ‘consecration’ as a researcher to have an English-language article accepted for publication, irrespective of the journal or the content. Language ideologies that index English as a language of scientific excellence may thus be seen as partly responsible for shaping the linguistic choices made by ECRs, becoming embedded in their practices and in the discourses surrounding them. These ideological dynamics go some way to explaining how English comes to be so highly valued in the linguistic marketplace of academia, both in France and elsewhere. Value being added to English within the confines of the linguistic marketplace of French academia leads to a necessary loss in the value attributed to other resources. Other languages become ideologically positioned as inferior languages of science,4 something from which even the national language is not immune. Indeed, one ECR even went so far as to say that French might be ‘un peu limité’ (‘a bit limited’) in this respect. Naturally, this is what sits at the heart of some of the attitudes towards the use of French in scientific publication presented towards the beginning of this chapter. Faced with the apparently ever-increasing, all-consuming use of

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English, and the subsequent devaluing of French, publishing in French is discursively positioned as an act which presents a solution to the danger of linguistic imperialism and scientific hegemony posed by English and promotes the inclusion of those prone to be excluded in such a scenario (such as those without the necessary skills to publish in English). These discourses – publicly espoused by certain experienced French r­ esearchers – become part and parcel of the textual ideologies relating to French as a language of publication. French is framed as a solution to a harmful threat to French academia, in turn indexing those who publish in French as part of the solution rather than the problem. These discourses work alongside the fact that, according to the data analysed earlier, having French-language publications is seemingly considered an almost necessary requirement in order to obtain the CNU qualification and/or a job (in the field of linguistics, at least). Both discursively and institutionally then, value is added to French-language publication and ECRs boasting such publication are thus indexed as potentially highly employable within the French system. Of course, the experts who are largely responsible for the different ideological discourses on language use are the same experts who are responsible for both the training and the hiring of ECRs, which brings up questions of institutional gatekeeping. Maintaining the status quo: Institutional gatekeeping and language investment

The insistence on ECRs having French-language research publications in order to enter the French system, both at the level of the CNU and during recruitment procedures, is a clear example of institutional gatekeeping. Of course, if French proficiency is required to do the jobs that linguistics ECRs are recruited for in France (and it is), and there is no other way to discern such proficiency than to look at French-language publications, the basis for such gatekeeping – while no doubt ­discriminatory – is justifiable. Indeed, one might expect to find similar gatekeeping processes in almost any other linguistic context. However, practical aspects of language proficiency are clearly not the only issue at play. Also influential are the gatekeepers, that is the established academics who often find themselves in positions in which they can influence the lives and decisions of ECRs, whether it be as supervisors, members on hiring committees or simply as influential academics in a particular field. These academics in positions of power can be conceived of as what Blommaert (2010: 39) terms ‘centres’: overarching (real or imagined) authority figures towards whom social actors orient their linguistic (and other social) behaviour, based on ‘complexes of norms and perceived appropriateness criteria’. Crucially, the established academics who constitute these authoritative ‘centres’ are responsible for the organisation and policing of these

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norms and appropriateness criteria. For instance, supervisors may influence their students to publish in one language rather than another, hiring committee members may push to make publications in (a) certain language(s) part of the hiring criteria and influential academics may publicly mediatise ideological positions that favour (a) certain language(s). This latter phenomenon is of course especially powerful within the field of linguistics, given the legitimacy accorded to specialists in the domain to comment on matters purporting to language. Established scholars are thus responsible for organising academic orders of discourse (Hyland, 2009: 22), playing a key role in setting out what counts as appropriate, desirable or acceptable linguistic choices. According to the experiences of the ECRs interviewed here, different established academics respond to this responsibility in different ways. Some rather commendably pass on as much balanced information as they can to their students and other ECRs, while others communicate only the position they hold, reducing to silence arguments that might be in favour of (an)other language(s). Some widely mediatise their views by any means possible, while others simply talk very little about it. This final reaction is particularly striking as a number of ECRs reported that they felt that it was an issue which was spoken about very little by supervisors or other more experienced colleagues, despite its potential importance for ECRs’ professional lives. Furthermore, when it was addressed, ECRs explained that they tended to be pointed towards certain language choices, without any significant explanation as to why those particular choices were preferable. For many ECRs, English, French or a combination of both is chosen when publishing, simply because that is the way things are done in the discipline. This can be seen then as a doxa (Bourdieu, 1972) in that the ideological underpinnings of certain choices have become so entrenched among certain members of the academic community that the well-­ foundedness of such choices becomes a self-evident truth that, literally, goes without saying. If ECRs are advised at all, they are advised to ‘follow the rules’ of their discipline. Indeed, the data explored in this chapter suggest that this is exactly what many ECRs do: publish in the language, or combination of languages, that is considered ‘appropriate’, or ‘normal’, for their subdiscipline. This becomes the strategy through which ECRs circumvent the gates being kept by the academic establishment. Following disciplinary ‘rules’ relating to language choice in publication can have important knock-on effects, both for ECRs themselves and for the wider sociolinguistic dynamics of the subfield in which they work. For many ECRs in France, following the ‘rules’ will involve publishing research in two languages. This makes the ‘linguistic component’ (Boutet, 2001: 17) of academic work particularly heavy for these individuals. In fact, some ECRs even go so far as to making forms of ‘language investment’ (Duchêne, 2016: 73) by investing time, effort and, sometimes, money into bilingual publishing practices in an attempt to safeguard a

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return on said investment in the form of employment. Such investment can take many forms. For instance, writing in English means writing in a second (or third) language for many ECRs in France. For some, the same is true of French. This leads to a form of investment in terms of the time and effort required for such an activity and ECRs hope for return in the form of an English-language or French-language publication and its associated benefits. Going beyond this, it is not surprising to find that ECRs sometimes also make monetary investments, in the form of paying individuals for translations, proofreading or other language-related expertise. Some even report investing considerably into learning languages in a way that is directly related to their aspirations to become an academic: ECR1:  quand j’ai commencé à envisager la thèse, je savais que j’étais nul en anglais […] je me suis dit que c’était le truc obligé, il faut que tu apprennes à parler anglais, donc j’ai pris une année sabbatique pour ça, une année de césure pour pouvoir partir parler anglais when I started to envisage a PhD, I knew I was bad at English […] I thought to myself that it was obligatory, you have to learn to speak English, so I took a sabbatical year for that, a gap year to be able to leave [and go abroad] and speak English

The knock-on effects do not only concern the ECRs themselves; there are also repercussions for academic fields and their linguistic marketplaces. More specifically, it leads to the linguistic status quo being maintained. Given that ECRs orient their language choices towards the norms and expectations of their discipline, they reproduce similar patterns of language use to those that already exist. This creates little fluctuation in the different values accorded to linguistic resources, leaving the conditions of the market relatively unchanged. Of course, it could be argued that it is very much in the interests of established academics – the same individuals with a key role in putting, and holding, in place the norms and ­expectations – to maintain this status quo regarding the dominant languages of publication in their discipline. Such dynamics not only allow these actors to safeguard their own powerful positions, they also lead to them exerting a hold over the language choices of future generations of researchers, shaping, at least in part, the way in which ECRs report their research and undertake their work. However, by orienting their language practices towards the norms and expectations of their discipline, ECRs also participate in (re)producing and perpetuating these normative dynamics. Simply put, the more ECRs continue to publish in French and/or English, and the more they talk about this as a key element of employability, the more the ideological dynamics that influence ECRs in this direction are reinforced. In this respect, the language ideologies at play here operate in both a top-down and a bottom-up manner (Bucholtz, 2009), emanating not only from the

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academic establishment but also from the practices and discourses of ECRs themselves. Both of these sources are key in forming the authoritative ‘centre’ towards which ECRs orient their behaviour. While they may not be overtly aware of it – given how little they speak about it and how little it is spoken about in academia more generally – ECRs contribute through their embodied practices to maintaining a status quo in the academic linguistic marketplace, a status quo which ensures that those who benefit from its current configuration continue to do so, while those who do not, do not. Conclusions (and Solutions?)

The aim of this chapter was to critically explore the language choices that France-based ECRs in linguistics make when publishing. I have shown how ECRs choose to publish in French and/or English, based on a complex interplay of rationales which are primarily strategic in nature, aimed at improving one’s standing on the employment market. I showed how language ideologies contribute to shaping these strategies by positioning both English and French as particularly valuable linguistic resources within the linguistic marketplace of French academia. These ideological dynamics were shown to be inherently linked to institutional gatekeeping, in that they inform the norms and expectations of established academics, who act as gatekeepers to their field. Overall, this contributes to the reproduction of a certain linguistic order as ECRs are compelled to follow these established norms. This allows established academics to safeguard their own positions of power while also exerting ­control on the language choices made by ECRs. Having said that, the fact that ECRs follow established norms means that they themselves contribute to perpetuating the linguistic status quo in their discipline, along with the wider social and political repercussions this entails. In conclusion, the language choices made by ECRs when publishing their research clearly constitute excellent examples of pratiques langagières (Boutet, 2002): contextualised practices influenced by, yet also constitutive of, their wider social and political context. For the ECRs themselves, the language choices they make can be crucial for their own future careers. Indeed, they can even be construed as instrumental to the way in which they conceive of, and indexically perform, their own professional and personal identities (Ochs, 1993). On a wider level, these choices contribute to ideological dynamics that condition the linguistic marketplace of academia, thereby sitting at the heart of questions relating to the (re)production of institutional exclusion and inequality. The example explored here is (a very specific discipline of) French academia, but it reflects the complex dynamics that link seemingly anodyne everyday language practices to much larger social processes, neatly highlighting how we are all actors in the configuration of the social contexts in which we evolve.

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Perhaps the most striking observation I made while undertaking this study is linked to this final conclusion. Simply put, many ECRs seem unaware of the potential repercussions of what they see to be trivial decisions. Only those who are fortunate enough to be given good career advice by their advisors or other senior academics are aware of such issues. I was one of these lucky ones in that I was surrounded – both during and after my PhD – by people who gave me complete, impartial advice on this topic. This led to me developing a balanced strategy of French and English publication, which I am certain was instrumental in my obtaining interviews and, eventually, a job. I am well aware that, having the luxury of preexisting proficiency in both English and French, the language investment that I had to make was considerably inferior to other ECRs. Indeed, this requirement for language investment is a huge source of inequality. However, informing ECRs as early as possible in their career of the possible repercussions of their linguistic choices in terms of publishing – by making it an integral part of master’s- or PhD-level courses or seminars, for example – would at least go some way to allowing them to make informed decisions, both in terms of the language investments they feel they should make, and the language(s) they choose to publish in. This could help empower ECRs as social actors in this context, raising their awareness of their role in the (re)production of a status quo – and their potential agency in forging a new one. Looking at ways in which this could be implemented could constitute a fruitful avenue for future research. This may involve undertaking further studies in France or moving into other contexts characterised by tension between international and national scientific languages, such as the German- or Spanish-speaking worlds mentioned in the introduction to this chapter. Within any of these contexts, it could be suggested that future research should especially seek to move beyond the binary vision reflected in this chapter that positions one single international scientific language (English) against one single national one (French). This simplified view was adopted here as it echoes the seemingly overwhelming ideological and practical focus on these two languages in France, both in the choices made by ECRs and in the discourses that circulate on the subject of language choice in scientific publication. For instance, many of the ECRs interviewed either flatly rejected the idea of using (a) language(s) other than French or English (whether it be ‘foreign’ languages or so-called ‘minority’ or ‘regional’ languages) as part of their strategic approach to publishing or were deeply sceptical of the ‘use’ of doing so, even when they had the necessary language skills and/or when their research was focused on such (a) language(s). 5 However, this observation highlights how a binary focus on French and/or English can lead to other languages being removed from conversations regarding researching multilingually in France. Therefore, it would seem to be of critical importance for further research to foreground the multilingual societal backdrop of a given context when investigating

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the ways in which certain languages become elevated to the status of privileged languages of science. Such research could help to shed further light on the issues raised in this chapter, deepening our understanding of the way in which questions of political economy shape ECRs linguistic choices and the effects that these choices may have on linguistic marketplaces, on the languages in play and on the speakers of those languages, both in academia and in society more generally. Notes (1) Given the possible repercussions on expressing views on this subject for an ECR’s future career prospects, all data have been extensively anonymised: details allowing for identification have been removed and all ECRs are referred to using the pronoun ‘they’. (2) Interviews took place in both French and English. Extracts aim to closely reflect the spoken language of the interviewee. For French-language interviews, extracts are presented in French accompanied by an English translation. Extracts in English only are from English-language interviews. (3) A number of ECRs reported adopting this ‘two for one’ publishing strategy, with some even suggesting that it was both normal and desirable. For others, such practices were to be frowned upon. (4) A point to which I will return in the conclusion of this chapter. (5) However, one of the experienced researchers reported not only publishing fairly regularly in languages other than English and French (and notably in some of France’s ‘regional’ languages) but also advising students, PhD candidates and colleagues to do the same.

References Ammon, U. (2001) The Dominance of English as a Language of Science. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Blanchet, P. and de Robillard, D. (2012) Francophonie et plurilinguisme dans la recherche et l’édition scientifiques: relations et enjeux. Français et société – L’implication des langues dans l’élaboration et la publication des recherches scientifiques. L’exemple du français parmi d’autres langues 24, 5–12. Blommaert, J. (2010) The Sociolinguistics of Globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1972) Esquisse d’une théorie de la pratique. Précédé de Trois études d’ethnologie Kabyle. Paris: Librairie Droz. Bourdieu, P. (1982) Ce que parler veut dire. L’économie des échanges linguistiques. Paris: Fayard. Boutet, J. (2001) La part langagière du travail: bilan et évolution. Langage et société 98, 17–42. Boutet, J. (2002) Pratiques langagières. In P. Charaudeau and D. Maingueneau (eds) Dictionnaire d’analyse du discours (pp. 458–460). Paris: Seuil. Bucholtz, M. (2009) From stance to style: Gender, interaction, and indexicality in Mexican immigrant youth slang. In A. Jaffe (ed.) Stance: Sociolinguistic Perspectives (pp. 146–170). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Canut, C., Danos, F., Him-Aquilli, M. and Panis, C. (2019) Le langage, une pratique sociale. Éléments d’une sociolinguistique politique. Besançon: Presses universitaires de Franche-Comté.

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Cavalla, C., Tutin, A. and Burrows, A. (eds) (2019) Quelle place pour le français scientifique dans un contexte universitaire ? [Special issue]. Francophonie et innovation à l’université 1. Duchêne, A. (2016) Investissement langagier et économie politique. Langage et société 157, 73–96. Fondin, H. (1979) La langue de la publication scientifique: la prépondérance de l’anglais et la recherche. Documentation et bibliothèques 25 (1), 59–69. Frath, P. (2011) L’enseignement et la recherche doivent continuer de se faire en français dans les universités francophones. See https://aplv-languesmodernes.org/spip. php?article4095&debut_article_rubrique_date=10&lang=fr (accessed December 2019). Frath, P. (2016) Publish rubbish or perish. De l’uniformité et du conformisme dans les sciences humaines. Mélanges CRAPEL 37, 95–99. Heller, M. (2003) Éléments d’une sociolinguistique critique. Paris: Didier France. Héran, F. (2013) L’anglais hors la loi? Enquête sur les langues de recherche et d’enseignement en France. Population & Sociétés 501, 1–4. Hyland, K. (2009) Academic Discourse. English in a Global Context. London: Continuum. Irvine, J. and Gal, S. (2000) Language Ideology and linguistic differentiation. In P. Kroskrity (ed.) Regimes of Language: Ideologies, Polities, and Identities (pp. 35–83). Sanfa Fe: School of American Research Press. Lillis, T. and Curry, M.J. (2010) Academic Writing in a Global Context. The Politics and Practices of Publishing in English. London: Routledge. Moeran, B. (2009) From participant observation to observant participation. In S. Ybema, D. Yanow, H. Wels and F.H. Kamsteeg (eds) Organisational Ethnography. Studying the Complexity of Everyday Life (pp. 139–155). London: Sage. Moïse, C. (2009) De l’arrière à l’avant-scène ou de l’intérêt de la réflexivité en sociolinguistique. Cahiers de sociolinguistique – Réflexivité, herméneutique. Vers un paradigme de recherche? 14, 177–188. Ochs, E. (1993) Constructing social identity: A language socialization perspective. Research on Language and Social Interaction 26 (3), 287–306. Recherche Scientifique Francophone. (2016) Recherche Scientifique Francophone. Recenser les publications scientifiques en français. See http://science-francophonie. over-blog.com/ (accessed December 2019).

5 Conducting Multilingual Classroom Research with Refugee Children in Cyprus: Critically Reflecting on Methodological Decisions Alexandra Georgiou

Research within language education and migration that draws on multilingual frameworks requires the researcher to become part of the research process and to work with participants to fully understand their views in order to represent them (Drury, 2007; Due et al., 2016). However, a problem arises when the researcher does not share the same language as the participants. What happens, for example, in research examining the experiences of bilingual children in formal schooling where the researcher is a speaker of English, the participants are speakers of Pahari and the researcher needs to conduct fieldwork, including interviews and analysis of multilingual data sets (Drury, 2007)? The problem becomes more apparent when the participants are marginalised refugee children from war-torn areas of the world. It is important that education researchers take theoretically and methodologically informed decisions in politically charged and linguistically and culturally diverse contexts when examining issues of language and participation, as such choices can work towards an inclusive research practice that does not exclude minority and vulnerable groups of people. Although the aforementioned studies implicitly provide guidance for conducting multilingual classroom research, they do not explicitly explain how their own theoretical positions can shape their methodological decisions and the impact of these in redressing power relations between researcher and participants. In this chapter, I present the methodological decisions, informed by a repertoire approach towards multilingualism (Blommaert & Backus, 111

112  Part 2: Power Relations

2013; Busch, 2015), that I took as a classroom researcher during my PhD study, examining the linguistic and multicultural practices of seven ­refugee children in one primary school in Cyprus in 2017. I take a post-­ reflective perspective (Holmes, 2014) and discuss how my methodological decisions about collecting and representing data allowed me to create opportunities for linguistic equity and the authenticity of refugee children’s voices. The following research questions guide this chapter. In addressing these, the aim is to widen the discussion regarding the future of multilingual classroom research, especially in the context of migration: (1) How does a repertoire view of language allow researchers working in the field of multilingual classroom research with refugees to take informed methodological decisions that ensure the authentic capture and representation of refugee children’s voices and balance power relations with them? (2) What are the implications of these decisions for developing an inclusive research practice for researchers working in multilingual settings? The chapter begins with an overview of the repertoire approach, the ­theoretical position that I take towards multilingualism, and its affordances for scholars conducting research with refugee children who do not share the majority’s language resources. I discuss an additional dimension of multilingual classroom research: research with children. I then present the aim and context of the PhD study from which the data for this chapter have been extracted, followed by a description of the methodology that was deployed (post-reflective account). The methodological decisions pertaining to collecting and representing data when conducting research with refugee children are then discussed. Finally, I argue for the implementation of an inclusive research practice that can inform researchers working in multilingual settings. A Repertoire Approach to Multilingualism

Recently, researchers in language and education have taken a social turn in the field, moving beyond essentialist views of languages as discrete and bounded entities that people acquire in a linear way, to acknowledge how language and language practices are understood as social constructions relating to people’s everyday practices and beliefs (Creese & Blackledge, 2011; Garcia & Li, 2014; Jørgensen, 2008). A social turn problematises monolingual assumptions about learning and suggests that people’s learning practices are not context free, meaning that their interactions are shaped by the sociocultural context in which they operate. Departing from such views, Blommaert and Backus’s (2013) theorisation of language and language learning takes into account the increased

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linguistic and cultural diversity in educational settings as a result of global mobility and migration, offering a repertoire approach to multilingualism. They contend that a repertoire approach takes into account learners’ life experiences and does not expect them to have developed full linguistic competence in the languages they come into contact with in order to be considered as emergent multilinguals. They are against traditional testing models as they consider them to be linear ways of examining language knowledge that fail to capture the multilingual complexity of individuals. This means that people do not learn languages in a straightforward way, but rather their incomplete competence in different languages reflects their disrupted life trajectories. Blommaert and Backus (2013: 15) understand that ‘repertoires are individual, biographically organised complexes of resources, and they follow the rhythms of actual lives’. These resources, absorbed during the different phases of people’s lives, become part of their broader repertoire. For example, when refugee children first arrive in a resettlement country, they should be expected to draw on a number of resources to communicate and make meaning because, in many cases, during their migratory trajectories, they may have acquired some knowledge of different languages. In line with Blommaert and Backus’s (2013) biographical dimension on repertoire, Busch (2015) also sees people’s languages and other semiotic tools as resources they can draw upon to make meaning. She emphasises that people should be able to experience them holistically, as it is important for their life trajectories to not be rejected. For Busch (2015, 2016), human communication is multimodal, and other modes than the linguistic are included in people’s repertoires, such as gestures and images. This is important, especially in cases where the linguistic mode is not the strongest for supporting human communication. When it comes to research methodology, and especially the ways in which linguistically and culturally diverse groups of children negotiate meaning, Busch (2010, 2016) refers to the use of language portraits. These are tools used mostly during interviews, where children are asked to add into their silhouette portrait the different languages they know or wish to know using different colours. Busch (2016) describes this method as multimodal and creative, claiming that it can be used for people to reflect on their life experiences. In relation to the choice of language to be used during fieldwork with multilingual learners, Busch (2016: 6) argues that researchers should be open to codeswitching practices (flexible alternation between languages), as these can ‘influence the ways in which something is told’. Such an understanding highlights the importance of researchers acknowledging children’s linguistic potentials, while also reflecting on their own, and drawing on both to create the appropriate conditions for children to be able to express themselves in full. It is important to understand the affordances that a repertoire approach has to offer, especially when examining language practices in

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classroom contexts where the researcher does not share a language(s) with the participants. This is crucial when the participants are vulnerable children who may have experienced trauma in their lives (Hart, 2014), and thus unequal power positions between researcher and participants become more apparent. A repertoire approach involves moving beyond a fixed categorisation of language use and places emphasis on how people’s life trajectories can be reflected through the use of their multiple resources. It can facilitate researchers’ work when collecting and presenting multilingual data from marginalised groups of children, whose voices are often muted. In the following section, I discuss an additional dimension that framed my theoretical position: balancing power relations with children for an authentic representation of their voices. Classroom Research and Unequal Power Relations

Research that involves children requires extra attention, as children participate in a society dominated by adults (Mayall, 2008; Punch, 2002). Punch (2002) argues that researchers tend to treat children differently in studies than adults because they do not see them as equal. Hence, what is of concern is whether adults impose their views on children or whether they allow them to be active members of the society who can fully express their views. This concern is heightened when the children involved belong to a vulnerable group, such as refugees. According to Hart (2014), these children belong to a vulnerable group, as most of them suffer from trauma caused by their own or their parents’ experiences of violence. The children who were part of this study can be described as vulnerable for a number of reasons. First, they are children who participated in an adult-­dominated context; second, they were forced to flee because of ongoing crises in their countries, and thus were vulnerable in their legal and political status; and third, they did not belong to the new community’s majority population and evidently did not speak the majority’s language. In their classroom research, Due et al. (2016) examined the ways in which refugee and migrant children in Australia participated in class and learnt the language of instruction of their host country. Despite the study being insightful into the experiences of these children and the complexities and opportunities that primary school teachers can come across when teaching in multilingual settings, it does not discuss researchers’ methodological choices around issues of data collection and representation, or the ways in which these choices can contribute to including or excluding children’s voices from the research process. Drury’s (2007) reflective stance towards the important role of bilingual classroom assistants when conducting multilingual research with children foregrounds how researchers can provide rich insights by drawing on an emic perspective (including people that belong to the studied community) to guide data collection and analysis. However, she does not offer suggestions for how researchers can

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conduct multilingual research without this kind of support. This study seeks to address this gap. Bakhtin’s (1986) concept of dialogic speech allows researchers to understand the capture and representation of authentic voice. For Bakhtin, the production of speech is not an isolated process, but a dialogic one that situates speakers’ voices in a given sociocultural context. Thus, speech that is produced in a dialogic manner with the self or with others can be described as an authentic expression of the mind. However, it is important to consider James’s (2007: 269) suggestion that researchers need to try ‘to understand where they are coming from and why the positions from which children speak may be subject to change and variation in and through time’. In other words, only when researchers take a critical stance towards their methodological decisions and understand that power relations can shape the production of children’s speech will they be able to represent children’s voices more authentically and ethically (Spyrou, 2011). Christensen and James (2008: 1) add that when researchers conduct ‘research with rather than on children’, the children will then be seen as active participants who can affect and be affected by their social environment. This is in line with the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (1989), which states that children should have the right to control their cultural identity, language and values. In order to do so, they should be able to communicate their views freely, which means drawing on their dominant language. As Pinter (2011: 214) argues, ‘children’s stronger language (L1) should be used in research instruments’. It is then up to researchers to reflect on how their own status and position (connected to characteristics such as their cultural and linguistic background, gender and social class), and the position of (particularly marginalised) participants, can shape and become shaped by their methodological decisions. My understanding of reflexivity stems from Byrd-Clark and Dervin (2014: 2), who take a reflexive turn in research practice in the fields of language and education and define it as an ‘ongoing dialogical process that is continually evolving’. This kind of reflexivity presupposes following an emic perspective (Denzin & Lincoln, 2017), involving understanding children’s views and perceptions through their own lens. In other words, researchers should show ‘a continual sensitivity to [children’s] emotions, interests, and considerations in the varied situations of their lives’ (Christensen & Prout, 2002: 493). Prior to examining how I operationalised this in my own research, I introduce the study for which I obtained the data for this chapter. The PhD Study: A Classroom Ethnography on Children’s Linguistic and Multicultural Practices

The data for this chapter come from the classroom ethnography study (Watson-Gegeo, 1997) that I conducted in 2017 as part of doctoral research at a British university. The study examined the linguistic and

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multicultural practices of seven refugee children in a Cypriot primary school, drawing on sociocultural theory on second language learning (Lantolf & Thorne, 2006; Vygotsky, 1978). My fieldwork lasted for eight weeks and included classroom observations (which I undertook through recordings and fieldnotes), semi-structured interviews with refugee and non-refugee children and teachers, and the collection of physical artefacts, including children’s multimodal posters during interviews, school documents and displays. The classroom recordings were selective, meaning that I randomly recorded 12 full days of lessons. I followed a discourse analysis approach (Cameron, 2001) to analyse the data. After transcribing all the interactional data following conversation analysis conventions (for the classroom recordings only) to ensure a fine-grained analysis (Preece, 2018), I selected the data that addressed my research questions by bringing my theoretical lens to the discussion. The child-participants were learning Standard Modern Greek, or Greek (Cyprus’s standard language of instruction), but their repertoires also included Modern Standard Arabic and different varieties of Arabic based on the children’s home regions, Greek, Cypriot (a variant of Greek and Cyprus’s local dialect) and English. As teachers reported, some children had learnt some English during their previous experiences of displacement, and they were also offered English lessons at the Refugee Reception Centre where they were residing, as well as at school. Table 5.1 summarises the seven children’s linguistic and cultural backgrounds. The information comes from the school’s official documents and from conversations I had with both the children and the school’s interpreter. It should be noted that Arabic presents a diglossic dichotomy, where standard and colloquial varieties coexist in the community. Modern Standard Arabic is of high status and is an official language used across the Arabic-speaking world, but different speech communities have their own regional colloquial varieties – for example, Egyptian Arabic (Holmes, 2013). Modern Standard Arabic and other local varieties used by Table 5.1  Refugee children’s linguistic and cultural backgrounds Name

Country-home language

School year

Age

Parental religion

Languages included in their repertoire

Ayuf

Somalia-Arabic

5

10

Muslim

Greek, Cypriot, Arabic, English

Mahan

Yemen-Arabic

5

10

Muslim

Greek, Cypriot, Arabic, English

Mahmud

Iran-Farsi

5

10

Muslim and Christian

Greek, Cypriot, Farsi, English

Noore

Somalia-Arabic

6

11

Muslim

Greek, Cypriot, Arabic, English

Maya

Iraq-Arabic

6

12

Muslim

Greek, Cypriot, Arabic, English

Taraf

Syria-Arabic

6

11

Christian

Greek, Cypriot, Arabic, English

Amin

Egypt-Arabic

6

12

Christian

Greek, Cypriot, Arabic, English

Conducting Multilingual Classroom Research with Refugee Children in Cyprus  117

participants are not separated in the table as I was not able to differentiate them and this was beyond the scope of the PhD. All children except Mahmud (who came from a Farsi-speaking family) were users of Arabic. All children also had a basic knowledge of English while also starting to become emergent multilinguals, including Greek and Cypriot as part of their repertoire. Apart from the two classroom teachers, the refugee children were receiving support from a SyrianCypriot interpreter, Ms Mysha, who spoke Greek and Arabic and supported the children’s learning of Greek, being present during most of the teaching time. Ms Mysha was not a speaker of Farsi, but she was able to support Mahmud by drawing on the similarities between Arabic and Farsi. The children were newly arrived refugees (most of them had been at the school for only four months), were being accommodated in Year 5 and 6 mainstream classrooms and followed the Cypriot curriculum. They were classified either as asylum seekers (waiting for their refugee status to be determined) or as refugees (their status had been granted). A Post-Reflective Account of my Methodological Decisions

The methodology followed for this chapter is qualitative (Denzin & Lincoln, 2017), using a post-reflective account (Holmes, 2014) to understand how a repertoire approach allowed me to develop and adapt methods that fully captured and represented refugee children’s authentic voices while balancing power relations between them and me, the adult researcher. A post-reflective account allows researchers to revisit and critically reflect on their data and methodologies from past projects (Holmes, 2014). I revisited my transcribed data extracts across the whole research process, focusing on the language choices I took during data elicitation and representation. I followed a thematic analysis approach (Braun & Clarke, 2006) to identify the extracts that addressed the research questions and typified the initial concepts that guided this chapter (‘power relations’ and ‘authentic voices’). For data elicitation, I focus on analysing the interviews, rather than transcripts of the classroom recordings (which were prioritised in the PhD analysis), to identify ways in which I balanced the power relations between me and the children while at the same time allowing their available repertoires to be fully expressed. I chose this because interviews require an immediate interaction between the researcher and the children, and the lack of overlap in linguistic repertoires makes power relations more apparent compared to classroom recordings. For data representation, I focus on all data extracts (interviews and classroom recordings), also looking at how my methodological decisions allowed the children’s voices to be fully represented and their languages to be seen as equally important to the other languages used in the study. This process required reflecting upon my own position as a doctoral researcher who did not belong to the children’s communities and who had

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no knowledge of Arabic, but spoke English and the language the children were expected to learn – Greek – in their new learning environment, and how this knowledge, or lack of it, could create further gaps between me and the children. There was an unequal power relation between Greek and Arabic in the research, as I, the researcher, spoke Greek, which has status in the Cypriot community to which I belong. Even though a Cypriot classroom is not a monolingual setting because of the use of both Greek and Cypriot, the refugee children’s linguistic and cultural backgrounds were unfamiliar to their peers and teachers, putting the children in a marginalised position. Greek was the language they were learning, and Cypriot was being learnt through socialising with their Cypriot peers. The children’s knowledge of English can be described, according to Blommaert and Backus (2013), as ‘minor’: They had limited knowledge but could draw on it to engage in communicative practices. Regarding the power relations that exist between researcher and participants in children’s studies (Mayall, 2008; Punch, 2002), I found myself following Mayall’s (2008) standpoint on eliminating the researcher’s authoritative voice by acknowledging my lack of knowledge of childhood experiences. I considered and positioned myself as an adult who lacked knowledge of the children’s reality, including knowledge of Arabic and migratory trajectories. I not only internally recognised this lack of knowledge, but I also explicitly expressed it. For example, throughout the fieldwork, I spent time with the children, not only for research purposes but because we built a relationship, and I asked them to teach me how to pronounce and write different words in Arabic as I wanted to understand their world. This standpoint and acknowledgement allowed me to ­conduct research ‘with’ the participants, rather than imposing my knowledge and status on them (Christensen & James, 2008; James, 2007; Punch, 2002). Next, I present the ways in which the language choices I made throughout my research allowed the children’s voices to be authentically captured and represented. The decisions are discussed under two themes: the flexible incorporation of children’s available resources and multilingual data presentation. Flexible Incorporation of Children’s Available Resources

Here, I focus on data collection and specifically how I created opportunities for capturing children’s authentic views by allowing them to capitalise on their available resources, including Arabic, Farsi, English, Greek and other semiotic resources during interviews. Since I did not speak Arabic or Farsi, I could have included the school interpreter, Ms Mysha, in the interviews to overcome the linguistic boundary. However, my aim was to ‘work with participants’ (Christensen & James, 2008) and adding another authoritative figure could have discouraged the children from

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voicing their real views, which would have negatively impacted on the quality of the spoken interaction, thereby inhibiting their voice (Mayall, 2008; Pinter, 2011). The children trusted Ms Mysha and would often go to her with their worries, so perhaps her presence would have resulted in richer data sets. However, Temple (1997) reminds us that interpreters can bring their own views when interpreting participants’ ideas and I wanted to avoid this. Also, the presence of someone providing simultaneous translations could have affected the power dynamic between the children and consequently that of the interview, so I decided against this. However, this gave rise to a different issue: due to my lack of Arabic, I relied on Greek to conduct the children. The following three subsections discuss how the children’s views were not muted despite their limited knowledge of Greek, as the interviews were conducted in a multilingual manner. The aim was for all interviews to be conducted in groups, but due to the school’s scheduled curriculum activities, there were three individual and seven group interviews. All data are presented in the original languages used during the data collection (Greek, Cypriot, Arabic, English, Farsi), with English translations. A discussion of how multilingual data was transcribed and translated is provided in the ‘multilingual data presentation’ section. Transcription conventions are provided in Appendix 5.1. Arabic as the dominant resource

Extracts 1 and 2 illustrate how my decision to group refugee children together instead of having an interpreter supported them to draw on their shared linguistic resources, enabling them to dominate the discussion and gain a sense of empowerment (e.g. taking control over their responses). Extract 1 comes from an interview I conducted with Maya and Noore, where I initiated a conversation around the practices they followed when learning Greek in class. I chose to pair them together not only because they were friends and the same gender but also because Noore had been at the school for 18 months, whereas Maya had been attending for only four, and thus a collaboration between them would be beneficial. Extract 1

1

Researcher Τι τάξη επίεννες στο Ιράκ Μάγια μου; What year were you at Iraq my dear Maya?

2

Μaya

Ε πέμπτη και τέλειωσε έκτη ναι εγώ ((person-verb disagreement)) ‫شو أنا المفروض صف شو اسمه ؟‬ Eh year five and I finish year six yes I ((person-verb disagreement)) what I am supposed to be in grade, what’s it called?

120  Part 2: Power Relations

3

Researcher Τα Ελληνικά είναι εύκολα ή δύσκολα; Is Greek easy or hard?

4

Μaya

Εύκολα Easy

5

Researcher Μπράβο, πώς μαθαίνεις τι κάμνεις για να μάθεις Ελληνικά; Bravo, how do you learn what do you do to learn Greek?

6

Μaya

‫شو؟‬ What?

7

Researcher Τι κάμνεις; What do you do?

8

Noore

‫شو بتعملي عشان تدرسي يوناني؟‬ What do you do to learn Greek?

9

Μaya

‫بتعلم األحرف‬ I learn the letters

10 Νoore

Να μάθει τις λέξεις να διαβάζει To learn the words to read

In this extract, we observe Maya taking control over her response by drawing on her available linguistic resources, Arabic and Greek, to provide her answers and maintain the communication with me (Line 2). Even though I was not able to understand the second half of Maya’s response, where she asked Noore to explain the question I posed, I did not interrupt the flow of our conversation and posed a follow-up question (Line 3), to which Maya responded (Line 4). In Line 5, I posed another question, but Maya did not understand it and used Arabic to express this (Line 6). I used Cypriot to repeat part of the question (Line 7), and Noore then took the role of translator to explain the question to Maya using Arabic (Line 8). Maya responded, also drawing on Arabic (Line 9), which allowed Noore to transfer Maya’s response to me in Greek (Line 10). The extract highlights the importance of researchers being open to codeswitching practices when conducting interviews with multilingual learners; acknowledging participants’ linguistic potential leads to the use of their dominant language (Busch, 2016; Pinter, 2011). In this case, both the researcher and children were able to flexibly utilise their linguistic resources to engage with each other, which led to the collection of rich interactional data, which was the aim of the PhD study. In using Arabic, the children also exercised their right to speak and expressed their views (United Nations, 1989); their linguistic trajectories and identities were not discarded

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(Blommaert & Backus, 2013; Busch, 2015), but rather were used in a meaningful way. Pairing together a more advanced learner with a less advanced one allowed Maya, the weaker one, to feel secure without worrying about being judged for her linguistic skills while also allowing Noore to play the role of facilitator. However, this definitely creates critical concerns as to whether the child who translates is happy with this arrangement and whether it is ethical to put this pressure on one child. These are questions of great importance, to which there is no easy answer. I approached this issue by considering that children experience this kind of linguistic brokering in their everyday lives, thus they may not have experienced the interview as anything unusual. By having an adult translator, I would have lifted the weight off Noore’s shoulders, but the opportunity to engage with the children directly and allow them to experience their repertoires as a whole with their peers would have been missed. The next extract highlights even more the importance of incorporating children’s dominant language into interviews. By doing so, they can share their thoughts with each other and, hence, their authentic voices and views surface. In Extract 2, I asked Maya and Noore to talk about their lives at the reception centre and Noore shared with me – using Greek, through which she could provide only a limited response – a traumatic moment that her and her family experienced. In what follows, Maya requests an explanation of what happened in a concerned manner. Extract 2

1

Maya

‫شو صار يا نور؟ احكيلي شو صار من زمان اللكم؟‬ What happened, Noore? tell me what happened a long time ago to you?

2

Νoore

‫كسرولنا الباب‬ They broke down our door

3

Μaya

‫ليش؟‬ Why?

4

Νoore

‫مشان مشكلة بين فلسطينيين مع صوماليين‬ Because of a problem between Palestinians and Somalis

5

Researcher

Είπετέ το κάποιου υπεύθυνου τζαμέ ; Did you report that to any administrator there?

6

Noore

Ε ναι Eh yes

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Noore explains to Maya using Arabic what happened at the reception centre (Line 2), after Maya’s worried request (Line 1). The two girls had the opportunity to share personal experiences and show empathy towards each other through their dominant language, which gave them a sense of agency (Blommaert & Backus, 2013). Even though I did not understand what the children were saying, I allowed the conversation to carry on, and I then asked a follow-up question so as to become part of the conversation (Line 5). Such pedagogic practice, pairing participants together during interviews and allowing for their language – Arabic – to dominate the conversation in a Greek-dominated setting minimises pressure and reduces the gap that exists in the power dynamics between adults and children (Pinter, 2011). This is particularly the case when dealing with vulnerable children whose languages do not have the same status within the host community. English as a shared resource

The second language used between me and the children during the interviews was English, which was a shared resource between us, and so the use of it allowed the interview to run smoothly. The following extract comes from an interview I had with Mahmud, where we discuss his linguistic repertoire. Extract 3

1

Researcher Άρα πόσες γλώσσες μιλάς; Τι γλώσσα μιλάς στην Κοιλάδα; Language at Kilada So how many languages do you speak? What language do you speak at Kilada? Language at Kilada

2

Mahmud

School

3

Researcher School language? Αραβικά, Ελληνικά ή Αγγλικά;

4

Mahmud

School School language? Arabic, Greek or English? Φαρσικά Farsi

I began by incorporating English into the conversation in an attempt to maintain communication (Line 1) and, interestingly, this allowed Mahmud to mobilise his available linguistic resources and illustrate his multilingual identity by successfully responding to my initiation, providing a response in English (Line 2). This allowed me to incorporate a flexible use of Greek and English to carry on with my questions (Line 3).

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Mahmud’s answer (Line 4) indicates that he responded to the English part of my question, referring to the school language. This flexible incorporation allowed for the interview to carry on in a timely manner and for Mahmud’s voice to be represented, despite my not sharing his dominant language. He used his ‘minimal knowledge’ of English, which reflects a moment of his trajectory (Blommaert & Backus, 2013), to engage in conversation with me and gain control over his response. The use of English as a lingua franca when conducting multilingual interviews with groups of adults was found in Ganassin and Holmes’ (2013) study, where the scholars reported that, despite English not being the participants’ main linguistic preference, it was used intermittently to support communication. Similarly, in my research, despite English not being my dominant language or that of the children, I found its incorporation useful in terms of balancing power relations between us. I was able to participate and carry on my conversation with the children without having Greek as the main resource, which was a language that carried a connotation of high status within the school setting, while implicitly putting English on an equal footing to Greek. Mobilising multimodal resources

Drawing on a repertoire approach that views human communication as multimodal (Busch, 2015, 2016), I acknowledged that in multilingual contexts where there is a need to achieve communication, but the linguistic is not the strongest mode to use, other modes become more apparent. Accordingly, another practice that I undertook to overcome linguistic boundaries and balance power relations when conducting interviews with children was the production of multilingual posters. This practice was inspired by Busch’s (2010) ‘language portraits’ activity and was adapted to fit my study’s goals. During the interviews, I asked the children to draw themselves, friends and/or family members and to write down any explanatory information they wished in the different languages in which they were able to communicate. In the following poster (Figure 5.1), Mahmud responds to my questions regarding his linguistic repertoire (see Extract 3) by portraying his multilingual identity in a way that reflects his knowledge of his home language, Farsi, and the language he is in the process of learning, Greek. During our discussions, Mahmud responded in Greek in a monosyllabic way; however, when he wanted to explain his ideas, he added details to the posters in two languages. Specifically, to answer the question about who his friends were, he drew his four friends at the bottom of the page and wrote their Greek names using Farsi. Above these four names Mahmud wrote the names of other friends of his and those of some of his family members using Greek, providing the translation in Farsi next to

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Figure 5.1  Mahmud’s multilingual poster

some of them. At the top right (Figure 5.1), he asked the researcher to write that he speaks three languages, hence the Greek sentence ‘3 γλώσσες’ (3 languages). At the top left, he wrote the name of his country (Iran) using Greek, and below that the name of his city (Ahwaz) in Farsi. He also wrote in Greek the word ‘Turkey’, a country that perhaps he had passed through during his journey. With this visual stimulus as guidance, Mahmud had something to refer to and a sense of control over how he wanted to express himself. Moreover, he gave himself time to think before responding, which empowered him during the interview with an adult that did not share the same language as him (Pinter, 2011). That is, the pressure had been taken off as the focus was transferred from the linguistic to other modes of communication that were also known to me. Multilingual Data Presentation: Equal Voice Representation

Before I discuss my decision to present my data multilingually, it is necessary to mention that I sought assistance from two Arabic speakers, one from Saudi Arabia and one from Algeria who both belonged to the higher education community, to assist with transcription and translation. I chose to cross-check the translations, as translation is not a neutral process but is related to people’s experiences (Temple, 1997), so I wanted to

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ensure the children’s views were true to their original meaning. While transcribing, I identified the time that each Arabic utterance was produced and made a signpost to enable me to locate it and discuss it during my individual meetings with the two interpreters. In these meetings, the Arabic speakers provided the English meaning, and we also discussed the conversation analysis conventions. Even though I sought assistance from two Arabic speakers for my data, reflecting on this decision, ethical and methodological issues could have been raised as I did not ask for help from a Farsi speaker to translate Mahmud’s (few) utterances. The reason was that I did not have access to a Farsi speaker at that time, so in a way Mahmud, and consequently Farsi, did not receive the same attention as Arabic. For my multilingual data presentation (Extract 4), I have provided the first line in the original language, in plain text to show the equality between the languages, and in the line below, I present the utterances in the English-translated version. In the translations, the Arabic utterances are underlined, the Cypriot ones are in bold, the Greek ones are in normal font and the English ones are in italics. The different formatting shows only where each language starts and finishes. Regarding directionality of text, Arabic is written from right to left, and the other languages featured in my data are written from left to right. Therefore, when a line of text features only Arabic, the original is written right to left in the transcript, but the English translation is written left to right. When the original text features a mixture of Arabic and (an)other language(s) in the same line, the Arabic phrases are written from right to left, but the phrases in (the) other language(s) are written from left to right in the same line (overall, the line reads from left to right such that the first phrase uttered is on the left), and the English translation is also written from left to right. The conversation analysis symbols also follow left-toright directionality. Thus, the transcription respects (to the extent possible) both the order in which the phrases were spoken and the writing conventions of both languages. The following extract comes from a classroom observation, where Taraf and Maya negotiate meaning during a mathematics lesson by drawing on their available linguistic resources. Extract 4

1 2

Maya

=‫=عشرين هذول؟‬

Taraf

=are these twenty?= =(xx)‫ يا أبلة بتزيدي عشرة‬τριανταπεντε(.) ‫ضفنالها عشرة صارت‬ σαρανταπεντε= =(xx) oh teacher you add ten thirty-five (.) and you add ten to it it becomes forty-five=

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3

Maya

=‫( شو هالـ‬.) είναι είναι= =what’s this (.) it is it is=

4

Taraf

=‫ عشان تعرفي‬τριανταπέντε ‫ اذا زدنا عليها‬σαρανταπέντε ‫) خمسة خمسة‬.( ‫بتعدي الى العشرة‬ τριανταπέντε και πεντε σαράντα/ =so you know thirty-five if we add to it forty-five you count to ten (.) five five thirty-five plus five forty/

Extract 4 presents the children’s linguistic practice (codeswitching) that allowed them to make meaning and sustain their interest in the task. We observe Maya requesting assistance from Taraf by drawing on Arabic (Line 1), while Taraf draws on his available linguistic resources, Arabic and Greek (Lines 2 and 4), to respond to her query while implicitly signalling his knowledge of Greek. The multilingual presentation reveals that Taraf is a skilled learner who can reflect upon Maya’s request by navigating between two languages. In retrospect, my decision to provide a multilingual presentation of the interactional data reflected my theoretical position of envisioning all languages as equal by making visible children’s linguistic and cultural trajectories, and also their multilingual reality and practice – that is, the ways in which they use their dominant language to learn the new one during teaching time. If I had decided to present only the translated version of their speech, I would have excluded the refugee children’s true voices from the research practice and widened the power gap between us. I tried to ensure equity between the languages observed in the fieldwork and thus to move beyond any hierarchical distinctions between them. Rampton (2006: 395) also reminds us that ‘for the reader, having access to data that hasn’t been quite so heavily processed by the researcher makes it easier to challenge the analysis’. This means that readers can come to their own conclusions when they receive a less heavily revised and edited version of a translated speech, without the researcher’s interpretations being imposed on them. Hence, a multilingual presentation adds trustworthiness in the qualitative research, which is about researchers being transparent with their methodological choices (Denzin & Lincoln, 2017). The translation in English in the line beneath the original language production cannot be avoided, especially when researchers operate in academic institutions where this is the language of instruction (Ganassin & Holmes, 2013). It also allows the readers of this volume, which is intended for an English-language readership, to engage with the text, to see where each language begins and ends and how different languages come into play in an institutionally monolingual setting.

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Towards an Inclusive Research Practice

In this section, I focus on the second research question, which has to do with the implications of my methodological decisions for developing an inclusive research practice for other PhD or early-career researchers to follow when conducting multilingual research. My recommendations can be applied when working with adult participants as well. My post-reflective analysis suggests that an inclusive research practice does not require multilingual proficiency on the researcher’s side, but rather being reflexive about how our own lack of overlap in linguistic repertoires and cultural experiences can include or exclude children’s voices from research (Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014; Mayall, 2008). Allowing participants’ dominant languages to unfold during data collection can narrow the gap between the researcher and the children – especially if the participants belong to a marginalised group – as it will allow them to experience their repertoires coming together as a whole, to gain a sense of agency and control over their ideas. Power relations in language hierarchies can also be balanced. For example, in my study, in some cases, the Arabic language dominated the conversations I had with refugee children within a Greek-speaking setting. Researchers can also employ other resources to move beyond language hierarchies, such as the use of a shared language and the use of multimodal resources, which are common resources that both the researcher and children can draw on. Finally, the presentation of data in their original language can go some way towards ensuring linguistic equity, while also redressing the power gap that exists between the researcher, who makes the decisions about what is and is not being represented, and the children. It also adds trustworthiness to qualitative research by allowing readers to come to their own interpretations when reading a less glossed document in which researchers have been transparent with their methodological decisions (Denzin & Lincoln, 2017). Conclusion

The aim of this chapter was to critically reflect on the methodological decisions I took when I conducted my PhD research in a classroom setting with refugee children whose language and culture I did not share. The first research question concerned the ways in which a repertoire approach towards multilingualism can shape researchers’ methodological decisions in ensuring the authentic capture and representation of refugee children’s voices while balancing power relations with them. I explained how, by taking a repertoire approach and factoring in the children’s position in the research, I was able to recognise their and my own multiplicity of resources and the power relations that existed between us, and to be creative with my methodological decisions concerning data collection and

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presentation. I argue that this is a powerful approach to adopt, especially when the participants are refugee children, as their voices may be misrepresented if more traditional views of language are applied. However, my post-reflective analysis also revealed that there are limitations when the researcher does not have command of the participants’ dominant languages. For example, my decision not to include the school’s interpreter in the interviews might have prevented the children from providing full responses. I also realised that it would have been useful if I had taken Arabic and Farsi courses before starting the fieldwork, to familiarise myself with my participants’ languages and cultures. This could have been well received by the research community and would have possibly allowed me to gain richer insights, as I can recall many incidents where I missed opportunities for meaningful interactions with my participants. Regarding the second research question, which looked at the implications of these decisions for developing an inclusive research practice for researchers working in multilingual settings, my analysis showed that even when researchers lack first-hand experience of the children’s world (Mayall, 2008), they can be reflexive and critical towards their research methods to ensure their participants’ authentic representation (Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014; James, 2007; Spyrou, 2011). At the same time, these empirical examples emphasise the need for more studies to map researchers’ decisions and for the development of a more sustained theorisation of the language choices researchers take, as well as how their position as adults can affect the research process, especially when working with marginalised groups. Acknowledgement

I am grateful to Hanaa Almoaibed for her valuable contribution to the Arabic translation and for her insightful comments on issues around multilingual representation. References Bakhtin, M.M. (1986) Speech Genres and Other Late Essays (trans. V.W. McGee). Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Braun, V. and Clarke, V. (2006) Using thematic analysis in psychology. Qualitative Research in Psychology 3 (2), 77–101. Blommaert, J. and Backus, A. (2013) Superdiverse repertoires and the individual. In I. de Saint-Georges and J.J. Weber (eds) Multilingualism and Multimodality: Current Challenges for Educational Studies (pp. 11–32). Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Byrd Clark, J. and Dervin, F. (eds) (2014) Reflexivity in Language and Intercultural Education. Abingdon: Routledge. Busch, B. (2010) School language profiles: Valorizing linguistic resources in heteroglossic situations in South Africa. Language and Education 24 (4), 283–294. Busch, B. (2015) Expanding the notion of the linguistic repertoire: On the concept of Spracherleben – The lived experience of language. Applied Linguistics 38 (3), 340–358.

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Busch, B. (2016) Methodology in biographical approaches in applied linguistics. Working Papers in Urban Language and Literacies, 187. See https://www.academia. edu/20211841/WP187_Busch_2016._Methodology_in_biographical_approaches_ in_applied_linguistics (accessed August 2020). Cameron, D. (2001) Working with Spoken Discourse. London: Sage Publications. Christensen, P. and Prout, A. (2002) Working with ethical symmetry in social research with children. Childhood 9 (4), 477–497. Christensen, P. and James, A. (eds) (2008) Research with Children: Perspectives and Practices (2nd edn). Abingdon: RoutledgeFalmer. Creese, A. and Blackledge, A. (2011) Separate and flexible bilingualism in complementary schools: Multiple language practices in interrelationship. Journal of Pragmatics 43 (5), 1196–1208. Denzin, N.K. and Lincoln, Y.S. (eds) (2017) The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research (5th edn). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Drury, R. (2007) Young Bilingual Learners at Home and School Researching Multilingual Voices. Stoke on Trent: Trentham. Due, C., Riggs, D. and Augoustinos, M. (2016) Diversity in intensive English language centres in South Australia: Sociocultural approaches to education for students with migrant or refugee backgrounds. International Journal of Inclusive Education 20 (12), 1286–1296. Ganassin, S. and Holmes, P. (2013) Multilingual research practices in community research: The case of migrant/refugee women in North East England. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 342–356. Garcia, O. and Li, W. (2014) Translanguaging and education. In O. García and Li, W. (eds) Translanguaging: Language, Bilingualism and Education (pp. 63–77). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Hart, J. (2014) Children and forced migration. In E. Fiddian-Qasmiyeh, G. Loescher, K. Long and N. Sigona (eds) The Oxford Handbook of Refugee and Forced Migration Studies (pp. 383–394). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Holmes, J. (2013) An Introduction to Sociolinguistics (4th edn). New York: Routledge. Holmes, P. (2014) Researching Chinese students’ intercultural communication experiences in higher education: Researcher and participant reflexivity. In J. Byrd Clark and F. Dervin (eds) Reflexivity in Language and Intercultural Education (pp. 100– 118). New York: Routledge. James, A. (2007) Giving voice to children’s voices: Practices and problems, pitfalls and potentials. American Anthropologist 109 (2), 261–272. Jørgensen, J.N. (2008) Polylingual languaging around and among children and adolescents. International Journal of Multilingualism 5 (3), 161–176. Lantolf, J.P. and Thorne, S.L. (2006) Sociocultural Theory and the Genesis of Second Language Development. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mayall, B. (2008) Conversations with children: Working with generational issues. In P. Christensen and A. James (eds) Research with Children: Perspectives and Practices (pp. 109–122). Abingdon: RoutledgeFalmer. Pinter, A. (2011) Children Learning Second Languages. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Preece, S. (2018) Identity work in the academic writing classroom: Where gender meets social class. Journal of English for Academic Purposes 32, 9–20. Punch, S. (2002) Research with children: The same or different from research with adults? Childhood 9 (3), 321–341. Rampton, B. (2006) Language in Late Modernity: Interaction in an Urban School. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Temple, B. (1997) Watch your tongue: Issues in translation and cross-cultural research. Sociology 31 (3), 607–618. Spyrou, S. (2011) The limits of children’s voices: From authenticity to critical, reflexive representation. Childhood 18 (2), 151–165.

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United Nations (1989) Convention on the rights of the child. See https://www.refworld. org/docid/3ae6b38f0.html (accessed August 2020). Vygotsky, L.S. (1978) Mind in Society: The Development of Higher Psychological Processes. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Watson-Gegeo, K.A. (1997) Classroom ethnography. In N. Hornberger and D. Corson (eds) Encyclopedia of Language and Education, Vol. 8: Research Methods in Language and Education (pp. 135–144). Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic.

Appendix 5.1

Transcription conventions ?

Rising intonation in English

‫؟‬

Rising intonation in Arabic

;

Rising intonation in Greek

/

End of an utterance

(.)

Pause of less than one second

=

Latching. Inserted at the end of one speaker’s turn and the beginning of the next speaker’s adjacent turn, this indicates there is no pause between the turns.

(xx)

Inaudible utterances

(( ))

Researcher’s comments

Underlined

Originally produced in Arabic

Italicised

Originally produced in English

Bold

Originally produced in Cypriot

6 Voice and Power Relations: Researching Multilingually with Multilingual Children in Mauritian Pre-primary Schools Helina Hookoomsing

Engaging young children as legitimate and active participants in the process of research involves numerous challenges and complexities when considering the power relationships involved. These challenges are interesting instances for reflection on how researchers recognise the potential of young children as research contributors actively involved alongside adults in constructing knowledge about their worlds (Rinaldi, 2006). The complexities of incorporating children’s voices, perspectives and involvement in research is intensified when projects involve participants who are considered to be in the early years developmental stages, and furthermore, when the children are multilingual or do not speak the same first language as the adult researchers. The chapter reflects on two dimensions of the research processes and challenges faced by a research team engaged in researching multilingual practices among young children in the pre-primary educational sector, in the multilingual linguistic landscape of Mauritius (the ‘ECE Project’). The first axis of this reflection aims to critically evaluate the dialectic between the observed heterogeneous linguistic interactional-dynamics in the preprimary schools of the ECE Project, and colonial language-centrism, which is pervasive in national policy documents in Mauritius, as well as the voice of the children and silencing of these voices (Lansdown, 1994; Morrow & Richards, 1996; Smith & Taylor, 2000) through policy and classroom situations. In relation to this critical evaluation, the chapter proposes a reflection on the ethical and linguistic issues of informed consent when researching multilingually (Ganassin & Holmes, 2013).

131

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Power relations among researchers were also visible during the process of researching multilingually in the ECE Project, notably through the element of language. For example, I was involved in the ECE Project, and my own linguistic identity was not necessarily aligned with the language of the project, where French represented the language of power. This sparked further reflections for this chapter on how languages, within specific contexts of research, can represent vertical power structures. The second axis of reflection, which adopts an autoethnographic approach for this present chapter, aims to delve into the challenges and opportunities of researching multilingually as a team, in the multilingual tertiary education institution which funded the ECE Project. Relevant mappings are established regarding researcher voice, identity and power relationships that emerged through researching multilingually, within the heterogeneous group of researchers with different linguistic backgrounds, as well as addressing issues in how I navigated the complexity of doing the ECE Project in the culturally and linguistically diverse landscape of Mauritius. These two broad axes of reflection are interwoven and focus on the power relations and inherent tensions in researching multilingually and in carrying out research with multilingual children in Mauritius. Emergent Research Questions for this Chapter

Concerning the two levels of researching multilingually, namely with the pre-primary school children and within the research group, the following research questions emerged. The first two relate to the first aim of this chapter and the third question to the second aim: (1) What methodological challenges do researchers encounter while researching multilingually among pre-primary school learners within a context of power relations between the researchers and the researched? (2) What ethical considerations, choices and negotiations do researchers operationalise in this context? (3) How do power relations manifest during the process of researching multilingually within a heterogeneous group of researchers in a multilingual tertiary education institution? The first part of the chapter discusses the multilingual context of the ECE Project in the pre-primary schools as well as that of the research team. While the former situates the context of the broader study, the latter is focused on the contextual dynamics pertaining to the research team within the tertiary education institution. This section is followed by the literature review, with a discussion of the theoretical overlaps between the two contexts, which partially demonstrates that the complexity of researching multilingualism and researching multilingually are interrelated. The

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‘alterlinguistique’ paradigm, as well as the related notions of ontolinguistique, acteur-L and expérienciation (Robillard, 2008) are discussed as the key articulation points between the complexity stance of the researchers and the research processes. Expérienciation is an instrumental concept and term, from French, used to conceptualise language practices (Engel, 2007; Robillard, 2008); it reinstates the emotional, affective and intuitive dimensions of how languages are ‘lived’. It also challenges traditional approaches based on experimentation, which negate the place of the ­subject-experiencer in the phenomenon that is being experienced. The methodology section then comments on the autoethnographic approach and retrospective ‘post reflections’ methodology for this chapter. In the second part, the chapter responds to research Questions 1 and 2 by discussing the methodological processes set up and implemented for the ECE Project, with a focus on power relationships between the researcher and the researched, and the issues of ethics and voice while negotiating the research with young children. The discussions are geared towards the power relationships that manifested during that ECE Project, which conceptualised the child as an active meaning maker with agency, through the epistemological posture of complexity, acteur L and expérienciation (Robillard, 2008). The third part of the chapter responds to Research Question 3 by discussing the findings, implications and limitations of the ECE Project in terms of researching multilingually and offers some conclusions. Languages and Linguistic Power Relations in Mauritius

As a former French and British colony, Mauritius is characterised by a diverse linguistic and cultural environment, but this diversity contrasts, partially, with national policy documents and language politics when it comes to languages at pre-primary and primary levels of education. Mauritius has a diverse and heterogeneous (socio)linguistic and cultural landscape; with the presence of more than 21 languages, Mauritius can be considered as a multilingual country. Local language practices encompass heterogeneity (Oozeerally, 2015). Please see the chapter by Oozeerally (this volume) for more details on language distribution and political structural dimensions in Mauritius. Although the Mauritian linguistic landscape is diverse and heterogeneous, there is an inherent tension between Mauritian Creole or Kreol Morisien (hereafter ‘KM’) and the colonial languages (English and French), the former being considered as a ‘low’ language while the latter are perceived as ‘high’, prestigious languages leading to social mobility (Rajah-Carrim, 2007). Although KM is not officially recognised as being a medium of instruction in schools, in reality, KM is very commonly used by teachers for helping children to learn English. This is partly because KM encompasses a degree of affectivity and represents a form of linguistic

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scaffolding towards other languages. Local multilingual practices for teaching and learning almost always include recourse to KM for explanations or instructions. The rich multi-ethnic community and multilingualism of Mauritius is a reflection of a colonial past and the focus of education on developing proficiency in the ‘target’ languages of English and French indicates the presence of centripetal force (Calvet, 1999) with KM being a peripheral language, and French and English being the central and hyper-central languages, respectively (Oozeerally, 2015). The centripetal force towards the more central languages is an example of linguistic power relations observed across societal spheres, and especially at primary and secondary school levels. In relation to the broader linguistic dynamics and power relations discussed earlier, and the context of the ECE Project, the main guiding policy document pertaining to pre-primary education is the National Curriculum Framework Pre-Primary (NCFPP) (MoE, 2010). An inherent tension and significant power relationship, with direct ramifications on ethical and linguistic choices, especially in relation to the rights and voice of the child, is the absence of the term ‘creole’ in the policy document. The term is circumvented despite KM being one of the most important languages through which the children experience reality and express their voices. While highlighting the importance of being bi/trilingual, the NCFPP focuses on the need of introducing the children to ‘target languages’ (English and French) but indirectly reminds the reader of the significance of the ‘home language’. The sidestepping of the term ‘Creole’ can be, at least partly, argued as contributing to a deliberate focus on attaining competencies in the target languages. This colonial language-centrism of early-year educational contexts, driven by national policy documents such as the NCFPP, reduces the scope for young multilingual children to engage naturally and freely in heterogeneous linguistic practices in the classroom. This represents an initial instance of silencing their voices (Lansdown, 1994; Morrow & Richards, 1996; Smith & Taylor, 2000). In terms of power relations, such policy-related decisions affect language planning and teaching, as well as having other ramifications that potentially affect the child’s voice. These ramifications include institutionally and politically endorsed steps towards muting children’s voices, as the home language is not officially present in a policy document that directly concerns the child and their education. Policy dictates language focus in the classroom and also therefore influences the politics of researching multilingually in Mauritian educational contexts. The Focus, Methodology and Context of the ‘ECE Project’

The complex linguistic landscape of Mauritius provides the context for a research project, titled Vers une modélisation complexe des

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pratiques (socio)langagières dans les écoles pré-primaires à Maurice: pistes, perspectives et implications, carried out in 2016–2017 in 13 preprimary schools in Mauritius, selected on a purposive sampling basis. The project aimed to model the language expérienciation (Robillard, 2008) of children approximately between the ages of three to six years in the multilingual and heterogeneous environments of their pre-primary schools, through the lens of complexity. The research can be conceptualised in terms of four multilingual research spaces as identified by Holmes et al. (2013): (i) The researched context/phenomena: investigating the language expérienciations of pre-primary school learners in 13 pre-primary schools in Mauritius (ii) The research context: tertiary education institution funded-research project taking place in 13 pre-primary schools in Mauritius (iii) Researcher resources: (a) A research team initially composed of nine researchers from different disciplinary backgrounds (French, English, Education and Mathematics). All researchers were multilingual, having varying proficiency in oral and written KM, English and French (b) T he researched: pre-primary school children from 13 schools, with varying multilingual competencies in KM, French and English (iv) Representational possibilities: standard research practice within the tertiary education institution and the educational landscape is aligned to English, with French being accepted due to its ‘niche’ status. The research was conceptualised, reported and disseminated to academics, within the tertiary institution, in the initial stages in French by the lead investigator. At a later stage, the research was also diffused in English, via a presentation for a doctoral seminar, within the same institution. Theoretical framework of the study: Ontolinguistique

The ‘ontolinguistics posture’, specifically from French ontolinguistique, reconceptualises language, beyond discrete, identifiable systems, and as dynamic contextualised practices, which Robillard (2008) proposes as the concept of ‘the L’, which are language/linguistic activities and phenomena. In the ontolinguistics posture, the L is considered as being transversal to the whole of human phenomena, inclusive of the construction of individual and social identities. This choice is aligned with the complexity perspective of researching heterogeneous language expérienciations. This ontolinguistics posture represents the fulcrum between constructivist complexity (Aladheff-Jones, 2013) and the researched context. It allowed the research team to gain a form of epistemological and methodological grounding to understand children’s

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language expérienciations during classroom interactions. Moreover, the theoretical discussion for this chapter is also focused on the ontolinguistics posture as it maps onto the experiences of the researchers, including myself, who were researching multilingually not only with the children, but within the group and within institutional parameters. The ontolinguistics posture was, in this sense, valuable for reflexively analysing these experiences as it foregrounds the complex questions of identity and representations. Acteur L, voice and method

In line with complexity thinking, the child was conceptualised as an acteur L, a socialised, historicised active meaning-maker, who is able to manifest identity through linguistic practices (Robillard, 2008). This conception allowed the research team to consider the child as a co-­constructor of the communicational situation, and an active participant in the ­weaving of communicational patterns. This implies that the child’s voice is as meaningful as the adult’s voice within the research process. In the educational setting, the notion of ‘pupil voice’ is articulated around the hypothesis that ‘listening and responding to what pupils say about their experiences as learners can be a powerful tool in helping teachers to investigate and improve their own practice’ (Flutter, 2007: 344). In the context of the ECE Project, the notion of pupil voice was invested in experience gathering; one of the basic postulates of the ECE Project was the value of the pupil’s voice as meaningful experiential data. The question of altero-reflexivity

Another important construct central to the ontolinguistic posture is altero-reflexivity (altéro-réflexivité; Robillard, 2008). ‘Altero-reflexivity is a philosophical concept which views the relationship between the self and the other(s) as being ecologically and historically grounded, contextualised and heterogeneous’ (Hookoomsing & Oozeerally, 2020: 82). In terms of the research process, it also represents the dialectic of the projection of the researcher in their research and consideration of the potential receivers, meaning the research context and researched context. The notion of altero-reflexivity encompasses the constant, dialectic motion, awareness, adaptation strategies and feedback generated between the self and the other. This was relevant for both the researched context of the ECE Project and focus in this chapter. For the ECE Project, altero-reflexivity allowed the research team to develop additional awareness of their own positionality, to be conscious of manifestations of power relations between the researchers and the researched, as well as the inter-subjective nature of the observational processes while researching multilingually. For this chapter, altero-reflexivity was instrumental in retrospectively analysing my

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experiences in terms of my own positionality, and in relation to the emerging research questions, notably in terms of RQ3 and language power relations at play within the research team. Methodological considerations for the researched context and negotiations around the research process

The research design of the ECE Project was built around complexity thinking (Aladheff-Jones, 2013; Morin, 2008) and the intention of weaving together the collective expérienciations of the pre-primary children while simultaneously valorising their voices, as acteurs-L (Robillard, 2008). Complexity case-study (Hetherington, 2013) was therefore found to be compatible with our research design, as the approach explicitly recognises the inherent tensions between the nature of the field in social sciences and humanities, which is heterogeneous and complex, and mainstream methodological approaches which aim to reduce complexity. In an approach driven by complexity, the researcher is part of the research and cannot be an external observer; they interact with the complex case and become part of the emerging trajectory of the case (Hetherington, 2013). In terms of methods, this tallies with what Blanchet (2012) calls ‘participation observante’, which can roughly be translated as ‘observing participation’. It is not about consciously and artificially setting up the conditions to ‘externally’ observe the process, but instead, it is about being a sensitive observer ‘in action’, within naturalistic processes. ‘Participation observante’ also stresses any observation in research being only a process of negotiating the inter-subjectivities of the researcher and the researched, thus providing a method that also enables the observation of how power relations manifest during the process of researching. As a complement to the participation observante approach, observation grids, with space for qualitative descriptions, were used flexibly as a method to ensure consistency and coherence throughout the fieldwork phase. Expérienciation was thus methodologically relevant to the participation observante approach as it was compatible with the researchers’ choice to conceptualise the child as an active meaning maker with opinions, ideas and agency, as well as engage in observations while recognising the researchers’ own subjectivities. This latter aspect of expérienciation is also particularly valuable for my current autoethnographic retrospective reflections and the following section describes my approach and focus for this chapter. Researching Multilingually from the Researched Context to Research Context: Autoethnography and Post Reflections

As mentioned earlier, the ontolinguistics posture was also instrumental in how I approached reflections pertaining to this present chapter,

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which are guided by the research questions outlined earlier. It allowed me to articulate retrospective researcher expérienciations through autoethnography. Autoethnography is a contemporary qualitative research methodology, demanding unusually rigorous, multi-layered levels of researcher reflexivity, given that the researcher/s and the researched are normally the same people. (Turner & Grant, 2013: 1)

Through an altero-reflexive stance on the expérienciations elicited from autoethnographic reflections, I selected relevant experiences about the research processes as well as the linguistic power dynamics at play throughout the research project and combined this with post-research reflections. As autoethnography deals with the analysis of personal experiences which aim to understand cultural expression, it is theoretically and methodologically valuable to this chapter as the cultural and experiential dimensions are both essential. One of the advantages of autoethnography is that it allows access into the participants’ private world which is conducive to generating rich data (Pavlenko, 2007): The subject’s own narration of their story is a function of their own interpretation thereof. This stance allowed me to reflect on my own voice as a researcher, as well as on the language-mediated power dynamics transversal to the research. In the project, these elements were backgrounded; however, the combination of an autoethnographic approach and post reflections foregrounded these expérienciations and enabled me to identify topics which shed light on paradoxical (linguistic) power dynamics of researching multilingually. These topics are presented as chapter findings later: the first set of findings on researching multilingually with young children aligns with Research Questions 1 and 2, and the second set on autoethnographic researcher reflections aligns with Question 3. Researching Multilingually with Young Children: Power Relationships, Voice, Ethics and Researcher Choices

This section discusses post-research reflections from the ECE Project. The themes are articulated around researcher choices within the context of power disequilibrium; the use of KM to reduce power imbalances; ethical processes and challenges, notably to gain access and consent; and the silencing of children’s voices. KM as an entry point to reduce power imbalances when researching multilingually

While the intention of the ECE Project was to explore the pre-­primary school children’s linguistic practices amongst themselves and with their

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teacher, the complexity thinking approach (Aladheff-Jones, 2013; Morin, 2008) enabled the team to recognise that the children may also choose to interact with us, as our presence meant we formed part of the school and classroom systems. In adopting a complexity thinking approach, we attempted to recognise the importance of children’s voices and planned, somewhat flexibly, for possibilities that interactions with the children would allow them not only to share their knowledge and opinions, but also share their natural multilingualism, without silencing what they wanted to say and how they chose to say it. The researchers had felt that it was particularly important to consider the linguistic practices of the children in the multilingual context of Mauritius, when thinking of children’s voices and how they can express themselves freely. The team took the decision that a complexity thinking approach and explicit recognition of the children’s voices would also allow us to observe any multilingual fluidity of their speech, which could potentially include all three main languages spoken in one sentence. In addition to this, the team explicitly recognised children’s familiarity with and use of KM for reasons outlined in section 3 and the choice was made to use KM, as needed. The choice to use KM was collegially agreed among the researchers for two reasons, based on observed practice and statistical data, respectively. The pre-primary schools that formed part of the study were purposively and conveniently chosen by each researcher, who selected two schools from those they had visited in the past in the professional domain. In all those schools, it was observed that the children naturally interacted in, and often initiated conversations in KM. Second, these observations were read against the statistical data (CSO, 2011). However, the choice to use KM was not an absolute one and was mainly articulated towards facilitating conversational contact, especially when children spontaneously initiated verbal interactions with the researchers. In cases where the researchers established contact with the children, they made sure that the children were made aware that that they could use any language they were comfortable with. If the child were to naturally use English and French with the researchers, then those English and French words or basic phrases could also be included in the natural unfolding of the interactions. This was an important linguistic choice in relation to the various languages at play, reducing power imbalances and contributing to the criteria of naturalness and unobtrusiveness for participation observante. Young children as the researched: Question of ethics

As the research involved young children, ethical considerations were carefully considered as ongoing and reflexive within the research process. Denzin (1989) puts forward the sharing nature of research as an ethical anchor to the process, and, while this is considered an important anchor for balancing power between researcher and researched, we took the

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stance that the research was not about ‘studying’ pre-primary school children’s language experienciations and practices but that we engaged in participation observante of a complex system while simultaneously forming an entity within those systems as part of the complexity case-study (Hetherington, 2013). Although there is a great amount of research on children and childhood, children’s voices have, in the past, often been ignored or silenced (Smith & Taylor, 2000). Over the years, the debate regarding participatory research with children in early years has evolved from arguing the need to listen to young children to identifying and demonstrating ways it can be achieved within ethical parameters. The conception of the child as a competent research participant, an agent capable of active meaning-making, and positioned as a social actor (acteur L) and contributor of valid opinions and perspectives is significant, but in Mauritius, there are no official national guidelines on how to engage ethically in research with children and adolescents. Once initial ethical permission was gained for access to the sample pre-primary schools, contact was made with the school managers and classroom teachers of these 13 schools to seek consent, explain the research and freely exchange ideas on how it would be least disruptive to the children and the schools to carry out the participation observante in situ. The following discussions and examples are oriented towards the linguistic and ethical challenges that arose in relation to (1) informed consent from the class teachers and parents, (2) silencing of the child’s voice and the paradoxes of this power relationship and (3) my own voice as a researcher engaged in researching multilingually. The researchers’ presence was explained to the managers and teachers, who had the power and control of the school situation. The schools chosen were those where the children were already acquainted to the presence of the researchers who visited the different schools as a component part of teacher training courses. It is a shortcoming on the research team’s behalf, however, not to have directly consulted the children, especially given that their voices mattered in the context of the research. Linguistic and ethical challenges of informed consent

As informed consent is viewed to be a willingness to participate in the research, an opt-out arrangement was considered the most efficient approach without violating the option of providing choice (Clark & Moss, 2011). From the researching multilingually perspective, the research team built upon our sensitivity to the high likelihood of potential language barriers of the school management, teachers and parents. An information sheet was drafted, and though the research team recognised the multilingual repertoire of the teachers, the form was in English for two reasons. First, given the position of languages in the sociolinguistic structure of Mauritius, their places in the educational system and direct personal

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knowledge of the sociocultural context, we knew that it was highly likely that management, teachers and parents would struggle to read standard KM, despite being more familiar with speaking the language. Second, several of the research team members had first-hand knowledge and experiences in the teacher education context for developing pre-primary school teachers’ proficiency in French and had observed, over several years, that trainee-teachers experienced more difficulties in French assignments and exams than in English. English was thus considered to be the more suitable language choice for providing information. The choice not to use KM for the documents was motivated by several functional, practical and sociopolitical reasons. Coming back to the diglossic situation of Mauritius, specifically from the functional point of view, formal documents are expected to be written in English or French. Additionally, not everyone can read KM, despite having proficiency in the oral dimension. The information sheet provided enough information for the management, teachers and parents to know the research purpose, how the data would be handled and their (or their child’s) roles in participating. The information sheet made minimal use of only the essential technical terms that were specific to the research but used simple English vocabulary and syntax that would facilitate understanding of their (and their child’s) involvement in the research. These choices represent a form of negotiation with respect to institutionalised structures and representations of research, which, to some extent, replicate the diglossic hierarchical and functional dynamics of languages. In other terms, English is perceived as the language of prestige, and in line with that, the language of mainstream research which will gain more visibility. French is reserved to niche research, often related to research in French language, literature and linguistics, while KM is perceived as not being a language of research and has the least prestige of the three. Gaining informed consent, thus, involved complexity reduction, in terms of linguistic choices and presentation because of these policy governed structures, which do not necessarily admit linguistic multiplicity, diversity and complexity, thus reducing the perspectives and possibilities of researching multilingually. Once again, the diglossic dynamics are transversal to institutional structures, with the perceived ‘official’ position of English implying that consent forms and documents are to be written in English. All participants and gatekeepers accepted the information sheet in English and no comments were received on this. Power relationships and paradoxes in silencing the child’s voice

Although there are international ethical guidelines for educational research, and the British Educational Research Association (BERA) guidelines (2011) were consulted, there is no specific act in the legislative system of Mauritius when it comes to ethics and research, notably on

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children’s consent to research, nor any specific guidelines in relation to this within the institution funding the ECE Project. Consent was sought from those with parental responsibility; this represents a power imbalance and the first instance of silencing the child’s voice, in the paradoxical situation of engaging in research that is dependent on the child’s voice. Although, in some sense, this reduces the conception of the child as an active meaning maker with agency, it is a point for further reflection when researching multilingually. For example, what are the sociocultural dynamics in relation to educational research within the context in which the research is to be carried out? Are these dynamics conducive to or critical/discouraging of gaining informed consent from young children? What are the ethical implications of gaining informed consent from the child when the parent/guardian will have final say regardless? The research team thus considered the ethical implications of participation observante for the children and negotiated this challenge by seeking ethical permission from gatekeepers and essential mediators. Observant participation, in its reductive sense, implies the silencing of the voice of the researcher, which also goes through a process of ‘disexperienciation’ (Blanchet, 2012). It implies a disengaged, unemotional observation of the other, which can be emotionally destabilising given that the observer automatically establishes a form of relationship with the researched, before completely depersonalising the whole process (Tedlock, 1991). Participation observante, on the contrary, acknowledges the human, emotional and experiential dimension and does not consider these to be scientifically inappropriate. This was relevant to the research given that we were working with children. At different points in time, during the researchers’ presence at the sample schools, children spontaneously came to interact with them. In my case, for example, children came to show and discuss their drawings and their choices of colours. The following is an extract of this and shows the importance of the child’s language expérienciation (Robillard, 2008): [School 3; observation grid 2] Child D: Miss, regarde seki mo’nn fer. J’ai dessiné voiture. Mo kontan voiture (Miss, look what I’ve done. I have drawn a car. I like cars) Researcher: Ah, be li bien joli, to’nn penn li zoli (Ah, well it’s very pretty, you’ve painted it nicely) Child D: Wi, miss [teacher] a dit nou bizin colour the drawings. J’aime vert (Yes, Miss said we need to colour the drawings. I like green) Resercher: Tres bien, c’est très joli (Very good, it’s very pretty) Child D: Merci Miss (Thank you miss)

Beyond the heterogeneous language practices of the child, the conversation was spontaneously sustained until the child went back to his place.

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The posture of participation observante acknowledges such interactions as being part of the research process, thereby giving the space for both the researcher’s voice (and emotional engagement) and the researched participant’s voice to be heard. The valorisation of the child’s voice was not necessarily visible among teachers, though, who displayed certain power relationships with respect to the children. During the research, for example, it was noted that teachers often re-oriented or ignored what the children had to say if they felt that their statements were not directly situated within the ‘lesson topic’ or expected answers. In this sense, the teacher had the power to silence the voice of the child. However, in contrast to this, observations at school level, for the ECE Project, show that KM was widely used as a means of translating reality and expression, notably by the children in instances where they were narrating their lived experiences. Triple silencing of children’s voices

The triple silencing of children’s voices occurred through three layers of silencing through translation. The first of these concerned the final research report for this project being written in French, despite the ‘fieldwork’ phase of the research being carried out by multilingual team members who were observing and interacting with the children and taking notes in either French, English, KM, or a mix of two or all three of these languages. The process of translation of data from the children’s first language(s) into French, required for the final report, can be considered a first layer of silencing. This was underpinned by research choices and institutional constraints. The whole project was conceptualised from its inception in French – the choice of the lead investigator who is an academic in French, and whose original idea initiated the project. Personal conversations with him, which he has given permission to present in this chapter, revealed that the motivation to go with French, despite the fact that he is trilingual in terms of his proficiency in English, French and KM was down to two main reasons: personal and institutional. On the personal front, he wanted to partially invest knowledge from his doctoral thesis in the research project, notably with respect to the theoretical and conceptual frameworks. Second, as a member of the French Department of the institution, he intended to give ‘linguistic visibility’. Even though we were engaged as a team in researching in three languages, institutionalised perspectives on research from more senior faculty would not allow for a multilingual report. Even French, which is also a language of scientific dissemination, went against institutional norms of carrying out research and writing reports in English. The second layer of silencing occurred when researchers would note observations in non-standard KM. This was because not all the team members could write in the standard orthography despite speaking the language with native or native-like proficiency. Instead these team

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members would record the KM oral interactions through detailed notes in English, which would then be translated into French by other team members. This was a very rare occurrence but highlighted a point for further reflection when researching multilingually as a heterogeneous team of multilingual researchers (see also Oozeerally, this volume). To some extent, while researching multilingually, the multilingual complexity inherent to data collection, processing, transcription, translation and analysis (Ganassin & Holmes, 2013) was an unrecognised dimension of the research. For the ECE Project, an example of where meaning was lost during the translation from KM to English, and from English to French, concerned reduplications, which were not translatable. In KM, reduplication is a common morphological procedure which consists of the repetition of the morpheme. Usually, it denotes a form of semantic nuance. The following are a few examples: manz-manze (eateat) which roughly means snacking and rouz-rouz (red-red) meaning reddish. For some of the researchers in the team, those nuances were not captured in their own translations in English and this was erased in the (re)translation in French. The third layer of silencing occurs in the non-translatability of some concepts and expressions; as Halai (2007) observes, there are nuances which may be lost regardless of the researcher’s sensitivity to the complexities of the given language/s. For example, translation implied the negotiation of meaning-loss, with certain equivalents of colloquial vocabulary and phrases not having the same resonance in the two languages. This first set of findings provides an autoethnographic post reflection on how the use of KM was used to reduce power imbalances: in gaining access and consent through interactions with gatekeepers; provision of information sheets in English; communication choices to use KM with the children and the use of French in writing the project report. These findings put forward a case for the ethical considerations, language choices and multilingual negotiations researchers may seek to operationalise in the context of power relations between the researchers and the researched (young children) in Mauritius. The second set of following findings seeks to make sense of my experiences of power relations within the research team which manifested during the process of the ECE Project. Autoethnographic and Post Reflections on Researching Multilingually within the Research Team

This section discusses the challenges and issues faced at a personal level during the process of researching multilingually within the research team. Although I am multilingual, being raised in England means that English is my first language. Owing to the sociopolitical dynamics of the country and perceptions of prestige, this should have put me in a position of power; however, this was not the case for the ECE Project. Through the

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adoption of an altero-reflexive stance on the expérienciations elicited from autoethnographic reflections, I identified three inter-related areas which impacted on my own process of researching multilingually: language insecurity; managing my silenced voice in French; and negotiating power relationships within the research group. Language insecurity

The linguistic choices of the lead investigator created a working space where French had a level of importance. Interestingly, during the research process, interpersonal discussions were more often done in KM and notes of meetings were written mostly in English. This highlighted the ­fundamentally multilingual working dynamics of the group. However, French remained the main language of operation, notably when it came to writing the report. As a British-Mauritian dual-national, I have English as my first language and am highly proficient in KM. I learned French only at secondary school level, and while I have no manifest difficulties in reading and understanding French, I have significant language insecurities in speaking and writing. My motivation for being part of the research was because I had an affinity with the topic being researched, i.e. complexity and understanding the linguistic experiences of young children. Additionally, I was also carrying out my doctoral study among young children, and the field was not unknown to me. The language insecurity I manifested, however, hindered my own path in researching multilingually, as I believed I was not progressing at the required pace. It had a direct impact on my voice as a researcher as the language choice of the project had a silencing effect. Interestingly, the internal group dynamics, combined with my reflexive stance on analysing my own experienciations, revealed a form of tension between this microsocial context and the diglossic situation in Mauritius at a broader level. In the earlier section discussing the Mauritian linguistic landscape, and building on Calvet’s (1999) assumption that diglossia and language insecurity are inter-related, my proficiency in English should have given me a position of language security and relative ‘power’, where my researcher voice should have been strong. However, the actual situation was reversed. During the project, it was French which represented the language of power, with KM generally being the language of group communication. English, on the other hand, was neither the language of group communication, nor the language of power for conducting or writing the research. Despite being an acteur-L (Robillard, 2008) of both English and French, albeit in different ways, I was unable to exert my identity in English. My identity in French, on the other hand, is that of a speaker with language insecurity. I therefore had to set up linguistic coping strategies (discussed next) to manage this insecurity during the project work.

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Managing my silenced voice in French

The choice of French as the language of research for the ECE Project brought a state of disempowerment for me. Within the research team, there were tacit power relations between the secure acteurs-L in French, meaning those team members who had the competence, expressive power and voice in French, and those who did not. I was among those who did not have the power, and my insecurities were catalysed by the fact that I perceived myself as being in a disadvantaged position in terms of speaking and writing in French. As a coping strategy, I had recourse mostly to KM to discuss tasks and share my work within the group. For example, theories I had read were discussed in KM, which was also a sort of buffer allowing me to downplay my insecurities faced with French. In terms of identity and belonging, KM both represented my language, as a function of my Mauritian identity, and the language of the Other, as a function of my British identity. KM allowed me to negotiate my English and French acteur-L identities while at the same time giving me an oral voice to partially subvert my insecurities. For written input, however, I had recourse to online translation utilities when I needed help for translating my thoughts from English to French. This resulted in a rudimentary text in French which the lead investigator had to rework. Negotiating power relationships within the research group

In the beginning, the question of power relationships within the group who were researching multilingually was not pertinent. Structural hierarchical academic classifications as well as the leadership status within the research group were not factors that gave rise to power relations. Instead, it was language, as specified earlier, that created the space for the emergence of power relations; the researchers who had competence and proficiency in French had more power and voice within the group. This created an implicit tension for interpersonal relationships, which were cordial and friendly, and the working dynamics of the group, where, at some point, language became an issue. For instance, simple choices such as conceptualising the observation grid in French represented a challenge. The term ‘modalités discursives’, which was intended to be used as an indicator of the discursive dynamics among the participants (discussion, argumentation, debate, injunction, etc.) was difficult to grasp for some members, including myself. ‘Pronoms d’adresse’, which referred to ‘tu’ and ‘vous’ and ‘twa’ and ‘ou’ pronouns, was relevant in the observation grid for interaction in French and KM, respectively. This is a linguistic device not present in the structures of English; the researchers, including myself, had to be attentive to the use of such terms in their observations. Likewise, theoretical terminology represented issues, where translation

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was no longer an option. The following are a few examples from the theoretical framework: (1) Expérienciation (2) Acteur L (3) Altéro-réflexivité (4) Ontolinguististique These terms were key theoretical constructs in the context of the ECE Project; they all originate from French literature without any direct, sufficiently specific English language equivalents, and it was fundamental for the research team not only to develop a solid understanding of these terms (which are not necessarily used by English-speaking researchers) but also to operationalise and instrumentalise them. This process represented a hurdle in two layers. The first one was to understand them as they were used in French, which implied an ability to read academic French literature. This was a significant difficulty, especially for those in the team who were not used to doing this. The second layer implied potential confusion with known English possible equivalents. ‘Expérienciation’, for example, is close to ‘experience’ and ‘experiential’, which was confusing as ‘expérienciation’ is a term which specifically transcends the reductive empiricist notions associated with ‘experiential’, includes the notion of heterogeneity and nuanced language fluidity, and goes beyond concepts such as translanguaging (Castellotti, 2019). While some terms were literally translated, others had to be kept in their original forms, and this process of navigating between different meanings and nuances also slowed the progress of the ECE Project. In relation to RQ3 for this chapter, regarding how power relations manifest while researching multilingually, these reflection points show that through these manifestations of linguistic and semantic nuances between French and English, there were several instances where those who had a ‘less’ powerful voice in French had to turn towards those who had more ‘power’ in French to request support. The process was not problematic as interpersonal relationships were cordial; it does remain a point of reflection, though, that the use of French represented a power imbalance between those who had proficiency and those who did not. Despite the support of those with the ‘linguistic power’, the effect of this power imbalance was visible in the group dynamics and the delays incurred in report writing (see further Oozeerally, this volume). Conclusion and Implications: The Politics and Power Relations of Researching Multilingually

Ontolinguistique (Robillard, 2008) was chosen as a theoretical-­ epistemological fulcrum for the reflections pertaining to the chapter. Through an autoethnographic and post-research set of reflections, I have

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discussed the different levels of power relations that manifested while researching multilingually for an ECE Project based on complexity theory, in the heterogeneous linguistic landscape. Despite theoretical and epistemic assumptions that children are autonomous acteur-L with their own voices, the realities in the field led to further interrogations and reflections regarding how to approach research with children in Mauritius. In relation to power and privilege, the research team was aware of the verticality of the relationships between adults and children, and this influenced choices in the field. For example, researchers managed the diglossic dynamics prevalent in the sociolinguistic landscape in their choices of which languages to use. One of the obstacles, as discussed, was the subordination of the child’s voice to that of the adult. Ethical clearance and informed consent were obtained from adults, through forms in English, even though the children did not express any form of discomfort regarding the presence of researchers. English was a specific choice that was the result of collegial agreements following discussions regarding the sociolinguistic situation of the country. Translation represented an important strategy, both for the heterogeneous team and me (as part of the team), as the project was written in French. As discussed earlier, the question of translation became more pertinent in relation to the potential for silencing the voice of the child due to the language choices of the team and institutional requirements for report writing. Researcher choices were discussed and problematised in light of these power relations, notably in terms of language choice and ethical procedures. An emergent aspect of this discussion was the foregrounding of language-mediated power relations within the group of researchers, with individuals having varying proficiency in English, French and KM, and having different relationships with these languages. The ‘unexpected’ manifestations of power relations were mediated by language, where French represented the language of power. Issues of language insecurities and multilingual negotiation strategies were discussed, as these represented manifestations of a second layer of power relations, through which my researcher voice was silenced because I felt I did not master French as much as I should. Writing this chapter, notably through the adoption of an altero-reflexive stance (Robillard, 2008; Hookoomsing & Oozeerally, 2020) combined with autoethnographic and post reflections, was also cathartic. The post-research reflections presented here have foregrounded expérienciation within researching multilingually, as this allowed me to understand how researcher positionality, language identity and language insecurities can play a fundamental part in and influence the overall process of research. The emergent issues of power relationships during the process of researching multilingually, whether at the level of the researched or that of the research team, are worth further investigation as they have a direct impact not only on the research process as a whole, but, naturally, on the

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research results and how the latter are conceptualised and reported. Power relationships were not sufficiently foregrounded or explored in the main project, and my post-researcher reflections, presented in this chapter, have shed light on the importance of incorporating power relationships into general reflections around the process of researching multilingually. Future research might further explore the conception of a methodological model of researching multilingually with young children while explicitly integrating the element power relations as a part of this modelling process. References Alhadeff-Jones, M. (2013) Complexity, methodology and method: Crafting a critical process of research. Complicity: An International Journal of Complexity & Education 10 (1/2), 19–44. Blanchet, P. (2012) La linguistique de terrain – méthode et théorie. Rennes: PUR. Calvet, L.J. (1999) Pour une écologie des langues du Monde. France: Plon. Castellotti, V. (2019) Plurilinguisme, transculturalité ou hétérogénéité? Interrogations notionnelles à propos de la diversité linguistico-culturelle. In A. Weirich, et al. (ed.) Grenzgänge en zones de contact (pp. 159–168). Paris: L’Harmattan. Central Statistics Office (CSO) (2011) Housing and Population Census Republic of Mauritius Volume III: Educational Characteristics. Mauritius: Government of Mauritius. Clark, A. and Moss, P. (2011) Listening to Young Children: The Mosaic Approach (2nd edn). London: National Children’s Bureau. Denzin, N.K. (1989) Interpretive Biography. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Engel, P. (2007) Expérience. In M. Blay (ed.) Dictionnaire des concepts philosophiques (pp. 304–305). Paris: Larousse & CNRS Editions. Flutter, J. (2007)  Teacher development and pupil voice. The Curriculum Journal 18 (3), 343–354. Ganassin, S. and Holmes, P. (2013) Multilingual research practices in community research: The case of migrant/refugee women in North-East England. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23, 342–356. Halai, N. (2007) Making use of bilingual interview data: Some experiences from the field. The Qualitative Report 12 (3), 344–355. Hetherington, L.E.J. (2013) Complexity thinking and methodology: The potential of ‘complex case study’ for educational research. Complicity: An International J­ ournal of Complexity Theory and Education 10 (2), 71–85. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Hookoomsing, H. and Oozeerally, S. (2020) Integrating altero-reflexivity in the teaching of Shakespearean sonnets in Mauritius. Research in Drama Education: The Journal of Applied Theatre and Performance 25 (1), 77–91. See https://doi.org/10.1080/1356 9783.2019.1704238 (accessed 15 October 2021). Lansdown, G. (1994) Children’s rights. In B. Mayall (ed.) Children’s Childhoods: Observed and Experienced (pp. 33–44). London: Falmer Press. Ministry of Education, Human Resources and Tertiary Education (2010) National Curriculum Framework Pre-Primary. Mauritius: Ministry of Education, Human Resources and Tertiary Education. Morin, E. (2008) La méthode, tomes 1–6. Paris: Opus Seuil.

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Morrow, V. and Richards, M. (1996) The ethics of social research with children: An ­overview. Children & Society 10, 90–105. Oozeerally, S. (2015) Vers une refonte des principes ontologiques et épistémologiques des études sur le plurilinguisme face à la révolution numérique et aux mutations socioécologiques: le cas de Maurice. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Mauritius. Pavlenko, A. (2007) Autobiographic narratives as data in applied linguistics. Applied Linguistics 28, 63–188. Rajah-Carrim, A. (2007) Mauritian Creole and language attitudes in the education system of multiethnic and multilingual Mauritius. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 28 (1), 51–71. Rinaldi, C. (2006) In Dialogue with Reggio Emilia: Listening, Researching and Learning. London: Routledge. Robillard, D. (2008) Perspectives Alterlinguistiques, 2 Vol. Paris : L’Harmattan. Short, N.P., Turner, L. and Grant, A. (2013) Contemporary British Autoethnography, Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Smith, A.B. and Taylor, N.J. (2000) The sociocultural context of childhood: Balancing agency and dependency. In A.B. Smith, N.J. Taylor and M.M. Gollop (eds) Children’s Voices: Research, Policy, and Practice (pp. 1–17). Auckland: Pearson Education. Tedlock, B. (1991) From participant observation to the observation of participation: The emergence of narrative ethnography. Journal of Anthropological Research 47, 59–94.

7 Challenges for Researchers Investigating Coloniality Multilingually in Complex Linguistic Contexts in the Caribbean Olga Camila Hernández Morales and Anne-Marie de Mejía

This chapter explores the challenges and tensions faced by a doctoral student from the Colombian mainland (Olga Camila) and her thesis advisor while conducting critical ethnographic research in a multilingual context, San Andrés Island in the Caribbean, where she is an outsider and does not speak the native language, Kriol (Creole). In contrast, most of the participants are trilingual, speaking Kriol, Spanish and English. Kriol in San Andrés has evolved as the result of a historical process of migration and colonisation and the research site was chosen precisely because the researcher was interested in understanding how elements of the community’s culture, language and customs might reveal traces of colonial inheritance in educational contexts. In particular, the chapter focuses, from a decolonial perspective, on a discussion of the nature of the power relations that emerged in this multilingual context when carrying out ethnographic research. At this time, Olga Camila was attempting to develop a meaningful approach to the community. She and her research advisor were conscious of the need to create and implement strategies aimed at fostering relationships between herself and the other participants. The decolonial perspective, which critiques concepts such as modernity, coloniality, capitalism and patriarchal world-systems, addresses the continuity of colonial power relations. In the case of San Andrés, these are related to the English colonists who arrived on the island in the 17th century and, later, the acculturation consequences of the forced incorporation into Colombian territory. At the epistemic and theoretical level, decolonial thinking is conceived by Mignolo (2007) and 151

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Walsh (2007) as a means of transforming Eurocentric epistemologies based on knowledge produced in different – local – geopolitical contexts. The main aim of this chapter is thus to discuss ways in which power relations among the researcher and the participants in a multilingual context are deconstructed as a result of a reflection from a decolonial stance. In order to develop this reflection, we examine decisions made by the researcher on how to use her linguistic resources to accompany the research process, giving access to the voices of the participants and placing these in dialogue with other voices while at the same time taking responsibility for constructing an account rooted in socially situated subjectivity (Heller, 2008). This dialogue is aimed at contesting legacies of coloniality, such as positionings of inferiority, deficiency and allegations of backwardness (Mignolo, 2007) in relation to a language (Kriol) which was only officially recognised as such in 1991. We begin by presenting the context of the study, highlighting the importance of the historical construction of a multilingual context as a principle that supports the decisions we made during the research process. Then, we discuss certain theoretical notions that are key to the understanding of researching multilingually, such as the concept of voice in relation to power relations, positioning and negotiation, legitimacy as an insider or outsider, and recognition of the potential of contextual understanding and translanguaging. After that, we describe the methodological approach we decided on for the study and discuss the findings, starting with the analysis of multilingual research practices in situ that illustrate decisions made by the researchers during fieldwork. We particularly focus on how choices made about multilingual language use are linked to the negotiations of power relations among the participants. Our conclusions show that the nature of the power relations that emerged in a multilingual context when carrying out research is heterogeneous. For this reason, recognising the potential of contextual understanding not only to make sense of data but also as a reflexive exercise for the researcher allows for the understanding of research as a participatory knowledge-production process. The Historical Construction of a Multilingual Context and the Current Linguistic Landscape

This research project was conducted on the Island of San Andrés in Colombia, which is part of an archipelago located 480 kilometres from the Colombian coast and 180 kilometres from Nicaragua (Guevara, 2007). According to historians Sandner (2003), Parsons (1985, quoted by Guevara, 2007), the island was first populated by the descendants of European colonisers and African slaves who arrived in the territory during

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the 17th and the 18th centuries. San Andrés was colonised by both English and Spanish colonisers at different times in its history, and in 1822, it finally became part of Colombian territory. Creole languages and the people who speak them tell a story about slavery, migrations and different moments of colonisation that are still present in their cultural practices and institutions. Studies carried out by several authors (Dittmann, 1992; O’Flynn de Chaves, 2002) indicate that San Andrés Island is a multilingual context where the languages spoken (Spanish, Standard Caribbean English and an English-based Creole – Kriol) are present in a relationship of triglossia (Patiño Rosselli, 2002). According to Siguán (2001), this notion refers to situations in which languages have differences of prestige and use that may create conflict and tensions among the members of these societies due to the power relations that are established and that influence the distribution, division and inequality between groups and languages. Sanmiguel (2006) and Moya (2014) have noted the differentiated use of languages on the island according to the context. Thus, Spanish is generally the language of commerce, banking, government and education, whereas Kriol is the informal language of everyday situations, and English is restricted in particular to religious services, some of which are held today also in Spanish or in both languages. Moya (2006) observed that Kriol is a fundamental element of the islanders’ identity, yet it is perceived as a marginalised language, spoken only by a minority, and at risk of disappearing due to the economic and social dynamics of openness to the wider world seen in the declaration of the Island as a free port in 1953. In a recent study, Andrade (2006) showed that this language does not have the same level of recognition as Spanish, evidenced by the fact that currently most of the inhabitants do not consider Kriol as their mother tongue. These studies document some important challenges in terms of language selection for our research, for example, which language or languages were in play in the linguistic ecology and how they were used to work with the participants and to report information. With respect to researcher positionality, a question arises about the researcher’s role in the study, bearing in mind that conducting research projects on the island should also take into account power relations and language prestige. Therefore, we felt it was important to enquire about issues that emerged for the researcher and her multilingual resources, as well as the multilingual resources of her participants, when undertaking work in this context. The following were the research questions that guided our study: (1) How do the participants in a critical ethnographic research project on San Andrés Island draw on their multilingual resources to negotiate differential power relations? and (2) how does the researcher manage this multilingual terrain when undertaking her research?

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Key Theoretical Notions

In this section, we discuss some of the key concepts on which we base our study about negotiating power relations multilingually. First, we discuss power relations and the concept of voice; then, we reference the notions of positioning, negotiation and legitimacy; last, we illustrate the importance of contextual understanding and translanguaging when developing research in multilingual settings. These notions help us understand the ways in which power relations are developed in multilingual research contexts and also how the researcher is able to deconstruct these relations. Power relations and participant voices

According to Foucault (1978), complex differential power relations characterise interaction in all spheres of life. Moreover, he maintained that power is always coexistent with strategic resistance and that both are present in the same social relationship. Therefore, participants in social interaction are able to negotiate their positions within shifting power relations in particular situations. This can lead to the development of a critical consciousness about the influence of relations of dominance and the possibility of positioning ourselves in a different way to these in everyday social relationships (Gieve & Magalhaes, 1994). For their part, Bizon and Cavalcanti (2018), in their work in Brazil, highlight the need to acknowledge the diversity of other voices as well as those who have been widely heard and traditionally legitimised as central. Bakhtin (1981) considered ‘voice’ as ‘speaking consciousness’ in which particular values or viewpoints are enacted: Language is always a site of social struggle already ‘overpopulated’ with other people’s voices and the social practices and contexts they invoke. Therefore, every time we speak, we assimilate and appropriate the words of others and populate them with our own meaning. Blackledge and Creese (2012: 90) argue that ‘it is in the study of voice, and of voices, that we are able to bring into close-up the subtle and nuanced ways in which negotiations occur in language’. In their research, carried out in multilingual complementary schools in the UK, they found that focusing on participants’ (students, families and teachers) voices gave the researchers the opportunity to understand the ideologies and practices they enact. In terms of our research, this is a key aspect because collaborative voice construction – between researchers and participants – becomes a means to deconstruct the power relations we normally establish during the research process. Moreover, having a deeper understanding of participants’ beliefs, personal backgrounds, motivations and even fears through fragments of their voices engages us in a different way with the tensions and contradictions which coexist at the heart of the linguistic practices.

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As Bakhtin (1981) maintains, heteroglossic talk gives us clues about the identity positions that constitute these communicative practices. However, Khan (2017: 69) cautions against the use of the term ‘giving the participant a voice’, as he contends that this ‘pre-imposes certain frames of power in which the researcher is positioned at a higher level by virtue of being able to tell others about these settings’. Considering this, in our study, we decided to use the terms ‘giving access to the participants’ voices’ and ‘collaborative voice construction’, involving collaboration between the researcher and the participants. Positioning and negotiation, legitimacy as an insider or outsider

Recently, Martin-Jones et al. (2017: 190) have argued that there has been a move towards reflection on the part of researchers in multilingual settings on how ‘communicative resources are bound up with the negotiation of identities and the building of researcher-researched relationships’. The authors claim that this has enabled the deconstruction of the ‘“identity” categories of outsider and insider and [a] move away from representing the identities of researcher and research participants … in fixed and binary terms’. This, thus, highlights the notion that relationships among the different participants in the research process evolve over time and can be negotiated. This fluidity in researcher–researched relations also affects decisions about language use, which often prove more complex and nuanced than a one-off decision about which language or languages to use and may help ‘to index different degrees of insiderness, solidarity or empathy’ (2017: 192). In this sense, negotiating identities is a tool to circulate power among the participants, including the researcher. For their part, Ganassin and Holmes (2019: 6), in their study on Ganassin’s communitybased research in a Chinese school in the UK, commented on ‘the researcher/researched linguistic power dynamics as each [participant] exercises relational identity and power in their privileging of certain languages over others’ (Ganassin, 2018). Bourdieu (1991) maintains that the exchange of linguistic and cultural capital is dependent on the ‘legitimacy’ and ‘authority’ of the speaker, the social conditions and what is being said. The researcher can position themselves or be positioned by others. Giampapa (2012: 101) exemplifies this when she notes, during her data collection process with Italian Canadians, ‘there were occasions and spaces when I was positioned, at one point in time, and in a particular space, as a so-called cultural/­ linguistic insider and then, at other times and in other spaces, repositioned as an outsider’. Thus, it is important to problematise the issue of legitimacy in speaking on behalf of others from the perspective of a perceived outsider re-presenting their lived perspectives in a situation where knowledge, understandings and voices have a space of communication based on the actors’ frameworks (Sousa Santos, 2010).

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Recognition of the potential of contextual understanding and translanguaging

The final theoretical consideration we discuss here is related to the importance of the context to understand realities related to it. Referring to Le Page and Tabouret-Keller’s (1985) work on Creole languages, Makoni and Pennycook (2012: 441) maintain that: in extremely complex heterogeneous contexts, not every speech event or language will necessarily belong to a nameable language system [and] … speakers may not necessarily have a clearly defined idea of what language they are speaking, and what does or does not constitute ‘a language’.

They argue that it is therefore necessary to resort to the notion of humancentred, rather than language-centred, multilingualism and ‘how it is that languages are understood locally’ (2012: 441). The notion of local understandings of languages leads on to a consideration of the importance of translanguaging in analysing how researchers manage multilingual interactions strategically with participants when undertaking research in specific local contexts. García and Wei (2014) maintain that translanguaging is based on the notion that bilinguals have one linguistic repertoire from which they select features strategically to communicate effectively. In other words, translanguaging considers the language practices of bilingual or multilingual speakers as the norm. According to Kiramba (2016), translanguaging constitutes a significant dimension of research practice in some areas of social science, which reveals key epistemological issues and questions relating to researcher identity and to asymmetries of power in the knowledge-building process. Research Methodology Used in the Study

The data on which our chapter is based (Study B) comes from an ethnographic doctoral study investigating the heritage of colonialism in educational contexts (Study A). Taking into account its interpretative and situated nature, we considered that a qualitative research perspective was relevant. The context of the studies (A and B) in our research is two secondary schools on San Andrés Island (one bilingual Spanish-English with a majority of ‘raizal’ population, and the other a non-bilingual, Spanishspeaking school). ‘Raizales’ are categorised as an ethnic community with African, European and Caribbean roots. The Africans were the slaves who were originally brought to work on the cotton plantations, while the Europeans (mainly the English and the Spanish) were the colonisers. ‘Raizales’ have their own language (Kriol) and culture. In both schools, we found students from different backgrounds, including those recognised as ‘raizal’. Some of them came from families whose father and mother

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were ‘raizales’, and others had one of their parents who was ‘raizal’ and the other, ‘continental’, (people who emigrated from the Colombian mainland, mainly from the Caribbean coast). Others had parents who did not speak Kriol, since communication in this language was forbidden on the island as a result of processes of ‘colombianisation’. This involved the imposition of the Spanish language and the Catholic religion, as well as the prohibition of the use of Kriol in official domains, including education (Betancourt Pérez, 2018). In Study A, we allocated 18 months to the fieldwork process: the first 6 months were involved immersion in the research context, and the remaining time was for data collection. During these first six months, Olga Camila travelled monthly to the island and lived with a ‘raizal’ family in order to make sense of ways of living, values and cultural practices. Therefore, these first moments of fieldwork involved visiting historical places on the island, establishing informal conversations with researchers, school-teachers and people from the community and attending cultural activities, such as music festivals, conferences and food festivals. Establishing rapport with the host family was important in order to be able to observe in more detail the languages used in different domains and to ensure that Olga Camila was aware of how these languages were selected for different communicative purposes. For the data collection process, we started by analysing procedures in each of the two secondary schools in order to understand their internal organisation and guidelines. Then, we carried out individual interviews with teachers of Spanish, English and Social Science (individually), and with the principal and one student in each school (10 altogether). These were conducted in Spanish, but the participants also used English, and at times Kriol, to express personal beliefs and everyday experiences. We also observed the classes of these six teachers (four classes each) and analysed the teaching materials that they used. The most important tool for this part of the research was the researcher’s diary used to note down feelings, perceptions and situations and even to draw and express experiences through different codes. This diary was written in Spanish and English and also registered expressions the researcher learnt in Kriol. For Study B – the focus of this chapter – we adopted a researching multilingually approach (Holmes et al., 2013) to revisit the data set of Olga Camila’s doctoral research (Study A). Study B, situated within a critical dialogical ethnographic perspective, examines the ways in which the participants in Study A draw on their multilingual linguistic resources, (the first research question) and in particular, how the researcher manages this multilingual terrain (the second research question). According to Chiseri-Strater (1996), despite form, tone or degree of familiarity, all researchers are positioned. For this reason, conducting ethnographic research is not a neutral process; the ethnographer becomes

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part of the data collection process and also establishes relationships with the participants. The resulting collaborative fieldwork can thus be seen as a process of collective co-interpretation that can have an impact on the community and on the researcher themselves (Rappaport, 2007). Despite drawing on certain shared funds of linguistic and cultural knowledge, the positioning of the researcher, as well as the other participants, as ‘insiders’, always has to be negotiated in situ, and this is often a matter of degree rather than the unproblematic membership of a particular social category. Additionally, Study B understands the role of the researcher as a ‘­partner’ – someone who accompanies the process of trying to give access to the voices of all the participants (Rappaport, 2007). In this way, the process of producing knowledge is seen as a collaborative endeavour, in which the voices of the participants are integrated in a dialogue with socially constructed understandings, as well as acting as a means of deconstructing the power relations normally established during the research process (Blackledge & Creese, 2012). This consideration of participants’ roles has enabled us to unpack the ‘identity’ categories of ‘outsider’ and ‘insider’ and distance ourselves from representing the identity of researcher and research participants in fixed and binary terms (MartinJones et al., 2017). The researcher’s linguistic positioning in the research context

As Ganassin (2018) noted, an ethnographic study is multilingual in multiple ways. For example, in this study, Olga Camila was a bilingual Colombian doctoral student with Spanish as her mother tongue and English as her second language. Since she started visiting the island as part of her research, she had also picked up some expressions in Kriol. The ‘raizal’ teachers and students who participated in the study were multilingual and spoke Kriol and Spanish on a daily basis at home and at school, as well as some English. This multilingual situation led to unexpected challenges in the development of this project as we will show. Initially, we decided to use Spanish as the main language in the data collection phase and the research instruments. The reason for this decision was that Olga Camila’s doctoral study was registered at a Spanish-speaking university, and Spanish was also her first language. Moreover, as her study was constructed from a decolonial perspective using authors from Latin America, she chose to submit her doctoral dissertation in Spanish rather than in English. The university would have accepted her dissertation in either language, but Olga Camila saw her decision as a political declaration of her position against the commonly accepted idea in Colombia that English is the ideal language for academic publications. Nevertheless, as this decision was made before starting the fieldwork, throughout the data collection process, she began to realise the need to

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engage in a constant translation process among the three languages that circulate on the island. For that reason, as her own language resources were not sufficient to interact with the participants, she found it necessary to use multilingual researcher practices such as translanguaging, comparing languages side-by-side, and metalinguistic awareness strategies. The initial decision to use Spanish as the main language of the study also affected the way Olga Camila was perceived by the other participants. She was understood as an outsider until they realised that she also spoke English. Olga Camila noted in her diary that participants approached her as ‘paña’ or ‘continental’ (a speaker of Spanish from the mainland), and this was an additional category related to her identity construction as an outsider. The Politics of Researching Multilingually: Negotiating Positionality and Emerging Agency

Here, we present the results of our analysis of the processes and politics of researching multilingually (Study B). We focus on how Olga Camila discovered and reacted to these challenges while working with the participants in situ and her subsequent decisions about language use. We also illustrate how these multilingual processes were used to negotiate positionality of both researcher and researched and the emerging agency of the researcher. Discovering researching multilingually processes in situ

Although Olga Camila had initially decided to undertake her data collection in Spanish, once in the research context, she came to realise that she needed to use multimodality and translanguaging in interactions in order to capture the multilingual dimension of her study and to engage with participants according to the site in which she was located and their linguistic background. The use of one language or another was not therefore an initial condition of social interaction, but rather a response to the linguistic situation she faced and a result of her sensitivity towards the multilingualism of the other participants. Translanguaging in our research allowed us to make sense of the multilingual context as an interconnected system of linguistic practices, local cultural meaning and symbolic processes, developing a view of language as a situated practice that responds to context complexity and particularity. As a result of this perspective, certain concepts such as ‘first language’, ‘second language’, ‘foreign language’, ‘standard English’ and ‘native language’, with their implied hierarchies in social interactions, were challenged in our study, suggesting that in some sense, we are all ‘multilingual’, because we have access to a range of ways of using language, even if we do not speak any particular one (Blackledge et al., 2014).

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Therefore, the first language for the researcher in the English class was not Spanish (Olga Camila’s mother tongue), but English, because it was linguistically closer to Kriol in order to make sense of word meaning and writing. Olga Camila noticed that the interactions in the English classes in the bilingual ‘raizal’ school were conducted in English, using Kriol with ‘raizal’ students as a transitional language (due to the similarities between the two in terms of pronunciation and intonation). This seems to represent a linguistic advantage for those students who spoke Kriol in contrast to those who did not. In other communicative situations in this institution, the three languages were used simultaneously, depending on the interlocutors who were interacting. Therefore, Olga Camila decided to take part in interactions in different languages, according to the interlocutor and the place in which the interaction was taking place, to establish rapport with the participants and gain deeper understanding of their experiences. Consequently, Olga Camila used the three languages to record notes and in audio recordings, implementing translanguaging as a strategy to handle this complex linguistic landscape. For example, she registered words in Kriol (a language that she does not speak) in the way she thought they were written, normally associating these with sounds in English, due to the similarities between the two languages. Later, she clarified these with participants, as shown in Excerpt 1, where the teacher is establishing differences among English (Olga Camila’s approximations in italics) and Kriol (teacher’s corrections in bold). Excerpt 1: Classroom observation/English class/ 05/09/2019 Me from San Andrés Island/Mii from San Andrés Island Tell me something about Julia. She has a red kia/She has a red kiar (car). She has white teeth. Be careful with the pronunciation is not tiit but teeth. (I didn’t realise the mistake (tiit) in this sentence until the teacher explained it to me because the pronunciation was quite similar in Kriol and English, so I wrote the word in English).

Olga Camila clearly recognises here her lack of knowledge of Kriol and highlights in her observation that it was the teacher’s knowledge of the language which allowed her to correct the written version. The teacher’s help in the understanding of the data evidences her powerful position during this interaction with Olga Camila, which takes place in the teacher’s own classroom and where she is acting as an expert user of Kriol. Heteroglossic classroom practices

During the fieldwork, Olga Camila identified some language practices in education on the island which posed a challenge for her, requiring reflection about how to approach data collection multilingually. In the following

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example from a teacher interview (Excerpt 2), the use of heteroglossic practices by teachers, including Kriol, was in evidence, specifically by ‘raizal teachers’ as multilingual meaning-making resources for linguistically diverse learners (García, 2009). The written record was produced after the oral interview with the support of the teacher helping to write down Kriol expressions. Excerpt 2: Teacher interview/ English teacher/ 23/09/2019 … its shameful que un colegio bilingüe tenga estudiantes que llegan a décimo grado y no saben nada de inglés, por eso yo utilizo el kriol lo en clase como una herramienta para aclarar conceptos, dem taak tuh mih inah Kriol bikaas mih dah Raizal aan bikaas som words soun dih siem (ellos me hablan en kriol, porque soy raizal y porque algunas palabras suenan parecido), sin embargo para mi es importante que puedan entender las diferencias entre las dos lenguas. … it’s shameful that a bilingual school has students in tenth grade who don’t know any English, so I use Kriol in class as a tool to clarify concepts, they talk to me in Kriol because I am native and some words sound similar, however it’s important to me that they can understand the differences between the two languages. (Olga Camila’s translation)

The teacher states here that interaction in Kriol is only carried out with ‘raizal’ students; therefore, this space of interaction excludes students who do not speak this language. Kriol in the classroom seems to be a functional language of transition used to focus meanings and establish differences with Standard English. Olga Camila registered this interaction in audio format and later developed a transcription using Kriol words and expressions guided by the sounds and English grammatical structure. Later, in a further conversation with the teacher interviewed, she rewrote those sentences in the correct form in Kriol. In the following excerpt, the teacher highlights the importance of the students learning English, rather than either Kriol or Spanish, taking for granted that they already know these languages. Here, Olga Camila is registering a lesson observation and the words in Kriol are written on the board, so she was able to record the words in the correct form without further rewriting. Excerpt 3: Classroom observation/ English class/ 05/09/2019 La profesora le pide a una estudiante pasar al tablero y conjugar el verbo ‘come’ en tiempo presente continuo, la estudiante escribe ‘komin’ en Kriol, es una estudiante raizal, y la profesora le dice ‘you already know Kriol and I don’t need to teach you that, neither Spanish, I need to teach you English, so write the correct word in English!’ The teacher asks a student to go to the board and conjugate the verb ‘come’ in the present continuous tense, the student writes ‘komin’ in Kriol, she is a raizal student, and the teacher tells her ‘you already know Kriol and I don’t need to teach you that, neither Spanish, I need to teach you English, so write the word correctly in English!’ (Olga Camila’s translation)

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These two examples (Excerpts 2 and 3) illustrate how the use of the researcher’s linguistic resources varied according to the interactive dynamics of the situation. As Olga Camila does not speak Kriol (even though she already knew some words and expressions at the time of the research), she found it necessary to examine data collaboratively with the participants, in order to ask for clarification about words and expressions that she wrote down using translanguaging strategies and English grammar. In this sense, she used English as a transitional language to help her understand Kriol, in contrast to the teachers’ classroom practice where they used Kriol as a language of transition to help their students understand English. For the process of researching multilingually, this shows that languages acquire a different status depending on where participants and researcher are positioned in the interaction. Additionally, the results of the data analysis revealed the importance of participatory knowledge production. Collaborative voice construction, as presented in the examples where Olga Camila went back to the data with the teachers to better understand language implications in her data collection process, became a means of deconstructing the power relations normally established during the research process. On one hand, her lack of linguistic resources, especially Kriol, empowered the other participants to take on the role of joint knowledge constructors, while on the other, both Olga Camila’s use of English and her use of certain formulaic phrases in Kriol enabled her to establish her legitimacy in the multilingual research context. Negotiating positionality and emerging agencies through multilingual strategies

As we mentioned in the theoretical review, interactions in all spheres of life are mediated by complex power relations and strategic resistance (Foucault, 1978). During the fieldwork, we came to realise that for the ‘raizal’ participants, speaking their native languages was a means of empowerment and resistance, as can be seen in the following excerpt. Excerpt 4: Field notes from researcher journal/ 23/09/2019 … es una forma de cerrar el círculo, hablan en una lengua que yo no comprendo, sabiendo que no estoy entendiendo lo que ellos dicen y esto pareciera darles un poco de poder, y en mi caso me hace sentir en una posición de desventaja, me pregunto qué omiten, cómo me perciben, pero a la vez me hace darme cuenta de la importancia de la preservación de su lengua, no solo en términos lingüísticos, sino en términos de empoderamiento y resistencia. … it’s a way to close the circle, they speak in a language that I don’t understand, knowing that I’m not understanding what they say and this seems to give them a little power, and in my case it makes me feel in a disadvantaged position, I wonder what they avoid, how they perceive me … but at

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the same time it makes me realise the importance of preserving their native language not only in linguistic terms, but in terms of empowerment and resistance. (Olga Camila’s translation)

As this fieldnote illustrates, Olga Camila came to realise that multilingual interaction and language choice are mediated by opposing relations in which power circulates among the participants. She comes from the Colombian mainland and brings linguistic and educational ‘capital’ to the research process. However, here she saw that the other participants made the most of their linguistic advantage of knowing Kriol and positioned her in a less powerful position as a result. This is, thus, an example of language controlling power relations. Olga Camila’s consciousness of this positioning, recognising the value of Kriol for the participants, reminds us of Gieve and Magalhaes’ (1994) contention that an individual’s critical consciousness of relations of dominance through language use allows for the possibility of positioning themselves and thereby increasing the possibility of negotiation within power relations to assign meaning according to particular situations or interlocutors. Likewise, interviews and observations carried out in the two schools were sometimes conducted in English and sometimes in Spanish or both languages, with short interventions in Kriol, depending on the participants’ choice, thereby validating all the languages spoken in the context, and registering participants’ voices as they emerged, as illustrated in Excerpt 5. Excerpt 5: Teacher interview/ English teacher/ 23/09/2019 Bueno, Im native, me formé en San Andrés Isla en Infotep estudié educación bilingue para básica primaria, y en el transcurso de todos estos años he estado en diferentes diplomados cursos, de inglés, además tenía un abuena base de inglés desde la casa y eso me ayudó bastante … Yo nunca me imaginé ser docente, nunca quise ser un docemte, pero el test que hice me mostró que mi la línea en que debor ir es en docencia, mi da tisha fi Gad sik soy maestra por don de dios … Well, I’m native, I was trained on San Andrés Island in Infotep, I studied bilingual education for elementary school, and over the course of all these years I have been in different courses, besides I had a good basis of English from my home and that helped me a lot  …  I never imagined being a teacher, I never wanted to be a teacher, but the test I did showed me that the line in which I should work was teaching, I am a teacher by god’s gift … (Olga Camila’s translation)

During the interview, the teacher answered most of the questions in Spanish; nevertheless, she used some expressions in English (e.g. I’m native) and incorporated expressions in Kriol (e.g. mi da tisha fi Gad sik) in the conversation to refer to personal beliefs. Olga Camila registered the teacher’s alternation of languages to account for participant voices in a natural setting and later wrote the Kriol words with the help of the teacher, as before.

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As we have shown in the data extracts, due to Olga Camila’s lack of Kriol oral fluency, the participants did not initially interact with her directly in this language; instead, they used words and recalled information in Kriol, followed by an explanation in Spanish or English so that she would understand. In these cases, she admitted that she felt more like a participant than a researcher, due to the fact that the ‘participants’ were deciding which information she should have access to. To deal with this situation, the linguistic resource for researching multilingually used by Olga Camila was the appropriation of the meanings of others (Bakhtin, 1981). For example, ‘mi foul’ is a very common expression used by ‘raizales’ to express surprise, concern or demand explanations, and its meaning is similar to ‘my god!’ Olga Camila learnt this expression and started to use it in interactions with the other participants, and also in other contexts. This language use made her feel more confident and created a new sense of connection with the participants, based on the recognition of their native language as a valid means to communicate during the research. She observed from participants’ responses that she was more accepted in  the research site. Thus, this decision by the researcher on how to manage the multilingual terrain was political in that it involved her recognition of the status of Kriol and signalled to the ‘raizal’ participants that she accepted the historical and symbolic importance of this language for them (see Excerpt 4). Based on this experience, Olga Camila began to understand that positioning is not only a matter of self-presentation, but it implies a complex process of identity negotiation (Lønsmann, 2016). At the beginning of fieldwork, she as researcher made decisions and developed research protocols based on her previous knowledge of the context. Nevertheless, during the process of data collection she found it necessary to adjust the languages used in these instruments to include English and Kriol. In addition, her perception about researcher and participant roles changed, due to the multilingual interactive dynamics. She gradually came to realise that her previous self-perception as the researcher who had the power to direct the research process had altered. Instead, this power was, on occasions, negotiated with those participants who were able to use all the languages in question. Therefore, at times, she felt more of an outsider, as when the Kriol-speaking participants decided how much information to give her. However, on other occasions, her constant close interaction with members of the ‘raizal’ community led Olga Camila to feel much less of an outsider, as she was able to use daily expressions in this language, such as the following: Por Dios=Mih Gad=My god, ¿En serio?=¿Fih chuut?=really?, ¿Cómo estás?=¿Jou yoh deh?=How are you?, ¿Cómo así?=¿Jou soo?=How is that? Nevertheless, she realised that she was not always an insider either. She found herself in some situations in an intermediate space between insider– outsider, where she recognised herself and also the contributions made by

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the other participants, not only with regard to the data but also in terms of the understanding of the researcher’s role. Language played an important role here as it allowed for the process of negotiation in which a ‘bridge of identification’ was created, where she could feel she belonged. Olga Camila was no longer a researcher who was a ‘paña or continental’; instead, she acquired an intermediary status due to her knowledge of the other languages in the language ecology, and these multilingual resources positioned her as a valid interlocutor in the eyes of the other participants. Conclusions and Research Implications

Our aim in this chapter was to examine some of the challenges for researchers investigating coloniality multilingually in complex linguistic contexts in the Caribbean. We now provide answers to the research questions which guided our study and then discuss conclusions and directions for future research. In answer to the question about how participants drew on their multilingual resources to negotiate differential power relations (Research Question 1), we can demonstrate that Olga Camila’s lack of linguistic resources, especially Kriol, led to the disruption of established linguistic hierarchies (the initial decision to use Spanish as the language of research) and empowered the other participants to take on the role of joint knowledge constructors with the researcher. Their multilingual resources enabled them to understand that they were not just passive objects of study, but could exercise agency in the research, or what Ganassin and Holmes (2019: 6) describe as ‘relational identity’. As Kiramba (2016: 11) argues, in educational settings ‘… the use of heteroglossic strategies disorganizes the hegemony of monolingualism for multilingual learners. It creates a space for pedagogy of integration and dialogue, which liberates historically omitted languages and asserts the fluid linguistic identities of multilingual learners’. In our case, the historically omitted language was Kriol, and the fluid linguistic identities referred to those of the research participants. With respect to the second research question, this chapter has focused on decisions made by Olga Camila about how she used her linguistic resources as researcher strategically to negotiate her positionality and establish her legitimacy in multilingual interactions with the participants in the research process. This has involved consideration from a decolonial perspective of the nature of the power relations involved in these relationships as well as the political nature of the decisions taken by the researcher in relation to language use. The results of the data analysis showed that Olga Camila’s use of English and certain formulaic phrases in Kriol enabled her to establish her legitimacy and to diminish her initial perceived status as ‘outsider’ in the multilingual research context (as a monolingual speaker of Spanish). As Moya (2014) notes, outsiders, such as continentals or ‘pañas’, see Kriol as

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a bridge to better relations with the ‘raizales’. This, in turn, led to the discovery of moments of intermediate positioning of her as outsider, yet insider (due to her empathy with the Kriol speakers), and her flexible use of multilingual strategies according to the reality of the context. This evidences that managing multilingual power relations requires a process of deconstruction and negotiation of identities to enhance power circulation and fluid researcher-researched relationships that evolve over time (Martin-Jones et al., 2017). In our case, referring to the researcher, heteroglossic strategies allowed for the use, during the research process, of multiple languages, including Kriol, and thus facilitated the emergence of differential power relations. Moreover, the inclusion of Kriol validated this often stigmatised and marginalised language as a language appropriate for research in the eyes of all the participants, therefore, constituting a political decision in the context of San Andrés. The main conclusions that can be drawn from this study on researching multilingually have to do with the importance of the researcher being conscious of and sensitive to the multilingual resources of all the participants in the research. This, in turn, can lead to a critical understanding of different positionings and enable the researcher to negotiate politicallycharged questions of language use in linguistically complex contexts which have a history of colonialism and domination. Thus, decolonising multilingual researcher practices that acknowledge the colonial legacy of San Andres Island, detailed in this study, can help to transform Eurocentric epistemologies based on knowledge produced in different local-geopolitical contexts, as Mignolo (2007) and Walsh (2007) argue. The limitations of the research have to do with the small number of participants in the study. It would be interesting to see if these results would be replicated in other multilingual Creole-speaking settings in the Caribbean. The main implications of our study for future research in multilingual contexts have to do with the importance of recognising the potential of the languages that circulate in the context as a tool to empower participants and to gain deeper understanding for the researcher. For example, Olga Camila’s learning of Kriol and her strategic use of her multilingual resources to aid her data collection connected the research to San Andrés Island’s colonial history. On the other hand, it is important in processes involving researching multilingually to develop data collection instruments that allow the researcher to construct meanings together with the participants and to register these experiences in a reflexive journal. Observations can then be constructed through formats that allow the researcher to first register data in different languages and then arrange further sessions to discuss data collected multilingually. In this way, it is possible to understand that applying strategies for researching multilingually requires dynamic resources that can help researchers face challenges such as understanding the differences between re-presenting and presenting the experiences of others in the research

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documents, and also of being understood as an outsider and as becoming an insider. These strategies are not a recipe, but they could potentially become a guide to constructing situated research strategies, which reflect the particularities of a multilingual context in terms of participant and researcher needs, time and location, but which can also be adapted to other research settings (Holmes et al., 2013). References Andrade, J. (2006) Estudio sociolinguístico de San Andrés Isla: Un aporte a la cultura sanandresana. Cuadernos del Caribe 4 (8), 42–55. Bakhtin, M.M. (1981) The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Edited by M. Holquist. Austin TX: University of Texas Press. Betancourt Pérez, E. (2018) Resistencias de los nativos de la isla de San Andrés a los imaginarios de nación traídos con la colombianización, 1923–2019. Revista Cuadernos del Caribe 15 (25), 76–84. Bizon, A.C.C. and Cavalcanti, M.C. (2018) Narrating lived experiences from the margins: The voices of two undergraduate students from the Democratic Republic of Congo at a Brazilian university. In M.C.C. Cavalcanti and T.M. Maher (eds) Multilingual Brazil. Language Resources, Identities and Ideologies in a Globalized World (pp. 225–240). London: Routledge. Blackledge, A. and Creese, A. (2012) Negotiation of identities across times and space. In S. Gardner and M. Martin-Jones (eds) Multilingualism, Discourse and Ethnography (pp. 82–94). London: Routledge. Blackledge, A., Creese, A. and Takhi, J.K. (2014) Beyond multilingualism: Heteroglossia in practice. In S. May (ed.) The Multilingual Turn: Implications for SLA, TESOL and Bilingual Education (pp. 191–215). New York: Routledge. Bourdieu, P. (1991) Language and Symbolic Power. Cambridge: Polity Press. Chiseri-Strater, E. (1996) Turning in upon ourselves: Positionality, subjectivity, and reflexivity in case study and ethnographic research. In P. Mortensen and G.E. Kirsch (eds) Ethics and Representation in Qualitative Studies of Literacy (pp. 115–133). Urbana, IL, National Council of Teachers of English. Dittmann, M. (1992) El Criollo Sanandresano: Lengua y Cultura. Cali, Colombia: Universidad del Valle. Foucault, M. (1978) History of Sexuality. New York City: Vintage Press. Ganassin, S. (2018) Teaching and learning about Chinese culture: Pupils’ and teachers’ experiences of Chinese community schooling in the UK. Language and Intercultural Communication 19, 167–183. Ganassin, S. and Holmes, P. (2019) ‘I was surprised to see you in a Chinese school’: Researching multilingually opportunities and challenges in community-based research. Applied Linguistics 41 (6), 827–854. García, O. (2009) Bilingual Education in the 21st Century. A Global Perspective. Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell. García, O. and Wei, L. (2014) Translanguaging: Language, Bilingualism, and Education. New York: Palgrave MacMillan. Giampapa, F. (2012) Authenticity, legitimacy and power. Critical ethnography and identity politics. In S. Gardner and M. Martin-Jones (eds) Multilingualism, Discourse and Ethnography (pp. 95–110). London: Routledge. Gieve, S. and Margalhaes, I. (eds) (1994) Power, Ethics and Validity. Issues in the Relationships between Researcher and Researched. Lancaster: Centre for Research in Language Education, Lancaster University. Guevara, N. (2007) San Andrés Isla. Memorias de la colombianización y reparaciones. In M. Lux and M. Laurent (eds) Afro Reparaciones: Memorias de la Esclavitud

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y  Justicia Reparativa para Negros, Afrocolombianos y Raizales (pp. 295–318). Colombia, Medellín: Universidad CES. Heller, M. (2008) Doing ethnography. In L. Wei and M.G. Moyer (eds) The Blackwell Guide to Research Methods in Bilingualism and Multilingualism (pp. 249–262). Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23(3), 285–299. Khan, K. (2017) The risks and gains of a single case study. In M. Martin-Jones and D. Martin (eds) Researching Multilingualism. Critical and Ethnographic Perspectives (pp. 60–72). London: Routledge. Kiramba, L. (2016) Heteroglossic Practices in a Multilingual Science Classroom. Faculty Publications: Department of Teaching, Learning and Teacher Education. Le Page, R. and Tabouret-Keller, A. (1985) Acts of Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lønsmann, D. (2016) Researching identity and interculturality. ELT Journal 70 (1), 116–118. Makoni, S. and Pennycook, A. (2012) Disinventing multilingualism: From monological multilingualism to multilingual francas. In M. Martin-Jones, A. Blackledge and A. Creese (eds) The Routledge Handbook of Multilingualism (pp. 439–453). London: Routledge. Martin-Jones, M., Andrews, J. and Martin, D. (2017) Reflexive ethnographic research practice in multilingual contexts. In M. Martin-Jones and D. Martin (eds) Researching Multilingualism. Critical and Ethnographic Perspectives (pp. 189–202). London: Routledge. Mignolo, W. (2007) El Pensamiento Decolonial: Desprendimiento y Apertura. Un Manifiesto. El Giro Decolonial, Reflexiones para una .Diversidad Epistémica más allá del Capitalismo Global. Bogotá, Colombia: Siglo del Hombre Editores. Moya, D.S. (2006) Fi Wii News. A creole writing experience. Cuadernos del Caribe 4 (8), 89–96. Moya, D.S. (2014) La situación sociolingüística de la lengua creole de San Andrés Isla: el caso de San Luis. Colombian Applied Linguistics Journal 16 (1), 55–66. O’Flynn de Chaves, C. (2002) Una descripción lingüística del criollo de San Andrés. Cuadernos del Caribe 2 (3), 19–22. Universidad Nacional de Colombia, Sede San Andrés. Parsons, J. (1985) San Andrés y Providencia: una geografía histórica de las islas colombianas del Caribe. Bogotá, El Áncora. Patiño Roselli, C. (2002) Sobre las dos lenguas criollas de Colombia. Cuadernos del Caribe 2 (3), 13–18. Universidad Nacional de Colombia, Sede San Andrés. Rappaport, J. (2007) Más allá de la observación participante: la etnografía colaborativacomo innovación teórica. In X. Leyva et al. (eds) Conocimientos y Prácticas Políticas: Reflexiones desde Nuestras Prácticas de Conocimiento Situado (pp. 327–369). México: CIESAS. Sandner, G. (2003) Centroamérica y el Caribe occidental. Coyunturas, crisis y conflictos 1503–1984. Bogotá, Instituto de Estudios Caribeños, Universidad Nacional de Colombia. Sanmiguel, R. (2006) El debate sobre la educación en la isla de San Andrés: Un análisis cultural. Cuadernos del Caribe 4 (8), 76–88. Siguán, M. (2001) Bilingüismo y Lenguas en Contacto. Madrid, Alianza. Sousa Santos, B. (2010) Descolonizar el Saber, Reinventar el Poder. Montevideo, Uruguay: Ediciones Trilce. Walsh, C. (2007) Interculturalidad y colonialidad del poder. Un pensamiento y posicionamiento ‘otro’ desde la diferencia colonial. In S. Castro-Gómez and R. Grosfoguel (eds) El Giro Decolonial, Reflexiones para una Diversidad Epistémica más allá del Capitalismo Global (pp. 47–162). Bogotá, Colombia: Siglo del Hombre Editores.

8 Speaking Marathi Like a Punekar: Learning Class and Caste in India Jessica Chandras

This chapter explores power relations tied to researching multilingually when diasporic researchers learn heritage languages (HLs) as field languages. A number of implications concerning negotiations of status and power arose when I positioned myself to do fieldwork in an Indian community as a researcher from the South Asian diaspora in the United States. My experiences as a bi-racial American female anthropologist of Maharashtrian descent collecting data in Pune, a city in the western Indian state of Maharashtra, demonstrate how the process of learning an HL influenced avenues of access in research. For my doctoral research about multilingual practices, I learned Marathi, the regional language of Maharashtra and the language my paternal relatives speak. Data for this chapter come from reflecting on experiences of learning Marathi (for 2 months in 2013 and 12 months in 2015–2016) and subsequently navigating multilingual research in my 18-month fieldwork. I studied Marathi prior to fieldwork to engage in interviews and observational data collection and better connect with my Indian heritage and relatives. Through my experiences of negotiating and defining my identity as an HL learner alongside attempts to catalyze access to interlocutors for my research through Marathi-speaking relatives in Pune, I came to understand how distinctions in language use signal cultural assumptions and language ideologies which ultimately implicated my identity within narrow strictures of caste, class and gender expectations (Bourdieu, 1991; Henry, 2003; Kramsch, 2011). The focus of my doctoral research, on how the language medium of education affects educational choices made among the middle-classes in Pune (Chandras, 2019), necessitated that I learn Marathi. During fieldwork, I engaged in participant observation in English-medium and Marathi-medium classrooms of all education levels. I found there were particular translanguaging practices that middle-class, Marathi-speakers were socialized to use to signify values and linguistic hierarchies 169

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evidencing aspects of identities and educational expectations, where translanguaging refers to a communication system with multiple, integrated languages (García, 2009a, 2009b). While my initial goal was to research across socioeconomic classes and castes, my eventual data displayed a distinct bias to upper caste and middle-class cultural knowledge. I therefore developed my analysis around the hegemonic norms produced through language use and ideologies of the socially privileged. What I present in this chapter is a further analysis of my own position within my fieldwork initiated by language learning, and later, coordinating research and social networks in multilingual settings. After discussing literature on HL learning and research, I present the methodology, and then, an analysis as themed ‘thick description’ of research material (Geertz, 1973). Finally, I conclude how cultural and linguistic insider/outsider researchers embody unique positions within the contexts of their field sites by drawing together ways that my identity and research was shaped by politics of power tied to insider community member language and identity categories. Heritage Languages and Researcher Identities

Language learning in and for fieldwork does not occur within a vacuum. Ideological messages, especially language ideologies, are transmitted when distinguishing which form of the language is proper for a linguistic outsider to learn, who teaches it, how the researcher accesses language lessons and what content is taught (Gibb & Danero Iglesias, 2016). Speakers attribute meaning to languages and individuals connect identities to speakers through ‘language ideologies’ which reveal motivating behavioral organization in society as a ‘mediating link between social forms and forms of talk’ (Woolard, 1998: 3). Additionally, language ideologies reflect politically charged, purposeful and directed ways of using language as well as representing shared beliefs about language. While learning a field language is a hallmark of ethnographic research, it is sometimes spoken of as a task without much reflection on, introspection about or analysis of the messages tied to the languages we learn as part of how we position our identities as researchers in the field (Borchgrevink, 2003; Gibb et al., 2020; Tremlett, 2009). An analysis of both the product and process of language learning provides a powerful vehicle to understand epistemologies of data and researcher reflexivity (Ganassin & Holmes, 2013, 2019; Giampapa & Lamoureux, 2011; Holmes et al., 2013; Phipps, 2013). Heritage language learners (HLLs) or speakers who have ‘familial or ancestral ties to a language other than English [and] exert their agency in determining if they are HLLs of that language’ (Hornberger, 2005: 612). An HL is positioned for heritage speakers within social contexts of history, language and culture. Students learning an HL are engaged in a

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complex ‘process of identity negotiation and cultural inheritance’ (Trifonas & Aravossitas, 2014: xiii). While a sense of identity is often tied to HLLs’ motivations to learn an HL, most studies about HL education and HLLs explore language learning programmes specifically designed as part of a personal cultural experience for the HLL and language revitalization movements (Hornberger, 2005; Leeman et al., 2011; Shin, 2010; Te Huia, 2017; Trifonas & Aravossitas, 2014). Underrepresented in research are studies of HLLs learning outside of programmes designed specifically to reach HLLs. The Marathi language programme I took part in, which included daily lessons in reading, speaking, writing and listening comprehension, was pedagogically aimed to teach scholars with little to no prior background in Marathi or Maharashtrian history and culture. Therefore, the way I learned Marathi defined my identity as an American researcher of Maharashtrian descent without contextualizing the power structures or historical context of the position of my ancestral ties as an HLL to the particular variety of Marathi I was taught. How people speak, the languages and language varieties they use and where/why/with whom they use certain languages and forms of speaking can be markers of belonging that socially constructs identity, especially in multilingual societies such as India (Bucholtz & Hall, 2005; Goffman, 1981). I define identity as relationally constructed allowing for multiple, fluid or shifting belonging to various categories, or as anthropologist Lesley Bartlett describes, a ‘bricolage of social identification’ (2007: 230). HLLs are therefore unique when positioning their identities within multilingual communities as identities are layered with meanings, constructed over time and produced by an internalization of external conditions in one’s surroundings. Examining identity as located in the social aspects of community belonging indicates that one’s identity is less ‘a matter of innate characteristics and more […] a process involving socialization’ (Preece, 2009: 28). These features and many more are symbols and expressions of belonging. Belonging does not, however, rest only on how we view ourselves. We are interpellated or hailed into identity categories, which means that others in society often determine categories or aspects of our identities for us either to accept or reject (Althusser, 1971; Butler, 1997). Researchers from diaspora communities are interpellated into, or assigned, identity categories which may afford them different degrees of access, approachability and credibility (Mayorga-Gallo & HordgeFreeman, 2017), and language is important for legitimacy (Jacobs-Huey, 2002: 794). As an ethnographic researcher, I was tasked with interpreting and presenting the voices of interlocutors in my work, and the positioning of my researcher’s identity is another analytical layer that permeates fieldwork and analysis (Abu-Lughod, 1988; Jacobs-Huey, 2002). Narayan, in her analysis about ethnographers from mixed racial and cultural backgrounds, makes a distinction between researchers who arrive as novices

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to their fields and those who have prior exposure, questioning the privilege of analyses from ‘insider’ perspectives (Narayan, 1993: 679). The shared positions of interlocutors and researchers who are either self or other-identified as insiders place different expectations and responsibilities on the researcher and the data and analysis they generate (Hayfield & Huxley, 2015; Henry 2003). With language as a marker of insider or native perspectives, language ideologies and assumptions about language use affect how researchers speak to, about and for their interlocutors. Researchers from diaspora communities positioned as insiders are afforded greater approachability and access to some avenues of research while also being more constrained by local power structures between members of different social categories. Marathi, as the regional language of Maharashtra, represents ties of the history of the region to assumptions about the identities of those who speak it, depending on how and when they use the language. My exploration here builds upon theories of language learning and identity construction with the specific research question of how local language ideologies shape multilingual HLL researcher identities and our research. Methodology

An analysis of my field notes and journal entries from experiences learning my father’s mother tongue for doctoral research comprise the body of data that I explore in this chapter. My field notes included jottings from participant observation, interview notes and transcripts, and journal entries about living and researching in Pune and my Marathi language classes. In field notes and journal entries, I reflect on my experiences living with a host family during initial language studies, visiting relatives and later connecting with schools and activists to discuss language negotiations in education. In the themed thick description that follows, I coded my various research data for dimensions where my identity was made particularly relevant to and impactful for research (Geertz, 1973). I show how my language learning process contributed to shifts in my identity as an HL researcher, how expectations of language use included speaking imbued with norms and values indicating status and power and how access to avenues of research were intricately connected to language and my identity as a female, diasporic, HLL. Before I detail findings from my analysis, I first situate them within the contextual field of the language politics of my research site and my own position within it. Situating Language and Self in the Field

Diaspora researcher identities can call for delicate negotiations in the field (Abu-Lughod, 1988; Giampapa, 2011; Henry, 2003; Narayan, 1993; Yacob-Haliso, 2018). Researchers who occupy both insider and outsider

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positionings within cultural worlds and knowledge communities lack an advantage that full outsiders have of generating discussion through ignorance to local cultural practices and power structures. My membership in a high caste and upper middle-class Indian family in Pune solidified visà-vis learning Marathi as an HL, and as an American researcher, my access to members of lower classes and castes became further culturally constrained. In addition to the familial ties I drew upon for research connections and data collection, my insider/outsider identity was shaped by the specific opportunities available to me as an American female scholar in India learning a heritage and field language from high caste, middleclass teachers, who also contributed to defining avenues of my research. Overall, access to the field site and therefore research findings were distinctly shaped by intricate politics embedded within the power and status negotiations of an insider/outsider identity facilitated by learning an HL for multilingual research. As I learned Marathi for my research, I also learned the unique positionality and language ideologies associated with speakers. Pune is commonly referred to as the cultural capital and a stronghold of tradition in Maharashtra. As pre-colonial leaders were Brahmin, a group considered to be the highest caste in the socially stratified Hindu system, the city became synonymous with Brahmin orthodoxy. The percentage of individuals who identify as Brahmin in Pune is around 20%, which is the highest for any city in Maharashtra, and among locals, caste can often be easily discerned through surnames (Khairkar, 2002). The high percentage of Brahmins is a unique feature of the city due to its historical significance as the seat of a pre-colonial indigenous confederacy (Diddee & Gupta, 2000). My relatives live in modest middle-class housing in the old city, the city’s defining 18 Peths, or wards, which originally housed Pune’s castebased segregated society (Diddee & Gupta, 2000: 12). The Peth neighborhoods of the old city proved to be a central hub from which I extended my initial research explorations. Many of the individuals I encountered during my time living, studying and researching in Pune position themselves, their identities and their language as threatened through anxieties around language loss/change stemming from the transformation in the city and educational pressures, such as the push to study or work abroad. There are tensions between language policies and initiatives meant to retain and maintain mother tongue language use and Marathi’s connection to a cultural (high caste) heritage, and the imperative to welcome development and progress in Maharashtra. The project that inspired this chapter began from an exploration of my own identity from personal questions about language and my Indian heritage. Growing up as a South-Asian-American monolingual English speaker in the United States, I felt a heavy loss at not being able to speak my father’s mother tongue – knowing I was a cog in the process of linguistic change over generations. More personally, I could not speak

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with my family in India. As I was curious about India’s complex social structures along with language use in multilingual populations, I honed my graduate research questions to take me to my father’s hometown in India. Coincidently, the only language institute for American researchers to study Marathi is located in Pune. I quickly learned upon entering my field to study Marathi that I knew very little about social and cultural life in Pune. My non-Indian American classmates and local, Indian interlocutors and relatives did not see me as an outsider the longer I was enrolled in language lessons and the more my Marathi proficiency grew. Soon, I felt beholden to cultural boundaries that my non-Indian American classmates freely transgressed. The influence languages have on identity construction and the politics of researching multilingually, especially among the perpetually liminal-ly situated biracial/bicultural half first-generation Americans like myself, may not cross the minds of some, but it profoundly affects the lives and work of others. Researchers working multilingually, whether or not HLL or diasporic, negotiate language in ways which affect our field relationships, analyses and findings as languages are tied to contexts of use imbued with power. As I began my language study, I was already loosely implicated in middle-class Brahmin networks through my family and cultural background. Impact of HL Researcher Identity on Research Networks

By learning Marathi from middle-class Brahmins among American scholars, my identity as an HL researcher became embedded within networks of power structures of caste, gender and classed expectations. I first outline ways that I was positioned within caste expectations in the field through my relatives and language studies, then how language played into my socioeconomic class identity, and finally, how expectations tied to these categories and my gender formed avenues of access in my research. In the following examples from and reflections on my field notes, I explore instances of being identified as belonging to the Brahmin caste and the upper-middle classes as I began my language studies preceding my dissertation research. My identity positioned within caste and class expectations shifted as I integrated into the multilingual fabric of the city. Also, my gender as a female researcher was intimately entangled with Brahmin and middle-class gender expectations in ways that impacted data collection. The examples of identity negotiation and interpellation revealed through themes in thick description in field notes define ways in which I was socialized to conform to culturally and morally appropriate interactions and language use. In the analysis that follows, where all names have been changed, I detail how I negotiated a developing multilingual identity as an HLL and diaspora researcher by forging social and familial connections.

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Expectations of caste through language

The expectations of a Brahmin daughter were revealed to me when I tested the boundaries of my familial network. I reflect in my notes from 2013 on how my cousin, Jaya, accompanied me when I moved from her flat into my host family’s house: Something strange happened when Jaya dropped me off at Geeta and Nitin’s house and I’ve only just asked Jaya about it. I didn’t understand what Geeta asked Jaya in quick Marathi as she was leaving. I heard Jaya answer, ‘Ho, Deshatha’ as she turned to the door. Today when I was visiting Jaya I asked her if Geeta knew my caste background. Jaya confirmed that was their exchange. Geeta asked her if she considered me to be from the same category of Brahmin – Deshastha Brahmin – as my extended family.

I knew defining some aspects of my identity were out of my control as I quickly became aware of the assigned values and standards that casted expectations carried when I was brought into to the same ‘moral community’ as my host family and relatives (Abu-Lughod, 1988). Once I began my language lessons, my caste background became further entrenched and visible. I noted in my journal a few weeks into my Marathi lessons, while riding in an auto rickshaw (a three-wheeled taxilike vehicle), the driver overheard my conversation with a classmate. After responding to him in Marathi, the driver interrupted to note how distinctly Brahmin our Marathi was. From that day forward, I recognized the vocabulary and pronunciation I was learning in classes were intimately tied to a caste dialect as a Brahmin register of speech. Teachers employed by the language institute were Brahmins, and while the institute was charged with managing our linguistic education, they took on a cultural one as well. As we were learning what was considered to be a very proper variety and caste-based form of Marathi, teachers referred to the standardized form of Marathi as ‘shudh Marathi’. Shudh translates to pure in English, and this Brahmin caste-tinged term was used instead of praman, the literal translation for ‘standard’ or ‘standardized’ in Marathi. Outsiders to Pune identify the city by this specific form of Marathi or how well Punekars, as residents of Pune are called, have preserved and insist of continuing a pure form of Marathi. Shudh Marathi, seen by my teachers and interlocutors, is praman or ‘standard’ Marathi. As we were learning what was considered to be a pure form of the language, it is therefore not surprising that notions of linguistic purity map directly onto caste ideologies of purity and the cultural understandings of the casted hierarchy of purity and pollution. Friends and acquaintances I made later in my research would sometimes joke, when they heard me speak Marathi, that I spoke like a devoutly religious and/or older Punekar. When I was complimented on how my Marathi proficiency progressed, the compliment signaled both my growing knowledge of the

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language and also language ideologies concerning my background in connection to the language. My acquired Marathi positioned me among a Brahmin cultural and linguistic hegemony in Pune and further entrenched me within Brahmin social worlds. Negotiating language and class hierarchies

As I needed to use and understand a colloquial form of Marathi, I worked with teachers in the last week of my language course in 2016 to learn which words were commonly spoken in English rather than Marathi because I needed to adjust and incorporate more English into my Marathi to speak like local translanguaging younger, middle-class Punekars. Translanguaging describes the particular socialized use of English and Marathi used by the middle-class in Pune indicating that multilingual speakers maximize communicative potential by calling upon a distinct language repertoire to meet changing contextual needs without the distinction of switching between marked or unmarked codes, languages or language varieties (Canagarajah, 2011; García, 2009a, 2009b; Otheguy et al., 2015). Mixing and changing from speaking English, Hindi and Marathi in Pune is common and expected in many social situations and points to a broader picture of language practices as part of ongoing social change in the region. For example, in asymmetrical relationships of power and authority such as with instructors and students or shopkeepers and customers, interactants may choose to speak in differing preferred languages and language varieties to facilitate communication and meet communicative expectations in different domains. Specifically in Pune, sometimes speakers’ translanguaging practices, or the integration of English words that had been subsumed into the middle-class Marathi context or domain in which an interaction was taking place, such as a high-end cafe or mall. Other times, using English was a middle-class and high-caste contextually expected form of marked codeswitching, or the distinct use of English or Marathi, when speakers were attempting to assert power over others or display certain aspects of their identities. As a young woman conducting independent research, I wanted to try and sound as authoritative as possible in my Marathi translanguaging practices to diminish those uncomfortable, failed marked codeswitching moments. These negotiations proved to be an integral part of my language learning process. It is important to distinguish between the standardized form of Marathi that carries a high moral value from the more commonly spoken variety and colloquial translanguaging practices that do not afford high social or cultural capital for speakers. Through experience, I learned that the middle-class, younger generations do not assign the same high social capital to shudh, or pure, Marathi words that my older, more staunchly Brahmin and Hindu teachers did. While my host parents were upper

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middle-class Brahmins, their grown children represented a younger generation in Pune who were not as adherent to Brahmin restrictions as their parents were. When the parents went out of town, their children would order meat-based take-out food. While the parents were aware their children ate meat and brought it into the house occasionally, it was an unspoken rule not to explicitly divulge when they brought meat into the house. Even though my host siblings transgressed on this rule, they never went so far as to cook meat in the house and even brought to my attention that they have different utensils for the maids from different castes to cook with and for cooking eggs (the food item that distinguishes between those vegetarians who are ‘veg’ or ‘pure veg’). Generational distinctions in language use signal social changes, and to fit into my cohort of Marathispeaking Punekars, I reflect on a passage from my journal in 2013 where I found myself socially more closely aligned with younger generations but linguistically with older ones: I was doing Marathi homework at the kitchen table just before dinner. Sheela (my host mother’s daughter-in-law who was in her mid-thirties) was setting the table. In Marathi, she asked if I would like some water. I decided to practice some of the Marathi vocabulary I had learned, even though I have been actually using more English with my host family since every member of the four generations in the joint-family home is fluent in English. I said, ‘Mala ek pela pahije aani pelyamadhe, paani pahije. (I want one glass and inside the glass I want water)’ Even though Sheela understood my request, she burst out laughing, quickly covered her mouth, and switched to English. I was worried I said something offensive, but she assured me that my odd, long response to her simple question was grammatically correct, but that, ‘No one uses pela anymore. Everyone just says, ‘glass’. I’ll need to only use the word pela in Marathi classes and ‘glass’ everywhere else in the future. This is the same response I’ve gotten to using the word sarao (practice) in public. Now I think I know what I’m doing wrong, I just need to use the English words!

Trying to balance socially acceptable Marathi and English words in my speaking revealed a contradiction in local attitudes toward languages along class and generational lines. Pune is famous for shudh Marathi, and jokes circulate about how proudly strict locals are about it. Pune is known as a city where many locals place a high value on shudh Marathi while also expecting and anticipating knowledge of a colloquial translanguaging register incorporating many English words. Countless times after my pela/glass blunder in my host family, I had been praised for my use of shudh Marathi words such as oojvikarde and darvikarde for ‘right’ and ‘left’ in rickshaws. These praises were indicative of an ingrained and implicit regard for the uncommonly used shudh variety of the language, pride at foreigners like myself for learning it, and of a hegemony of shudh Marathi. Every time I used a shudh word for a common item from daily, urban life experiences like imarat (building) and karayalay (office) among

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native Marathi speakers, my utterance would be noted with praise, laughter or both. My experiences using and navigating my movements and relationships in Marathi show the role of language practices in a process of social change. The anxieties my relatives and interlocutors felt about the shifting forms of use of Marathi sometimes spurred efforts to assert rights to a regional identity. I consciously began to incorporate English words into my Marathi vocabulary so as to not stand out from the middle-class individuals with whom I was researching. I learned through expressing my confusion to others about trying to fit in as a middle-class non-resident Indian (NRI), that if someone of my age, educational background and class status were to insert Marathi into a conversational interaction, it would be taken as a political statement. As Indians from a region with a rich history of both linguistic and ethnic diversity, my Maharashtrian interlocutors emerged as members of an Indian state with sometimes violent, strong regional identity politics, such as the ones promoted in the 1970s through the 1990s by the Mumbai-based political party, the Shiv Sena. By the time I was learning Marathi in Pune, the Shiv Sena party had decreased violent agitations, but the ideological stronghold over Marathi and Marathi speakers remained and proliferated through the rise of a new Pune-based political party touting similar views and headed by the Shiv Sena’s deceased party leader’s nephew. The Shiv Sena’s regionalist agenda advocated for Maharashtrian rights over those of Indians and foreigners coming to the state from outside of Maharashtra and India and were often expressed in the conspicuous use of Marathi. It was more socially accepted and expected to use English as a young, upper middle-class Punekar rather than the shudh standard high-caste Marathi. Shudh Marathi is viewed to be not only out of date but also low class (but high caste). The specific dialect of Marathi is also politically charged if one has a high level of education, indicating that the speaker’s education would have been in English and the specific Marathi functions more like an intentional code switch in those instances (rather than the expected contextual translanguaging). Access in research through language

Learning a language is not only about vocabulary and grammar but also its context of use, and my Marathi teachers made many opportunities for us to speak with locals and read texts employing cultural tropes. However, the Marathi teachers were reluctant to teach literature from or about the lowest caste, Dalits. A couple of the teachers made faces when texts or students referenced eating meat, as staunch Brahmins are strictly vegetarian. One student reported a teacher to the institute’s administration when the teacher made comments on a text by a Dalit author that the

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student needed for her dissertation. The teacher’s comments referenced how work and relationships among Dalits were, ‘not nice’ or ‘not good’. Attitudes and outward displays of our teachers’ caste dispositions occurred even when it was well known that numerous students choose to spend their summer in India learning Marathi so that they would eventually research Dalit writing and activism movements, which originated in Marathi in Maharashtra. Among the Hindu Brahmin friends I made during my language studies and later research, it was determined to be socially acceptable for me to visit their homes, meet their parents and come to their areas of work. Due to my caste, gender and socioeconomic background paired with my interests in Marathi, meeting and conversing with interlocutors’ and friend’s families in their homes was a privilege not afforded to other friends and foreign students in our social circle. I began to build myself a network of Brahmin families and friends in the middle-class Brahmin stronghold neighborhood where I lived. During the process of language learning and acculturation to fieldwork, I had opportunities to meet new people. I followed connections as doors opened in the sense that friends I had made connected me with other friends and family members who took interest in my research. Only much later did I question the path on which these open doors were placed and realize how certain avenues became accessible while others became further restricted. For example, non-diaspora flatmates from France, Germany and the United States (and with whom I lived after my host family) had been invited to our lower caste domestic help’s home in a low socioeconomic neighborhood. For me, the invitation was never extended as it was only desirable of middle-class, Brahmin women to visit the neighborhood for social work and not social calls. In the informal and social networks I was making as well as professional/research ones, I had not realized the impact of my relatives’ approval of acquaintances who turned into interlocutors and friends and the affect this had on avenues of research and analysis. In my notes, I reflected on a moment in 2016 of how my movement and access to nonBrahmin spaces were addressed by my relatives: I told Jaya that I went to Chandandi Chowk for dinner the other night with Vishant. They of course remembered he was the Brahmin friend of mine from Uttar Pradesh (another state in India) due to his surname. I didn’t know there were restaurants like this one on the highways and I told Jaya we had the best chicken. It turns out Jaya knows of the area as does Mahadev (her husband) who overheard us in the kitchen. They both said that stretch of highway is ‘not clean’ and to be careful there, which I think means it is associated more with lower class and lower caste locals. She told me, kindly, that it’s not a good place for me to go as it isn’t safe.

It was through rebukes that the area was not safe for women, especially younger foreign ones like myself traveling at night, that I learned

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what was deemed to be acceptable versus what was unbecoming of Hindu Brahmin women to my relatives and teachers and by extension, Brahmin, middle-class social networks. I similarly would conceal when I visited friends who were not Brahmin or Hindu, which can be discerned by last name in many cases. I had friends who were from the Maratha caste, a caste that is also considered to be upper caste but lower in caste hierarchy than Brahmins. I would explicitly omit when I often had lunch with one close friend from the Maratha caste or would leave his name out when listing who I attended weekend excursions with. Similarly, I concealed that I spent time with a Muslim friend and interlocutor who additionally would not share with his family when we met for meals. My well-meaning cousins and aunts also dissuaded me from attending public celebrations with large crowds, and I often divulged that I had viewed public celebrations in the company of Brahmin male friends, which put them at ease. Their concerns cited that public festivals drew large groups of men from different castes and classes and a single, Indian-passing woman was not viewed kindly taking part in those sorts of public displays or mixed company. Whereas foreign women were often welcomed and judged by different expectations, as Abu-Lughod notes the cultural distance assigning them the role as ‘honorary men’ and able to access spaces off-limits to local women (1988). Ultimately, my relatives’ reprimands and efforts at persuasion rested on the assumption that I did not know better and that these spaces were not safe ones for me, however much it is in the tradition of ethnographic research to witness public culture and how notions of ‘safety’ can be used to mask exclusive patriarchal social structures. In actuality, when I visited the restaurant at the highway intersection, I was elated to see a different side of the city. It began to realize that I was only being allowed to see a very specific side of Pune due to the Hindu Brahmin networks I was becoming further embedded and accepted into. When I did catch glimpses of the city outside of Brahmin middle-class worlds, I learned not to reveal them to my relatives, teachers and interlocutors for fear of the effect on my reputation, future networks and interlocutors, and the credibility of my work. The variety of Marathi I was learning and the cultural forms of practice and expression tied to shudh Marathi explicitly positioned my researcher and heritage identity within Brahmin cultural worlds. This became very important later when I noted in which of the nine schools I visited for data collection where I felt more comfortable, linguistically. My notes reveal that I felt uncomfortable not understanding students and teachers when they used Marathi. Additionally, I recorded in my notes when teachers and students expressed either awe or dismay at my use of Marathi – indicating that it was either very formal or too different from the Marathi their communities used. I eventually did not choose or was not accepted by the school administrations to return to collect data in those schools. As much as I had hoped to traverse the worlds of different

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school actors, like the maushis or female assistants often from lower castes and classes who cleaned the school and assisted in classroom management, I found the form of Marathi I learned and used with my relatives was vastly different from the language of some integral educational actors. As I was interpellated by others through my speech, dress and movement around the city as a non-resident Indian and socioeconomically privileged woman, when I used shudh Marathi I was told it could be interpreted as a militant political choice. When made aware of these implications, I was very pleased about my progress learning Marathi but also worried about how my research interlocutors would react and what kinds of access I would be granted if they assumed I was conducting my project through the local politicized ideologies of language use, therefore complicating assumptions that learning a field language facilitates access to/in the field. I learned, though, that when I revealed to others that my father was from Pune and I had relatives residing there, my obscure last name shielded me from immediately revealing my caste background. However, my upbringing in the United States, my variety of shudh and halting Marathi, and where my relatives in Pune lived (in various Peths in the old city) were ways of discerning my caste status even without interlocuters knowing my last name, indicating forthright that I come from a family with caste and class privilege. Much of how we position ourselves may be out of our control, or more subtly controlled than we imagine and assume upon entry to a field site as a researcher. As a foreign though insider/outsider, diasporic female researcher collecting data in my father’s hometown, my position and role was increasingly imbued with power through language and defined by my intersecting identities which became more solidified and negotiated through my own movement and linguistic choices. I was drawn into Brahmin and middle-class social worlds and taught to speak the Brahmin dialect of the regional language, while also socialized into the middleclass translanguaging expectation of English and Marathi. The more I became implicated into my Indian family’s community through my Marathi language lessons and drawing upon them as resources for my research, I became further implicated in local social structures, ideologies and politics of identity categories as well and access to interlocutors outside of my caste and class narrowed, both socially and linguistically. While ethnographic research might imply assimilation into a local community, oftentimes through linguistic means, cultural insider/outsider researchers negotiate complex privileges and constraints that true cultural outsiders evade when leaving the field. As cultural outsider researchers can maintain that their reputations are more solely based on their own making, insider/outsider ones must carry differently the burden of lasting and intertwined reputations that both affect and are affected by others after they leave (Abu-Lughod, 1988; Narayan, 1993). The process of leaving has been detailed in terms of the emotional element of disengaging

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(Shaffir & Stebbins, 1991; Smith & Atkinson, 2017), misinterpretations or misunderstandings of fieldwork among interlocutors (Iversen, 2009) and complications in the transition from fieldwork to analysis (Bloor & Wood, 2006; Snow, 1980). To borrow Caretta and Cheptum’s (2017) term, ‘de-linking’ from relations nurtured among assistants and interlocutors in the field can be a significant moment in life trajectories with profound effects on researchers, studies and local communities. However, as an insider/outsider researcher, I may disengage from the specificities of my study on education and language, but I leave Pune still a family member and a speaker of my father’s mother tongue. Overall, learning Marathi and studying language at the institute for American scholars solidified my position as a member of a Brahmin family which limited my access in research and social life to members of lower classes and castes. Conclusion

As a multilingual HL learner researcher, my identity shifted as I progressed through learning an HL as a field language. Learning Marathi allowed me to strengthen familial ties, build bonds with interlocutors and access spaces from which cultural and linguistic outsiders may be excluded. Access I gained in areas of my research were facilitated, reinforced and then perpetuated by positioning my identity into specific casted, classed and gendered spheres but which isolated me from speakers from other castes and classes, especially ones who used forms of Marathi different from the shudh form I had been taught. Learning local translanguaging customs and expectations proved to be not only necessary for my doctoral research but also intimately intertwined with expectations about my status, identity and spheres of access as a cultural insider/outsider. My resulting dissertation analysis focused on social and economic privilege in Pune as facilitated by my positioning among high-caste and middle-class speech communities and cultural worlds. Ultimately, these implications informed access in my research to interlocutors from specific social categories in urban India. My analysis also gives a sense of navigating a field site and its social politics to manage assumptions and expectations interlocutors place upon researchers (Giampapa, 2011). Questions other researchers can ask as they progress through the process of learning field languages include seeking out the sociopolitical value or position of the language variety in society, who teaches languages, and in which social realms researchers are encouraged to use languages. Researcher identities, while highly subjective, become tied to local ideologies and structures of power in ways that are shape research and findings. Attempts I made to transcend the middleclass upper-caste hegemonic networks I was implicated in, by learning the colloquial and translanguaged form of the regional language, resulted in compartmentalizing aspects of my identity to strategically obscure and

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reveal different sides of myself to others depending on context and interlocutor expectations. My ability to gain insight into Hindu Brahmin worlds depended on masking my ties to individuals who remained outside of this network, such as Muslim interlocutors or friends I made from lower castes. Due to casted connections and the networks I built – founded on a specifically located caste connected to my father, Punekar relatives and the class into which I was interpellated – I was intimately implicated into notions of morality and beholden to standards of respectability regarding the people and spaces I accessed for my research. Ultimately, my research scope and findings on language ideologies in education reflect that I was afforded greater access to Hindu, Brahmin, middle-class and shudh Marathi-speaking worlds and that interlocutors and relatives positioned me within these cultural realms as well. Findings in future research will benefit from analyses of broader sociopolitical and linguistic contexts within which researcher identities are positioned. Situating researcher identities reflexively within future findings also reveals impacts of the subjective nature of fieldwork and learning field languages. Sociolinguistic networks and ideologies that I was socialized into directly impacted the schools I visited and the ways language shaped my experiences seeking out field sites as I positioned my identity as a diasporic researcher. These factors transcend my time in Pune collecting data for my doctoral research and contribute to and continue to shape avenues of my research and identity as a diaspora community member and researcher. References Abu-Lughod, L. (1988) Fieldwork of a dutiful daughter. In S. Altorki and C.F. El-Solh (eds) Arab Women in the Field: Studying Your Own Society (1st edn, Vol. Contemporary issues in the Middle East) (pp. 139–162). Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Althusser, L. (1971) Ideology and ideological state apparatuses (notes towards an investigation). In L. Althusser (ed.) Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essays (B. Brewster, Trans.) (pp. 79–87). London: New Left Books. Bartlett, L. (2007) Bilingual literacies, social identification, and educational trajectories. Linguistics and Education 18 (3– 4), 215–231. https://doi.org/10.1016/j. linged.2007.07.005. Bloor, M. and Wood, F. (2006) Leaving the field. In M. Bloor and F. Wood (eds) Keywords in Qualitative Methods: A Vocabulary of Research Concepts (pp. 111–113). London: SAGE. Borchgrevink, A. (2003) Silencing language: Of anthropologists and interpreters. Ethnography 4 (1), 95–121. Bourdieu, P. (1991) Language and Symbolic Power. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Bucholtz, M. and Hall, K. (2005) Identity and interaction: A sociocultural linguistic approach. Discourse Studies 7 (4–5), 585–614. Butler, J. (1997) Excitable Speech: A Politics of the Performative. New York: Routledge. Canagarajah, S. (2011) Translanguaging in the classroom: Emerging issues for research and pedagogy. Applied Linguistics Review 2, 1–28. Caretta, M.A. and Cheptum, F.J. (2017) Leaving the field: (De-)linked lives of the researcher and research assistant. Area 49 (4), 415–420. https://doi.org/10.1111/ area.12342.

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Chandras, J. (2019) Multilingual practices, education, and identity in Pune, India. PhD dissertation, George Washington University. Diddee, J. and Gupta, S. (2000) Pune: Queen of the Deccan. India: Elephant Design Pvt. Ltd. Ganassin, S. and Holmes, P. (2013) Multilingual research practices in community research. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23, 342–356. Ganassin, S. and Holmes, P. (2019) ‘I was surprised to see you in a Chinese school’: Researching multilingually opportunities and challenges in community-based research. Applied Linguistics 40 (5), 1–29. https://doi.org/10.1093/applin/amz043. García, O. (2009a) Bilingual Education in the 21st Century: A Global Perspective. Oxford: Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell Pub. García, O. (2009b) Education, multilingualism and translanguaging in the 21st century. In A. Mohanty, M. Panda, R. Phillipson and T. Skutnabb-Kangas (eds) Multilingual Education for Social Justice: Globalising the Local (pp. 128–145). New Delhi: Orient Blackswan (former Orient Longman). Geertz, C. (1973) The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books. Giampapa, F. (2011) The politics of ‘being and becoming’ a researcher: Identity, power, and negotiating the field. Journal of Language, Identity & Education 10 (3), 132–144. https://doi.org/10.1080/15348458.2011.585304. Giampapa, F. and Lamoureux, S.A. (2011) Voices from the field: Identity, language, and power in multilingual research settings. Journal of Language Identity and Education 10 (3), 127–131. Gibb, R. and Danero Iglesias, J. (2016) Breaking the silence (again): On language learning and levels of fluency in ethnographic research. The Sociological Review 65 (1), 134–149. Gibb, R., Tremlett, A. and Danero Iglesias, J. (eds) (2020) Learning and Using Languages in Ethnographic Research. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Goffman, E. (1981) Forms of Talk. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Gumperz, J. (1971) Language in Social Groups. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Hayfield, N. and Huxley, C. (2015) Insider and outsider perspectives: Reflections on researcher identities in research with lesbian and bisexual women. Qualitative Research in Psychology 12 (2), 91–106. https://doi.org/10.1080/14780887.2014.918224. Heller, M. (1994) Crosswords: Language, Education, and Ethnicity in French Ontario. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Henry, M.G. (2003) ‘Where are you really from?’: Representation, identity and power in the fieldwork experiences of a South Asian diasporic. Qualitative Research 3 (2), 229–242. https://doi.org/10.1177/14687941030032005. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23, 285–299. Hornberger, N. (2005) Opening and filling up implementational and ideological spaces in heritage language education. The Modern Language Journal 89 (4), 582–616. https:// doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-4781.2005.00331.x. Iversen, R.R. (2009) ‘Getting out’ in ethnography: A seldom-told story. Qualitative Social Work 8 (1), 9–26. https://doi.org/10.1177/1473325008100423. Jacobs-Huey, L. (2002) The natives are gazing and talking back: Reviewing the problematics of positionality, voice, and accountability among ‘native’ anthropologists. American Anthropologist 10 4 (3), 791–80 4. https://doi.org /10.152 5/ aa.2002.104.3.791. Khairkar, V.P. (2002) Immigration to the city of Pune: A geographical analysis. See http:// shodhganga.inflibnet.ac.in:8080/jspui/handle/10603/149742 (accessed 25 November 2019). Kramsch, C. (2011) The symbolic dimensions of the intercultural. Language Teaching 44 (3), 354–367. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0261444810000431.

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Kuipers, J. (1998) Language, Identity, and Marginality in Indonesia: The Changing Nature of Ritual Speech on the Island of Sumba. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Leeman, J., Rabin, L. and Roman-Mendoza, E. (2011) Identity and activism in heritage language education. The Modern Language Journal 95 (4), 481–495. Mayorga-Gallo, S. and Hordge-Freeman, E. (2017) Between marginality and privilege: Gaining access and navigating the field in multiethnic settings. Qualitative Research 17 (4), 377–394. https://doi.org/10.1177/1468794116672915. Merritt, M., Cleghorn, A., Abagi, J. and Bunyi, G. (1992) Socialising multilingualism: Determinants of codeswitching in Kenyan primary classrooms. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 13 (1–2), 103–121. https://doi.org/10.1 080/01434632.1992.9994486. Narayan, K. (1993) How native is a ‘native’ anthropologist? American Anthropologist 95 (3), 671–686. Otheguy, R., García, O. and Reid, W. (2015) Clarifying translanguaging and deconstructing named languages: A perspective from linguistics. Applied Linguistics Review 6 (3), 281–307. Phipps, A. (2013) Linguistic incompetence: Giving an account of researching multilingually. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 329–341. Preece, S. (2009) Posh Talk: Language and Identity in Higher Education. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Shaffir, W. and Stebbins, R.A. (1991) Leaving and keeping in touch. In W. Shaffir and R.A. Stebbins (eds) Experiencing Fieldwork (pp. 207–255). London: Sage. Shin, S. (2010) ‘What about me? I’m not like Chinese but I’m not like American’: Heritagelanguage learning and identity of mixed-heritage adults. Journal of Language, Identity & Education 9 (3), 203–219. https://doi.org/10.1080/15348458.2010.486277. Smith, K. and Atkinson, M. (2017) Avada Kedavra: Disenchantment, empathy, and leaving ethnography. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health 9 (5), 636–650. https://doi.org/10.1080/2159676X.2017.1354966. Snow, D.A. (1980) The disengagement process: A neglected problem in participant observation research. Qualitative Sociology 3 (2), 100–122. Te Huia, A. (2017) Exploring the role of identity in Māori heritage language learner motivations. Journal of Language, Identity & Education 16 (5), 299–312. https://doi.org /10.1080/15348458.2017.1319282. Tremlett, A. (2009) Claims of ‘knowing’ in ethnography: Realising anti-essentialism through a critical reflection on language acquisition in fieldwork. Graduate Journal of Social Science 6 (3), 63–85. Trifonas, P. and Aravossitas, T. (2014) Rethinking Heritage Language Education. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Woolard, K. (1998) Introduction: Language Ideology as a Field of Inquiry. In B. Shieffelin, K. Woolard and P. Kroskrity (eds) Language Ideologies: Practice and Theory (pp. 3–48). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yacob-Haliso, O. (2018) Intersectionalities and access in fieldwork in postconflict Liberia: Motherland, motherhood, and minefields. African Affairs 118 (470), 168–181.

9 Multilingual Research for New Social Realities: Towards a Transdisciplinary Approach Julie S. Byrd Clark and Sylvie Roy

As we have observed through our own sociolinguistic ethnographic research, multilinguals’ complex positionings and practices tend to obscure, destabilize and, at times, transform ‘either-or’ and ‘black and white’ approaches to language education (and reality for that matter). In this chapter, we propose a transdisciplinary approach which takes into account the multidimensionality of complexities, opportunities and challenges when conducting multilingual research. Transdisciplinary, in this sense, represents a broader conceptualization of in-betweenness in that it takes account not only of the creative crossing between disciplines but also of the intersecting, meshing and inter-connectedness between literacies, modalities, epistemologies, identities, languages, codes, contexts, learning environments and social backgrounds (see Byrd Clark, 2016). All of us, while in varied ways and at varied degrees, have to work (in) between these spaces (e.g. structure and agency) – and languages, in this case – and one way to do this is to bring more attention to our transdisciplinarities, reflecting upon the things that we do as researchers, in hopes of sharing some of the choices, challenges and opportunities when researching multilingually. Shedding light on such transdisciplinarities, we cannot but reflect upon our experiences, interpretations, intentions, understandings, epistemologies and ontologies when researching multilingually. In doing so, we discuss some of our interpretations and blind spots1 when trying to make decisions on what information to include, whose ‘voices’ to share – vis-àvis our own complex positionings and trajectories. More specifically, we explore how we have gone about researching multilingually in r­ elation to larger discourses and representational systems of power (e.g. official bilingualism, the complex position of French in Canada and Indigenizing the academy). 189

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As such, we draw primarily from our recent work together on a longitudinal research project, entitled French Immersion for New Social Realities in Transnational Times2 which has sought to investigate the significance of bi/multilingualism for multilingual students of immigrant origin participating in French language education programs in Canada (namely, the provinces of Alberta and Ontario). While Canada has been represented as an official bilingual and multicultural country for a little over 50 years, the lived reality of bilingualism and multiculturalism is not experienced uniformly, and there is much unevenness surrounding being and becoming a certain kind of (idealized) bilingual (Byrd Clark, 2012; Roy, 2015). Nevertheless, official language educational policies continue to reproduce solutions based on the language-nation-state ideology (Hobsbawm, 1990) reminiscent of the 1960s and 1970s (e.g. one language, one people) which do not reflect the social realities of today’s youth (Byrd Clark, 2011, 2012) or today’s researchers, for that matter. Recent initiatives in the literature have begun to open up the teaching of national standard languages to sociolinguistic variation, translation practices, multimodal activities, plurilingualism and translanguaging (e.g. de Souza, 2019; García & Kano, 2014; Lin, 2020), highlighting the potential of drawing upon students’ linguistic resources in flexible, dynamic ways. Accordingly, many researchers and educators worldwide are investigating multilingual youth and the impact of multilingual practices that tend to blur as well as challenge traditional boundaries related to languages, identities, cultures and education (Byrd Clark, 2010; May, 2019; Roy, 2010), revealing multimodal, affective and symbolic ways of communicating. However, with the exception of this volume and others now emerging in the Multilingual Matters ‘Researching Multilingually’ series, not much attention has focused on what multilingual researchers do, that is to say, the discussion of some of the processes of how researchers who research multilingually and interculturally negotiate and work in-between the ‘real life’ heterogeneous positions and practices performed by people in their everyday lives (Byrd Clark, 2012) and the institutional structures within which they work – which often uphold and reproduce structuralist, positivist approaches to reality (as we shall see in the upcoming sections). Thus, we find it essential to include some of the transdisciplinarity with our own complex positionings and discursive practices (which includes translanguaging), and we do this in relation to our contextual situations, our ethical and intercultural navigations, as well as our relational engagements with one another, with our participants and the institutional affiliations we represent. In what follows, we first situate what we mean by transdisciplinary and how this conceptualization relates to our own positionings in this chapter. After providing a brief rationale of our current research, we then share our particular researcher orientations within the Canadian context,

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which we hope provide some clarity on the significance of incorporating transdisciplinary approaches for researching multilingually. Transdisciplinarity: Insights from the Literature

Within the past two decades, there has been an increasing interest in the prefix trans among scholars in applied linguistics and intercultural education (Byrd Clark, 2016; Douglas Fir Group, 2016; García, 2009; Hawkins & Mori, 2018). As Byrd Clark (2016) recently pointed out, the trans has much to do with being in-transit, or moving, shifting, an inbetweenness. Going further than the Douglas Fir Group and its focus on ‘bridge-building’, or the bringing together of multiple disciplinary (intellectual) perspectives to the field, Byrd Clark expands the meaning of transdisciplinarity to include ‘an openness to social variation’, with the relationships and ‘the crossing between disciplines, literacies, modalities, languages, codes, contexts, and learning environments’ (2016: 3). At the same time, transdisciplinarity underscores the connections and interpretations of researchers and research participants, as their practices reflect the crossing, intersecting and navigating of the in-betweenness of social structures and the subjective dimensions of everyday life. Byrd Clark (2016) emphasizes collective creativity, arguing that we need to work together and with each other. ‘Without this discourse and dialogue, without this theoretically- and practically based co-creation, shared reflection, and mutual appropriation of new concepts by both theory and practice, transdisciplinarity remains merely academic disciplines inter-operating on high levels of abstraction’ (Perrin & Kramsch, 2018: 6). But why transdisciplinarity, translingual, and not multi, pluri, inter? Much of human reality and social institutions have operated and been dominated by binary (‘either-or’), dualistic (‘this and that’) structuralist ways of thinking, being, and doing life. These Western worldview (e.g. Cartesian, Newtonian) approaches have also dominated the ways in which we look at language (and culture). Very simply, with a ‘multi’ approach, the traditional psycholinguistic way to conceptualize bi- or multilingualism has been to look at two or three separate linguistic codes, as monolingual systems rather than dynamic practices and systems which overlap, intersect and connect. Additionally, people’s language use and their social identities were categorized in much the same way: ‘I’m American, I’m French on my mother’s side, Italian and Irish on my father’s side’, listing identities as static homogeneous entities, separate from one another. Because of the emphasis on binary, ‘either-or’, ‘cause and effect’, positivist scientific methods dominating language and intercultural education in schools, and also ‘because of power differentials built up during the processes of nation-building and colonial formation, monolingual white elites and their ways of languaging have been considered the norm’ (García

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& Otheguy, 2020: 17–18). Indigenous worldviews, such as transdisciplinarity, which offer multiple ways of seeing and knowing the world, and linguistic diversity/ies have been (historically) approached as a problem (rather than a resource or asset) that needs to be solved or fixed. Differences are often seen as causes of conflicts; they are therefore problems for society to solve and barriers for individuals to overcome. Nevertheless during the past 20–30 years, the monolingual (colonialist) or Western worldview approach to languages and identities has been challenged with an emphasis on critical, social approaches to bi/multilingualism (e.g. Lin, 2014; Pennycook, 2010), theories on multi-competence (Cook, 2008), social identity (Tabouret-Keller, 1997), interculturality (Holliday, 2013), plurilingualism (Choi et al., 2018; Coste, 2002; Lin, 2020; Moore & Gajo, 2009) and reflexivity (Byrd Clark, 2020). Plurilingualism originated from Europe and was intended to acknowledge the overlappings and intersections happening between the linguistic parts of an individual’s holistic linguistic repertoire, making the argument that linguistic competence is not unidimensional nor does it develop uniformly. In fact, the goal for plurilingualism should be partial competence in multiple languages, rather than full competence in two or three (see Hélot & Cavalli, 2017). Nonetheless, there is still an emphasis on dualistic approaches for plurilingual education, advocating that although codeswitching no longer represents a stigmatized, reviled, deviant form of behavior (see Labov, 1972), plurilingual students must learn the dominant monolingual ways of being multilingual at school, and yet likewise develop an awareness of linguistic hierarchies – so again, ‘this and that’. Dualisms are not bad, by any means, and surely, as Lin (2020) argues, they can exist side by side, rather than an ‘either-or’ binary approach. Moreover, we do need to understand and be able to function with them in society – because certainly we know there are consequences of not being able to navigate dominant discourses! But dualisms appear still more limiting in terms of what humans can do with our language use and who we can become, particularly when we focus on the navigating in-between structures and agencies. Dualisms perpetuate fixed homogeneous entities (black and white; Anglophone and Francophone; monolingual and multilingual, etc.), rather than fluid, embodied heterogeneous ones. For instance, the Canadian government continues to operate in a dualistic, fixed manner, by embodying the language-nation-state-ideology adopted from the 1960s and 1970s, which perpetuates both the use and social categories of Anglophones and Francophones as separate, founding groups all the while having completely ignored the fact that neither of these so-called homogeneous ‘two solitude’ groups were the first people to live in Canada (reconciliation efforts have only recently begun with First Nations people in Canada (see revised Official Languages Act, 20193)). The inter, which similarly elucidates the in-betweenness and connectedness as the trans, has been used by postmodern researchers to capture

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the depth of connections, complexities (and contradictions) of cross-­ cultural communication. The use of inter problematizes ‘culture’ by revealing the dialectial relationship between the ‘self’ and ‘other’, in a reflexive sense (Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014), meaning that there is no self without other, and no other without self, they are always in relation and situated. However, unlike the inter, the trans as a root, not only highlights ‘­in-transit’ and ‘in-betweenness’ but also carries a dynamic transformational component, something in the process of transforming our ways of thinking or being transformed (e.g. structures; language, ideas, etc.). It is in this doing (e.g. embodying, transforming aspect) of in-betweenness, this in-transit heterogenous part of the journey that we find creativity, resourcefulness, flexibility, multiple meaning-making and complexities that destabilize social frames, dismantle boundaries and national ideologies. ‘Transdisciplinary approaches lend themselves to the re-imagining of multidimensional ways of meaning making (e.g. translanguaging, translating, gesturing) that are fluid, but also and more importantly, valued and encouraged’ (Byrd Clark, 2016: 5). Transdisciplinarity (with a reflexive component) may engage new realities of speakers and languages where conceptualizations of language and disciplines are shifted in the process. As Byrd Clark (2016) reminds us that ideas are not tied to any one ­discipline – just as making meaning is not tied exclusively to one linguistic code – and that disciplines are not separate static entities (i.e. they overlap, inform and intersect with one another), we are permitted to observe the complexities and fluid practices that transcend socially constructed language systems and structures. Such transdisciplinary approaches and practices could potentially lead to the transformative capacity of an individual’s cognition and social structures. More importantly, transdisciplinarities build upon and reflect Indigenous worldviews which challenge the conventional, dominant way of seeing and knowing the world and remind us of our inter-connectedness to each other and our multiple ways of knowing, sharing, and experiencing the world. Alas, returning to the use of the prefix trans, Perrin and Kramsch (2018) state the multi, inter and pluri ‘tend to denote the movement between two distinct entities and their relationships whereas trans aims at superseding the distinct entities themselves’ (2018: 1). In this chapter, we understand that there is continual movement and messiness between the dualistic, structuralist entities as implied by trans, and at the same time, while we can see how the trans could lead to superseding these ­structuralist entities, for our intentions here, we draw upon transdisciplinarity to show some of our creative and complex ways of engaging with (and potentially decolonizing) these structures, the contexts, with one another, with our research participants, community members, etc. through our lived experiences to shed light on what it means to research multilingually. In this sense, we broaden Perrin and Kramsch’s (2018) meaning of transdisciplinarity by including and engaging new ontologies

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of speakers and languages where the idea of language itself as well as ways of knowing, doing, and understanding are altered in the process (in this case, ourselves as multilingual researchers). Researchers’ Orientations: Who Are the ‘We’ Represented in this Chapter?

As researchers who self-position as critical sociolinguistic, postmodern researchers, applied linguists, ethnographers, discourse analysts, critical pedagogues and co-authors, we have had to negotiate and ‘come clean’ with our own transdisciplinarities in different spaces. Shedding light on such transdisciplinarities, we cannot help but include our particular experiences, affective filters and representations (epistemological and ontological) as an important part of the process when researching multilingually. We bring these experiences with us, in each and every encounter, and while we cannot separate from them, we can become aware of them and include the ways in which they have an impact on our intentions, interpretations and representations as researchers. Like many, we have had to fluctuate in-between voices of privilege and marginalization though at shifting, varied degrees. Although we both identify and share identifications as multilinguals, pedagogues, researchers, etc., our processes of being and becoming multilinguals differ considerably. When researching multilingually and advocating for transdisciplinarity, it is essential for us to be upfront about our own complex, political positionings. For co-authorship and disclosure purposes, we present our ‘self’ representations in the third person. We begin by including the transdisciplinarity of our diverse, complex linguistic, social and pedagogical backgrounds as multilinguals. Julie

Julie has always had a difficult time self-identifying, as she feels very much in-between places, identities and languages. While born and raised in a small city in upstate New York in the United States of America, Julie grew up with her maternal grandparents, who were Southern Italian immigrants, speaking a mixture of Sicilian dialect and English at home. She studied French as a Foreign Language in the United States in the 1980–1990s when reclaiming one’s heritage language was just beginning to gain recognition in a controversial assimilationist climate (see Crawford, 1992). Similar to many of her research participants, French represented a desire to be seen and heard differently – but was also an embodied experience as Julie felt like French was something that was a part of her, in her somehow – something would go off in her head every time she heard French. Little did she know that her love of French would later motivate her to formally study Italian. That said, Julie studied Italian

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for the first time, formally, at the age of 29, at an intensive adult immersion summer program offered at Middlebury College, in Vermont, USA. Although she experienced marginalization (singled out, humiliated) as she was corrected many, many times for using ‘dialect’ and not ‘standard Italian’ when speaking or responding to questions in class, she also met some lovely people who inspired her to move to Canada. Before moving to Canada to pursue a PhD, and after earning two master’s degrees (one in French literature, the other in Bilingual Studies/Applied Linguistics) in the process, Julie became a teacher. She taught high school French and Spanish, elementary English as a Second Language in the United States, and English as a Foreign Language in France as a lectrice. As a teacher, Julie worked with students from lower socioeconomic backgrounds as a K-12 language teacher (e.g. Baltimore, Maryland), where she inadvertently became an interpreter for teachers and parents during their parent/teacher conferences (Spanish with mixed in Italian words and English). At the same time, Julie studied languages alongside students from elite, upper social class backgrounds (e.g. Middlebury College; La Sorbonne). Additionally, Julie grew up with particular kinds of adversities in life (e.g. difficult childhood, surviving loss, trauma and tragedy at a young age). She also lived between Protestant and Catholic (and later Judaism and Unitarian) faiths, between Mediterranean, Celtic and British heritage (and much later, has reconnected and reclaimed her Indigenous ancestry from her Father’s side), between Italian dialect and English4 (and later French5), and again, between working class Italian immigrants and middle class Americans. Of course, this in-betweenness has had a huge influence on Julie’s ways of relating to the world, and how she has come to understand, engage with and see reality/ies. To this day, she lives between countries (dual citizen of Canada and the United States), and inbetween languages, including trans-languaging (Italiese, Franglais, Frantaliano, Spanglish, etc.). Because of these transdisciplinarities and reflexivity (see Byrd Clark, 2020), Julie has developed great empathy for people, particularly those who have been judged unfairly and misunderstood because of construed social differences. Flexibility, open-­ mindedness, reflexivity and adaptability are key, for Julie, in being able to communicate and understand each other in a multitude of ways. Drawing on the multiple ways people have ‘seen’ Julie (e.g. as Italian, Spanish, Native American, Jewish, French, Irish, Swiss, British, etc.), and her openness to adapt, she has been able to cross certain social, linguistic and racial boundaries, at different times. This openness, willingness and adaptability in self/other relations in turn reciprocate a relationality, comfort and a level of trust with her research participants (she hopes, anyway!). These transdisciplinarities (subjective and experiential) have contributed to Julie’s varied interests (literature, applied linguistics, translingualism, Ecopsychology, contemplative education, Indigenous education, etc.) and transdisciplinary ways of seeing and experiencing life.

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Julie applies transdisciplinarity by looking at language and culture as something one does, not what one necessarily has. Drawing upon her multidimensional linguistic and cultural repertoire, she can sometimes capture data that would otherwise be missed – and other times, she has to be a transdisciplinary facilitator, working with diverse community members, willing to take risks in being able to include different voices, representations and methods in collecting and presenting data (controversial, causing tensions, going against some of the more conventional ways of researching, etc.). For this reason, Julie draws upon her transdisciplinarities and reflexivity. Transdisciplinary approaches can help to build bridges not only between disciplines but between people, languages, ways of being and can create new awareness, new explorations and new inspirations across other knowledge systems (see Battiste & Henderson, 2021). Although not a panacea or universal remedy, reflexivity offers ways to unveil the ethics that motivate our decisions as well as engage with intense self-other interactions. The willingness to engage self/other interactions help to develop and inspire transdisciplinarity, respecting our individual complexities and at the same time, being reminded of our collective interconnectedness. Thus, such experiences and in-betweenness cannot help but be present in Julie’s everyday encounters, interactions, performances – and her blind spots too! Sylvie

Sylvie was born and grew up during the 1960s Quiet Revolution in Québec (where historical events mandated the need to protect the French language from the English through both law and official policies). She studied English as a Second Language and Spanish later on, and proceeded to teach both elementary and secondary French Immersion and French as a first language in minority contexts in Canada. She lived at the border of the United States in a small working-class village where her mother worked in Rubber shop and her father in construction. Both parents didn’t go to school for long. She was the second of a family of four children. She grew up speaking and studying only French all the way to University. Where she is from though, her French wasn’t qualified as the best French because there was a lot of codeswitching and borrowing from English. She had to pretend that she was speaking well enough in French when she left the village. She lived in Eastern Township surrounded by English ‘people’ in small towns and villages. They were the strangers that she never talked to. Furthermore, her best friend came from Poland but was considered the poor and weird one of the village. Sylvie learned English for the first time when she moved to Calgary at the end of the 1990s. She was hired to teach in a French Immersion school. It was a cultural shock especially at that time, Francophones in Alberta were the ‘strangers’ and the ‘others’. She didn’t stay long and moved to Toronto, a

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multilingual and multicultural city, where she studied at the University of Toronto. When she met her husband (an English-speaking Dutch man) from Ontario, she continued to practice English. While studying for her doctorate, she taught in Francophone schools in Ontario where French is a minority language. Later on, she studied Spanish in Mexico for three months (and later on in Spain) bringing her children aged 7 and 10 with her to learn the language. Even though Sylvie was raised in a situation where French needed to be protected, teaching in a program where French and English were separated and learning Spanish later, she believes that inclusivity and complexity are at the center of what she does. Even if her beliefs or first reactions are to protect French in Canada and she gets a twisted feeling in the stomach when people talk against French, she believes in inclusion for all kids. Having family members in the LGBTQ+ group and a transgender child, she learned how painful it can be for those you love to be rejected. Right now, Sylvie is still reflecting on how and why people do what they do; what would be the best way to promote French for all while staying Francophone and bilinguals in Canada and how we can ensure that LGBTQ+, immigrants, First Nations, Métis and Inuit Initiatives (FNMI), and all children can feel safe and be happy in the world. In order to conduct research multilingually, Sylvie uses reflexivity in order to conduct her studies with students, parents and administrators that have several languages and identities. Because she was raised in a very strict environment to protect French, and it is very political in Canada to make sure that Francophones are heard, she, sometimes needs to openly remind herself that multilinguals have different views. These representations are very small snapshots of how we self-­ represent and have been represented by others, but it provides a glimpse of the contexts, historical backgrounds, social conditions and kinds of experiences we’ve had. In the next sections, we outline some examples of what it means and has meant for us to research multilingually, and how we have drawn upon our transdisciplinarities in order to ‘carve out’ new spaces within our departments and our research. We present some of the challenges and opportunities when researching multilingually. Contexts: Conditions and Positionings in our Departments and Universities

Like many critical sociolinguistic ethnographic researchers, we engage with complexities but are often expected to continue to work in and under dualistic, ‘black-and-white’ structuralist conditions at our institutions. As Warner (2018) has eloquently conveyed, one of the main struggles in having a transdisciplinary background has been to ‘fit in’ and feel a sense of ‘belonging’ to a designated research area and/or faculty. Both of us work in faculties of education. Faculties of education are well known for bringing together scholars with different disciplinary orientations (e.g.

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educational psychology, curriculum studies, educational leadership and policy, second language education, etc.); however, for colleagues with transdisciplinary backgrounds (like ourselves), many times we must ­position, reposition and maneuver through in order to fit into the institutional positions that are available to us – ‘positions that are on the one hand often ill-suited or even inhospitable to the kinds of transdisciplinary work these scholars wish to achieve in their teaching and research’ (Warner, 2018: 31). Adding to these binary, mechanistic, reductionist conditions of the university has been the rise of neoliberal economics, and the promulgation of scientific methods at universities, which have led to quick-fix, ‘bums in seats’, revenue-generating, business model approaches to researching language learning and teaching. ‘These kinds of shifts and instrumentalization of knowledge are having a huge impact on what constitutes education, who gets to decide, as well as what does it mean to teach, learn and do research in contemporary times’ (Byrd Clark, 2020: 97). For example, many applied linguistics departments and scholars currently work in applied linguistics and TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) departments (as if applied linguists only work in/exclusively with English). Such departments consist of professional master’s programs in TESOL, which have drawn international students, mainly from China, by marketing English as an investment guaranteed to provide social and material gain (we have both personally experienced this business model of education first-hand). Such shifts have promoted a hierarchy and politics of language; that of English as linguistic and symbolic capital and as a highly sought after commodity (e.g. idealized native speakerism). In order to conduct research and to publish, one of us always needs to negotiate her English competency. For instance, Sylvie wrote a book in English on ideologies in French Immersion, trying to deconstruct the idea that only native speakers of English can write a book (Roy, 2020). She feels though that she is not legitimate in writing the book in English even if she wants to deconstruct the idea that it is possible to write without having ‘mastered’ standard English. When Sylvie wrote the book in English, she was rejected from one of the Canadian University Press under the reason that, as a Francophone, she should have written in French. Therefore researching multilingually is also making sure that when collecting data, as a researcher, we have sensitivity and compassion, in that our positionings are not seen as ‘someone’ from the outside or ‘someone’ who wants to judge. Another challenge that poses resistance to transdisciplinary work when researching multilingually, for both of us, has had to do with our university ethics review boards. Within the past 10 years, our faculties have shifted and whereas it used to be common for a Faculty of Education to have its own sub-Research Ethics Board (REB) Committee, everything has now been centralized to one university review board for all

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departments and faculties. As it so happens, both of our universities are well known for sciences, engineering, business and medicine, so the majority of ethical review board members reflect such epistemological and ontological backgrounds (positivist, post-positivist). Suffice it to say, more often than not, our ethics review applications are returned to us, asking for more explanation and clarifications pertaining to our research methods. The main problem we encounter is that the majority of board members do not understand what ethnography is, as a qualitative method (the necessity of conducting observations, 6 participant observation, interviews, focus groups, using multi-modalities, etc. Therefore, because of our ‘different’ conceptual approach, we often experience delays of six to nine months before receiving ethical approval to conduct our research from our universities – even though our research has been externally funded, approved and awarded by the Canadian government. Furthermore, despite Canada being an officially bilingual country, we cannot submit our ethical protocols in French only at our universities – we must submit translations of any and all of our documentation from French into English. Working under these binary, voices of authority-like conditions (ethics review board) have made it even more challenging for researchers to carry out and conduct particular kinds of research (e.g. transdisciplinary, ethnographic, narrative inquiry, etc.). In other words, there is a huge bias and unequal support for quantitative, empirical, evidence-based research measures and statistical data. All this to say that despite our tremendous personal commitment, openness to variation and creativity, we do encounter very real struggles with our transdisciplinarities or ‘in-betweenness’. So what do we do, as researchers, what kinds of choices do we make and what are our intentions when researching multilingually? In the next section, we shed light on the ways in which we work together, multilingually, and some of the decisions that we make (and have made) in relation to the kinds of work we produce. Relational Aspects: Complexities and Considerations of Working on Grant Writing

As Holmes et al. (2013, 2016) have illustrated, the relational aspects between researchers in the process of researching multilingually hold great significance. Similar to Creese et al. (2017) who have written about working in research teams, we currently work together as a team, on a longitudinal Canadian government-funded sociolinguistic ethnographic study. Writing a grant application is a complex, long and arduous process, which takes a lot of time, flexibility and perseverance. That said, before deciding to enter the grant writing competition with a research partner (or collaborators), it’s important to have balance and a good epistemological and relational fit. Equally important is to have shared interests, and most

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of all, respect for one another as human beings – and all the particularities (transdisciplinarities) that each person brings and contributes to the research project. As such, we share important epistemological, theoretical and methodological conceptualizations, and each of us brings a passion for fostering new perspectives on bi/multilingualism in French Immersion programs concerning the social realities of today’s youth. Specializing in social, critical, ecological and multimodal approaches to language learning and teaching, we possess unique and complementary expertise as concerns bi/multilingualism, French as a Second Language (FSL) Education in Canada, official language planning and policy in relation to immigration and integration, linguistic minorities, ideologies and social identity construction. Nevertheless, nothing is 100% perfect, as we each have our own ways of seeing reality which sometimes pop up, trigger us and can get in the way of us being able to see another perspective. For example, sometimes one of us might analyze a data sample and only focus on the linguistic ideological dimensions, whereas the other might argue that there are multiple dimensions to consider, ‘ideological’ certainly being one of them. But the perfection lies in the imperfection, especially when researching multilingually where instead of focusing on resolving linguistic and cultural differences (as many researchers who claim to celebrate linguistic diversity want to do) we want to better understand their complexities (e.g. how and why the differences came about; from whose point view can we or should we be speaking of difference, i.e. different from what/whom/whose norm?) Again, we do this by actively practicing reflexivity (see Byrd Clark, 2020). In the spirit of reflexivity, we highlight one visible way that we draw upon our transdisciplinarities when researching multililngually, and this is conveyed through the practice of translanguaging. Translanguaging represents one powerful facet and example of transdisciplinarity, and we provide examples of this particular kind of transdisciplinarity throughout our chapter. As fellow researchers and colleagues, we work very well together and each complements one another. We translanguage between English and French in most of all of our communication with one another, including conversations, text messages, emails, video chats. Sometimes our sentence structuring or written expression reflects this in-betweenness. When we encounter obstacles with language barriers, we both mutually mitigate and assist one another. Sylvie helps Julie with academic writing in French, and Julie helps Sylvie with academic writing in English – though at varied degrees likewise depending on the writing, context and audience. For example, academic writing has its own particular formats, registers and genres depending on the linguistic code (differences in writing an article in French as opposed to English). As researchers and academics, it is assumed that we know how to ‘play by the rules of the game’ (see Bourdieu, 1982) when it comes to writing a grant proposal, publishing

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a journal article or compiling an ethics review application (in English a ‘must’, in French, an ‘added benefit’). In order to be successful at being awarded a grant, having an article published, or gaining ethical approval, we are expected to have to adhere, to a certain degree, to the required format. Not to mention there is often an unspoken expectation that one has to write and use a very particular high academic register of an imagined standardized linguistic code – and more importantly, most publication platforms will only allow a handful of multilingual samples that must be accompanied by English translations, etc. For instance, in Canada, we cannot publish French abstracts unless they have been translated into English, it is mandatory (but this is not always the case, the other way around). While these institutional and structural constraints exist, we can still challenge them, by infusing our transdisciplinarities through our unique written expression, expropriating some of the conventional forms (see Bakhtin, 1981) and by the flexible choices that we make. We have to actively choose – to provide translations, to translanguage, to include multilingual samples and references, to be and become reflexive (go beyond being critical and work with the structures) – this does not mean we ­abandon criticality, or that we don’t stand up and fight at different times (e.g. being a Francophone fighting for French in Alberta and Ontario; standing up against police brutality and violence, supporting Black Lives Matter; fighting for justice and reconciliation for all of our Indigenous relations, etc.) for social justice issues. However, it does mean finding alternative ways, ‘wiggle room’, complexities, and examples of ­‘in-betweenness’ to engage with the structures, and in doing so, to demonstrate that the dualistic structures themselves (the two opposing sides, Us vs. Them) are fraught with contradiction, and not as fixed or permeable as they tend to appear, or as we are led to believe. Regarding the grant writing, from the very beginning, we have had to make strategic and informed choices. Of course our decisions were political, and because we wanted to increase our chances of being successful and reach a wider audience, we chose to write the grant proposal in English. Therefore, Julie is the principal investigator and Sylvie is the coinvestigator. Together, we work with a couple of graduate research assistants (GRAs), who are both bilingual in French and English-though at varying degrees (one is an MA student who identifies as Chinese Canadian and who studied French Immersion and minored in French at university; and the other is a PhD student from Montréal who spoke French at home with family members but went to school in English). We offer the graduate student researchers training in all aspects of this research. For example, they assist in the preparation and validation of the data collection instruments, the revising of ethical review submissions, the recruitment of participants, the collection and organization of data, the analysis and

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dissemination of results and the writing of research reports, and articles for academic and wider-community audiences. Their role goes beyond the simple treatment of data; they are partners in this research. We assist them with interpreting, deciphering, sharing, representing, translating and articulating both ideas and data. As ethnographers, we discuss the importance of building trust with participants, conveying empathy, being ‘up front’ with our intentions but more importantly, our own biases, stories, affective filters, preferences and motivations. We draw heavily upon researcher reflexivity (see Byrd Clark, 2020; Byrd Clark & Dervin, 2014; Creese et al., 2017), particularly when we are engaging and attempting to articulate complexities in the research, including our own! We discuss the importance of having all of our documentation (from consent letters to interview schedules) in English and French. But more importantly, we discuss the necessity of being able to translate and translanguage the information on our documents for families who (more often than not) have a home language(s) different from English or French. As a team, and in addition to English and French, we have and can draw from Chinese, Italian, Spanish and German among us. It is intersecting collaborative work as equal partners, and we engage in English, French and Franglais with one another in our work, through our emails and interactions (over Zoom), and bring with us our transdisciplinarities of ecopsychology, postmodernism, Indigenous methodologies, feminist poststruturalist French literature, English language teaching in China, Korea, Spain and France, didactique en français (au Québec and from France), and sociolingusitics, to name a few. Researching Multilingually: Challenges and Opportunities, Methodologically Speaking

These data samples come from one of our research projects (2016– 2018) on multilingual teacher education students.7 The following samples represent two teacher candidates from the Ontario teacher education program and were taken from interviews conducted by Julie. • Julie: So, tell me a little about your French language learning experiences, maybe you were ah mentioning that you were in French Immersion, how was that//what was it like? • Brad Zakamoto: In my French immersion program, like the entire program, Grade 9-12, I was the only Asian in the program. The other kids called me ‘Monsieur Chang or Monsieur Wang’ … they were playful but it was offensive. Even in my Master’s classes, you know you walk in, and I guess I’ve gotten used to that, but you know they say, ‘Oh, you speak French?’ So being Asian and pursuing French is kind of not the norm here. (Interview with Teacher Education student of French as a Second Language) ********************************************************************

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• Julie: OK Christopher, it’s funny to hear you in English!(laughs) Ok, so can you tell me a little bit about your own ways of identifying, and maybe a little more about some of your teaching and learning experiences before coming to Canada? • Christopher: Well … I’m not sure how I identify these days … I’m British, ah, I taught in La Réunion and in France for the past four years, and met my wife who is from Montréal  …  and now live in Ontario, Canada … most of the time, people think I’m from France, they don’t know that I’m British, until I switch to English. And it’s quite funny to see their reactions … I think it’s safer actually if they think I’m French! (laughs) (Interview with Teacher Education student of French as a Second Language) ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ • Veronique: Nous n’avons pas ce code switching en France. • Yolanda: ¡ Oh dios mio ! Vous n’avez pas les musiciens qui chantent en français avec les mots des autres langues ? What about Manu-Chao? • Veronique: Ah si si, on a ça, bien sûr, mais je veux dire, pas dans la salle de classe. (Online discussion between students in Canada and student in France) Without going into too many details (or analysis), these are some of the data samples which we’ve collected, analyzed and selected from our research when discussing some of the complexities revealed in people’s positionings and discursive (translanguaging, embodying, affective) practices. Through researching multilingually, we can see how people become identities, such as multilinguals with different languaging practices, different racialization, gendered or colonial histories (Flores & Rosa, 2015). These transversal positionings and practices of ‘being and becoming multilingual’ (Byrd Clark, 2009) often involve more in-depth, complex negotiations. However, when researching multilingually, and drawing upon transdisciplinarities, we want to come clean and state that it is much more difficult to do transdisciplinary research. It is much more time consuming, harder to find ways to articulate and represent abstractions, complexities, contradictions, instabilities – and though we would argue that multilinguals are not superior to anyone, there is an added dimension of complexity when analyzing and representing their linguistic and social practices (discourse), see the aforementioned examples. Also, as reflexive researchers, we have to be mindful of how and in what ways things are uttered/said, what’s emphasized, the intonation, tone of voice, gestures, facial expressions, choice of code or translanguaging that takes place (when, where, with whom, under which conditions or circumstances, etc.), combined with the ideological, historical and social backgrounds/conditions of our participants. These are some of the transdisciplinarities for researchers to take into account, in order to make sense of the complexities and in-betweenness!

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This leads into our discussion of blind spots and interpretations. We work continuously on monitoring and assisting one another with blind spots, and because of our transdisciplinarities and varied degrees of being and becoming multilinguals, we offer one another support and insights from our lived experiences (of being multilinguals, researchers and pedagogues). Working as a team, we have the advantage of being able to see the multiple, subjective ways of interpreting data as well as our own ideological attachments. This is not to say that we are all on equal ground or footing espistemologically – trandisciplinary approaches and practices are recent additions to the field – even though one could make the argument that the fields of intercultural education and applied linguistics have always been transdisciplinary. It takes time to develop an awareness of our attachments to certain ways of being, doing and thinking, and it also takes time to develop an understanding of complexities and how they can destabilize fixed, homogeneous entities, especially when we get comfortable with our attachments and used to operating within our own frames or ways of doing, thinking, etc. For example, some of us are still in the process of making sense of transdisciplinarities, whereas others appear a bit more comfortable in their elocutions. Consequently, we cannot forget our humanity or our own ideological and affective attachments to representations of places, people and languages. For example, sometimes when we talk about multilinguals and transdisciplinarity … Sylvie would say to Julie: ‘Don’t forget that I am francophone and I have French in my heart’ to which Julie would respond, ‘I won’t forget, je suis Francophone au coeur, Sylvie’, which means even though Julie wasn’t raised Francophone or had French as one of her first languages, she loves French and understands the fear and need to protect it in Canada. ‘I am a Francophone at heart’ (in my heart). She also wants to promote French through learning and teaching – and she feels that multilinguals can play a significant part in this endeavour. Again, transdisciplinarity has generally remained a more abstract theoretical construction, rather than a practical means of focusing on how individual researchers and research participants live and experience trandisciplinarity in their everyday lives. Despite all of the challenges that we have outlined in this chapter, incorporating a transdisciplinary approach when researching multilingually is so important particularly at this moment in time when dogmatic, singular, colonialist, unidimensional, narcissistic, top-down views are continuing to shape, dictate and dominate understandings of reality. Researching multilingually with a transdisciplinary approach helps us in getting at some of the complexities and possibilities, by providing deep and rich insights, namely in the sense that we can present challenges and alternative ways of viewing reality, instead of being only limited to dualistic thinking about life, language, culture and identity/ies. With researching multilingually, we can better represent the social realities and lived experiences of what it means to be and become multilingual in

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transnational, contemporary times. As we have demonstrated in this chapter, our transdisciplinarities can, at different times, interrupt the socalled, imagined, fixed ways of operating in society; our complex positionings and practices (as both researchers and research participants) can destabilize social frames and even debunk cultural boundaries and nationalist ideologies. In other words, the sedentary, fixed, permeable way of being, doing and thinking is altered, and it is not so fixed or permeable as one would like to think. There are varied, multiple ways to function, and multilinguals are showing us that … through their transdisciplinarities, as well as our own! Moving toward a transdisciplinary approach may stand a chance of decolonizing and breaking through the deep-rooted binary and dualistic thinking patterns to re-imagine and redesign teaching and learning – and research – in a globalizing, multilingual world. Conclusion

Multilingual research for new social realities toward a transdisciplinary approach engages us to go beyond criticality, theoretically speaking, in order to get at some of the complexities, the variation, and to discover the connections which challenge traditional frameworks of disciplinary thinking in research, particularly as concerns language teaching and learning in transnational times (see Byrd Clark, 2016). Although there appear to be many challenges, as Holmes et al. (2013: 297) have clearly argued: ‘The findings challenge the status quo regarding institutional practices …’. In this chapter, we discussed what we mean by a transdisciplinary approach and why this is significant when researching multilingually. We then went on to discuss our own context, complex positionings and relational and interpersonal aspects we find pertinent to researching multilingually and interculturally. In doing so, we selected some samples of challenges that we have specifically encountered with our complex, transdisciplinary positionings, namely some of the institutional opportunities and political constraints when it comes to making language choices in regards to ethical protocols, funding applications and publishing platforms. Though challenging, we find that such an approach allows for both a breadth and depth of analyses that lend themselves to not only understanding complexities (of the doing of language-language use, identities, meaning-making, etc.) but also the impact of social, historical and political ideological representations (not only those of our own, but those of our participants, and also our institutional affiliations). Taking into account the complexities and possibilities – one of the added possibilities of being able to write and share this chapter with hopes of reaching a wider audience – our chapter calls for a critical need to reconceptualize multilingual and intercultural research by making visible the multidimensionality, embodiment, interconnectivities, creativity and variation offered by the sharing of lived experiences of transdisciplinarity,

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which we feel ought to be infused and given serious consideration throughout the entire process of researching multilingually. Notes (1) The term ‘blind spot’ is not meant in any way to be used as an ableist term, in fact, the concept of blind spot literally has to do with the anatomy of the eye, and ­nothing to do with one’s vision. The use of blind spots here is intended to represent things that we are unaware of, or that are not present in our consciousness in any given moment. This concept (and its use here in this chapter) applies to all human beings. (2) This is a longitudinal study recently funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada entitled, French for New Social Realities in Transnational, Contemporary Times (2018–2024), Byrd Clark (Principal Investigator) and Roy (Co-Investigator). (3) In 2019, the Official Language Acts is revised: https://www.clo-ocol.gc.ca/en/­ publications/other/2019/modernizing-ola-recommendations and Indigenous Languages Act: ‘The Indigenous Languages Act, which is intended to support the reclamation, ­revitalization, maintaining and strengthening of Indigenous languages in Canada received Royal Assent on June 21, 2019’ (https://www.canada.ca/en/canadian-­heritage/ campaigns/celebrate-indigenous-languages/legislation.html). (4) American mid-Western, upstate New York and Hibernian varieties. (5) Parisian, Québecois and Franco-Ontarian varieties. (6) In fact, one of us was actually asked to remove the observations altogether from the ethical protocol application. (7) The names of the participants in the data samples are all pseudonyms.

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Lin, A.M.Y. (2014) Hip-hop heteroglossia as practice, pleasure, and public pedagogy: Translanguaging in the lyrical poetics of ‘24 Herbs’ in Hong Kong. In A. Blackledge and A. Creese (eds) Heteroglossia as Practice and Pedagogy (pp. 119–136). Dordrecht: Springer. (ISBN: 978-94-007-7855-9) Pennycook, A. (2010) Language as a Local Practice. London: Routledge. Perrin, D. and Kramsch, C.J. (2018) Transdisciplinarity in applied linguistics: Introduction to the special issue. Aila Review 31, 1–13. Roy, S. (2010) Not truly, not entirely … Pas comme les Francophones. In S. Lamoureux and N. Labrie (eds) Special issue. Canadian Journal of Education/Revue canadienne de l’éducation 33 (3), 541–563. Roy, S. (2015) Discours et idéologies en immersion française. Revue canadienne de linguistique appliquée. Canadian Journal of Applied Linguistics 18 (2), 125–143. Roy, S. (2020) French Immersion Ideologies in Canada. Lanham: Lexington Books. Tabouret-Keller, A. (1997) Language and identity. In F. Coulmas (ed.) Handbook of Sociolinguistics (pp. 315–326). Oxford: Blackwell. Warner, C. (2018) Transdisciplinarity across two-tiers: The case of applied linguistics and literary studies in U.S. foreign language departments. AILA Review 31 (2018), 29–52.

10 Transcribing (Multilingual) Voices: From Fieldwork to Publication Erika Kalocsányiová and Malika Shatnawi

The old adage about ‘sink or swim’ often reflects early career researchers’ experiences of transcribing (Bird, 2005). It certainly demands, among others, a lot of time spent immersed in someone else’s emotions and stories. In Tilley’s (2003) observation, this involvement and connection to the speakers contrasts sharply with views of transcription as technical, objective or value free. Transcribing involves judgements about what level of detail to choose, how to represent voice, in which language(s) and for whom. When undertaking multilingual research, ‘the decisions inherent in interpretation and written representation – from the most intriguing (was that literal or ironic?) to the most mundane (colon or no colon?) – can quickly multiply’ (Vakser, 2017: 233). This chapter provides an in-depth account of the processes and politics of multilingual transcribing. The transcripts for the analysis have been pulled from a larger qualitative study on forced migrants’ linguistic integration in Luxembourg. They broadly fall into two categories: records of multilingual classroom interactions and interview data. The research, which was carried out by Kalocsányiová at the University of Luxembourg, examined the language learning trajectories and communicative resourcefulness of newly-arrived migrants from war-torn countries in the Middle East (Kalocsányiová, 2019). Much of this research depended on third parties to document the participants’ communicative resources and emerging mixed language practices. The second author (Shatnawi) was one of the language experts brought onto the project to assist with these tasks. As an external researcher, she was involved in the transcription, analysis and translation of ethnographic interviews and classroom interactions. She also offered alternative interpretations of the data and suggested new lines of enquiry. One of the main rationales for researching multilingually is to achieve a more democratic and inclusive research praxis, or as Resch and Enzenhofer (2018: 133) put it, ‘to make diverse – and often 209

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vulnerable – groups and their perceptions, experiences, and needs visible and to include their experiences into the discourse’. This chapter addresses a key methodological challenge of this process: transcription. It discusses the role of collaborative transcribing in transforming (multilingual) speech to a written medium, as well as into other languages. It also examines representational choices for interview excerpts with adult (migrant) speakers of English. The Politics of Transcribing and Translating Transcripts

Several authors have argued in the past that transcription, that is, the process of representing spoken language in an (ortho)graphic medium is a political act (Bucholtz, 2000; Green et al., 1997; Jaffe, 2006; Ochs, 1979; Roberts, 1997; Ross, 2010). Ochs (1979) was perhaps the first researcher to address the politics of transcription explicitly. Drawing on examples from her work on language development in children, she exposed the theoretical and cultural underpinnings of transcription. She also showed that transcripts can (mis)attribute social and interactional roles to the speakers represented. Nearly 20 years later, Roberts (1997) and Green et al. (1997) refuted altogether the idea of neutral transcripts and redefined transcribing as a situated act which reflects theories and disciplinary conventions as much as transcribers’ experiences, biases and beliefs about language: ‘as transcribers fix the fleeting moment of words as marks on the page, they call up the social roles and relations constituted in language and rely on their own social evaluations of speech in deciding how to write’ (Roberts, 1997: 168). In her contribution to the topic, Roberts (1997) focused, among other things, on the representation of learner varieties of English through both standard orthography and respelling (also called ‘eye dialect’). Her main arguments are highly relevant to our discussion because each person involved in the study spoke English and/or French (the main languages of data collection and research dissemination) as additional languages. We have transformed these arguments into a series of questions to guide our work: how can study participants, and especially forced migrants, convey their identities through the filter of transcription? How can their voices be heard in the way they wish them to be heard? How do different transcription choices (e.g. adoption of standard spelling even when a person is using a nonstandard/learner variety) affect our readers’ views of the text and of the people represented within it? Writing from a social constructionist perspective, Bucholtz (2000) argued that: All transcripts take sides, enabling certain interpretations, advancing particular interests, favoring specific speakers […] Embedded in the details of transcription are indications of purpose, audience, and the position of the transcriber toward the text. Transcripts thus testify to the circumstances of their creation and intended use. As long as we seek a

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transcription practice that is independent of its own history rather than looking closely at how transcripts operate politically, we will perpetuate the erroneous belief that an objective transcription is possible. (Bucholtz, 2000: 1440)

In the multilingual research context of the present work, this understanding of transcription demanded an acknowledgement of the researcher’s language-communicative capabilities and a critical engagement with the ramifications of linguistically (in)competent field research (Phipps, 2013a). Historically, issues related to linguistic incompetence have received little attention from the academic community, although some scholars (e.g. Andrews, 2013; Ganassin & Holmes, 2020; Gibb et al., 2020; Gibb & Danero Iglesias, 2017) have recently examined how their own (lack of) knowledge of different languages affected their research activities. But why do others take refuge in silence? According to Tonkin (1984: 178), being unable to learn a language and admitting to serious difficulties in communication is often perceived by ethnographers as a ‘failure to measure up to a publicly required occupational definition’. After all, if we cannot learn ‘something as public as the language [how could we ever claim to be able] to understand the innermost meanings that people attach to things and events, or to discover the hidden mechanisms that make society function, or the secrets hidden from outsiders and casual observers?’ (Borchgrevink, 2003: 96). This fear of being found wanting is ‘hardly conducive to frankness about language capacities and degrees of understanding’ (Borchgrevink, 2003: 99). The experience of researching in second or additional languages had a strong bearing on the research questions the initial study set out to answer, the methods and processes employed in its conduct and on decisions we made together about transcribing, analysing and disseminating the data multilingually. Arabic – the research participants’ strongest language in which most peer-to-peer exchanges took place – is a case in point. As an experienced language learner, Kalocsányiová did not regard learning Arabic as a viable avenue for data gathering. Starting from scratch, a yearlong learning effort in Luxembourg would have amounted to little more than basic phrases and expressions. Certainly not sufficient for getting on the inside or establishing real communication (Borchgrevink, 2003)! (Linguistic) ethnographers like to believe that their learning efforts ‘symbolize a commitment, a respect and appreciation for the cultural heritage of the people they study’ (Duranti, 1997: 111). However, we believe it is equally important to be realistic and acknowledge that most of us will remain less-than-fluent in a new language learned for fieldwork purposes (see also Gibb & Danero Iglesias, 2017; Tremlett, 2009). At the same time, silencing the languages spoken by (forced) migrants risks neglecting their lived experience and possibly misrepresenting their realities. It also forecloses important analytical possibilities as we will show in the next section.

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Finally, no contemporary discussion of the politics and processes of (multilingual) transcribing could be complete without addressing the question of translation. Since an important part of mainstream research is currently conducted in (super)diverse societies (but published in English), researchers need to find ways ‘to carry meanings across linguistic, discoursal and cultural boundaries’ (Holliday, as cited in Holmes et al., 2013: 293). The view of translators has long shifted from that of conduits of communication (Freed, 1988) to mediators of culture and cross-cultural communicative functions (Bedeker & Feinauer, 2006). Yet, in most migration and social research contexts their contributions are expected to be ‘neutral and invisible’ (Shklarov, 2007: 532) or are treated as ‘needing control of some sort’ (Resch & Enzenhofer, 2018: 132). This chapter takes an opposite approach and shows how transcribers and translators are the first to tap into research participants’ thoughts and experiences, and thus become active producers of data, meaning and knowledge (see also Kalocsányiová & Shatnawi, 2020). Although translation and transcription are integral (if not inevitable) parts of multilingual research, the subject has received little scholarly attention until fairly recently (e.g. Nikander, 2008; Nurjannah et al., 2014; Sutrisno et al., 2014). Some of the first publications (e.g. Nikander, 2008: 227) focused on the physical presentation of translation in print, noting that: ‘Publication policy […] often gets to dictate how data translations are produced and presented. Each choice carries not only practical but also ideological implications of language primacy’. Others (e.g. Nurjannah et al., 2014) discussed the timing of translation in the research process and/or produced a set of recommendations on translation in general (Resch & Enzenhofer, 2018) and for various qualitative approaches (Nurjannah et al., 2014; Sutrisno et al., 2014). In the next sections, we discuss the timing and the physical presentation of our translated data, but we also go beyond most past research efforts to consider the translation of dynamic multilingual exchanges. Speaking and being heard through translation are also part of power relations (cf. Resch & Enzenhofer, 2018). Who is translating whom, when and for what purposes are all political decisions. Using a translation rather than the original as the start point for analysis can have far reaching consequences for validity, transparency and reflexivity in qualitative inquiries, and particularly in linguistically inspired approaches (e.g. discourse analysis). Just like a researcher-transcriber, translators leave their mark on research: Extensive works have shown in the past that people hear interviews and other multi-speaker scenarios through their own ­cultural-linguistic filters (e.g. Oliver et al., 2005), and as a result, each person’s contribution represents ‘a key moment of choice and the exercise of power in the research process’ (Ross, 2010: np.). There is not and cannot be a single correct translation. Bucholtz (2007: 801), for instance, raised interesting questions about the ‘unhappy choice between a

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colloquial translation style, which may imply that the speakers are “just like us”, despite significant cultural and other differences, and a formal translation style, which may position the speakers as “not like us at all”, but rather as foreign, stiff and old-fashioned’. This is one of the many challenges that have to be tackled when researching multilingually. In the process, multilingual researchers are likely to face an ethical double bind, that is, the ‘impossibility of fully rendering another’s voice or meaning, and yet the necessity of making the attempt’ (Apter, 2005: 89). Finally, the choice of language medium for publication is among, if not, the most political decision researchers from multilingual contexts face (see also Robinson-Pant, 2017). The remainder of this chapter explains how we tackled these challenges during our joint transcript construction. Researching Multilingually: Background, Processes and Examples

The transcripts discussed in this chapter are part of the data collected for Kalocsányiová’s doctoral research at the University of Luxembourg. Taking a qualitative approach informed by linguistic ethnography (Copland & Creese, 2015; Rampton et al., 2015), she investigated the language learning and integration experiences of five men who, fleeing war and violence, sought refuge in the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. The fieldwork of this project was carried out between 2016 and 2018. In the first phase, French, English and German language courses were observed to examine if and how the research participants’ language resources were deployed, overlooked or silenced in classroombased training. In the second phase, the research centred on the learning trajectories of the same five participants across time, societal influences and language ideologies. We have chosen to focus on Kalocsányiová’s work as it entailed research in and into multiple languages, including French, Arabic, German and English. Multilingualism in all its hybrid forms and manifestations was both a research object and a methodological element to consider in her project. In what follows, we first examine the written representations of multilingual classroom interactions from recording, through translation to publication. We then discuss interview extracts that capture the project participants’ voices in English. The parts that pertain to Kalocsányiová’s field research experience will be reported in first person singular. Transcription conventions are shown in Appendix 10.1. Transcribing multilingual classroom discourse

Prior to relocating to Luxembourg, I operated daily in four to five languages (mainly English, Spanish, Hungarian and Slovak), yet I experienced the abovementioned project from a position of considerable ‘lack,

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limitation, wound and partiality’ (Phipps, 2013a: 336). The fieldwork during the first 11 months took place chiefly in French language classrooms; for me, this meant collecting data in a language in which I was less-than-fluent at that point. These days, researchers often find themselves working in communities where multiple languages are in contact and many of us feel that our field language competence is insufficient (e.g. Moore, 2009; Tonkin, 1984; Tremlett, 2009). It is also hard to avoid the impression that field researchers have somewhat of a double standard when it comes to language: While it was generally considered adequate for an [ethnographer] to investigate non-European culture without developing sufficient speaking competence in the relevant language, the same low standard did not apply to the study of western cultures. That is, whereas one wouldn’t expect a fieldworker working on Kiyansi culture (Democratic Republic of Congo) to ‘virtuously’ master Kiyansi […] one would accuse of lack of professionalism any fieldworker who has only an approximate command of French. (Vigouroux, 2007: 76)

Vigouroux’s reflections resonated strongly with me. It was nevertheless the awareness of being less-than-fluent that led me to reflect on transcription as a methodological process. After the first cycle of classroom ethnographies, I started working on the transcripts wanting to record and represent everything as ‘precisely’ and ‘faithfully’ as possible. Transcribing in multiple languages – some of which I had only a surface knowledge of – felt unorthodox initially, and it induced a certain sense of guilt and discomfort with the data. Being a non-speaker of Arabic restricted what I could do (particularly during a four-year doctorate), and I had to tailor my research to this limitation in several ways. In developing strategies for multilingual data collection and analysis, I followed some of Tremlett’s (2009) suggestions. For instance, I made extensive use of audio recording to capture interviews, talk-in-interaction and classroom exchanges on tape so that these could later be transcribed, translated and commented on both by me and others. It was the recorded data that enabled me to overcome the anxieties I felt in being less-than-fluent/lacking the language, as it allowed for re-living the classroom exchanges at my own pace, and as many times as necessary. Without a systemic audio recording, the language dimension of the fieldwork would have been a tough nut to crack: ‘although not infallible (and of course with its own representational issues in the processes of production, translation and analysis), [recorded data] at least could be put on view, re-played, re-checked and displayed more confidently […]’ (Tremlett, 2009: 81). Still, producing (bi)multilingual transcripts with even a low level of interactional detail was a time-consuming venture unfeasible for all

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classroom data (approximately 70 hours of recording). Hence, the ambition of a verbatim multilingual transcript with all exchanges represented as uttered was traded off against a thick description pieced together from timestamped field notes, extensive descriptive summaries and dozens of rough-draft transcripts. At this stage, informal translations were often solicited from the research participants for instance during breaks or after classroom observations. Working closely with research participants to decode and couch the language in writing has a long tradition in ethnography-inspired research (Vigouroux, 2007). Most of the exchanges about translation, transcripts and meanings are not preserved in the audio files; however, there were instances in which texts were produced and shared through messaging applications.

The rough-draft transcript (Extract 1) was produced by a research ­participant – Ahmad (pseudonym) – who had on occasion volunteered for small translation tasks both within and outside the project. The same excerpt was later re-worked and published as an exemplification of translanguaging and meaning-making processes in the context of a French classroom (Extract 2, Kalocsányiová, 2017: 488). Ahmad’s initial help in the field was invaluable; however, he was not versed in transcription ­techniques required for more layered representations. These were done in collaboration with Malika Shatnawi (second author). In the course of this joint work, we quickly realised that collaborative (­multilingual) transcribing constituted an important area of inquiry in its own right. Being in the field allowed me to create a first layer of transcription signalling the speakers, contextualisation cues, possible intended

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meanings and any chunk of talk uttered in a language other than Arabic at the research sites. Afterwards, drawing on her linguistic and cultural expertise Shatnawi completed the Arabic-speaking parts and proposed a translation into English. Throughout the process, we engaged in a continuing dialogue, audio-recording our online work sessions to better capture interpretative practices and reflections about multilingual data representation. Embedding Arabic script (which is written right-to-left) in European languages written left-to-right was one of the obvious difficulties to tackle. Other questions that arose included: How do we ensure readability? Shall we label languages as distinct codes? Do we record pronunciation particulars? How do we represent translingual practices in translation (if at all)? The need for translation combined with the use of multiple scripts amplified the issues of transcript formatting and layout. Extract 3.

peer-to-peer: participants (M and R) whole-class: teacher (T) and student (F) T gèlera R

gèlera gèl- ((to the class)) T alors le gel ((writing on the whiteboard))

M gel ‫تلج‬ ice R

(0.1) gel is snow (0.1) T l’adjectif c’est gelé (--)

M gelé ((to the class)) et le verbe (0.1) il gèle R

il gèle ((to the class)) M ‫صقيع‬- ‫مصقع‬

T ou il gè-le-ra

frosted- frost R

‫كتبتها صح‬- ‫) كتبتها صح‬0.1( ‫هي‬ this (0.1) if I write it correctlyif I write it correctly F

(gel) ça fait très froid

T moins de zéro (0.1) M ‫بتطلع اكتر من عشر‬ it takes more than one tenth

degré (-) moins un

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R

‫هل هاي صحيحة‬

T moins deux

is this correct? M ‫) هاي هي‬0.1(‫ال في هااي‬

T moins trois (-)

no there’s (0.1) there: is (xxx) ‫اه هههه‬

T c’est le gel

ah ((laugh)) F

ça fait très froid ?

T oui […]

In Extract 3, the data are presented in two parallel columns to keep better track of the speakers and their turns. The learners’/participants’ contributions (M and R) are given primacy and visibility through their placement on the left-hand side (Ochs, 1979) (the primary audience to whom this example was presented included speakers of French, German and English, i.e. left-to-right readers). For better readability, we decided to limit the prosodic and paralinguistic cues to signalling pauses, overlapping speech and sound lengthening. However, even this level of detail often proved chaotic across languages, translations and two writing systems. As shown in Extracts 2 and 3, we constructed the transcripts in the source language(s). Paralinguistic annotations and transcriber comments were added in English (the common language between us). Prior to dissemination, translations were introduced only for words and turns in Arabic (with the original preserved) to support a collaborative in-depth analysis. The first draft translations from Arabic into English were generally more detailed than shown in Extract 3, supplying the first analyst (me) with information on the structure and semantics of the original language. This was essential for identifying moments of interlinguistic transfer and peerto-peer translation, which both allowed for insights into the communicative resourcefulness of the research participants (one of the major themes of the study). In many published works, researchers carried out translations from audio recordings directly into English (e.g. Andrews, 2013), or prioritised a coded English translation over a multilingual transcript, with or without the source language version attached as a supplement to the published article (e.g. Kirsch, 2017). Such representational choices may sometimes be necessary or even desirable due to time constraints or word limit restrictions, but Nikander (2008: 227) warns us that ‘hiding the original from the reader’s view [can] violate the validity [of the research] through the transparency and access principle’. One of the study’s aims was to document the language learning trajectories of newly arrived migrants, and thus the question arose whether and how to record pronunciational particulars in writing. From the

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perspective of language acquisition and interlanguage research, there is an analytical advantage to using nonstandard orthography or phonetic transcription in International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA) to represent second/ additional language learners’ linguistic performances. Taking this approach, however, created new complexities. First, as co-transcribers, our perceptions of sounds and voices differed. Bucholtz (2007: 798) explained this phenomenon as placing speech sounds into one’s internalised phonemic categories: ‘what counts as salient depends on the ­“listeners” own dialectal [and we would add language] backgrounds and phonological expectations as well as the practices of “professional hearing” into which they have been socialized’. Second, the likelihood of ­phonemic false evaluations (Buckingham & Yule, 1987) and subsequent misrepresentations increases when transcribing a multilingual corpus. Third, although we had both completed graduate-level courses on phonetics and IPA transcription as part of our studies, we fall short of the expertise necessary for developing a systematic and rigorous phonetic representation across multiple languages and levels of fluency. This forced us to abandon some of the research goals and refocus our attention to areas for which our transcripts were appropriate (e.g. a qualitative inquiry into the affordances of multilingual learning situations in classroombased language training). Although we opted for transcribing orthographically (i.e. employing the standard spelling system of each source language), there were instances that called for the inclusion of some pronunciation details, as illustrated in Extracts 4 and 5. Extract 4.

M (research participant); T (French teacher) M

[…] Paris Saint Germain gagné quatre zero /*zirō/

T

quatre nul

M

autour game l’autour jeu

T

le match de retour?

M

le match de retour Barcelona a gagné six /siz/ un haha comment cinema (/*sinəmə/) ((chuckles)) (0.2) oui (-) action /ækʃən/ (--) action /aksjɔ̃/

Extract 5.

M (research participant); T (French teacher) M

[…] Paris Saint Germain gagné quatre zero

T

quatre nul

M

autour game l’autour jeu

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T

le match de retour?

M

le match de retour Barcelona a gagné six un haha comment cinema ((chuckles)) (0.2) oui (-) action (--) action

Recording pronunciational particulars served to differentiate word pairs that have identical or almost identical spelling across two or more languages, as in action (/ækʃən vs. aksjɔ/̃ ) or cinema (/sinəmə vs. sinema/). The failure to record these pronunciation details would have rendered some of the learner’s (M) translanguaging shifts invisible in the transcript. Extract 4 was a working draft that provided a springboard for further inquiry into M’s emerging multilingualism and creative language uses. An alternative representation is proposed in Extract 5, where elements that do not conventionally belong to the French lexicon are bolded. This second version was used as a discussion starter in an undergraduate course for future school teachers, where a familiarity with phonetic transcription systems could not be assumed. The choice of demarcating languages through colour-coding or font variation (like in Extract 5) extends beyond questions of audience, readability and styling. It is rooted in some fundamental onto-epistemological differences between translanguaging and code-switching (code-mixing), which have both been widely used in educational contexts. Our work has largely drawn on the concepts of ‘translanguaging’ and ‘communicative repertoires’: these see ‘multilinguals as possessing a unitary linguistic system […] that is not compartmentalized into boundaries corresponding to those of the named languages’ (García & Otheguy, 2020: 25). Fluid language uses emerged in our data as a result of the researcher and participants’ restricted competence and their deployment of ‘those linguistic, mental, interactional as well as intercultural competences which are creatively activated when interlocutors listen to linguistic actions in their “passive” language[s]’ (ten Thije et al., 2012: 249). At other times, the choice to engage in complex exchanges mobilising entire repertoires was an expression of the research participants’ emerging identities as multilingual language users. Consequently, our default transcription choice was to not label these resources as belonging to separate languages wherever possible. This is not to say, however, that demarcating distinct languages was not useful, or even necessary in some of our materials (e.g. in Extract 5). Many transcription choices were in fact altered over time to accommodate disciplinary practices, editorial requests and potential audiences (see also Mondada, 2007). One of the details that we added/subtracted according to the (assumed) audience was translation. For instance, in the article containing Extract 2 (Kalocsányiová, 2017), only the Arabic utterances were initially translated into English. It was during the revision

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process that equivalents were added for the other languages as well, principally, to make the analysis more accessible to an English-speaking readership. This task also posed the difficult question of representing translingual practices in translation:

in Portuguese por favor which means please

After long discussions, we decided to translate the matrix (dominant) language of the text (in the aforementioned case, Arabic) into English, while the embedded elements (‘por favor’ above) were transferred in an unchanged form. Importantly, our translations presented in Extracts 2 and 3 should be read as approximations. The fragmented nature of spoken language makes it very difficult to come up with translations that reproduce ‘the original in all its meanderings’: a translation which ‘mimics a very fragmented and hesitant original can be perceived as exaggerated, as not just translating but also evaluating what has been said’ (Bot & Wadensjö, 2004: 360). Our examples, of course, are not intended to provide an oversimplified model for translating dynamic multilingual exchanges. Keeping or translating source language elements will always depend on at least two factors: the assumed audience’s linguistic profile and the analytical argument one is trying to make. Developing Jaffe’s (2006: 180) argument, we also believe that as researchers we should be realistic about ‘our ability to make readers see [in English] what we hear [in other languages]’. Consequently, we argue that original data should be given primacy in research wherever possible. Finally, if there is one aspect that this work once again highlights, it is that collaboration with study participants, transcribers and translators brings researchers closer to sensitivity, transparency and reflexivity in qualitative inquiry (Jeppesen & Hansen, 2011). Collaborative research processes also generated richer data and more accurate reporting (see also Kalocsányiová & Shatnawi, 2020). Transcribing interview data

Most work discussed up to this point has been concerned with collaborative transcribing and the technical features of multilingual transcription. The question that underpins this section is equally, if not more challenging, for researchers working with marginalised and migrant populations: how can forced migrants, especially those speaking non-native language varieties, convey messages about their lives and identities through the filter of transcription? ‘Nativeness’, ‘competence’ or even ‘language’ have come to be recognised as problematic in applied linguistics (e.g. Gibb & Danero Iglesias, 2017; North & Piccardo, 2016; Phipps,

Transcribing (Multilingual) Voices: From Fieldwork to Publication  221

2013a); however, the ubiquity of languaging and linguistic fluidity is yet to be registered on the radar of scholars in other disciplines. In social sciences and migration research, one’s mother tongue is almost always positioned as the most desirable interviewing language. But what if research participants’ expectations or wishes are at odds with this common practice? Tsuda (2010: 261) reminds us of the importance of respecting people’s language choices: ‘Everyone is entitled to the right to use the language(s) s/he chooses to speak and this right should be honoured in all forms of communication’ [emphasis added]. Guided by this view, the participants in this study were given the choice of doing the interviews in their language of preference. Most of them opted for English. Arguably, they felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in speaking a language other than their mother tongue. Already two decades ago, Kvale (1996: 172–173) argued that a ‘verbatim transcribed oral language may appear as incoherent and confused speech, even indicating a lower level of intellectual functioning’ and cautioned that its publication might ‘involve an unethical stigmatization of specific persons or groups of persons’. These effects may well be magnified if a person uses a nonstandard/learner variety of English, especially in publications aimed for a broader audience across various disciplines (e.g. Kalocsányiová, 2020). On this point, we concur with Jaffe (2006: 181): Everyday habits of reading may lead audiences ‘to read stigma in analyses that we intend to have the opposite effect’. The data extracts analysed in continuation (such as Extract 6) illustrate some of the difficulties associated with transcribing interviews conducted with forced migrants. Extract 6. P

yeh↑ I did not found a place (0.2) in the beginning ↓ (0.3) I found a global (resort) was giving me bon ehm: for the first time ↓ (0.1) my social agent she gave me bon for French (0.1)

R

[ehm]

P

[I] >don’t have I WANT< bon for Luxembourgish (0.2) she said NO you should start with French (0.3) she:: put me in a >very embarrassing– I said< I NEED– okay (0.2) she said that’s °impossible° ((mimicking the voice)) (0.2) I talked to the social– also contact[ed] her again then she gave me a bon (01) but [I:]

R

[how] did she explain why you SHOULD learn French and not Luxembourgish or German? What was the=

P

the way that he- she she pushed me to (it) she did not give me (0.1) a bon↓

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R P

did she give you any explanation w[hy– why↑] [said that you >you don’t have a PAPER< (0.2) and we cannot give you a bon for Luxembourgish to study (0.4) because you don’t have to re– >may↑be the:y< eh:m they give you a REJECtion (0.1) and you will go back to your country >you– we don’t know< (0.1)

Extract 6 offers a detailed visual representation of the research participant’s (P) communicative repertoire, voice and habitual form of expression in English. Similarly, it captures the interactional dimension of qualitative interviewing, by showing, for example, the researcher (R) asking for clarification and expansion. It also documents interruptions, which signal the strength of feeling regarding the issue at hand (see Greatbatch, 1992). At the same time, however, it also puts on display and intensifies the participant’s disfluencies (Jaffe, 2006). These indicate far more uncertainty when transmitted in text than in the original recorded sound. Furthermore, the level of detail addressed earlier could hardly ever be reported outside linguistically-oriented inquiries for a number of reasons. First, a verbatim reproduction of the entire sequence would simply take up too much space considering the world count guidelines of most scientific journals. Second, the extract bears little resemblance to typical academic prose and might look ‘like unintelligible gibberish to the untrained eye’ (Bot & Wadensjö, 2004: 361). It certainly draws attention to itself by being ‘manifestly un-text-like’ (Ross, 2010: np) and would need to be read out loud in order to understand that it made perfect sense to the people talking. These considerations prompted us to explore alternative theories and ways of transcribing. Kvale (1996) encourages researches to think of transcripts as interpretative constructs. As a guiding principle, he proposes to imagine how interviewees themselves would have wanted to formulate their statements in writing. Although this suggestion has its limitations, it does push for the criticism of ‘the naïve assumption that talk is easily converted into written text’ (Tilley, 2003: 760). Roberts (1997: 169) also argues for experimental ways in which speakers’ voices can be evoked and contextualised: [transcribers] have a duty to find ways – perhaps experimental ways – for evoking some of the struggles, some of the emotional qualities of an encounter in which minority ethnic speakers are striving to be themselves in another language […] these encounters are so frequently asymmetrical and stressful, transcribers have the additional duty of accounting for these effects on the talk they transcribe.

Seeing transcripts as constructs created for particular audiences allows for challenging the widespread acceptance of verbatim transcription as the sole desirable element in research methodologies (Bezemer & Mavers,

Transcribing (Multilingual) Voices: From Fieldwork to Publication  223

2011). Furthermore, as Phipps (2013b: 21) explains, ‘[t]he flattened, coded tones of transcripts, with their numbered rows are divorced from the highly storied, narratively and performatively rich contexts of intercultural communication’. Privileging exact words over the lived experience of the interview as a ‘moment of engagement, a site of participation in the life [of others]’ (Hockey & Forsey, 2012: 75) can, in our experience, misrepresent a person or situation. Before we proceed, a few words are in place about the research process. After each interview, Kalocsányiová took notes of major ideas, experiences and anecdotes reported by the research participants. These notes were written in English (her ‘third’ language), though, logically, they contained fragments of other languages as well. As a next step, she reviewed the audio recordings while the reflections were still fresh and gradually amended the initial notes until a descriptive representation of significant interactions was created. This served as a springboard for subsequent detailed verbatim transcriptions (e.g. Extract 6), covert transcripts (Ross, 2010) (e.g. Extract 7), as well as for re-constructions of participants’ voices through stories (Extract 8). Roughly similar approaches to data reporting are discussed in the literature under headings such as ‘reflective journalizing’ (Halcomb & Davidson, 2006) ‘reflexive interviewing and reporting’ (Loubere, 2017) and ‘construction of journalistic narratives’ (Jeppesen & Hansen, 2011). Extract 7.

However, as the interviews unfolded it became obvious that the ‘choice’ to learn French was to a great extent imposed upon them: ‘the social agent gave me a bon for French but I asked for Luxembourgish and she said no, you should start with French [….] I said okay, I want a bon for German but she said it was not possible.’ (August 17, 2016) The social worker’s conduct could be explained by the widely held belief that French facilitates economic integration better than any other language in the local labor market. (Kalocsányiová, 2020: 225)

The quote in Extract 7 (which is an edited version of a sequence from Extract 6) can be considered an example of covert transcription: a format that ‘blends in seamlessly to material which was “born” textual’ (Ross, 2010: np). Covert transcripts are common, if not universal, in social science research outside language-related fields. The previous extract took its final shape after negotiations with the publisher’s editors who asked for removal of interview noise, punctuated sentences and compliance with standard writing conventions and grammar rules. The subtraction and amendment of these details was meant to create a recipient-oriented presentation (Mondada, 2007) and avoid the stigma attached to ‘incoherent and confused speech’ (Kvale, 1996) and language uses considered foreign or spoken by minorities.

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Extract 8 exemplifies another representational choice aimed at avoiding stigmatisation and myths of deviance (Kvale, 1996): Extract 8.

During our second meeting (September 17, 2016), Ahmad told an anecdote which exemplifies the initial confusion he experienced. In his imagination, Luxembourg was a German-speaking country: ‘I didn’t know anything, I just thought it was like Germany.’ A couple of hours after his arrival, he and his travel companions overheard a conversation in (what they believed was) French at the refugee center. Driven by curiosity, Ahmad asked around among the other residents at the center, who gave him his first bits of information about Luxembourg’s language environment. Once he corroborated that ‘French was everywhere’, he asked in bewilderment, ‘What comes next?’ (Kalocsányiová, 2020: 224)

Extract 8, which, prior to its publication, was presented to audiences from migration studies, sociolinguistics and (language) education backgrounds, entailed a profound reorganisation of data and meaning, based on a ‘dialogue between speaker and listener(s), investigator and transcript, and text and reader’ (Riessman, 2008: 139). Though this final format provides little information about the participant’s communicative repertoire, idiolect or the structural features of his talk, it might well be the best translation of his intended meanings into an academic output. As Vakser (2017) has argued, in representing research participants, we must be highly attuned to what is said, how it is conveyed (and we would add) how it may be perceived across different contexts and disciplines. Conclusions

This chapter has examined examples of multilingual transcription and representational choices for interviews conducted with forced migrants. It has built on data pulled from a larger qualitative study on forced migrants’ linguistic integration. In reflexively analysing different transcript formats (co-)constructed between researcher and transcriber/translator at different points of the research process, we demonstrated the value and importance of continual reflection on the part of qualitative researchers about language (in)competence, (in)visibility, voice and stigma. Overall, our examples have illustrated the consequences particular theoretical and methodological approaches may have for transcribing practice and data reporting. The role of language-communicative capabilities, ethical considerations and disciplinary boundaries have also been addressed and exemplified through our experience of (multilingual) transcribing. The chapter has outlined different proposals for evoking the voices of forced migrants who ‘are striving to be themselves in another language’

Transcribing (Multilingual) Voices: From Fieldwork to Publication  225

(Roberts, 1997: 169). We invite other researchers, including those in other disciplines, and especially those working with vulnerable and marginalised populations to reflect more deeply about their transcription choices, and account for these in their research. An interdisciplinary perspective is certainly necessary to explore more fully the processes and politics of this highly complex research component. Our findings are expected to open up new avenues for theoretical inquiry and foster a more reflective practice of transcribing. Despite its limited scope, this chapter also adds to the rapidly expanding scholarship on the theory, methods and ethics of researching multilingually. It provides a detailed account and examples of how to engage with multilingual research materials and outputs collaboratively. There is wide agreement in the research community that a greater involvement of transcribers and translators in researcher processes produces richer descriptions of the phenomena under investigation. In this chapter, we have shown that collaborative transcribing also encourages reflexivity, enables a critical engagement with data and contributes to a more transparent reporting. Hopefully, our contribution will be useful for early career researchers dealing with similar issues in their own work and also established researchers who are challenged by the prospect of researching multilingually. Finally, we encourage doctoral researchers to resist monolingual institutional norms and to engage in discussions with their supervisors and peers about language choices for transcription, analysis and research dissemination. Acknowledgements

First and foremost, we thank all research participants who made this study possible. We are also grateful to Natalia Bîlici for her support with transcription. As parts of this publication are based on Kalocsányiová’s unpublished PhD manuscript, we also wish to thank Sabine Ehrhart and Ingrid de Saint-Georges (University of Luxembourg) for their comments and advice. Thanks are extended to the editors for their thoughtful comments on previous drafts. Any errors or inconsistencies are our responsibility alone. References Andrews, J. (2013) ‘It’s a very difficult question isn’t it?’ Researcher, interpreter and research participant negotiating meanings in an education research interview. Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 316–328. Apter, E. (2005) Part two introduction. In S. Bermann and M. Wood (eds) Nation, Language, and the Ethics of Translation (pp. 89–92). Princeton: Princeton University Press. Bedeker, L. and Feinauer, I. (2006) The translator as cultural mediator. Southern African Linguistics and Applied Language Studies 24 (2), 133–141.

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Bezemer, J. and Mavers, D. (2011) Multimodal transcription as academic practice: A social semiotic perspective. International Journal of Social Research Methodology 14 (3), 191–206. Bird, C.M. (2005) How I stopped dreading and learned to love transcription. Qualitative Inquiry 11 (2), 226–248. Borchgrevink, A. (2003) Silencing language: Of anthropologist and interpreters. Ethnography 4 (1), 95–121. Bot, H. and Wadensjö, C. (2004) The presence of a third party: A dialogical view on interpreter-assisted treatment. In J.P. Wilson and B. Droždek (eds) Broken Spirits: The Treatment of Traumatized Asylum Seekers, Refugees, and War and Torture Victims (pp. 355–378). New York: Brunner-Routledge. Bucholtz, M. (2000) The politics of transcription. Journal of Pragmatics 32, 1439–1465. Bucholtz, M. (2007) Variation in transcription. Discourse Studies 9 (6), 784–808. Buckingham, H. and Yule, G. (1987) Phonemic false evaluation: Theoretical and clinical aspects. Clinical Linguistics and Phonetics 1, 113–125. Copland, F. and Creese, A. (2015) Linguistic Ethnography: Collecting, Analysing and Presenting Data. London: SAGE Publications. Duranti, A. (1997) Linguistic Anthropology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Freed, A.O. (1988) Interviewing through an interpreter. Social Work 33, 315–319. García, O. and Otheguy, R. (2020) Plurilingualism and translanguaging: Commonalities and divergences. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism 23, 17–35. Ganassin, S. and Holmes, P. (2020) ‘I was surprised to see you in a Chinese school’: Researching multilingually opportunities and challenges in community-based research. Applied Linguistics 41 (6), 827–854. doi: 10.1093/applin/amz043. Gibb, R. and Danero Iglesias, J. (2017) Breaking the silence (again): On language learning and levels of fluency in ethnographic research. The Sociological Review 65 (1), 134–149. Gibb, R., Tremlett, A. and Danero Iglesias, J. (2020) Learning and Using Languages in Ethnographic Research. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Greatbatch, D. (1992) The management of disagreement between news interviewees. In P. Drew and J. Heritage (eds) Talk at Work (pp. 268–301). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Green, J. et al. (1997) The myth of the objective transcript: Transcribing as a situated act. TESOL Quarterly 31 (1), 172–176. Halcomb, E.J. and Davidson, P.M. (2006) Is verbatim transcription of interview data always necessary? Applied Nursing Research 19 (1), 38–42. Hockey, J. and Forsey, M. (2012) Ethnography is not participant observation: Reflections on the interview as participatory qualitative research. In J. Skinner (ed.) The Interview: An Ethnographic Approach (pp. 69–88). London: Berg. Holmes, P. et al. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Jaffe, A. (2006) Transcription in practice: Nonstandard orthography. Journal of Applied Linguistics 3 (2), 163–183. Jeppesen, J. and Hansen, H.P. (2011) Narrative journalism as complementary inquiry. Qualitative Studies 2 (2), 98–117. Kalocsányiová, E. (2017) Towards a repertoire-building approach: Multilingualism in language classes for refugees in Luxembourg. Language and Intercultural Communication 17 (4), 474–493. Kalocsányiová, E. (2019) Towards an understanding of the language–integration nexus: A qualitative study of forced migrants’ experiences in multilingual Luxembourg. Unpublished thesis, University of Luxembourg, Esch/Alzette. Kalocsányiová, E. (2020) Researching forced migrants’ trajectories: Encounters with multilingualism. In B. Nienaber and C. Wille (eds) Border Experiences in Europe. Everyday Life – Working Life – Communication – Languages (pp. 215–234). BadenBaden: Nomos.

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Kalocsányiová, E. and Shatnawi, M. (2020) ‘He was obliged to seek refuge’: An illustrative example of a cross-language interview analysis. Qualitative Research 1–19. See https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1468794120952020. Kirsch, C. (2017) Young children capitalising on their entire language repertoire for language learning at school. Language, Culture and Curriculum 31, 39–55. Kvale, S. (1996) InterViews: An Introduction to Qualitative Research Interviewing. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications. Loubere, N. (2017) Questioning transcription: The case for the systematic and reflexive interviewing and reporting (SRIR) method. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung 18 (2), Art. 15. Mondada, L. (2007) Commentary: Transcript variations and the indexicality of transcribing practices. Discourse Studies 9 (6), 809–821. Moore, L.C. (2009) On communicative competence…in the field. Language and Communication 29 (3), 244–253. Nikander, P. (2008) Working with transcripts and translated data. Qualitative Research in Psychology 5, 225–231. North, B. and Piccardo, E. (2016) Developing illustrative descriptors of aspects of mediation for the Common European Framework of Reference (CEFR). Language Teaching 49 (3), 455–459. Nurjannah, I. et al. (2014) Conducting a grounded theory study in a language other than English: Procedures for ensuring the integrity of translation. SAGE Open 4 (1), 1–10. Ochs, E. (1979) Transcription as theory. In E. Ochs and B. Schiefflin (eds) Developmental Pragmatics (pp. 43–72). New York: Academic. Oliver, D. et al. (2005) Constraints and opportunities with interview transcription: Towards reflection in qualitative research. Social Forces 84 (2), 1273–1289. Phipps, A. (2013a) Linguistic incompetence: Giving an account of researching multilingually. Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 329–341. Phipps, A. (2013b) Intercultural ethics: Questions of methods in language and intercultural communication. Language and Intercultural Communication 13 (1), 10–26. Rampton, B. et al. (2015) Theory and method in linguistic ethnography. In J. Snell et al. (eds) Linguistic Ethnography: Interdisciplinary Explorations (pp. 14–50). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Resch, K. and Enzenhofer, E. (2018) Collecting data in other languages: Strategies for cross-language research in multilingual societies. In U. Flick (ed.) The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Data Collection (pp. 131–146). London: SAGE. Riessman, C.K. (2008) Narrative Methods for the Human Sciences. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications. Roberts, C. (1997) The politics of transcription. Transcribing talk: Issues of representation. TESOL Quarterly 31 (1), 167–172. Robinson-Pant, A. (2017) Research in multilingual contexts: Joining an international community of researchers. In A. Robinson-Pant and A. Wolf (eds) Researching Across Languages and Cultures (pp. 117–135). Oxon: Routledge. Ross, J. (2010) Was that infinity or affinity? Applying insights from translation studies to qualitative research transcription. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung 11 (2), Art. 2. Shklarov, S. (2007) Double vision uncertainty: The bilingual researcher and the ethics of cross language research. Qualitative Health Research 17, 529–538. Sutrisno, A., Nguyen, N.T. and Tangen, D. (2014) Incorporating translation in qualitative studies: Two case studies in education. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 27 (10), 1337–1353. ten Thije, J.D. et al. (2012) Receptive multilingualism – Introduction. International Journal of Bilingualism 16 (3), 245–247. Tilley, S.A. (2003) ‘Challenging’ research practices: Turning a critical lens on the work of transcription. Qualitative Inquiry 9 (5), 750–773.

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Tonkin, E. (1984) Language learning. In R.F. Ellen (ed.) Ethnographic Research: A Guide to General Conduct (pp. 178–187). London: Academic Press. Tremlett, A. (2009) Claims of ‘knowing’ in ethnography: Realising anti-essentialism through a critical reflection on language acquisition in fieldwork. Graduate Journal of Social Science 6 (3), 63–85. Tsuda, Y. (2010) Speaking against the hegemony of English: Problems, ideologies, solutions. In T.K. Nakayama and R.T. Halualani (eds) The Handbook of Critical Intercultural Communication (pp. 248–269). Malden: John Wiley. Vakser, S. (2017) Multilingual dynamics in the research process: Transcribing and interpreting interactional data. In M. Martin-Jones and D. Martin (eds) Researching Multilingualism: Critical and Ethnographic Perspectives (pp. 229–244). London: Routledge. Vigouroux, C. (2007) Trans-scription as a social activity: An ethnographic approach. Ethnography 8 (1), 61–97.

Appendix 10.1 Transcription Conventions (0.3)

timed pause

(-) (--) …

brief (untimed) silences

[]

overlapping speech

((laugh))

paralinguistic features and situational description

=

no gap at all between the two turns

?

rising intonation or question

!

strong emphasis

yes.

falling final intonation

descr↑iption↓

arrows denote a marked rising/falling shift in intonation

word-

false‐start or self‐correction

a:nd

lengthening of the preceding sound

good

emphasis

NO

large capitals indicate loud volume/strong emphasis

[…]

ellipsis

< … > indicates slowed down delivery relative to the surrounding talk

>yes
…< indicates speeded up delivery relative to the surrounding talk

(xxx)

stretch of inaudible/unclear talk

/sedei/

slashes indicate phonetic transcription

*

approximate (intended) pronunciation/meaning

‘text’

exact words (in descriptive transcripts)

°text°

decreased volume/whisper

11 Interpreting Cognitive Justice: A Framework for Interpreters as Co-researchers in Postcolonial Multilingual Research Bridget Backhaus

The nature of knowledge is a vexed question that has long plagued academics and philosophers alike. It is a question that also cuts to the heart of cross-cultural studies and forces researchers to examine their own belief in light of their participants’. Robert Chambers (1979) posed the question ‘Whose knowledge counts?’ as the title of his seminal work on rural development. The dominance of the English language in cultural studies and academia more broadly, in conjunction with the imperialist histories of Western research and anthropology, has meant that it is often those in positions of power who are able to decide whose knowledge is counted and how that knowledge is expressed. Historically, the roles of interpreters and translators in multilingual research have been silenced by these power relations and colonial research traditions (Tanu & Dales, 2016). While there is a growing body of literature that recognises the essential role that translators and interpreters play, there is little theoretical work that explores this in a multilingual postcolonial and anthropological research context. Interpreters and translators bring invaluable perspectives and knowledge to multilingual research, so there is a distinct need for theory development that recognises this contribution. In this chapter, I employ Viswanathan’s (2009) cognitive justice as a framework for multilingual research and explore the role of interpreters within this framework. Cognitive justice suggests that different knowledge systems can coexist and work together. In the context of multilingual 229

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research, this requires researchers to foreground their own linguistic resources and explore how local co-researchers might contribute to the understanding and expression of alternative knowledges. The purpose of this chapter is to explore how considering interpreters as co-researchers and employing methods that facilitate this role contributes to a cognitive justice framework for researching multilingually in a postcolonial context. Drawing on research conducted in South India as a case study, I first define and discuss cognitive justice in relation to postcolonial research before exploring the context of the study in relation to the politics of language of the research sites. India represents a complex linguistic environment and therefore offers an ideal site to explore alternative ways of framing multilingual research. The research itself focused on two community radio stations in Tamil Nadu, a southern state with a complex linguistic history, where language is closely linked to identity. The sites themselves were unique multilingual environments, with one station broadcasting to several local tribal groups, each speaking their own language or dialect. Part of a doctoral research project focused on listening practices of community radio broadcasters in India, this case study focuses on how a cognitive justice framework facilitates working with interpreters as ‘coresearchers’ (Temple & Edwards, 2002) so that their knowledge and languages are valued. This was, however, not an initial consideration of the research design. Perhaps like many novice researchers, my focus was on what I considered to be the prescriptive, premeditated process of executing the research design to answer the research questions. Despite the extensive critiques of simplistic change models in other parts of my work, I had internally framed my own language abilities – or lack thereof, as far as conversational Tamil was concerned – as a problem and decided that engaging an interpreter was a simple solution. Language was a barrier to be overcome rather than a rich source of cultural knowledge and a complex arena of power structures and politics. The politics of the multilingual aspects of the research were simply not considered in the initial research design or scoping. The importance of applying a multilingual lens only really became clear to me once the data collection was underway. Learning to navigate the complexities and politics of language was a collaborative, reflective, iterative and, in many cases, a retrospective process. A cognitive justice framework was initially intended to frame thinking around ethical research in a postcolonial context but, through these reflective processes, I realised that cognitive justice also has relevance and potential for framing multilingual research and the choices a researcher makes vis-à-vis their own linguistic resources in this process. The remainder of this chapter details those reflective processes and explores the ways in which a cognitive framework contributes to positioning interpreters as co-researchers in multilingual research.

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Cognitive Justice, Postcolonial Research and Researcher Positionality

This section discusses the theoretical position of this research by first defining a cognitive justice framework. I then briefly situate cognitive justice within postcolonial anthropological research before highlighting the importance of making the positionality of the researcher visible in order to develop an argument for the importance of recognising the knowledge of interpreters in multilingual research. First, the concept of cognitive justice emerged from Indian scholar Visvanathan (2006, 2009), who introduced cognitive justice as a way of critiquing the hegemony of modern western science, considered ‘the best’ and the most dominant form of knowledge, while alternative knowledge sources are either dismissed as folklore, ethnoknowledge, or superstition (Visvanathan, 2006, 2009). Santos refers to this destruction, marginalisation and oppression of non-Western, non-scientific knowledges as ‘epistemicide’ (2006). Visvanathan (2009, para. 7) offers cognitive justice as a practical way of recognising the value of alternative or traditional knowledges: Cognitive justice recognises the right of different forms of knowledge to co-exist but adds that this plurality needs to go beyond tolerance or liberalism to an active recognition of the need for diversity. It demands recognition of knowledges, not only as methods but as ways of life.

Cognitive justice offers a framework for understanding and actively recognising local knowledge, grounded in its own language and cultural, political and historical environment. Cognitive justice suggests that western and alternative knowledges can co-exist as equal contributors to understanding and provide equal platforms from which to launch inquiry. This is particularly important in a postcolonial setting and reinforces the notion that viewing western ways of knowledge through a critical lens does not mean that western and indigenous worldviews are incompatible, or in conflict with one another (Evans et al., 2014). Cognitive justice also has significant potential in a multilingual research environment that involves the use of interpreters. Recognising that the knowledge of interpreters can co-exist alongside that of the researcher contributes to a more equitable research environment that facilitates the co-creation of new knowledge among co-researchers. A further key advantage of a cognitive justice framework is that it also provides space for acknowledging the importance of context. Postcolonial environments represent a particularly complex web of power relations and historical underpinnings that must be taken into account. In terms of researching multilingually, postcolonial scholar Bhabha (1994) offers the concept of hybridity, or the third space, as a way of understanding the role of language in such environments. Hybridity refers to the process where

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colonisers attempt to translate the identity of the colonised into their framework but in doing so create something new entirely (Bhabha, 1994). This third space represents a new hybrid identity which interweaves elements of both the coloniser and the colonised. While not without critique, particularly in the field of translation studies (see Maitland, 2016), this notion of hybridity has appeal for postcolonial multilingual research as it presents a space for knowledge borne from different linguistic backgrounds to come together. Multilingual research embodies this third space where multiple languages, cultures and knowledges intersect with interpreters acting as a vital link between these intersecting knowledges and cultures. The challenge remains to balance the power structures associated with articulating claims to this knowledge, particularly where English is seen as the dominant academic language and Western academia as a dominant source of knowledge (Dutta, 2014; Tanu & Dales, 2016). Thus, Bhabha’s concept of hybridity also demonstrates the fragility of translating culture in postcolonial environments. Therein lies the importance of a cognitive justice framework, in that it actively creates space for recognising multiple knowledges and the language in which they are most comfortably expressed and shared. Having defined a cognitive justice framework and its role within postcolonial research, it is important to also discuss the positionality of the researcher. This chapter draws on doctoral research that I conducted in India. I am a privileged, white woman from Australia. My positionality and those of my research participants are, needless to say, very different. Like India, the country I live in has been irretrievably affected by colonisation; however, unlike India, Australia could hardly be described as postcolonial. My research interest in community radio and social change had led me to India and my preliminary work with local researchers further refined my search for research sites to the South Indian state of Tamil Nadu. This was an unexpected turn, particularly as I had spent a year learning Hindi, the predominant language of the north. My research was multilingual, yet I only spoke Tamil at a beginner level. I undertook formal language learning in the months prior to fieldwork and engaged in informal language learning throughout, including daily conversational practice and vocabulary revision, but my proficiency did not reach conversational levels. This ‘outsider’ status was further complicated by the inherent power associated with the role of ‘researcher’. This is further complicated by the ethical issues associated with conducting multilingual research such as the power relations involved in negotiating language choices, how research participants are recruited and how meaning-making takes place (Holmes et al., 2013). These issues are under increasing scrutiny, having historically been seldom discussed by western researchers conducting multilingual research far from home (Tanu & Dales, 2016). Indeed, through the use of sterile, academic language and the distant, scientific third-person, researchers and their positionality are erased, and

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their accounts are presented as an unquestionable ‘view from nowhere’ (Schwartz-Shea & Yanow, 2009). Knowledge, even knowledge generated by ‘objective’ research, is saturated in history and social life (Harding, 1992). Making the positionality of the researcher visible recognises these influences and the effect they may have on the research process which, in turn, creates space for reflection and reflexive practice. As such, in this chapter, I aim to foreground, without privileging, my own positionality as a researcher. Making my own positionality visible creates spaces for reflection and critique of my own initial views and practices. It is through this critique that the importance of engaging with a cognitive justice framework becomes clear. Foregrounding the positionality of the researcher cannot help but highlight my limitations, both in terms of local cultural knowledge and perspectives, but also in the more pragmatic sense of language. Being open about these limitations reinforces the importance of the interpreter to the research, not only for navigating multilingual hybrid spaces, but also for bridging cultural gaps. The cultural knowledge of interpreters, in addition to their linguistic knowledge, is essential to conducting multilingual research. Cognitive justice offers a framework that recognises that the knowledge of interpreters can co-exist with that of the researchers as equal contributors, or co-researchers, to new knowledge co-creation. Cognitive justice also allows space for critiquing postcolonial power structures and acknowledging the politics of language in research. This chapter now turns to how this theory can be operationalised in postcolonial, multilingual research. The politics of language in the field site

India represents a particularly rich site for investigating how researchers handle language in their research processes, particularly given the politics of languages. While Hindi and English are the official languages of India, the most recent census recognised 122 distinct languages and 270 ‘mother tongues’, each with more than 10,000 speakers (Office of the Registrar General & Census Commissioner, 2011). Tamil Nadu, the research site of my study, represents a distinct linguistic and political environment as compared to other states in India and has a history of resistance against the Hindi-speaking dominance of the North. A Dravidian language, Tamil is spoken by some 80 million people, mainly in South India, and has a literary tradition spanning more than 3000 years (Kamdar, 2018; Vāsanti, 2006). There have long been tensions between the Hindi-speaking North and the Tamil-speaking South. A historical example of the sensitivity of this issue comes from the scoping of the Official Language Act in 1963 that proposed Hindi as the sole official language of India. This sparked anti-Hindi agitations and protests in Tamil Nadu (Annamalai, 2010). These protests led to the amended

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Official Language Act of 1967 which included English as an official language and enhanced the status of regional languages across the country (Annamalai, 2010). The dominance of Hindi remains a point of contention in the South; as such, there is great pride and determination in preserving the local languages. This research took place at two sites in Tamil Nadu, in different towns, roughly 300 kilometres apart. Yet, even these relatively close sites were linguistically diverse. One of the sites had a particularly localised multilingual element due to the presence of various tribal languages and dialects. Such a complex linguistic environment is challenging to navigate even for native Tamil speakers, with 26 indigenous dialects and 2 distinct languages in use throughout the region. Even at the local level of this field site, there were difficulties associated with the use of Tamil, rather than local dialects, as the language of organisations and officials. Furthermore, there are issues around the literacy constraints on those whose native language is purely oral rather than written. Such a complex, multilingual research environment further emphasised the importance of a cognitive justice framework in that it provides space for local knowledge to be discussed and expressed in local languages. Case Study: Interpreters as Co-Researchers within a Cognitive Justice Framework

This section reflects on the initial research design of the project which highlights a limited engagement with cognitive justice and a lack of consideration of the complexities of both multilingual research and the role of the interpreter. Given my own limited linguistic resources in terms of conversational Tamil and the broad lack of English among research participants (just one of the 39 participants spoke conversational English), working with an interpreter was an assumption built into the research design with no critical reflection as to the implications of this approach. Nevertheless, this research design formed the basis of the doctoral research and was the launch point for the reflexive processes that highlighted the value of a cognitive justice framework. Initial research design

The methodology of my doctoral research was informed by a broadly constructivist worldview alongside cognitive justice as an interpretive framework. Given these frameworks, I employed ethnography as both a methodology and a theoretical approach because it recognises multiple, socially and experientially constructed forms of knowledge and reality (Guba & Lincoln, 1994). Further, employing ethnography demonstrates a commitment to understanding participants’ ‘lived lives and ­practices … through their own unique complexity’ (Slater, 2013: 11). Ethnography encourages immersive

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interactions and engagement in order to help the researcher learn to interpret the world from the perspective of research participants, recognising their unique knowledge systems and realities (Hammersley & Atkinson, 2007). However, understanding the unique contextual complexity means that knowledge systems, and the language used to express and share them, are of critical importance. Ethnography as a methodology has the potential to provide rich, multi-faceted data and an understanding of context, both of which are essential to exploring the research foci and the operationalisation of cognitive justice. Ethnography is, at its core, interpretive: bringing together multiple perspectives to build new knowledge. Marcus (1997) argues that a defining feature of ethnography is the notion of ‘complicity’ between researchers and participants. Building rapport has been a key tenet of traditional ethnography and anthropology, but complicity, rather than rapport, further aligns with a cognitive justice framework. Complicity implies a relationship built on mutual curiosity and the search for alternative knowledge, co-constructed between researchers and research participants (Couldry, 2003). When viewed through a multilingual research lens, complicity implies collaborating linguistically to find a shared space where knowledge can be shared on equal terms. A cognitive justice approach to multilingual ethnography moves beyond the simplistic aim of recreating a holistic picture of multiple fieldwork settings; instead, it draws on complicity to establish relationships with participants that are built on mutual respect and curiosity in order to develop understandings of different knowledges. In practice, this means moving beyond the traditional roles of researcher, interpreter and participants and instead viewing co-research and co-creation of knowledge as collaborative research goals. In addition to informing the methodology, a cognitive justice framework also influenced the selection of the methods. The foremost method of data collection was observation. Initially, the observation centred on the stations themselves to gain a general understanding of the everyday workings of the stations. This also allowed time to build relationships with the research participants – community radio station staff and ­listeners – and the interpreter and start to develop a sense of complicity. The second phase of observation saw the research move outside of the stations to incorporate the work that takes place outside traditional sites of media production through what Kusenbach (2003) refers to as ‘goalongs’. A cross between participant observation and an interview, this method involved accompanying participants, alongside the interpreter, on their everyday outings in order to understand their experiences of their physical and social environments (Kusenbach, 2003). It was anticipated that these initial observation periods would be useful for both myself and the interpreter in terms of building relationships with the research participants, but also in contexutalising the role of community radio in the communities.

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The second method of data collection was interviews with community radio broadcasters and listeners. Interviews were semi-structured and indepth with open-ended questions aimed at collecting descriptive qualitative data. The interviews were intentionally conducted after a period of participant observation and go-alongs in order to test the observations of the researcher. The interviews were not only a source of research data but also an opportunity to engage in the co-construction of knowledge. My emerging understandings, supported by the interpreter, were presented to interview participants, again through the interpreter, in order to clarify and seek further explanations and thus ensure the knowledge being cocreated was accurate and representative. The first interviews took the form of focus group discussions with community radio audience members. Following the completion of these, the interpreter and I conducted one group interview with the staff at each of the radio stations, followed by one-on-one, in-depth interviews with the key informants at each of the stations. While the aim of focus group discussions with listeners was to facilitate general conversations around the research topics, the more formal interview format with station staff sought the answers to specific questions. The final method employed in this research was that of listener storytelling. Drawing on the work of King (2015), listener storytelling invited listeners to share personal narratives regarding their relationship and interactions with the radio stations. This was designed to take place with minimal intervention from the researcher and interpreter and allowed a space for participants to share their knowledge outside of the constraints of the interview formats. Crook (2009) notes that participants already have the tools to tell their own stories in their own way; it is the role of the facilitator to simply enable this process. Storytelling democratises the data collection process and promotes listening on the part of the researcher in order to provide the participants with an authentic voice in the research. The interviews and stories were recorded and later translated, transcribed and analysed. Delayed reflexivity in practice

There is little in the research design of this project that offers significant insight into multilingual research. Indeed, as I confessed earlier, it was not a consideration of the initial research design at all. The solution to navigating the intensities of ethnography – immersive engagements, building rapport or complicity and establishing an understanding of participants’ lived experiences in all their complexity – was to engage an interpreter. It is abundantly clear that inattention to language and the political nature of language in the research context negates the claims of ethnography, as well as methods such as storytelling, to truly engage with the lives of others. Unfortunately, it was not until the research was

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underway that I came to realise this oversight. The section that follows offers an alternative reading; an attempt to move beyond simplistic implementation of qualitative methodologies to illustrate the role that cognitive justice can play in recognising the importance of the interpreter, not only for her linguistic resources but also her knowledge and perspectives. In doing so, this section aims to highlight how a cognitive justice framework allows for analysing the importance of interpreters as co-researchers. The role of the interpreter

Given the complex linguistic environment in which this research took place, a cognitive justice framework helped me understand the role of the interpreter in contributing to the co-construction and co-production of the research. While engaging translators and interpreters are by no means the only or the best way of conducting multilingual research, it was deemed the most practical for this research. According to a cognitive justice framework and its respect for the co-existence of multiple knowledges (Viswanathan, 2009), it is not only the knowledge of the research participants that must be recognised but also that of the interpreter. Researchers have historically had the tendency not to problematise interpretation and translation; ‘many investigators present transcripts of translated interviews, but the politics of translation are rarely acknowledged’ (Riessman, 2008: 42). This is rapidly changing as translation is increasingly considered an analytic category rather than static data (Gal, 2015). Tanu and Dales (2016) suggest that silencing the role of translators and interpreters stems from the colonial origins of ethnographic writing and the pronounced divide between ‘native’ and ‘non-native’ researchers (2016: 355). As such, a cognitive justice approach attempts to address this power imbalance by recognising the knowledge of interpreters and acknowledging that multilingual research may depend on translators and interpreters ‘not just for words, but to a certain extent for perspective’ (Temple, 1997: 608). Interpreters were needed in my research as my proficiency in the local languages (primarily Tamil but also several tribal languages) was limited. I was able to follow discussion topics and engage in rudimentary conversations but not at a sufficient level to conduct complex research. While some participants had varying levels of English, it was preferable to conduct interviews in the language in which they were most comfortable to create space for their knowledge to be expressed in the way it has been conceptualised. This has an additional advantage of subverting the norms and expectations of English as a colonial, academic language (Riessman, 2008), and shifting the balance of power away from the researcher to the participants. Taking this approach, however, required a frank assessment of my linguistic skills. Acknowledging that the researcher is ‘less than fluent’ in the local language is key to an open discussion on language and translation issues (Gibb & Danero Iglesias, 2016). While fluency in the

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local language would have been ideal, the time available meant that it was more realistic to work with an interpreter/translator and supplement this with informal language learning (Gibb & Danero Iglesias, 2016). As such, a research assistant was engaged to interpret and assist in facilitating the logistics of the research. For cultural reasons, employing a female interpreter was preferred. Edwards (1998) suggests that, where possible, interpreters and research interviewees should be of the same sex, culture, religion and age (1998: 200). While this is not appropriate or possible in all circumstances, consultations with researchers from a local institution suggested that a female interpreter from the general area of the research sites would be most appropriate. A female interpreter was preferred for several reasons. First, given the lengthy engagements and travel requirements of the research, it would not be seen as appropriate within the cultural context for an unmarried male and female to be spending so much time together. Two women travelling together was much more appropriate and also yielded access to situations that a male interpreter would not have had. A female interpreter from the local area was also able to help navigate issues such as what can be said and to whom, a delicate balance in multilingual research, particularly in environments where this kind of cultural knowledge can only be produced and accessed through lived experiences (Krog, 2011). With these criteria in mind, I reached out to my networks and received a recommendation for a local interpreter. Intellectual biographies

While initially the interpreter was considered essential in terms of logistics, I soon came to realise the significant value that she was contributing to the research as a co-researcher, with her own unique knowledge systems and intellectual biography. Through a lens of cognitive justice, the interpreter was essential, not only for overcoming language barriers but also for navigating local cultural norms and contributing her own unique knowledge and perspectives. As such, I sought a way of recognising and making visible the role and perspective of the interpreter. Temple (1997: 608) argues that the concept of ‘intellectual biographies’ provides a useful frame for understanding the point of view of the interpreter: Researchers’ intellectual autobiographies influence what they know, and what they know and experience influences what they write, which in turn influences their intellectual autobiographies. Extending this concept to include the ‘intellectual biographies’ of others involved in research (for example, translators, interpreters, interviewers and transcribers) is a useful way for the researcher to engage with the perspectives of those who may be involved in a significant part of the research process.

This approach aligns with a cognitive justice interpretive framework, which recognises alternative knowledges and perspectives. Based on this,

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as a researcher, I sought to understand the intellectual biography of the interpreter. Developing an intellectual biography of the interpreter emerged organically over time. While Edwards (1998) suggests an induction process, which may have helped to formally capture the interpreter’s intellectual biography from the beginning, I realised the true value of the interpreter far too late to engage in that process. Fortunately, however, this intellectual biography emerged on its own, through the organic process of getting to know one another and working together. The interpreter was a master’s student at a university in the major town closest to one of the field sites; thus, her background was culturally similar. She was a native Tamil speaker who also spoke English fluently, having attended an English school. Due to the nature of the research, we spent a lot of time together, both working and living alongside one another for an extended period of time. The interpreter introduced me to her friends and family and showed me around her hometown when we had some time off. Through this, I was able to develop a clear idea of her intellectual biography, and she of mine, through a mutual process of relationship-building. Developing an understanding of the interpreter’s intellectual biography was immensely useful in negotiating how we were going to work together. A further use of Edwards’ induction process is to ensure that ‘the interpreter is neither too active nor too passive’ (1998: 200). As such, extensive discussions took place around the focus of research inquiry as well as the preferred approach to interpreting. The structure of the research methods also allowed for somewhat of an acclimatisation period with the interpreter. With the initial stage at each site simply involving observation at the stations, the interpreter was able to build rapport with the key participants, who were the stations managers at each of the stations, and also work reflexively with the researcher in an ongoing cycle of reflection and adaptation to develop appropriate interpretation approaches. Following Andrews’ (2013) approach to negotiating roles and responsibilities with the interpreter as co-researchers, we discussed interviewing techniques and the approach to interpretation with which she was most comfortable. During initial phases of observation, we experimented with the simultaneous whispering mode of interpretation (Hale, 2007: 10) – with her relaying her translations line by line – but found it to be disruptive and off-putting to other participants in the conversation. As the research progressed, we experimented together and found that the approach that worked best for us was to work with the natural ebbs and flows of the conversation. With my very basic language skills, I was able to generally follow the conversation and interject if anything seemed of overt relevance; otherwise, the interpreter would relay information during natural pauses and breaks in the conversations. This eventuated as a combination of what Hale terms ‘long consecutive’ interpreting, where the interpreter directly translates long segments of speech (2007: 10), and ‘a mediated approach’, which was

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more of a summary rather than a literal translation (Hales, 2007: 42). This approach achieved more ‘direct interaction’ between the interpreter and participants rather than a ‘disrupted interaction’ between myself and the participants with interpreting in the background (Andrews, 2013). This helped to build more of a natural rapport between all parties, though it required a relationship of significant trust between the researcher and interpreter, which we established over time by travelling and living together. This mixed approach worked particularly well for methods such as focus groups and storytelling, which rely on natural communicative flows to generate data, but we adapted somewhat and reverted to long consecutive interpreting during the group interviews and the one-on-one interviews with radio station staff. By the time the interviewing phase commenced, we had built a strong working relationship and were very clear on expectations and approaches to interpretation. This process of negotiating intellectual biographies and approaches to interpretation also involved navigating a diverse linguistic environment outside of the languages of the researcher and interpreter. One of the research sites was a radio station that broadcasted in a number of tribal languages alongside Tamil and employed staff members who were all multilingual in at least two different languages. Such a diverse linguistic environment calls for what Ganassin and Holmes (2013) call ‘flexible multilingualism’. There were several examples of this. First, though the majority of interviews were conducted in Tamil, there was a staff member from a neighbouring state who was not as confident with the language and often preferred to speak English. Both the interpreter and I spoke English with this participant in both formal interviews and casual conversation. A further example emerged from discussions with members of upper management, namely, those who worked for the parent bodies of the community radio stations. While they were not research participants per se, those limited engagements were conducted in English: they spoke to me in English rather than go through the interpreter. There is much that can be drawn from this: the power relations associated with the subject-position of researcher versus that of the interpreter, my positionality as a white foreigner, even the simpler explanation of myself as the older one of our research team. This clearly demonstrates the complex politics of multilingual research and potentially offers a ripe area for future research. In terms of navigating this ‘flexible multilingualism’, these situations required that the interpreter and I work closely together, often negotiating in the moment, so as to best adapt to different cultural situations and preferred languages. Exit Interviews and Consolidating Co-research

As the research ended, I decided to conduct a more formal exit interview with the interpreter. Although a clear picture of her intellectual

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biography had been established through social and informal interactions and recorded in field notes and research journals, I conducted an interview to make this position overt and formally recorded. Edwards (1998) suggests applying reflexivity to the role of the interpreter through interviews and treating interpreters overtly as key informants, albeit without privileging their insight over that of other interviewees. Using this approach as a guide, I questioned the interpreter about certain life experiences, cultural nuances, her academic background and the issues she saw as relevant to the research questions. The aim of this exit interview was not to retrospectively formally construct the intellectual biography of the interpreter but to provide a space to reflect on and discuss the research and research processes that could also be used as data to inform the research findings. Through this interview, the role of the interpreter as a coresearcher was made visible throughout the written outcomes of the research. The exit interview revealed some of the cultural difficulties associate with translations, even where the interpreter was of a similar background to the research participants. As discussed, the interpreter engaged for this research was from the same general area as the research sites, but her background was more closely associated with the geographic area of one of the stations. In the exit interview, she explained the challenges created by being from a different geographic area of one of the two radio station field sites. I could sense that they had a problem [during the interview]. Because they are very … much Indigenous tribe. Women mostly don’t talk out, and even when they talked out, they were very, very, very, very careful in leaving out every single word. So that interview was difficult. (Exit interview)

Here, cultural differences were particularly pronounced, not only between the researcher and the participants, but between the local interpreter and this group of participants too. During the exit interview, the interpreter and I discussed it at length, reflecting on why it was so challenging and what might have been done differently. That field site interview was difficult: The participants were shy and unwilling to talk; they needed a lot of coaxing and spoke very carefully. This was a significant contrast to the talkative and, in some cases, boisterous focus group discussions that had taken place at the other field site. Following the exit interview, I reviewed my field notes and engaged in subsequent discussions with the interpreter about this interview. Through the process of reflexive interviewing, personal reflection, and engaging with the interpreter as a co-researcher, we came to the conclusion that the cultural and linguistic differences with this particular group were too great to facilitate that kind of interview. Both the interpreter and I were outsiders, a significant factor in such a remote tribal village, and the station staff member was only known to one member of the focus group, again, a significant departure from the other

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focus groups. Upon reflection, it seemed that the presence of one outsider, even the radio staff member, was a departure from the norm. The impact of this was compounded by both the interpreter, an outsider from the city, and me, a white foreigner. With the benefit of hindsight, it is clear the focus group was doomed to fail, and there were simply too many complex linguistic and cultural factors, yet it was only through the exit interview and subsequent discussions that the interpreter and I were able to unpack what had happened and why. A further issue that came to light through the use of an exit interview was how the interpreter negotiated shared culture at one of the research sites. The second research site was closer to home for the interpreter, geographically and culturally. Although she was not living in that area at the time, her family was originally from that region so there were close cultural and linguistic ties. However, a similar cultural background presented a new suite of challenges: In one way, it was easy but in most of the ways it was difficult. Because first of all, from seeing me through, they can’t really understand where I’m from. But still when they got to know that I am from their local place, they wanted to know more about me. So that caused a sense of inconvenience to me, letting out all my personal details to them because I cannot be very curt with the elders so I had to talk to. Sometimes it was ok, sometimes it was difficult when someone … tried to find my communal background and caste background. In that way, it was difficult. (Exit interview)

The fact that the interpreter was from the local area provided unique insight and knowledge, not only in terms of research data and translation, but also in the cultural intricacies of how the research should be conducted. The interpreter’s status as almost an ‘insider’, however, meant that she was caught between cultural norms and expectations, and her professional role. While I was aware of the situation, it did not seem to be impacting the research at the time, as far as I knew, at least. These challenges were only really reflected on during the exit interview; thus, the true impact on the research was difficult to ascertain. Not only does this experience highlight the multitude of complexities facing even local interpreters, but it also reinforces the need for viewing interpreters as a unique source of data and knowledge in their own right and embodying a coresearcher identity, as implicitly learned through co-researching together in the field sites, and later, through the explicit exit interview tool. While it is not always the case in multilingual research, the role of the interpreter was critical to this case study. Given that I needed to engage an interpreter, two key approaches – brought to light by a cognitive justice framework – contributed to this multilingual research. First, it was essential that the researcher and interpreter develop a relationship based on complicity and mutual curiosity through understanding intellectual

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biographies and negotiating approaches to interpretation. Second, it can be useful to formalise the knowledge and perspective that interpreters bring to the research through a reflective exit interview process. This allows the researcher to formalise the organic, ongoing process of accessing the intellectual biography of the interpreter and presents the knowledge of the interpreter as data that contributes to the co-creation of resulting research knowledge. While an exit interview represents just one tool for formalising and recording the knowledge of the interpreter, a cognitive justice framework implies that it should be used as a space for reflection and co-creation of reflexive insights rather than an extractive, positivistic exercise at the end of the research. Working with an interpreter within a cognitive justice framework – as I did in the fieldwork of this doctoral research – involves building relationships, mutually negotiating interpretation approaches as co-researchers and creating both formal and informal spaces for reflective and reflexive knowledge creation. Conclusion

This chapter explored how a cognitive justice framework provides a theoretical foundation for understanding the important role of considering interpreters as co-researchers – particularly when the researcher has minimal linguistic resources in the field site. The analysis drew on postcolonial, multilingual research in anthropology through a doctoral case study of community radio in India. The role of language in postcolonial research is intrinsically tied to specific knowledge systems, cultures and unique experiences of colonial and postcolonial histories, and underpinned by complex power structures and tensions over whose knowledge systems and languages dominate. These conditions must be considered in research design, alongside the linguistic resources of the researcher. This chapter has explored Viswanathan’s (2009) concept of cognitive justice as an important epistemological perspective for researching multilingually in postcolonial environments. By applying a post-reflexive analysis of the roles of researcher and interpreter as co-producers of knowledge, through a cognitive justice framework, I have contributed to an understanding and recognition of the important role of local knowledge and languages, grounded in their own cultural, political and historical environment, and the important role of interpreters in uncovering this knowledge. Cognitive justice suggests that western and alternative knowledges can co-exist as equal contributors to understanding and provide equal platforms from which to launch inquiry, but it also requires recognition and involvement of the languages present, particularly in postcolonial contexts. This chapter contributes to the value of operationalising a cognitive justice framework in social anthropological research by advocating for working with interpreters so that their knowledge and languages are valued as meaningful co-researchers.

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In order to engage with multilingual research within a cognitive justice framework, the first stage in the research process was to foreground the linguistic resources of the researcher in order to assess the role that an interpreter might play. Having established a need for an interpreter, there were two key approaches facilitated by a cognitive justice framework that contributed to this multilingual research. First and foremost, the researcher and interpreter must develop a strong relationship of trust and complicity, which may be solidified through accessing each other’s intellectual biographies and collaboratively negotiating approaches to interpretation. Second, it was useful to provide a more formal space to reflect on and record these processes through a reflective and reflexive exit interview. Through this, the contribution of the interpreter as a coresearcher is formalised and made explicit. This study should certainly not be read as a best-practice guide on how researchers might work with an interpreter in a multilingual field site. However, it documents areas of learning and reflection and illustrates the potential of a cognitive justice framework for positioning interpreters as co-researchers in multilingual research. Interpreters and translators bring invaluable perspectives to multilingual research and act as a link between the intersecting knowledges and cultures of postcolonial research. Thus, there is a distinct need for a theory that recognises this contribution. The role of the interpreter can be formalised and made visible through approaches such as intellectual biographies, exit interviews and being transparent about linguistic proficiencies. In this chapter, I have argued that a cognitive justice framework provides a theoretical foundation for recognising the contribution of interpreters as coresearchers in multilingual research. There is a clear need for future research to explore how a cognitive justice framework could be used to facilitate the co-design of research alongside interpreters as co-researchers. Such an approach would embed interpreters as co-researchers throughout the research from its earliest stages and contribute to an approach to multilingual research that actively recognises the knowledges of interpreters. References Andrews, J. (2013) “It’s a very difficult question isn’t it?” Researcher, interpreter and research participant negotiating meanings in an education research interview. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 316–328. Annamalai, E. (2010) Politics of language in India. In P. Brass (ed.) Routledge Handbook of South Asian Politics (pp. 229–247). New Delhi: Routledge. Bhabha, H.K. (1994) The Location of Culture. Oxon: Routledge. Chambers, R. (1979) Rural development: Whose knowledge counts? IDS Bulletin 10 (3), 1–3. Couldry, N. (2003) Passing ethnographies: Rethinking the sites of agency and reflexivity in a mediated word. In P. Murphy and M. Kraidy (eds) Global Media Studies: Ethnographic Perspectives (pp. 40–56). London; New York: Routledge.

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Crook, M. (2009) Radio storytelling and beyond. In J. Hartley and K. McWilliam (eds) Story Circle: Digital Storytelling around the World (pp. 124–128). Oxford: Wiley Online Library. Dutta, M.J. (2014) A culture-centered approach to listening: Voices of social change. International Journal of Listening 28 (2), 67–81. Edwards, R. (1998) A critical examination of the use of interpreters in the qualitative research process. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 24 (1), 197–208. Evans, M., Miller, A., Hutchinson, P. and Dingwall, C. (2014) Decolonizing research practice: Indigenous methodologies, aboriginal methods, and knowledge/knowing. In P. Leavy (ed.) The Oxford Handbook of Qualitative Research (pp. 179–194). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gal, S. (2015) Politics of translation. Annual Review of Anthropology 44, 225–240. Ganassin, S. and Holmes, P. (2013) Multilingual research practices in community research: The case of migrant/refugee women in North East England. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 342–356. Gibb, R. and Danero Iglesias, J. (2016) Breaking the silence (again): On language learning and levels of fluency in ethnographic research. The Sociological Review 65 (1), 134–149. Guba, E.G. and Lincoln, Y.S. (1994) Competing paradigms in qualitative research. In Y.  Lincoln and N. Denzin (eds) The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research (pp. 163–194). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Hale, S. (2007) Community Interpreting. Cham, Switzerland: Springer. Hammersley, M. and Atkinson, P. (2007) Ethnography: Principles in Practice. Hoboken: Taylor and Francis. Harding, S. (1992) Rethinking standpoint epistemology: What is ‘strong objectivity?’ The Centennial Review 36 (3), 437–470. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Kamdar, M. (2018) India in the 21st Century: What Everyone Needs to Know. Oxford: Oxford University Press. King, G. (2015) Hearing community radio listeners: A storytelling approach for community media audience research. Participations 12 (2), 121–146. Krog, A. (2011) In the name of human rights: I say (how) you (should) speak (before I listen). In N. Denzin and Y. Lincoln (eds) The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research (pp. 381–385). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Kusenbach, M. (2003) Street phenomenology: The go-along as ethnographic research tool. Ethnography 4 (3), 455–485. Maitland, S. (2016) ‘In-between’ a rock and a ‘third space’? On the trouble with ambivalent metaphors of translation. Translation Studies 9 (1), 17–32. Marcus, G.E. (1997) The uses of complicity in the changing mise-en-scene of anthropological fieldwork. Representations 59, 85–108. Mefalopulos, P. (2005) Communication for sustainable development: Applications and challenges. In O. Hemer, T. Tufte and T. Eriksen (eds) Media and Glocal Change. Rethinking Communication for Development (pp. 247–260). Gothenburg, Sweden: Nordicom. Office of the Registrar General & Census Commissioner (2011) Census data. See http:// www.censusindia.gov.in/pca/Searchdata.aspx (accessed 15 October 2021). Riessman, C.K. (2008) Narrative Methods for the Human Sciences. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Schwartz-Shea, P. and Yanow, D. (2009) Reading and writing as method: In search of trustworthy texts. In M. Alvesson (ed.) Organizational Ethnography: Studying the Complexities of Everyday Life (pp. 56–82). London: Sage Publications London.

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Slater, D. (2013) New Media, Development and Globalization: Making Connections in the Global South. Cambridge: Polity Press. Tanu, D. and Dales, L. (2016) Language in fieldwork: Making visible the ethnographic impact of the researcher’s linguistic fluency. The Australian Journal of Anthropology 27 (3), 353–369. Temple, B. (1997) Watch your tongue: Issues in translation and cross-cultural research. Sociology 31 (3), 607–618. Temple, B. and Edwards, R. (2002) Interpreters/translators and cross-language research: Reflexivity and border crossings. International Journal of Qualitative Methods 1 (2), 1–12. Vāsanti (2006) Cut-outs, Caste, and Cine Stars: The World of Tamil Politics. New Delhi: Viking Adult. Visvanathan, S. (2006) Alternative science. Theory, Culture & Society 23 (2–3), 164–169. Visvanathan, S. (2009, May) The search for cognitive justice. Seminar, 597. https://www. india-seminar.com/2009/597/597_shiv_visvanathan.htm (accessed 15 October 2021).

12 Bilingual Theatre in British Sign Language and English: A Reflection on the Challenges Faced During a Doctoral Applied Theatre Project Michael Richardson

This chapter critically evaluates the decision-making involved in designing a multilingual Applied Theatre (AT) project that used the principles of Participatory Action Research (PAR) to interrogate the potential for equality of participation for deaf and hearing people in theatrical performance processes. The research informing the project took place in June 2017 in Glasgow, Scotland (Richardson, 2019a) and involved two groups of research participants. The first, the group on which I focus here, comprises 10 actors, five of whom self-identified as deaf and five as hearing. Their aim was to devise new theatrical material without a pre-existing script that would be considered equally accessible to the second group of participants, an invited audience of deaf and hearing people who attended the final evening of the project. These participants watched a performance by the actors and offered feedback on the effectiveness of the created material in providing equality of access for deaf and hearing spectators. The formal codified languages during the project were British Sign Language (BSL) and English. However, the actors often eschewed spoken and/or signed dialogue in favour of communication using only mime and gesture. At other times, the arbitrary binary separation of the available languages was replaced in both rehearsal and performance by what Kusters et al. (2017) would recognise as translanguaging, drawing on competence not only in two or more formally defined languages, but also on a wide range of other semiotic repertoires such as ‘image, text, gesture, gaze, facial expression, speech, posture, objects and the environment’ 247

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(Kusters et al., 2017: 11). It is this combination of BSL, English and translanguaging that defines this project as multilingual research. To support the achievement of equality of participation in theatrical performance processes, a number of factors seemed important in the design of the project. Of primary concern were not only language choices but also the audiological and cultural identifications of both the participants and the researcher(s). Additionally, in the writing-up phase of my project, I became aware that the institutional requirements for thesis submission would also impact on the degree of multilingualism achieved by the project. In this chapter, I aim to reflect on those factors, the challenges that I faced during the delivery of the project, and the impact of those challenges on the outcomes. I intend to answer the research questions: What challenges did I face in the delivery of a multilingual research project based on the principles of PAR? How might those challenges have impacted on the project’s aim of achieving equality for deaf and hearing people in theatrical performance processes? I begin by exploring the contextual inequality between deaf and hearing people, namely the minority status of signed languages and the concept of audism. Audism is the notion that it is preferable to be hearing and speaking (Bauman, 2004) and is the ideology that underlies the societal hierarchies that keep hearing people in dominant positions over deaf communities. As I sought the removal of such hierarchies in my project, I go on to discuss methodological approaches that encourage empowerment and the achievement of equality, namely Freire’s (1968/1996) ‘Pedagogy of the Oppressed’ and the principles of PAR. Next, I introduce the methods, building on PAR, that informed my research design: ‘deaf-friendly’ research (Singleton et al., 2015) and AT (Ackroyd, 2000). As the focus of this chapter is a reflection on elements of my research design, I subsequently discuss specific decisions that I made when developing the project, focusing on those that relate to its multilingualism. The ‘ideal’ project that I designed was, however, unachievable in its execution, and in what follows, I attempt to answer the chapter’s research question by reflecting on the challenges I faced and their significance in reducing the overall effectiveness of my research. I conclude by offering questions for researchers to consider when developing similar research that aims to achieve equality between users of different languages. Audism and the Hegemony of Spoken Languages

The trigger for the doctoral project was my earlier research interrogating the effectiveness of Sign Language Interpreted Performances (hereafter SLIPs) in providing equality of access for deaf spectators. Despite deaf people not considering SLIPs to be accessible (Richardson, 2018; Richardson & Thompson, 2018), they continue to be the paradigm through which (hearing) theatres attempt to engage with the deaf

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community. This approach is driven by the cultural expectations of spoken language users, ignores the practicalities of deaf people’s linguistic choices (Padden & Humphries, 1988) and represents what Ladd (2003) calls the colonisation of deaf culture by the hearing hegemony. The continuing use of SLIPs is an example of what Turner (2006) defines as institutional audism, the phenomenon that shapes the linguistic context of this project. Audism, first coined in 1975 by Humphries in an unpublished conference paper, is ‘the notion that one is superior based on one’s ability to hear or behave in the manner of one who hears’ (quoted by Bauman, 2004: 240). This idea has been repeatedly expressed in the literature. In 1957, Myklebust claimed that ‘manual sign language must be viewed as inferior to the verbal as a language’ (1957: 241), and van Uden’s similar claim (1977, cited in Young & Temple, 2014: 13) suggests that for him, to be deaf, without speech, is to be sub-human. The practical expression of audism is the means by which dominant hearing culture maintains its superior position. Indeed, Skutnabb-Kangas (2014) identifies it as a type of linguicism, the use of language for the production and maintenance of power imbalances. It is seen in such acts as devaluing signed languages and promoting spoken languages in education, stigmatising deaf people as unintelligent or disabled and setting standards for behaviour based on the practices of hearing people (Bauman, 2004). Much of this symbolic violence is not deliberate but results from a ‘phonocentric blind spot’ (Bauman, 2008: 128). Nevertheless, the impact of audism can be significant. Emery (2009) suggests that at a societal level audism leads to a social contract between deaf and hearing people that reflects the hearing perspective and forces deaf people to become as culturally hearing as possible. This background of inequality is the context within which this research project was conducted and leads me to consider the Freirean methodological position which I introduce in the next section. The Research Framework of the Project

At the outset of my research, I was interested in the unequal status of spoken and signed languages and the ideology of audism. Therefore, I developed a methodological approach grounded in Freire’s (1968/1996) Pedagogy of the Oppressed and PAR (Herr & Anderson, 2014). The principles of Freire’s pedagogy have been applied in many different settings, including those in which a minority language is suppressed because it is perceived as inferior to the language of the dominant culture (Fleischer, 2008). Freire and the pedagogy of the oppressed

Central to Freirean pedagogy is the notion that the transformation of a world in which there is oppression must be led by the oppressed, as only

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they fully understand the challenges of their own situation. Any work by allies (who by their nature derive from the oppressor group) should be carried out with the oppressed, if it occurs at all. This requires allies to disempower themselves and demands effective two-way communication (dialogic action) and constant simultaneous action and reflection (praxis) from leaders and people alike. Importantly, ‘the oppressed must not, in seeking to regain their humanity... become in turn oppressors of the oppressors’ (Freire, 1968/1996: 26). The ultimate aim is the flattening of hierarchies, not the creation of new ones. In practice, Freire (1968/1996) proposed a two-stage methodological process. First, unveil the oppression and commit to its transformation. In the case of this project, this meant acknowledging that audist practices are commonplace in hearing theatres, a situation revealed by my earlier research on SLIPs (Richardson, 2018; Richardson & Thompson, 2018). Second, apply a new pedagogy to all people, oppressors and oppressed, to stimulate change. For this project, the development of such a new pedagogy was the underlying aim: the creation of decolonising practices within the rehearsal room, particularly language practices that would support the achievement of equality of participation for deaf and hearing people. To support the achievement of this aim, I took a number of decisions within the project design that drew on the Freirean principles underpinning deaf-centred research, itself a particular expression of PAR. Here, I discuss these PAR methodologies and their implications for my research design, before considering the usefulness of AT as a method to support my decolonising methodology. Participatory action research

PAR is a qualitative methodology based on Freirean pedagogy that aims to empower oppressed groups by relying on their expertise to guide the research process. Co-learning through participation by researchers and community members allows them to generate local knowledge together and apply it more publicly with the intention of achieving liberating social change (Herr & Anderson, 2014). The role of the researcher in PAR is to establish rapport and build trust with the research participants (Christopher et al., 2008) and to empower participants within the research process (Kemmis, 2001). This notion of empowerment through a participant-led process is only achievable by researchers acknowledging their own privilege within the process, and being prepared to surrender their own power. When it is achieved, the notion of leadership by participants suggests that PAR methods can be adapted to fit a range of environments. Indeed, the principles of PAR are seen in the theatrical context in the methods of AT and are increasingly being applied to research with deaf people.

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Applications of Freirean pedagogy and PAR to deaf-centred research

One consequence of audism is the long-standing power imbalance between hearing researchers and the deaf subjects of their research. O’Brien and Emery (2014) observe that the field of Deaf Studies is dominated by hearing researchers and that deaf academics have relatively little power but that an alternative paradigm exists in which deaf individuals might be empowered within the research process. To this end, O’Brien (2017) draws on an ethical framework developed for research with Kaupapa Māori, which represents a Freirean praxis created bottom-up by Māori communities. O’Brien identifies similarities between Māori and deaf communities as oppressed linguistic and cultural minorities and uses the Māori model to develop his own ethical framework for research with deaf people. He suggests four preliminary principles: the primacy of signed languages in all stages of research with deaf people; self-­determination, whereby deaf people should lead deaf research; identity preservation, that is deaf researchers should be role models and resist the urge to behave as though they are hearing; and community development. Similar PAR frameworks for research with deaf people have been developed by hearing researchers (see, e.g. Harris et al., 2009; Hochgesang, 2015; Singleton et al., 2015; Wurm & Napier, 2017). These writers advocate the repositioning of hearing researchers such that the authority of deaf people is foregrounded when researching their community and cultural practices. The intention is to create a ‘mutually beneficial and respectful research partnership between the researcher and the researched’ (Hochgesang, 2015: 12), with deaf people involved from the inception of a research project, rather than merely as sources of data. In this way, ‘the authority for the construction of meanings and knowledge within the Sign Language community rests with the community’s members’ (Harris et al., 2009: 114). Adopting features of PAR and deaf-centred methodologies while also maintaining a Freirean approach to deaf-hearing equality allows for the development of a decolonising multilingual methodology with a number of overlapping implications for decision-making in the project design. The first relates to the identities of the participants: They should be allowed to self-identify as deaf or hearing, according to their own sense of audiological and/or cultural identity, and neither identification should be allowed dominance over the other. Second, there are implications regarding language use: BSL should be highly visible within the project, with every project-related activity carried out in both BSL and English. Third, with regard to the leadership of the project, participants should lead the research process with the power and the freedom to determine both what knowledge is generated and the manner (and languages) in which it is produced.

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Applied Theatre

Having considered my research framework, here I turn to the theatrical methods I employed during the project. Building from the Freirean foundation of the project and applying the principles of PAR in this context suggests working within the paradigm of AT. AT practice derives from the work of Boal (2000), who created the ‘Theatre of the Oppressed’ by using theatre as a Freirean pedagogical tool. Ackroyd (2000) introduced the concept of AT as an umbrella term covering all forms of theatre with high indices of participation and transformation. Current definitions remain blurred (Nicholson, 2011), but commentators do agree on a number of universal features. Of relevance to this project, AT projects are conducted at specific times with particular communities or in particular places, and practice is contingent on those contexts. Furthermore, AT practitioners disempower themselves in the pursuit of a participative democratic process (Nicholson, 2016). Through participation, AT projects aim for personal, educational, social and/or political transformation (Hughes & Nicholson, 2017; Nicholson, 2011, 2014). The AT ensemble, then, is a model for social interaction and democratic engagement inside a rehearsal room, from which participants might learn citizenship skills that they can translate to everyday experience (Neelands, 2009). In this project, AT methods were applied as follows. A total of 10 actors, five of whom identified as deaf and five as hearing, worked together for a week in a rehearsal room. Throughout the project, they used the technique of devising, a process in which there is no pre-existing text but rather scenes are created from scratch by the actors. This required the actors to work first, collaboratively with acceptance of each other’s cultural self-identification, and second, multilingually, using BSL, English and translanguaging in the creative process and within the finished scenes. If successful, such a cross-cultural and multilingual AT project would prove itself a useful method for rebalancing power inequalities between deaf and hearing people. Reflection on the methods

The principles of PAR, particularly as expressed in deaf-friendly research and AT methods, suggested to me various opportunities within the project design to facilitate the desired achievement of equality. The aim of this chapter is to reflect first on those opportunities, and subsequently on the difficulties I faced in realising them. My approach is one of constant self-reflection. Throughout the data generation phase of the project, I was more participant observer than theatre director and made copious field notes. My reflections, along with data generated by the actors, were subjected to thematic analysis, and the result

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of that analysis revealed the themes that were relevant both to the project’s overarching research question and to the research question of this chapter. Having identified the challenges through thematic analysis, I used postreflection to consider the impact of those challenges on the project’s achievement of equality. In the following section, I discuss the decisions I took in the design of my ideal project. Then, I reflect on the external factors that impacted on those decisions during delivery of the project. Opportunities for Facilitating Empowerment and Language Equality

The Freirean methodological position that I adopted gave me the opportunity to take a number of decisions that were intended to promote effective multilingual research and remove linguistic inequality between deaf and hearing participants. The deaf-centred PAR methodology I followed suggested that these decisions fell into three overlapping categories, as already outlined: the identities of participants within the project, the leadership of the project and the use of language within the project. First, I decided to select people primarily on the basis of their previous participation in theatre, to ensure a high degree of engagement with AT methods. I split the actors into two groups, deaf and hearing, to reflect the binary approach adopted by (hearing) theatre venues. I did not, however, attempt to impose audiological or cultural definitions on those groups; rather, I decided to allow participants to self-identify, based on their choice of language when working in theatre. An important aim was to create an equal linguistic balance within the ensemble. My ambition was to recruit five deaf people of whom two were able to use speech (supported by hearing aids and an element of lip-reading), and five hearing people of whom two had functional competence in BSL. Second, I considered my role as the project leader. On the first day of rehearsals, I planned to begin with drama games that promote participant leadership and support the development of language equality. I was aware that dysconscious audist behaviours might encourage hearing cultural practices and specifically the hegemony of spoken language to dominate the workshop process. Accordingly, I selected warm-ups and games that use minimal formal language, thereby removing linguistic triggers to inequality. My aim was to create an environment that was equally empowering for deaf and hearing participants, in which everybody would have the power and the freedom to determine both what knowledge was generated and the language in which it was produced. The result would be a cultural and linguistic synthesis in which neither perspective was denied and in which neither group had dominance over the other. I also had to recognise that my own background as an AT practitioner placed me in a position of power in the rehearsal room. I understood from

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Freirean and PAR methodology that my responsibility was to use that power as a resource to support social change (Gaventa & Cornwall, 2008), primarily by giving up my own power, as far as possible, in the interest of empowering my participants. In theatrical terms, I took the decision to give up the role of director of the performance project and concentrate on my role as an embedded participant observer (Lewis & Russell, 2011). Additionally, despite my own competence in BSL, I recognised that my position as a hearing researcher also gave me power in the deaf-hearing rehearsal room. To counter this, I planned to identify and collaborate with a co-leader who would be a deaf first-language user of BSL. Ideally, I would work alongside this person as a co-researcher throughout every phase of the doctoral project, but at the very least, we would work together in the data generation phase of the research to avoid creating an environment in the rehearsal room in which spoken English was seen as the language of leadership. Finally, I took a number of decisions about language use within my project design. To reduce the dominance of spoken English, I chose to make BSL highly visible within the rehearsal room. All activities were to be presented in both BSL and English. Resources (notebooks and video cameras) were to be made available so that reflective data could be generated in the language of each participant’s choice. The presentation of all documents relating to consent was to be carried out simultaneously in written English, spoken English and BSL, with opportunities to ask and have answered any questions relating to informed consent in participants’ own choice of language. I also planned that the representation and dissemination of findings would be carried out not only in English but also in BSL, for example, at impact and engagement events aimed at the local deaf community. These decisions were supported by the anticipated multilingual skills of the participants; my own functional competence in BSL and English; and the planned co-leadership by a deaf, BSL-using colleague. In addition, I employed two BSL/English interpreters to support communication throughout the project, although their exact role was not clearly defined. At times, they were to follow the typical working practices of community interpreting (Hale, 2007), interpreting every part of the interaction within which they were working. At other times, they were to be on standby for groups of actors, being called on to interpret only as required. They also had the opportunity to participate with the actors in group activities such as games. Furthermore, I asked them to complete reflective diaries, thereby additionally positioning them as research participants. Like the actors, the interpreters had the opportunity to use written diaries or video diaries in either English or BSL, although in practice their data was with only one exception generated entirely in written English. My ambition with all of these decisions was to create a space in which communication strategies and language choices might promote equality

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of language use and of participation for deaf and hearing people. My intention was to adapt deaf-centred PAR approaches to create a decolonising methodology that allowed for the equal centring of both deaf and hearing people. As I discuss in the following section, however, many of these decisions were impossible to realise during the project’s delivery. Challenges to the Project Delivery

In this section, I reflect on the various restrictions that limited my capacity to carry out effective multilingual PAR and to create a Freirean utopia of equality between deaf and hearing people. Using the categories of decisions presented in the previous section, I consider in turn the identities of participants, project leadership and language use within the project. In addition, I reflect on the challenges imposed by the institutional requirements of submitting a PhD thesis. The identities of participants

At the start of the project, participants were asked to self-identify as either deaf or hearing. The binary opposition created by this starting point is problematic, and the recruitment of participants did not anticipate the diversity of identities in wider society. Furthermore, the lack of financial resources to support the project meant that professional actors could not be used. Initially attempts were made to recruit volunteer participants from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, which alongside courses for hearing actors offers a degree programme for deaf actors. However, this approach yielded only one participant, as other interested parties were already committed to their own projects. I then turned to my own social media networks to recruit actors, a difficult process given that I was looking for volunteers who were able to commit to a whole week in Glasgow. I achieved my full complement of 10 actors only two days before the start of the AT data-generation week. This less focused and ultimately more desperate recruitment process meant that I had no control over the achievement of the linguistic balance that I had hoped for. Indeed, only one of the hearing actors could use BSL, rather than two, and he preferred not to. Of the deaf actors, three were able to use spoken English, often choosing to do so when they were in leadership roles within the project. Rather than the hoped for linguistic balance, the predisposition of the majority of participants was to use spoken English rather than BSL. Additionally, the lack of financial resources limited the ability to recruit participants with experience of and skill in theatre-making. In practice, a full cohort of participants with strong acting skills was not achieved, and some actors struggled with the processes of devising new theatrical material in the limited time available. Progress within the

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rehearsal room was often slow and difficult as the strain on the actors increased: ‘I see people getting anxious […] it’s stressful’ (Ruth (deaf), BSL video diary, Day 4). This in turn impacted on language use. When they became anxious, both hearing actors and those deaf actors who could access speech fell back on dominant, audist, language practices: they prioritised spoken and written English (Richardson, 2019b). They failed to ensure effective communication across language barriers by using the full range of semiotic resources available to them, that is, by translanguaging. The result was the exclusion of some deaf participants from the creative process: The script was definitely being written (and thought about) in English, even the bits in BSL … so [deaf actor] Mehwish is largely left out of the writing process. (Dan (hearing), written English diary, Day 3) Project leadership

This project was successful in maintaining leadership by participants during the AT activities. The actors chose for themselves which techniques of bilingual theatre to use in their devised performances; they determined who would work on each technique; and within those groups, they created scenes without my intervention. Furthermore, when outside support was given, it came from the other actors, rather than me taking the role of director. While this promoted a participant-led project, I should note that at times my detached role was frustrating both for myself and for the actors. Progress was particularly problematic in larger groups: There’s six people, with six ideas, and six opinions and it’s taking time navigating through them … it’s been hard to make decisions and keep moving forwards … I think we’ve been lacking a bit of team work. (Elle (hearing), written English diary, Day 4)

Indeed several participants suggested that having somebody in a director role would have been helpful and that the absence of such a figure created problems within the creative process: I think the absence of a director is very hard because everyone becomes the director, which means that there are always multi-way conversations … I think if you have a director there is more of a sense of a one-way conversation between different parties. (Dan (hearing), video diary, Day 4)

Despite the large degree of participant leadership during the project, there were occasions when my leadership was required. This occurred particularly on the first day, to introduce the data generation activities and to begin to establish equality within the working environment. On subsequent days, it was necessary to scaffold the project, for example, maintaining effective time keeping and chairing whole group discussions. My intention was to share this role with a deaf co-researcher, to avoid the

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impression of leadership by hearing people only. However, the lack of adequate financial resources meant that it was not possible to employ such a person, and it felt unethical to recruit a deaf professional to co-lead a week-long project as a volunteer. Accordingly, project leadership was left to me alone. While participant leadership was prominent during data generation, this could not be claimed for other parts of the project. The active democratic participation of deaf and hearing people that was central to the AT activities was not matched in the early stages of my doctoral journey, when I created the research design by building on my own experiences of theatre and of working with deaf people. I was supported only by my (hearing) supervisors, only one of who had competence in BSL. Furthermore, following the generation of data, I was solely responsible for the processes of translation and data analysis. While the data generation week drew heavily on PAR methodologies, the project as a whole included significant elements that were not at all participatory. It is a recognised issue that the institutional framework of doctoral research works against the ambition of a successful PAR project (Herr & Anderson, 2014), and the institutional audism embodied in that framework inhibits the longerterm achievement of equality between my deaf and hearing participants. The use of languages within the project

The most important decisions I took within this multilingual PAR project were those concerning the use of languages. For the research to be equally deaf- and hearing-centred, I aimed to make BSL as visible in the project as English. On the surface, this was achieved. Consent procedures, the creative process, the theatrical performance and many social interactions with participants used a combination of BSL and spoken and written English. A deeper analysis, however, suggests that maintaining equal visibility of BSL and English throughout the project was problematic. First, while the theatre-making process was led by participants, the project as a whole was designed and scaffolded only by me, a hearing practitioner-researcher. At the start of the project, I tried to use both languages equally and responded to participants in the language of their choice, relying on the interpreters to relay my response in the other language for the benefit of other participants. If anything, I seemed to privilege BSL, particularly in the warm-ups and games on the first day: They are [in] BSL. Well it’s not language, but people are, you know, we are doing numbers in sign, and there’s that kind of allowance made of “Ooh we need to make sure we are being accessible.” (Dan (hearing), video diary, Day 4)

The games aside, my fluidity of language use proved complicated for the interpreters. They reported the difficulties of interpreting for a large group

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of people who were switching between speaking and signing, or using a mix of the two: ‘It’s tiring, my brain hurts … I’m used to working with only one deaf person in a group of hearing people’ (interpreter, written English diary, Day 1). Such problems of cognitive overload are well documented in the Interpreting Studies literature (Seeber, 2011) and can impact the research outcomes (Gile, 2008). At the end of the first day of the AT project, the interpreters asked me to simplify their role by trying, in whole ensemble or group settings, only to speak. To do so would contradict my intention of making BSL and English equally visible within the project. At the same time, however, I was determined, in line with good PAR practice, that decisions made by participants would carry more weight than my own, and even within the first day it was clear that the interpreters had roles not only as neutral mediators of communication but also as research participants. Accordingly I agreed, and from the second day, I worked predominantly in spoken English, with a BSL translation provided by one of the interpreters. English was now presented as the language of power within the project, a practice that seemed to influence the behaviour of most participants, who also often began to use English when they took leadership roles. My original intention was that this situation would be countered by the inclusion within the project design of a deaf co-leader, but without the financial resources to appoint somebody to this role, spoken English became dominant. The role of the interpreters throughout this project was problematic in other ways. Their ill-defined position within the research, as outlined earlier, often led them to revert to practices influenced by the top-down structures of their profession. Following convention, when the interpreters joined a communicative interaction they adopted the practice of translating all communication between the fixed binary of BSL and English, rather than supporting interactants to develop direct communication between themselves through translanguaging. Furthermore, they used their own power within the interactions to control the manner in which conversations took place: A slow pace of communication and formal turntaking conventions were imposed on the actors to ensure that conversations were more ‘interpreter-friendly’. Ruth noted that ‘the interpreters are trying to control things, slow it down’ (BSL video diary, Day 4), a process which Dan, himself a student interpreter, thought was essential: ‘I think we need to make sure [the interpreters] have more power to say “Hold on!” and then move on with the interpretation’ (spoken English video diary, Day 4). Prioritising the interpreting over the actors’ interpersonal communication created an element of dependency on the interpreters, the actors relying on them to facilitate communication rather than developing direct multilingual communication through translanguaging. One of the interpreters questioned whether ‘the role of the interpreter allows less

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communication, in a way. Because the deaf person becomes not [the hearing participants’] responsibility’ (interpreter, written English diary, Day 3). She felt her presence absolved hearing participants from any responsibility in ensuring effective communication with their deaf colleagues. Indeed, I am unconvinced that the decision to use professional interpreters was beneficial to the project overall. At certain points they were useful, for example, when introducing consent forms, but at this point, their role would have been fulfilled equally well by a BSL-using deaf person working alongside me as a co-leader of the research. Furthermore, the use of professional interpreters might have been made unnecessary by recruiting an ensemble of actors that included the linguistic balance that I had hoped for, thereby facilitating more translanguaging throughout the project. Institutional challenges

Finally, I critique those parts of my project that followed the data generation phase of the project: analysis of the data, writing up and submission of the thesis. Institutional requirements demanded the submission of a thesis in written English, and any accompanying visual information on, for example, a DVD was not considered an integral part of the thesis and ‘examiners are not obliged to use it in the examining process’ (HeriotWatt University, 2019: 6). I could, of course, have questioned a guideline that perpetuated the colonial language ideologies that constituted the context of my research. However, at the time that I discovered it, I was immersed in the writing process and already suffering from ‘doctoral fatigue’. Furthermore, I was close to the end of my three-year scholarship and under pressure from representatives of School and Institution to submit within that period. I had neither the time nor the energy to challenge the system. Accordingly, in order to follow the guidelines, data that was generated in BSL by deaf participants was translated and transcribed into written English, thereby reducing the visibility of BSL within the project. In summary, many of the decisions I took in the planning phase to ensure that I might deliver an effective multilingual PAR project were impossible to realise. The project was hampered by a combination of factors that derived from budgetary limitations, the professional practices of interpreters, and restrictions imposed by the academy. Conclusion

I now return to my research questions, answering each in turn. To begin, what challenges did I face in the delivery of a multilingual research project based on the principles of PAR? First, the anticipated linguistic balance within the group of actors did not materialise and was heavily biased towards spoken English. Second, although my own linguistic

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resources initially chimed with the project, they were later restricted to spoken English at the request of the interpreters. Third, I was faced with my university’s requirement to submit a thesis only in written English. Turning to the second research question: How might those challenges have impacted on the project’s aim of achieving equality for deaf and hearing people in theatrical performance processes? The data suggest that the predisposition of the majority of the actors to use spoken English led directly to audist practices within the creative process. This was reinforced by my own language use, which for much of the data generation phase of the project presented spoken English as the language of leadership and power, thereby unintentionally promoting audist attitudes. More broadly, the institutional practices within which the project was delivered limited the possibility of promoting the visibility of BSL and, indeed, the range of semiotic resources including gesture and mime that are the feature of translanguaging. In summary, the delivery of this project did not in practice live up to the requirements of O’Brien’s (2017) suggestions for research with deaf people: to prioritise sign language, to promote deaf leadership and to preserve deaf identity. Neither did it consistently create the participative and democratic process that would allow it to achieve the personal and social transformation that is the goal of AT. Does this suggest, then, that the principles of PAR, as applied to deaffriendly research and AT, are not sufficiently robust for researching multilingually? Might it have been better to build a project from Holmes et  al.’s (2013, 2016) framework for researching multilingually? In this case, I think not. The Holmes et al. framework is generically multilingual, encouraging researcher reflexivity on the spaces of the research (researcher, research phenomenon, research context) and on the relationships between all the people involved in the process. I suggest that robust reflective practice should a priori underpin all research, and for me, their framework only adds a focus on language choices. Furthermore, this language focus is somewhat exclusive: other factors such as oppression and colonisation seem to be only implicitly acknowledged. For me, Freire’s pedagogy was far more useful for keeping pertinent questions regarding power dynamics at the forefront of my project design. He also calls for constant and simultaneous reflection and action, but in his framework the focus of this ‘praxis’ is on oppression; in the case of my project on the audist oppression that underpins the inequality of language practices. The nature of good PAR is that it is cyclical. Reflection on the successes and failures of one project are carried forward into the next cycle of research. I conclude then by offering the result of my reflections on the process of this project from decision-making to delivery: a list of practical questions to consider when designing a multilingual PAR project in AT. These questions reflect both the opportunities I acted on during the project design, and the challenges I faced during project delivery. In presenting the questions, I recognise the interconnectedness of my decisions

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concerning participant identity, project leadership and language use, but as the focus here is multilingual research, I frame them all as decisions relating to language use. • Is it possible to draw researcher(s) from users of all the languages under consideration? • Do the researcher(s) have functional competence in all the relevant languages? • Do the researcher(s) have a clear plan for which languages they will use, and when, with the aim of creating an ethos of language equality within the project from its inception through to the dissemination of its results? • Can the researcher(s) recruit an appropriate numerical balance of different language users, to avoid the perpetuation of societal hierarchies? • Is the project designed in such a way that participants from all the language communities under consideration can contribute to the development of the project and can generate knowledge in the language of their choice? • Have the roles of interpreters, if they are used within the project, been clearly defined and agreed in advance? This is particularly important if the interpreters will be expected to fulfil roles that do not reflect conventional interpreting practice. • If interpreters are not used, how can the researcher(s) support translanguaging by the research participants? It should be noted that to follow these recommendations might require a budget beyond the means of a doctoral scholarship. In the humanities and social sciences, it is considered acceptable that projects are undertaken using only volunteers, yet in chemical engineering or physics, for example, doctoral researchers would expect to have access to a fullyfunded laboratory in which to carry out their research. I do not think it untenable that social science research might be backed up by professional support when that is appropriate. Accordingly, I add the final recommendation of seeking sufficient funding, where required, to support the delivery of a successful multilingual project based on the principles of PAR. I argue that these recommendations are relevant to multilingual research projects that bring together any combination of language communities, particularly where one language is dominant over the others. Indeed, in using the recommendations to support decision-making during the design of a decolonising multilingual methodology, researchers might more effectively realise multilingual research within which participants can become ‘restorers of the humanity of both’ (Freire, 1968/1996: 26) language oppressors and those oppressed by linguistic ideologies.

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References Ackroyd, J. (2000) Applied theatre: Problems and possibilities. Applied Theatre Researcher 2000 (1). See www.griffith.edu.au//centre/cpci/atr/journal/article1 (accessed 14 March 2018). Balme, C.B. (2014) The Theatrical Public Sphere. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bauman, H.-D.L. (2004) Audism: Exploring the metaphysics of oppression. Journal of Deaf Studies and Deaf Education 9 (2), 239–246. Bauman, H.-D.L. (2008) On the disconstruction of (sign) language in the Western tradition: A deaf reading of Plato’s Cratylus. In H.-D.L. Bauman (ed.) Open Your Eyes: Deaf Studies Talking (pp. 127–145). Mineapolis: The University of Minnesota Press. Boal, A. (2000) Theater of the Oppressed (2nd edn, C.A. Leal-Mcbride, M.-O. LealMcbride and E. Fryer, Trans.). London: Pluto Press. Christopher, S., Watts, V., McCormick, A. and Young, S. (2008) Building and maintaining trust in a community-based participatory research partnership. American Journal of Public Health 98, 1398–1406. Emery, S.D. (2009) In space no one can see you waving your hands: Making citizenship meaningful to deaf worlds. Citizenship Studies 13 (1), 31–44. Fleischer, L. (2008) Critical pedagogy and ASL videobooks. In H.-D.L. Bauman (ed.) Open Your Eyes: Deaf Studies Talking (pp. 158–166). Minneapolis: The University of Minnesota Press, Freire, P. (1968/1996) Pedagogy of the Oppressed (2nd edn, M.B. Ramos, Trans.). London: Penguin. Gaventa, J. and Cornwall, A. (2008) Power and knowledge. In P. Reason and H. Bradbury (eds) The SAGE Handbook of Action Research: Participative Enquiry and Practice (pp. 172–189). Los Angeles: SAGE. Gile, D. (2008) Local cognitive load in simultaneous interpreting and its implications for empirical research. FORUM. International Journal of Interpretation and Translation 6 (2), 59–77. Hale, S. (2007) Community Interpreting. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Harpin, A. and Nicholson, H. (2017) Performance and participation. In A. Harpin and H. Nicholson (eds) Performance and Participation: Practices, Audiences, Politics (pp. 1–15). London: Palgrave. Harris, R., Holmes, H.M. and Mertens, D.M. (2009) Research ethics in sign language communities. Sign Language Studies 9 (2), 104–131. Heriot-Watt University (2019) Guidelines on submission and format of thesis. See https:// www.hw.ac.uk/students/doc/guidelinesonsubmissionandformatofthesis.pdf (accessed 25 November 2019). Herr, K. and Anderson, G.L. (2014) The Action Research Dissertation: A Guide for Students and Faculty. London: SAGE Publications. Hochgesang, J.A. (2015) Ethics of researching signed languages: The case of Kenyan Sign Language (KSL). In A.C. Cooper and K.K. Rashid (eds) Signed Languages in SubSaharan Africa: Politics, Citizenship and Shared Experiences of Difference (pp. 11–30). Washington DC: Gallaudet University Press. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2016) How to research multilingually: Possibilities and complexities. In Z. Hua (ed.) Research Methods in Intercultural Communication (pp. 88–102). London: Wiley. Hughes, J. and Nicholson, H. (2016) Applied theatre: Ecology of practices. In J. Hughes and H. Nicholson (eds) Critical Perspectives on Applied Theatre (pp. 1–12). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Kemmis, S. (2001) Exploring the Relevance of critical theory for action research: emancipatory action research in the footsteps of Jurgen Habermas. In P. Reason and H. Bradbury (eds) Hanbook of Action Research: Participative Inquiry and Practice (pp. 91–102). London: Sage Publications. Kusters, A., Spotti, M., Swanwick, R. and Tapio, E. (2017) Beyond languages, beyond modalities: Transforming the study of semiotic repertoires. International Journal of Multilingualism 14 (3), 219–232. Ladd, P. (2003) Understanding Deaf Culture: In Search of Deafhood. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Lewis, S.J. and Russell, A.J. (2011) Being embedded: A way forward for ethnographic research. Ethnography 12 (3), 398–416. Myklebust, H. (1957) The Psychology of Deafness: Sensory Deprivation, Learning and Adjustments. New York: Grune and Stratton. Neelands, J. (2009) Acting together: Ensemble as a democratic process in art and life. RiDE: The Journal of Applied Theatre and Performance 14 (2), 173–189. Nicholson, H. (2011) Applied drama/theatre/performance. In S. Schonmann (ed.) Key Concepts in Theatre/Drama Education (pp. 241–245). Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Nicholson, H. (2014) Applied Drama: The Gift of Theatre (2nd edn). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Nicholson, H. (2016) A good day out: Applied theatre, relationality and participation. In J. Hughes and H. Nicholson (eds) Critical Perspectives on Applied Theatre (pp. 148– 168). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. O’Brien, D. (2017) Deaf-led deaf studies: Using Kaupapa Maori principles to guide the development of deaf reseach practices. In A. Kusters, M. de Meulder and D. O’Brien (eds) Innovations in Deaf Studies – The Role of Deaf Scholars (pp. 57–76). Oxford: Oxford Univesity Press. O’Brien, D. and Emery, S.D. (2014) The role of the intellectual in minority group studies: Reflections on deaf studies in social and political contexts. Qualitative Inquiry 20 (1), 27–36. O’Brien, D. and Kusters, A. (2017) Visual methods in deaf studies: Using photography and filmmaking in research with deaf people. In A. Kusters, M. de Meulder and D. O’Brien (eds) Innovations in Deaf Studies – The Role of Deaf Scholars (pp. 265–296). Oxford: Oxford Univesity Press. Padden, C. and Humphries, T. (1988) Deaf in America – Voices from a Culture. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Richardson, M. (2018) The sign language interpreted performance: A failure of access provision for deaf spectators. Theatre Topics 28 (1), 63–74. Richardson, M. (2019a) Playing bilingual: Interweaving deaf and hearing cultural practices to achieve equality of participation in theatrical performance processes. Unpublished PhD thesis, Heriot-Watt University. Richardson, M. (2019b) Negotiating power and translation in a bilingual (British sign language/English) rehearsal room. New Voices in Translation Studies 20 (2019), 163–184. Richardson, M. and Thompson, D. (2018) Deaf people and the theatrical public sphere. Scottish Journal of Performance 5 (2), 11–33. Seeber, K.G. (2011) Cognitive load in simultaneous interpreting: Existing theories—New models. Interpreting 13 (2), 176–204. Singleton, J.L., Martin, A.J. and Morgan, G. (2015) Ethics, deaf-friendly research, and good practice when studying sign languages. In E. Orfanidou, B. Woll and G. Morgan (eds) Research Methods in Sign Language Studies: A Practical Guide (6) (pp. 8–20). New York: John Wiley and Sons. Skutnabb-Kangas, T. (2014) Afterword. Implications of deaf gain: Linguistic human rights for deaf citizens. In H.-D.L. Bauman and J.J. Murray (eds) Deaf Gain: Raising the Stakes for Human Diversity (pp. 492–502). Minneapolis: The University of Minnesota Press.

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Sutherland, H. and Rogers, K.D. (2014) The hidden gain: A new lens of reseach with d/deaf children and adults. In H.-D.L. Bauman and J.J. Murray (eds) Deaf Gain: Raising the Stakes for Human Diversity (pp. 269–282). Minneapolis: The University of Minnesota Press. Sutherland, H. and Young, A. (2014) Research with deaf children and not on them: A study of method and process. Children & Society 28 (5), 366–379. Turner, G.H. (2006) I’ll tell you later: On institutional audism. Deaf worlds 22 (3), 24–35. Wurm, S. and Napier, J. (2017) Rebalancing power: Participatory research methods in interpreting studies. Translation and Interpreting 9 (1), 102–120. Young, A. and Temple, B. (2014) Approaches to Social Research: The Case of Deaf Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

13 Translanguaging Pedagogy as Methodology: Leveraging the Linguistic and Cultural Repertoires of Researchers and Participants to Mutually Construct Meaning and Build Rapport Rebekah R. Gordon

Introduction

As classrooms worldwide become more culturally and linguistically diverse, education research correspondingly involves more diverse classroom communities. Consequently, researchers are faced with decisions about how to navigate these multilingual settings. Holmes et al. (2013: 286) use the term ‘researching multilingually’ to describe such methodological dimensions; furthermore, they acknowledge that ‘the complexities and possibilities of researching multilingually are not extensively covered in research training’. This lack of preparation was apparent to me as a doctoral student in teacher education. In my research related to the experiences of transnational language teachers, I tried to be as reflexive as possible about the linguistic decisions I made throughout the research process. Since I chose to work with multilingual participants, I navigated ways we could communicate effectively and ethically. Drawing inspiration from García et al. 267

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(2017), I found it productive to consider my methodological decisions through a translanguaging pedagogy lens. This process allowed me to leverage the linguistic resources of my participants and confront my own perceived monolingualism. In this chapter, after briefly reviewing the literature on translanguaging, I introduce a methodological framework based on two metaphors from García et al. (2017): the three-stranded rope and translanguaging corriente. Although these metaphors originally referred to teacher and student practices in multilingual classrooms, I discuss their applicability to researchers and the process of researching multilingually. Segueing from translanguaging pedagogy to translanguaging methodology, I describe a qualitative inquiry process which started as a project about classroom naming practices of transnational Chinese language teachers. Focusing on one participant with whom I met over a six-month period, I examine our linguistic choices and the ways we respond to each other by analyzing our interview conversations. I describe my methodological processes and share excerpts from our conversations in chronological order to highlight the importance of planning for translanguaging before data collection and also to acknowledge the time needed for fluid linguistic practices to become comfortable for both researcher and participant. The chapter closes with a discussion of the implications and limitations of adopting a translanguaging-informed methodology in multilingual research protocols. Building upon the four pedagogical purposes for translanguaging (García et al., 2017), I propose four methodological purposes for translanguaging to support researchers and participants in multilingual settings. Rather than view cultural and linguistic diversity as a ‘problem to be solved’ (García et al., 2017: 118), I argue that researchers working in multilingual contexts should adopt a translanguaging stance during qualitative inquiry to embrace their own and their participants’ cultural and linguistic repertoires. A more flexible mindset regarding the use of linguistic resources may not only make a political statement about linguistic hegemony, power hierarchies and knowledge ownership in the research process but also aid in the co-construction of meaning and the building of rapport with participants. Translanguaging as Pedagogy

Although research on translanguaging has burgeoned in the past decade, the concept of translanguaging is not new. Canagarajah (2011) explains that various terms have been used in different fields to name similar concepts, including codemeshing, transcultural literacy, translingual writing, multiliteracies, continua of biliteracy, pluriliteracy, plurilingualism, third spaces, metrolingualism, fluid lects, heterography and polylingual languaging. García (2009a) could be credited with popularizing the

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term ‘translanguaging’ which she borrowed from Colin Baker’s English translation of Cen Williams’ Welsh term, trawsieithu. García (2009b: 140) defines translanguaging as ‘the act performed by bilinguals of accessing different linguistic features or various modes of what are described as autonomous languages, in order to maximize communicative potential’. Other definitions of translanguaging similarly acknowledge the interaction and integration of multiple languages in a natural and systematic manner (e.g. Li, 2018; Poza, 2017), making it ‘difficult to discern boundaries between languages’ (Duff, 2015: 60). Research on translanguaging has been shifting its attention from production to a more process-oriented perspective. In 2011, Canagarajah noted that translanguaging research needed to include more focus on the dialogic implications of the phenomenon rather than just observing occurrences of it. More specifically, he called for going ‘beyond studying the strategies of translanguaging production to studying strategies of negotiation’ (Canagarajah, 2011: 5). To this end, education researchers began to carefully consider translanguaging as a pedagogy which recognizes and capitalizes on naturally occurring linguistic negotiations in classroom contexts (e.g. Canagarajah, 2013; Creese & Blackledge, 2010). In the classroom, communication between students and between the teacher and students is the crux of all teaching and learning activities. Thus, translanguaging pedagogy is aimed at not only maximizing communicative resources of teachers and students but also challenging monoglossic and standard language ideologies which circulate in educational institutions (Rosa & Burdick, 2016). Translanguaging pedagogy builds upon the sociolinguistic perspective of fluid ‘languaging’ and is described by Flores and Schissel (2014: 462) as a ‘process whereby teachers build bridges from these [fluid] language practices [of bilingual communities] and the language practices desired in formal school settings’. Similarly, García et al. (2017: 2) define a translanguaging classroom as ‘a space built collaboratively by the teacher and bilingual students as they use their different language practices to teach and learn in deeply creative and critical [emphasis added] ways’. They add that translanguaging ‘refers to the ways that bilinguals1 use their language repertoires, from their own perspectives, and not from the perspective of national or standard languages’ (García et al., 2017: 20). Furthermore, through his use of the term ‘translingual practices’, Canagarajah (2013) recognizes that such practices reach beyond named languages and include the use of diverse semiotic resources, including gesture, symbol, image and other multimodal resources. Throughout this chapter, I have chosen to borrow terminology and concepts from The Translanguaging Classroom: Leveraging Student Bilingualism for Learning by García et al. (2017) due to its practical focus on translanguaging as pedagogy. The book serves as a guide for teachers who seek to use translanguaging as pedagogy in a way that aligns with

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state standards and provide equitable opportunities for all students. Some of the important concepts I have borrowed are as follows: • translanguaging stance: often paired with the verb ‘adopt’ to describe the mindset of teachers who use translanguaging as pedagogy and view their students from an asset-based perspective recognizing all linguistic knowledge as a valuable resource; • translanguaging corriente: a metaphor from the Spanish word for ‘current’, used to describe the natural, fluid movement across languages in multilingual settings; • language repertoire: a noun used to describe all of the linguistic resources a student has; in contrast to knowledge of an individual named language; • leverage: to use the language practices of students and communities to the fullest extent possible; • emergent bilinguals and experienced bilinguals: refer to students ‘who are at the early stages of bilingual development, as well as more experienced’ speakers; in contrast to the term ‘English language learners (ELLs)’ which erases the multilingual identity of students (García et al., 2017: 2) and • dynamic bilingualism: recognizes the interrelationship, ‘ebbs and flows’, and flexibility of students’ bilingualism according to ‘experiences and opportunities’ (2017: 27). In addition to using terminology from The Translanguaging Classroom, I have attempted to apply the practice of translanguaging in this piece; I strategically shift between a more colloquial register to narrate my personal experiences and a more standard academic register (Valdés, 2016) to theorize translanguaging pedagogy as methodology. In this manner, I am leveraging my linguistic resources to ‘maximize communicative potential’ (García, 2009b: 140) with my readers. All Roads Lead to Translanguaging: Background of the Data Collected

Before diving deep into translanguaging pedagogy as methodology, I must pause to explain how I stumbled upon this notion. In fall 2018, I was a second-year PhD student in a teacher education program. My dual role, as student and teaching assistant, meant that I was completing coursework while simultaneously teaching an English as a second language (ESL) methodology course to undergraduate education majors. The course I was teaching used The Translanguaging Classroom as one of its required textbooks. Even though I completed my master’s degree in teaching English as a second language (TESL) in 2013, this was the first time I had been exposed to the notion of translanguaging. I was learning

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alongside my undergraduate students as we all explored what translanguaging pedagogy meant for them as future educators. For the qualitative methodology doctoral course I was enrolled in that semester, I initiated a project to explore the naming and addressing practices of transnational Chinese as a foreign language (CFL) teachers. I used a phenomenological approach to investigate how transnational CFL teachers choose to name themselves and their students. I wondered whether these teachers use English names and follow Western naming practices (e.g. Mrs/Ms; given name first, family name last) or if they follow Chinese conventions (e.g. use of the title laoshi; family name first, given name last) in their transnational classrooms. The five female teachers with whom I initiated the study were guest teachers from the People’s Republic of China (PRC). They all taught in a virtual K-12 public school context2 and planned to stay in the US for one to three years. With each teacher, I conducted a 60- to 90-minute semistructured interview. I transcribed the interviews, analyzed the data and wrote about the transcultural practices the teachers described to me. I found that the five teachers were flexible in their classroom naming and addressing practices; they encouraged their students to use English names, Chinese names or even hybridized, self-created names. Furthermore, the teachers used a mix of pinyin (Romanization of Chinese characters) and Chinese characters in their online display names; however, notably absent from their display names was the traditional Chinese title, laoshi, which all the teachers reported as being their preferred address. Thus, the naming and addressing practices of these CFL teachers created transcultural and translingual spaces within their virtual classrooms. Not only did I thoroughly enjoy conversing with these teachers throughout this project, but I found myself asking more questions about their experiences, particularly how they continually negotiated their identities as language teachers and language learners. For this reason, I decided to follow-up with two of the teachers, Lily and Cy, 3 to discuss their linguistic classroom practices in general as well as their identities as CFL teachers and their investment as English learners. It was during this second interview with Cy in early 2019 that I uttered the word ‘translanguaging’, not knowing how prophetic this term would be for both of us. For the purposes of this methodological analysis, I have focused on Cy since we were able to form a unique bond, likely due to our commonalities and more frequent meetings. The parallels between Cy’s life and my own were one of the reasons I appreciated learning from and with her. At 30 years old, Cy is just a few years younger than me, and we have both have been teaching for close to 10 years. We were both prepared as ­language teachers of our home languages4 and have spent time teaching in our home countries and overseas. Like me, Cy is continuing her education; she is pursuing a master’s degree in international Chinese education while continuing to teach.

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Although we both have some Chinese and English resources in our linguistic repertoires, Cy is an experienced bilingual, whereas I am an emergent bilingual (García et al., 2017); she has studied English since primary school, whereas I studied Chinese formally for several months during my three-year sojourn in the PRC. It is important to note that my use of the terms ‘English’ and ‘Chinese’ throughout this chapter is synonymous with ‘standard English’ and ‘standard Mandarin Chinese (or Putonghua)’, respectively. While recognizing the existence of Englishes and the multitude of languages and dialects which comprise ‘Chinese’, Cy and I were expected to teach the dominant, ‘standardized’ versions of our home languages. The duration and ongoing nature of my relationship with Cy is distinct from the other participants with whom I started the project. This chapter draws on over 300 minutes of recorded conversation from four of my encounters with Cy over the span of six months; in contrast, I interviewed Lily twice and the other three participants once. I decided to continue meeting with Cy because of our mutual interest in exploring translanguaging in CFL and EFL contexts. From this point on, I hesitate to use the term ‘interview’ since our researcher-participant relationship could more accurately be described as ‘initiator-collaborator’ (Karnieli-Miller et al., 2009). Likewise, the previous semi-structured format of our conversations became more open-ended and balanced in terms of who was asking questions, who was telling stories, and who was positioned as a learner. Our multiple encounters and common interests undoubtedly contributed to our unique relationship which may not be feasible in other research scenarios. During the third meeting with Cy, I brought a copy of The Translanguaging Classroom with me; my familiarity with and access to this text made it a convenient choice for using as a tool to fuel discussion. My intention was not to solely generate conversation about a specific topic; rather, I hoped to further Cy’s and my own understanding about translanguaging pedagogies. Although the text is aimed at ESL and general education teachers in the US, I anticipated that Cy and I could use its definitions, examples and models as a starting point for understanding what translanguaging might look like in world language classrooms in and outside of the US. In short, even though I embarked on this journey to explore naming and addressing practices in CFL classrooms, I came to realize, with Cy’s help, that her fluid naming practices were representative of her attempts to provide her students opportunities for translanguaging. We both realized that we had been using translanguaging pedagogies in our classrooms and we began extending these practices to our conversations with each other. The way in which I came to the notion of translanguaging pedagogy as methodology was not only the result of researcher reflexivity but also of viewing my practices as a researcher through a translanguaging pedagogical lens.

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Translanguaging Pedagogy as a Methodological Framework

The pedagogical lens from which I analyzed the transcripts of the four conversations with Cy was heavily influenced by concepts from The Translanguaging Classroom. Specifically, there were two metaphors I found to be most suitable in creating a methodological framework informed by translanguaging pedagogy: (1) the three-stranded rope (García et al., 2017: 28) and (2) ‘translanguaging corriente’ (xi, 21). The three strands of the rope in the first metaphor refer to translanguaging stance, design and shifts. Translanguaging stance refers to one’s philosophical belief in the value of multilingualism not only for academic purposes but also to effect sociopolitical change. After adopting a translanguaging stance, teachers (or researchers) must design their classroom environment, instruction and assessment (or their research setting, methods and analysis) to create opportunities for translanguaging and be open to recognizing and responding to the translanguaging shifts which naturally occur in the classroom (or research setting). Like strands of a rope, the individual practices related to stance, design and shifts can stand alone, but they are strengthened exponentially when purposefully intertwined. The second metaphor of translanguaging corriente, or ‘current’, closely relates to the third strand of translanguaging shifts. García et al. (2017) describe translanguaging corriente as the ‘dynamic and continuous movement of language features that change the static linguistic landscape of the classroom that is described and defined from a monolingual perspective’ (2017: 21). I adapt this definition to consider the linguistic landscape of any research context since they are often also defined from monolingual perspectives: … in an increasingly globalized world and academy, linguistic and cultural asymmetry are commonly dismissed as purely matters of (in)adequate resources. For instance, cultural and linguistic differences are not seen as sources of research data or areas in which interviewees’ cultural concerns emerge, but simply as logistic challenges to the researcher to overcome. (Au, 2019: 59)

Additionally, I extend the metaphor of translanguaging corriente to include positioning shifts in addition to linguistic shifts. I found that the ‘continuous movement of language features’ that García et al. (2017) describe not only change ‘the static linguistic landscape’ (2017: 21) but also the power dynamic between researcher and participant. My interpretation of positioning is adopted from Harré’s (2012) positioning theory which is ‘based on the principle that not everyone involved in a social episode has equal access to rights and duties to perform particular kinds of meaningful actions at that moment with those people’ (2012: 193).

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Through our familiar roles as EFL teacher and CFL teacher, Cy and I, respectively, positioned ourselves as language teachers to ‘perform’ the ‘meaningful action’ of teaching each other linguistic and cultural concepts central to our conversations. Likewise, we positioned ourselves as emergent bilingual (Rebekah) and experienced bilingual (Cy) in response to the other speaker’s linguistic abilities. In this manner, (re)positioning became a strategic feature of the translanguaging corriente flowing throughout our conversations. While the research discussed in this chapter utilized interviews as the main data collection method, the proposed methodological framework based on the three-stranded rope metaphor, translanguaging corriente and positioning theory could be applicable to other discursive research methods depending on the researcher’s and participants’ stances and their specific linguistic resources. Like Morton and Gray (2017), I adopt the stance that ‘research interviews and focus groups’ are ‘“live” interactional settings where identities and positionings are at stake and are talked into being, avowed, and rejected through discursive actions and interactional moves’ (2017: 34). Thus, the translanguaging that happens in research settings is as real and consequential as translanguaging that happens in classrooms. Pre-Interview: Adopting a Translanguaging Stance and Planning Purposefully to Create Opportunities for Translanguaging

Just as teachers in translanguaging classrooms must plan for translanguaging, so too, must researchers. García et al. (2017) explain that adopting a translanguaging stance is a necessary first step but not enough to ensure that translanguaging actually happens. Due to the messy and nonlinear nature of most research processes, researchers must continually remind themselves of their stance while also honoring the translanguaging shifts and corriente so that their research design can be modified as needed. After struggling to come to terms with my own perceived monolingualism and qualms with my ability to conduct an interview with a Chinese home language speaker, I decided to adopt a translanguaging stance throughout my research process. To me, a translanguaging stance meant that I would not only value all the linguistic and cultural resources of my participants but also my own. Ironically, while I was teaching my undergraduate students to view their students as emergent bilinguals who have many linguistic and cultural resources, I was unwilling to extend that asset-based label to myself. I had convinced myself that if I was not ‘proficient’ in another language, then I would not be able to use those resources effectively. Part of this perspective likely stemmed from my perfectionistic personality, but undeniably, standard language ideologies

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impacted my views of what it means to be a ‘speaker’ of a language. Rhetoric that idealizes native speakers, such as the native speaker fallacy (Phillipson, 1992), is powerful in shaping views on who has the right and ability to use and share linguistic resources. Such rhetoric leads to what Valdés (2016) describes as ‘language borders’, which may not be tangible, like national borders, but are symbolically present. To aid navigation across the potential language borders existing between Cy and me, I had to carefully design my methodological protocol in a way that highlighted my multilingual stance. I attempted to keep my participants’ cultural and linguistic assets as the focal point of my decision-making processes while also considering where my own assets and resources could be leveraged to enhance communication and meaning-making. Although I was unsure of my participants’ specific assets before meeting them, I made an explicit effort to ask about their language learning, international travel and other relevant experiences during our meetings. I kept notes about each participant’s experiences in the form of a profile which I would reference while preparing for interviews, during conversations with the participants, and while analyzing transcript data. Before meeting with Cy for the first time and creating her profile, I explicitly thought about how I could create a comfortable translanguaging space as well as opportunities for Cy and me to use our linguistic and cultural resources freely. Before meeting, we communicated via email about where we would meet and what we would talk about. It was important to me that Cy chose the meeting location to make her feel more relaxed and give her agency in a process that is typically researcher driven. Such power asymmetry in research relationships is akin to the power asymmetry present between teachers and students. García et al. (2017: 166) discuss the importance of teachers not being the ‘sole “keeper of knowledge” in the classroom’ so that ‘students see that their opinions, ideas, and stories are welcome and important to the academic conversation’. In the same way, I recognized the need for me to release control in decision-making processes; if I allowed Cy to make decisions individually or collaboratively, the power dynamic between us could become more equalized. In a similar release of control, I shared my tentative interview protocol in advance with Cy so that she would have sufficient time to use all of her resources to more fully comprehend the complex ideas we would be discussing. Before we met, I emailed her the informed consent form and a list of possible questions (both in English). I explicitly told her that she could translate the protocol if she wanted to think about the questions and her answers in her home language. Although this might have caused her to prepare in a way that she thought would be socially acceptable, it was done in an effort to mitigate the stress of discussing potentially challenging ideas using linguistics resources that she may not be familiar or

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comfortable with; additionally, I hoped to set the precedent that translingual practices were welcome in this research process. The First Interview: Continually Planning for Translanguaging and Recognizing the Translanguaging Corriente

Once a translanguaging stance has been adopted, efforts to plan for translanguaging opportunities must be followed by translanguaging shifts which recognize and follow the translanguaging corriente. As García et al. (2017) explain: The translanguaging shifts are the many moment-by-moment decisions that teachers make all the time. They reflect the teacher’s flexibility and willingness to change the course of the lesson and assessment, as well as the language use planned for it, to release and support student students’ voices. (2017: xiii)

Even though our first meeting was somewhat methodical, Cy and I were subtly aware of the translanguaging corriente; we both made ‘moment-­ by-moment decisions’ about language use which created ‘dynamic movement’ in our conversation (García et al., 2017: xiii). To encourage Cy to view her linguistic knowledge of Chinese as a resource that was welcome even if I was not a fluent speaker of Chinese, I asked her questions about Chinese grammar and pronunciation and I also suggested that she keep her phone nearby to have access to a dictionary/translator. In a similar vein, she offered me opportunities to draw from my linguistic repertoire throughout our conversation. As is evident from Excerpt 1, these efforts led to co-construction of knowledge and mutual meaning-making. Excerpt 1: Comparing diminutive noun forms for meaning-making

 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8

Rebekah: Do you have any nicknames in Chinese or English? Cy: Many nicknames. Rebekah: Many nicknames! Cy: Yeah, my colleagues call me Xiǎo Yúr (小鱼儿). Rebekah: Xiǎo (小), small. Yúr (鱼儿)? Cy: Little fish. Rebekah: Little fish. Yúr (鱼儿)? [exaggerating the /r/ sound] Cy: Xiǎo Yú (小鱼) is little fish and if you add /r/ (儿) it shows the adorable.  9 Rebekah: Oh, it’s ‘cute’. Like in English, /i/, like ‘cutie’ or ‘baby’ [exaggerates /i/ sound] 10 Cy: Yes! (Interview 1, 26 October 2018)

Excerpt 1 highlights the translanguaging corriente in our conversation and the subtle opportunities Cy and I created for each other to use all of

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our linguistic resources for mutual understanding. 5 In our conversation about nicknames, rather than translating her Chinese nickname, Cy shared Xiǎo Yúr with me in Line 4. This gave me the opportunity in Line 5 to show my knowledge of the word Xiǎo; however, I positioned Cy as a teacher by raising my intonation on the second character, Yúr, since I did not recognize that as being part of my linguistic repertoire. In Line 6, Cy draws on her English linguistic resources to translate her nickname as ‘little fish’. I repeat her translation but again raise my intonation on Yúr while simultaneously exaggerating the /r/ phoneme in Line 6 because the pronunciation did not match the Chinese word for ‘fish’ that was a part of my repertoire. Sensing my confusion, Cy re-positions herself as CFL teacher and explains the diminutive nature of the phoneme /r/ in Chinese in Line 8. I seek confirmation for my understanding of /r/ by comparing it to the diminutive /i/ phoneme in English in Line 9. By doing so, I also position myself as a teacher, not entirely sure whether Cy knows of the diminutive /i/ in English. Cy excitedly corroborates my observation in Line 10. Through (re)positioning ourselves as both learner and teacher, Cy and I come to a mutual understanding of her nickname, Xiǎo Yúr. Although our conversation in Excerpt 1 uses translanguaging purposefully to make meaning, it had not fully served its other potential purpose in building rapport. While my status as an emerging speaker of Chinese made me doubt my ability to communicate with Cy in her home language, she also feared that her English abilities would not be sufficient to communicate. Table 13.1 presents excerpts illustrating our negotiation of Cy’s positioning in the first interview. Despite my attempts to recognize Cy’s Chinese linguistic resources as an asset and position her as a CFL teacher (see Table 13.1, Examples 1–5), she seemed to view her abilities through a deficit lens. She positioned herself multiple times as an English learner during our first interview even though I would consider her an experienced bilingual (see Table 13.1, Examples 6 and 7). Likewise, she also apologized when she did not immediately recall vocabulary or if she caught herself making a grammatical error (see Table 13.1, Examples 8–10). These excerpts from our first meeting reveal that translanguaging was occurring through our leveraging of linguistic and semiotic resources; however, Cy was not yet experiencing this as an empowering opportunity. The transformative sociopolitical underpinnings of translingual theories did not appear to be the driving force behind our behaviors. Both Cy and I used English and Chinese to communicate, but our efforts were aimed at meaning-making. While some of my efforts to design the research setting into a conducive translanguaging atmosphere may have worked, Cy did not seem as comfortable as me. Her discomfort likely stemmed from the power dynamic between us: me as researcher and teacher of English and her as participant and learner of English. To address this, I encouraged Cy before and during our subsequent meetings to position herself as a collaborator and teacher of Chinese rather than remain in a subordinate role.

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Table 13.1  Examples of Rebekah positioning Cy as a CFL teacher vs. examples of Cy positioning herself as an English language learner (ELL) Rebekah Positioning Cy as CFL Teacher

Cy Positioning Self as ELL

1

Is that also second tone?

6

. . . I think English is a very common language even though I couldn’t speak very well [laughs].

2

What does jíjiàn (击剑) mean?

7

I don’t know why I was so lazy and didn’t think about these things [referring to her practices as a university student in an English course].

3

How would you write that in pīnyīn (拼音)?

8

I like the [pause] I will check, sorry [checks dictionary on her phone].

4

Fourth tone?

9

How do you say that word? Sorry. Because language is a kind of, uh [searches phone dictionary] . . . symbol!

5

In pīnyīn (拼音)? [hands Cy pen to write down translation]

10

And her, sorry, his name is Rob.

Source: Interview 1 (26 October 2018).

Moving from Interview to Conversation: Translanguaging Shifts Becoming Natural and Consequential

As I carefully re-read and analyzed the transcripts of my conversations with Cy, I noticed a slight change in our demeanor during the second interview which led to significant change in the format and aesthetic of subsequent meetings. As we both became more interested in learning about translanguaging pedagogy, the rapport that we had previously built supported us to take intellectual and linguistic risks during our dynamic conversations which continued to recognize and follow the translanguaging corriente. I left our third meeting feeling energized in a way that I never had as a result of ‘conducting research’. Thus, it was this feeling that inspired me to analyze my methodological processes in hopes of identifying what set these interactions apart from others. Unlike the first interview with Cy, I did not email her tentative questions in advance of our second meeting; instead, I informally explained my ongoing interest in her experiences as a transnational CFL teacher. My intention in doing so was less about translanguaging and more about my ongoing understanding of phenomenological inquiry. Following Seidman’s (2013) recommendations, I had decided to pursue a more open-ended interview structure in which I would, ‘listen more, talk less’ (2013: 81) to get at the heart of the phenomenon in question. As a result, I noticed that not only did Cy’s amount of speech increase but our ways of translanguaging and positioning also changed.

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The open-ended nature of our conversations led to more divulgence of personal stories from both of us; as we learned more about each other throughout our interactions, we were able to use that knowledge to provide more appropriate opportunities for translanguaging. As Cy got a better sense of the kinds of Chinese linguistic and cultural knowledge in my repertoire, I too, got a better sense of the English linguistic and American cultural knowledge in her repertoire. García et al. (2017: 31) discuss the importance of developing ‘bilingual profiles’ to ‘gather valuable data about the language and literacy practices of the bilingual’ ­speakers. In this manner, a teacher is better equipped to provide culturally and linguistically responsive pedagogy. Methodologically, researchers and participants can better provide each other opportunities for translanguaging and can more effectively negotiate meaning when they know more about one another, specifically their language abilities, their cultural knowledge, and their previous experiences. Excerpt 2, from my second meeting with Cy, highlights our increased knowledge of each other and the natural flow of the translanguaging corriente. Excerpt 2: Getting to know you, getting to know all about you

1 Rebekah: So was there a time in your life that you think that changed when you began to enjoy learning English or you found it, maybe you didn’t enjoy it, but you found it more useful? 2 Cy: Um, that’s when I was in college, I think university because my major is. 3 Rebekah: Mmhmm. 4 Cy: I think maybe, uh, when I was in high school, I began to find it’s important to learn English well. 5 Rebekah: Okay, because of gāokǎo (高考)? 6 Both: [Laugh] 7 Rebekah: No? Other reasons? 8 Cy: Um, maybe just like you, I want to travel to all over the world to see the different scenery, to know other people. (Interview 2, 22 February 2018)

Since Cy had previously talked about being ‘lazy’ and not taking her university English course seriously, I wanted to explore the reasons why. In Line 1, I allude to our previous conversation in which she expressed that she did not always enjoy learning English. Her response in Line 2 may appear to end abruptly, but Cy knew that I was already aware of her major. In Line 3, I acknowledge that I am listening, but I attempt to ‘listen more, talk less’ (Seidman, 2013: 81). Cy continues thinking aloud in Line 4 realizing that her interest in English may have already been shifting during high school. Using my cultural and linguistic knowledge of the

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national college-entrance examination, gāokǎo, I ask Cy if that was the motivating factor for her interest in English in Line 5. We both laugh, perhaps at my pronunciation of gāokǎo, perhaps because we both know how absurd it is that an examination has so much influence. Cy does not stop the conversation to explain gāokǎo further since she knows that I understand what it is and what power it holds. In Line 8, Cy explains her investment in the English language by comparing it to my interest in world travel. In this manner, she positions herself as a co-researcher who is listening intently and synthesizing ideas from our conversations. Had we not known so much about each other, we may have spent more time explaining linguistic and cultural nuances rather than mutually making meaning of our language learning experiences. During our third meeting when we explicitly discussed translanguaging pedagogy using The Translanguaging Classroom textbook, our conversation flowed with the translanguaging corriente; we provided each other opportunities for translanguaging naturally and the ways in which we positioned ourselves continued to contribute to rapport building and the co-construction of knowledge. After making small talk about our personal lives for the first 20 minutes of our conversation, Cy and I translanguaged in a metalinguisic manner to understand translanguaging itself. Excerpt 3: Leveraging all of our linguistic and semiotic resources for mutual understanding

 1 Rebekah: A ‘lever’ is a tool to lift something … so ‘leverage’, you’re like lifting up students [raises her hand].  2 Cy: Okay, maybe I know that [laughs].  3 Rebekah: So many times when you’re reading about translanguaging you’ll come across this word.  4 Cy: Mmhmm [searches in her phone’s dictionary and finds the Chinese translation for ‘lever’]. Yeah, yeah, like, like gànggǎr (杠杆儿) [spoken with a distinct northern dialect].  5 Rebekah: Gangga [mispronounced].  6 Cy: [laughs] Gànggǎr zuòyòng [杠杆儿作用].  7 Rebekah: Gànggǎr [slightly better pronunciation imitating Cy’s northern dialect].  8 Cy: But I don’t think maybe in Chinese we have another name.  9 Rebekah: Okay. 10 Cy: Just support the students to [pause] you give them a framework to help them to speak something. 11 Rebekah: Yeah, it’s another way to say or way of supporting. For sure. (Interview 3, 27 March 2019)

As I attempted to define ‘lever’ in Line 1 of Excerpt 3, I used my finger to cover the ‘-aging’ in the word ‘leveraging’ on the cover of the

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textbook. I continued to employ semiotic resources by gesturing an upward motion with my hands. Although Cy was unsure if the word ‘leverage’ was in her linguistic repertoire, she laughed and did not hesitate to reach for her phone to search for the Chinese translation. To me, this highlights the translanguaging space that we had created; we both felt comfortable enough with each other and with ourselves to laugh, to make mistakes without apologizing and to position ourselves as learners. At the end of Excerpt 3, Cy and I mutually construct the meaning of ‘leveraging’ to be congruent with ‘supporting’ students. In the same vein, I envision translanguaging pedagogy as methodology to serve as support for both researchers and participants in making meaning, building rapport, and challenging monolingual ideologies which circulate in research practices and academia. While my methodological journey was iterative and messy, I learned many lessons by reflecting on my research processes through a translanguaging as pedagogy lens. What Does This Mean for Other Researchers?

Although certain research approaches, such as those informed by phenomenology and ethnography, may be better suited to the adoption of translanguaging-informed methodologies, I believe that all researchers could benefit from recognizing and valuing participants’ resources, linguistic or otherwise. Being genuinely dedicated to getting to know research participants has been advocated for before, but doing so in the name of ‘translingual activism’ could lead to the sociopolitical transformations that are at the heart of translanguaging theory (Pennycook, 2019). Such asset-based mindsets are central to the dismantling of power hierarchies and monoglossic language ideologies found within and outside of research settings. As a first step, I encourage researchers to consider the three-stranded rope metaphor of translanguaging pedagogy to strengthen their multilingual research practices. This starts by adopting a translanguaging stance, designing one’s research in a way that plans for translanguaging, and remaining flexible to make moment-by-moment linguistic and positioning shifts according to the translanguaging corriente. Based on the four pedagogical purposes for translanguaging identified by García et al. (2017) (see Table 13.2, left column), I propose that incorporating these perspectives and behaviors serves four methodological purposes (see Table 13.2, right column). Although the four pedagogical purposes identified by García et al. (2017) revolve around students in the classroom, my proposed methodological purposes for translanguaging are stated with both the researcher and participant in mind in research contexts and beyond (see Table 13.2).

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Table 13.2  Identified pedagogical purposes for translanguaging and proposed methodological purposes for translanguaging Purpose

Pedagogical purposes for translanguaging

Methodological purposes for translanguaging

1

Supporting students as they engage with and comprehend complex content and texts

Supporting researchers and participants as they engage with and comprehend complex content and language

2

Providing opportunities for students to develop linguistic practices for academic contexts

Providing opportunities for researchers and participants to develop linguistic practices and content knowledge for current and future contexts

3

Making space for students’ bilingualism and ways of knowing

Making space for researchers’ and participants’ multilingualism and ways of knowing

4

Supporting students’ bilingual identities and socioemotional development

Supporting researchers’ and participants’ multilingual identities and socioemotional development individually and with each other

Note. Pedagogical purposes for translanguaging from García et al. (2017: 7).

The first and second methodological purposes are to support researchers and participants as they engage with complex language and ideas and to provide each other opportunities for linguistic and content knowledge development. For the researcher who is seeking to more deeply understand a phenomenon and for the participant who is seeking to be understood, these purposes are mutually beneficial. As discussed earlier, Cy and I both made efforts to support each other in this manner (e.g. sharing the interview protocol, encouraging the use of a dictionary/translator, translating vocabulary and explaining grammatical and cultural information to each other). For researchers who possess few resources related to the home language and culture of their participants, translanguaging-informed methodologies would be limited but not inconceivable. In addition to acquiring a minimum amount of pertinent linguistic and cultural knowledge before meeting with participants, researchers can still adopt a stance and design an environment that welcomes and values all linguistic resources while remaining critical of linguistic hierarchies. To this end, Andrews et al. (2018: 231) encourage researchers to develop a ‘translingual mindset’ where attentiveness to language informs research decisions and languages are used flexibly by research informants and collaborators. While researchers and participants may not directly engage in translanguaging practices with each other, they could still do so individually. For instance, a researcher could encourage a participant to not only use a dictionary/ translator but also to first think or write their responses in their home language. The third purpose for translanguaging pedagogy as methodology is to make space for researchers’ and participants’ multilingualism and diverse

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ways of knowing. In my interactions with Cy, we created this space by using our knowledge of each other’s ‘bilingual profiles’ (García et al., 2017: 31) and previous experiences. Poising myself as a learner and attempting to ‘listen more, talk less’ (Seidman, 2013: 81) cultivated an environment where Cy felt like her ways of knowing and being were recognized as valuable assets; she was able to challenge the hegemonic norms of Western research by positioning herself as a collaborator and also challenge the ‘demolinguistic’ label of ‘English language learner’ by positioning herself as a multilingual CFL teacher (Pennycook, 2019: 170). While this research was not explicitly participatory in design, it was important to me that I include Cy in as much of the process as possible to lessen the power asymmetry between us. By not creating an interview protocol for our second and subsequent meetings and by following the translanguaging corriente, I allowed space for Cy to steer the course of our conversations. When analyzing and writing, having Cy read my drafts was another way I attempted to ensure that my interpretation of her voice and ideas was sound. To facilitate these processes, it is necessary to have a sustained relationship with participants which may not always be possible. My research was an iterative process; I had not pre-determined the number of times I would meet with the participants, but I found that Seidman’s (2013) three-interview approach led to the creation of a researcher-participant relationship and an environment conducive to translanguaging practices. To this end, the fourth purpose of translanguaging-informed methodology is to support the multilingual identities and socioemotional development of both researcher and participant as well as the rapport and relationship between them. The small talk, laughter and unapologetic mistake-making that were characteristic of my third and fourth meetings with Cy highlight the supportive and tolerant environment that we coconstructed over the span of six months. Although it may not take six months to establish a similar context, researchers adopting translanguaging-informed methodologies should plan on developing sustained relationships with participants, when possible. Translingual activism, as described by Pennycook (2019), aims to decolonize English and ‘destabilize the normative meanings of society’ (2019: 180) through various means, including ‘critical self-reflexive practice’ (2019: 178). It was during the member checking process that Cy and I had a necessary conversation about linguistic hegemonies and the neoliberal forces that fuel English linguistic imperialism; Cy was embarrassed that I had transcribed verbatim her ‘mistakes’ in English. I was ready to respect her request of ‘correcting’ them but not without first critically discussing the concepts of World Englishes, Chinese English and monoglossic language ideologies. In the same way that Flores (2013) suggests teachers guide students ‘to become aware of how language can be consciously used to experiment

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with new subjectivities and produce new subject positions’ (Flores, 2013: 517), I encouraged Cy to become more critical of linguistic narratives that circulate in language classrooms and academia. We considered China’s claim of having one national language and the implications on the many dialects and languages found within the country; we also compared China’s linguistic landscape to that of the US. In terms of global linguistic hierarchies, both English and Chinese are quite prestigious and Cy and I were aware of their status from our own identities as highly-educated globally mobile individuals. In other research contexts, such critical discussions would vary greatly in structure and content depending on the linguistic resources of researcher and participant. For non-researchers reading this piece, I hope that translanguaging does not seem like irrelevant jargon. In the simplest sense, working across languages should be something that we are all open to. Once we start recognizing accents, dialects, gestures, facial expressions, drawings, text, and other semiotics as equally valuable ‘language’ resources, we are in a position to recognize all who possess such resources as equally valuable humans. Likewise, by viewing named languages as just one of many communicative resources, we may be better situated to denounce language ideologies rooted in monolingual and nationalist sentiments. Part of this process starts with oneself. One of the most significant learning outcomes from this reflexive process was questioning my own perceived monolingualism. While I was ready to provide Cy opportunities for translanguaging, I had to question why I was not extending the same practices to myself. I am not comfortable claiming that researchers do not need to acquire the linguistic resources used by their participants; however, I am comfortable claiming that researchers do not need to have all of the same linguistic and cultural resources as their participants. Even between two perceived monolinguals, there are opportunities for translanguaging as long as both are willing to adopt a multilingual stance and position themselves as learners. Creating this vulnerability can work toward dismantling the power hierarchies of research relationships as well as monoglossic language ideologies. Rather than being the ‘sole keeper of knowledge’ (García et al., 2017: 166), researchers who use translanguaging-informed methodologies can become co-owners of mutually constructed knowledge. Notes (1) Flores and Schissel (2014) and García et al. (2017) use the term ‘bilingual’, but the practices they discuss are not limited to speakers of two languages; thus, I intentionally use the terms ‘multilingual’ and ‘translingual’ throughout the chapter. (2) The students at the virtual academy range from 5 to 18 years of age, but the teachers in this study teach courses offered to students of approximately 13 to 18 years of age. (3) Lily was a researcher-assigned pseudonym, whereas Cy was self-selected by the participant.

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(4) Use of the term ‘home languages’ recognizes that named languages within students’ repertoires may or may not be their first language (L1); this term also challenges the idea of native languages and native speakerness (Valdés, 2016). (5) The transcripts in this chapter use both pinyin (the Romanization of Chinese characters) and simplified Chinese characters to represent spoken Mandarin.

References Andrews, J., Fay, R. and White, R. (2018) From linguistic preparation to developing a translingual mindset: Possible implications of plurilingualism for researcher education. In J. Choi and S. Ollderhead (eds) Plurilingualism in Learning and Teaching: Complexities Across Contexts (pp. 220–233). New York, NY: Routledge. Au, A. (2019) Thinking about cross-cultural differences in qualitative interviewing: Practices for more responsive and trusting encounters. The Qualitative Report 24 (1), 58–77. Canagarajah, S. (2011) Translanguaging in the classroom: Emerging issues for research and pedagogy. Applied Linguistics Review 2, 1–28. Canagarajah, S. (2013) Translingual Practice: Global Englishes and Cosmopolitan Relations. London: Routledge. Creese, A. and Blackledge, A. (2010) Translanguaging in the bilingual classroom: A pedagogy for learning and teaching? The Modern Language Journal 94 (1), 103–115. Duff, P. (2015) Transnationalism, multilingualism, and identity. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics 35, 57–80. Flores, N. (2013) The unexamined relationship between neoliberalism and plurilingualism: A cautionary tale. TESOL Quarterly 47 (3), 500–520. Flores, N. and Schissel, J.L. (2014) Dynamic bilingualism as the norm: Envisioning a heteroglossic approach to standards-based reform. TESOL Quarterly 48 (3), 454–497. García, O. (2009a) Bilingual Education in the 21st Century: A Global Perspective. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. García, O. (2009b) Education, multilingualism and translanguaging in the 21st century. In A. Mohanty, M. Panda, R. Phillipson and T. Skutnabb-Kangas (eds) Multilingual Education for Social Justice: Globalising the Local (pp. 128–145). New Delhi, India: Orient Blackswan. García, O., Johnson, S.I. and Seltzer, K. (2017) The Translanguaging Classroom: Leveraging Student Bilingualism for Learning. Philadelphia, PA: Caslon. Harré, R. (2012) Positioning theory: Moral dimensions of social-cultural psychology. In J. Valsiner (ed.) The Oxford Handbook of Culture and Psychology (pp. 191–206). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Karnieli-Miller, O., Strier, R. and Passach, L. (2009) Power relations in qualitative research. Qualitative Health Research 19 (2), 279–289. Li, W. (2018) Translanguaging as a practical theory of language. Applied Linguistics 39 (1), 9–30. Morton, T. and Gray, J. (2017) Social Interaction and English Language Teacher Identity. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Pennycook, A. (2019) From translanguaging to translingual activism. In D. Macedo (ed.) Decolonizing Foreign Language Education: The Misteaching of English and Other Colonial Languages (pp. 169–185). New York and London: Routledge. Phillipson, R. (1992) Linguistic Imperialism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Poza, L. (2017) Translanguaging: Definitions, implications, and further needs in burgeoning inquiry. Berkeley Review of Education 6 (2), 101–128.

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Rosa, J. and Burdick, C. (2016) Language ideologies. In O. García and N. Flores (eds) The Oxford Handbook of Language and Society (pp. 103–124). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Seidman, I. (2013) Interviewing as Qualitative Research: A Guide for Researchers in Education and the Social Sciences (4th edn). New York: Teachers College Press. Valdés, G. (2016) Entry visa denied: The construction of symbolic language borders in educational settings. In O. García and N. Flores (eds) The Oxford Handbook of Language and Society (pp. 321–348). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

14 Decolonizing Research through Translanguaging: Negotiating Practices with Multilingual Teachers in Colombia Rosa Alejandra Medina Riveros and Theresa Austin

This chapter explores how researchers and participants use critical ­multilingualism, translanguaging and decolonizing research practices in an ethnographic study with teachers in Colombia (Medina, 2020). With critical multilingualism we refer to a perspective that privileges language as a social practice (Blackledge & Creese, 2010) and acknowledges multiplicities and tensions between historically associated languages and their users’ power relations (Acosta, 2014). Translanguaging addresses the intentional use of whole semiotic and cultural repertoires for learning and research. Decolonizing research compels researchers and participants to engage in critical and ethical co-construction of knowledge that highlights subalternized worldviews and languages most times invisible or unreadable to audiences in the Western, Global North. Although our area of research is language teacher education, we hope the proposed practices in this chapter are useful for researchers in other multilingual and disciplinary contexts. We provide a methodological reflection building upon a yearlong ethnographic study tracing how a community of in-service multilingual English language teachers in Colombia and the US collaborate online to make sense of, and harness translanguaging in innovative ways. This chapter provides insights derived from the reflection process during the aftermath of professional development that was provided. Hence, as a part of the professional development, teachers engaged in synchronous online workshops and interviews to discuss translanguaging, multimodality and digital tools for supporting struggling students (beginners, visually impaired and from low-income, rural 287

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backgrounds). The blend of professional development and ethnography examines how a community of Colombian college instructors of English as a Foreign Language integrated translanguaging pedagogies in their teaching practice. The teachers collaborated with the first author who had taught in the teachers’ institution there and who, at the time of the study, was consulting with the second author to design the workshops and ethnography. Context and Participants

This chapter uses data collected with multilingual teachers of English as a foreign language at a university in a semi-rural context in Colombia, South America. The participants were seven language teachers who had been working in the face-to-face and blended modalities of the Department of Foreign Languages and Cultures at a private college in a town several miles from the capital city Bogotá. Through videoconferencing, professional development introduced opportunities to examine and use multimodal and multilingual resources for language teaching. The content, as well as the session’s format, invited participants to express how they were using these resources and how they could broaden their notions of translanguaging with other approaches. The data sources for this study included multilingual transcripts, and notes of teacher workshops developed in fieldwork during one year. The authors developed the interview protocol and then the first author proceeded to conduct semi-structured interviews to understand the participants’ experiences in learning additional languages, their multilingualism and how they had instructed to support their students in multiple languages with digital resources. Rosa, as part of her dissertation research, was located 4200 kilometers away in the US Northeast. She served as one of the instructors and as a researcher. As a former teacher at the same institution for four years, she led professional development sessions on translanguaging and multimodality via videoconferencing between 2016 and 2018. She also traveled to the site several times and met informally with the participants. She collaborated with Diana, a former colleague and co-researcher who facilitated logistics, to pilot the interview and then, after transcription, to confirm the findings through member checking. Theresa, as Rosa’s dissertation advisor, consulted to guide the design, approach and strategies to collect and analyze data. Theresa has guided research professional development for teachers completing their thesis in several universities in Colombia, as well as in the US. The following question guides our reflections in this chapter: from a translanguaging and decolonizing stance, which research practices can we develop to conduct research critically and ethically? First, we provide a theoretical discussion on translanguaging and critical multilingualism and their potential for use in decolonizing research.

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We draw on these research practices to suggest that other researchers examine and adapt according to their particular contexts. Second, we explain five translanguaging practices that researchers can include in designing research projects, namely (1) identifying the coloniality of language practices in the macro and meso contexts; (2) decolonizing epistemologies and bibliographies; (3) decolonizing researchers and participants’ linguistic histories and integrating translanguaging stances in research; (4) creating translanguaging spaces in research and (5) giving accounts of resistance, disruption and conflict. Finally, we provide a discussion and further implications. Critical Multilingualism and Translanguaging

We draw primarily on two views of multilingual practice: critical multilingualism and translanguaging. We take up critical multilingualism as proposed by Blackledge and Creese (2010) and translanguaging as defined by García et al. (2017). We build upon the convergences between these approaches despite the ontological differences in how these scholars theorize or resist language. Language ideology places a central role in multilingual language policy and practices. Among these ideologies is a strongly held belief in monoglossia, in valuing a single language variety as the only one that matters. As Flores and Rosa (2015: 151) state, ‘Monoglossic language ideologies position idealized monolingualism in a standardized national language as the norm to which all national subjects should aspire’. Monoglossic language ideologies create a hierarchy marking other varieties as non-standard and therefore less significant, useful, or important. By adopting Heller’s (2007) argument about critical multilingualism, Blackledge and Creese (2010: 25) call for a perspective that ‘privileges language as a social practice, speakers as social actors and boundaries as products of social action’. Alternatively, García et al. resist using ‘language’, instead focusing on Swain’s (2006) languaging that conveys ‘an action – a dynamic, never ending process of using language to make meaning’ (2006: 96). Both views further Makoni and Pennycook’s (2007) argument against languages as separate, bounded, discrete and sealed units. Instead of named and bounded systems that are linked to a nation-state, for Makoni (2017: 370), language is ‘linguistic human work, the consequence of human intervention and manipulation of social contexts’. From a critical and historical perspective, these ‘named languages’ are inventions, discursive constructions that may perpetuate social inequalities. Following this line of thought, a translanguaging perspective questions the idea of languages as enumerable static objects. Moving away from named and discrete languages, and extending the concept of language repertoires (Gumperz, 1982), translanguaging refers to ‘speakers’ complex

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and active use of a repertoire of linguistic features’ (García et al., 2017: 5). Therefore, the repertoire consists of different varieties that are used together, i.e. heteroglossic rather than monoglossic. However, Blackledge and Creese warn against ‘discarding historically associated languages since they are valuable for language users and their sense of identity and affiliation’ (2010: 31). They advocate for a heteroglossic approach that allows for theorizing ‘social and historical contexts of the utterance and considers multiple language practices in interrelationships’ (2010: 66). As linguistic resources evolve in practice, i.e. use by different social actors, they dynamically accrue new values, affiliations and allegiances. Clearly, this practice is constantly changing while moving across time and space. Hence, ‘translanguaging is an ideological orientation to the study of social and linguistic difference, which views flexible and separate bilingualism in a constant dialectic’ (Creese & Blackledge, 2019: 802). Critical multilingualism and translanguaging are significant in our study with language teachers because these two approaches represent tensions that exist in recognizing the invisible and visible values attached to defining ‘language’, as well as the fixity and fluidity that are characteristic of all languages. These tensions are part of both researchers’ and participants’ worlds as they become aware of their dynamic fields of language practice. That is, translanguaging is the enactment of language practices that use different features that have previously been perceived as independently constrained by different histories, but which now are experienced in speakers’ interactions as one new whole. Decolonizing Translanguaging

Whereas there is a debate on the nature of translanguaging and the value or not of using labels attached to historically associated languages, by adopting a critical-poststructuralist perspective, we intend to expand on the decolonizing nature of translanguaging. García et al. (2017) make this point when they propose to bring translanguaging as a subaltern and decolonizing practice to the forefront of multilingualism theorizations. In this sense, translanguaging is intended to work for decolonizing and social justice efforts: ‘where translanguaging subjectivities and indigenous epistemologies are used to counteract Western hegemony and the pursuit of social and linguistic justice’ (2017: 13). Because it is a borderlands discourse, moreover, to consider the research on translanguaging as an integral part of counter hegemonic discourse signifies a research orientation that encourages documenting linguistic and cultural resistance. The idea of implementing translanguaging as a subaltern and decolonizing practice is particularly relevant to our study’s context. While we agree with García and Li Wei’s (2014) understanding of translanguaging as an active and complex use of linguistic and semiotic repertoires, our

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understanding of translanguaging goes beyond semiotics and pedagogy. It must entail an ethical and political purpose, a decolonizing one. We argue that multilingualism and translanguaging are not neutral as they index different, and sometimes contradictory, values and ideologies according to different speakers and their contexts. But however wellintended, the decolonizing purpose of translanguaging is not guaranteed. For instance, despite translanguaging scholars proposing translanguaging as a subaltern tool for social justice (García et al., 2017), they also warned about the perils of multilingualism, as multilingualism may become neoliberal products (Flores & García, 2017). Languages and literacies have historically been used to exercise and reproduce what Stoler (2010) names as colonial, capitalist and hetero-patriarchal regimes of power, which have marginalized certain bodies, languages, literacies and cultures. In this section, we highlighted the decolonizing potential in translanguaging. In the following section, drawing inspiration from this promise, we explain their integration into our research practices throughout the implementation phases. Method: Dialogic Reflexivity

The set of practices that we present here originated from our informed and dialogic reflexivity. To gather the practices, here we adopted dialogic reflexivity as method. Attia and Edge (2017: 36) state that ‘the workings of reflexivity are accessed via observation and reflection, and through interaction with colleagues. In other words, we observe in action; we step back to reflect; and we step up again to action’. Our data analysis for this chapter encompassed reading and adapting practices from decolonizing research and translanguaging studies. We also embarked in constant dialogue, feedback and adjustment as we planned, piloted and implemented the research. Then, we came together and reflected upon the question on the research practices that can be useful to conduct research critically and ethically from a decolonizing and translanguaging perspective. Decolonizing Research Practices

In our study with teachers, we have developed research practices that may prove promising for other researchers attempting to integrate multilingual resources critically and ethically into their research praxis. The first practice we present identifies the coloniality of language practices in context. With this practice, we suggest investigating the histories attached to the language practices in the research context and questioning linguistic hierarchies and attitudes toward different linguistic resources and their users. The second practice advocates for decolonizing researchers and participants’ linguistic histories and attitudes and developing translanguaging stances in research. The third research practice looks at

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the creation of translanguaging spaces in research. These spaces allow for fluid linguistic practices in interviewing, taking field notes and memoing. The fourth research practice examines the decolonization of epistemologies through the inclusion of multilingual bibliographies different from Western and Anglo resources. Our final research practice identifies disruption and conflict. We suggest that researchers enter dialogue with instances, interactions and segments of data that contradict their own assumptions regarding language use and local knowledge. Researchers and the academic community in general can harness those difficult moments for learning, though it requires a more horizontal role between researchers and participants, as knowledge and linguistic practices are co-constructed and must not be imposed by epistemological and linguistic colonization. (1) Identifying the coloniality of language policies and practices in the context

We propose that researchers begin by critically examining histories and macro and micro contexts of multilingual use. We are aware that context matters in all language and literacy efforts, especially for researching multilingually. The practice we highlight here consists in researching and becoming aware of the language histories and policies at different scales of social life. In the context of the research with the teachers in Colombia, we moved between micro and macro scales to identify linguistic hierarchies in language policies and practices. In the study with teachers in Colombia, before designing their program, we undertook an analysis of various macro and micro scales of linguistic policies and practices in their research context. We conducted document and media analyses of policies and interviewed teachers. Through this preliminary analysis, we attempted to understand the complexity of the local context and larger language policies that affect linguistic practices. For example, we investigated why an English language program existed at the university where we conducted the research as an example of situated coloniality of language practices. One explanation is linked to Colombian English–Spanish elite bilingualism. Currently, Colombian English–Spanish bilingualism is linked to prestige, elite status and better incomes for bilingual employees. This has been described as ‘elite bilingualism’ (de Mejía, 2002). Bilingual schools are usually expensive, upper-class urban institutions where elite families send their children; some of these schools provide international certifications such as International Baccalaureate IB and exchange agreements with countries such as the US, UK or Canada (de Mejía, 2002). Public schools, on the other hand, face typical problems of insufficient resources: facilities, equipment and limited hours of English instruction, some only providing two to three hours per week. Students who attend college need to certify

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English proficiency to gain access to internships and obtain jobs at multinational companies. Identifying the coloniality of language policies and practices in the context brings affordances to research multilingually before, during and after conducting fieldwork. Documenting and analyzing the coloniality of research practices before embarking in fieldwork works to inform the researchers’ view of multilingualism in the research site. We appeal to researchers to educate their views of multilingualism in the context from a political and sociohistorical perspective. Examining histories of coloniality in language policies and practices also works to interrogate taken for granted policies and language practices that are perceived as normal. Even before going to the field, having this information enriches the analysis. We recommend that researchers look at the big sociohistorical picture before, during and after their engagement in the research site. In the previous analysis, we examined how we can unveil coloniality at a larger societal scale in this context. Analyzing language policies and histories that explain language use in the research context is important as it helps researchers understand how languages work as parts of larger social, political, and economic processes. (2) Decolonizing epistemologies

Our second practice involves decolonizing knowledge sources, moving from English-centric literatures to multilingual and global sources. This fourth practice is also translanguaging as it involves reading in and about multiple languages and language writing reporting in multiple languages. For the larger study with Colombian teachers, Rosa included studies from the Global South and from groups whose languages, literacies and cultures have been historically marginalized because of colonization and racial domination. Examples of critical studies that have addressed the links between teachers, literacies and multilingualism from critical and decolonizing lenses in aboriginal communities across the Americas, Africa and Oceania include: Stein and Newfield (2006) in South Africa, LópezGopar (2007) in Mexico; Lopes Cardozo (2012) in Bolivia; Pirbhai-Illich (2010) and Moore and MacDonald (2013) in Canada. Decolonizing epistemologies by means of including research in multiple languages, marginalized communities and Global South also brings affordances to studies that otherwise would leave out valuable knowledge and research practices that are not usually visible in English-centric literatures. In the study with the Colombian teachers, as Rosa was reviewing literatures from Latin-America to frame her study, she found López-Gopar’s (2007) study with Zapotec students in Oaxaca, Mexico. Rosa was able to appreciate how multilingualism can be studied from a critical and

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decolonial perspective and how participants’ experiences and languages and knowledges were at the center. López-Gopar (2007) examined how imposed colonial Spanish language alphabetical literacy has marginalized indigenous Zapotec languages and literacies. Using a critical ethnographic action research and the critical multiliteracies framework, the study illuminates how teachers and students can use translanguaging and identity text to foster multilingualism. Through the construction of identity texts and translanguaging and multiliteracies practices that students and teachers engaged in, stories emerge that portray them as the intelligent, creative and genuine individuals. Participants’ knowledge and translanguaging practice in the study challenged mandated policies, theories, social constructs and pedagogies that were imposed to the community from long colonial histories. We take this fourth practice from decolonizing scholars Smith (2012) and Zavala (2013) as they propose to privilege research from the Global South and honor, reclaim indigenous and local categories. To privilege Global South research, we included citations of research from the Global South that were written in or involved languages other than English. We propose that researchers decolonize their bibliographies from the beginning of the research project and continue to utilize knowledges that may not be found in peer-reviewed journals (Austin, 2019; Austin et al., 2015). More research is required from around the globe to represent the Global South and non-Western epistemologies. As Martin-Jones et al. (2011) note, most available research on multilingualism is based on the global North or West, and it usually involves postcolonial languages. At the same time, we argue that it is necessary to decenter English as the target language to a more ecological goal that acknowledges and valorizes multilingualism, not only to take advantage of diversity in neoliberal times, but to help construct a more socially-just society. (3) Decolonizing researchers and participants’ linguistic histories and integrating translanguaging stances in research

A third research practice entails developing and performing researchers and participants’ translanguaging and multilingual stances (Blackledge & Creese, 2010; Copland & Creese, 2015; García & Li Wei, 2014; De Jong, 2016). Kleyn and García (2019: 73) advocate for a translanguaging stance as a ‘view of all linguistic features and practices of any given student as a resource in general and specifically for their learning’. In parallel to Kleyn and García’s (2019) translanguaging perspective, we advocate for researchers to develop and perform a welcoming mindset toward their own and their participants’ multilingual resources. In our study, we developed this stance by acknowledging, undoing and questioning literacy histories using biographical trajectories (Pugach et al., 2019).

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Questioning literacy histories requires researchers to reflect upon their own linguistic resources, ideologies, and attitudes, and to understand those of their participants. It also involves taking account of these trajectories while conducting research. In the following excerpt, we illustrate how Rosa developed a translanguaging stance, and how her language biography constituted a site of contradiction within and against colonial language ideologies and practices. Rosa’s research positionality was affected by her experience as a former English language instructor in Colombia for four years before pursuing doctoral studies in the US. She started learning English as an adult in an English only classroom. Her experiences include her own racialization in the US due to her hybrid language practices. Her translanguaging stance influenced her research decisions and interactions in her study with teachers in Colombia. The translanguaging perspective made me change my internalized feelings of inferiority towards my languaging as I considered myself “an inferior speaker of English” because I learned it in Colombia as an adult. Once in the US Northeast as I started my graduate studies, I also felt inferiorized for my languaging: using other than “mainstream English”, mixing languages or using Spanish. I’ve been verbally assaulted for speaking Spanish or language mixing in public spaces, despite my Whitepassing appearance. When one of my professors presented to us an asset-based perspective on bilingualism, that changed the way I thought of my linguistic practices. My professor proposed that we should consider our linguistic resources as well as our students’ as assets that we bring to the class not as a deficit. Only at that moment, I started considering myself as a bilingual person with many assets. I’m still trying to figure out how to navegar [navigate] translanguaging as an asset and as a contradiction. Translanguaging comes naturally to me in my mind, y mi escritura [and in My writing] but the need for being safe and understood in Anglophone spaces is also there. Years later, as part of my dissertation research I embarked on exploring the possibilities of translanguaging with English language teachers in Colombia. (Researcher’s journal)

In the previous excerpt, Rosa explains how translanguaging and multilingual identity were sources of discomfort and feelings of inferiority. Once she changed her perspective, she could spread this asset-based perspective of translanguaging at the university in Colombia. She supported translanguaging even when it contradicted her own language learning history that was implemented through language separation and disciplining of explicit hybrid language practice. Translanguaging for her, in Colombia or in the US, meant resisting monolingual ideologies and norms and accepting her whole identity, culture, and hybridity as an asset. Examining her linguistic identity influenced Rosa’s approach when undertaking the research with Colombian teachers. For example, putting

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aside a monolingual approach, Rosa used her own translanguaging stance when she implemented interview protocols, encouraging participants to use their linguistic resources fluidly. Rosa also used translanguaging for her field notes and analytic memos. In addition, Rosa’s translanguaging stance influenced how she related to the research participants as she openly questioned instances in which participants described internalized linguistic inferiority. For instance, some of the participants considered their English language use as inferior as they were not native speakers. Along the year of study, as Rosa engaged in dialogue with them, in the end, some participants acknowledged their own bilingualism as an asset. Integrating a translanguaging stance in research entails that researchers are fully present and aware of their and their participants’ linguistic resources and trajectories. Theresa examined her translanguaging stance developed across more than 20 years of researching multilingual language and literacy learning by students and teachers. As an African/Okinawan American, Theresa is most often taken for Chinese or Southeast Asian. So, when she uses Spanish as her second/third language, research participants who are not familiar with Asian-looking bodies using Spanish often become startled. She provides two accounts where this stance affected her identity as a researcher and teacher educator. As a researcher in several multilingual contexts, Spanish/English, Japanese/English and Spanish/Guaraní, translanguaging was frequently present and noticeable yet uncommented on. Both participants and I slipped into the languages that seemed handy to express whatever we needed. At times, we even invented words to represent a new yet common idea. In one particular study that examined how bilingual paraprofessionals completing their bachelor’s degree were also shifting their language ideologies (Austin et al., 2010), el redo was coined to indicate the responsibility that all participants had in our program to revise written assignments and re-do to get a grade. While revisions were required but not always welcomed, coinage of new terms were readily adapted. The formation and use of neologisms were viewed as a sign of linguistic creativity and not a right reserved for only ‘native speakers’ who work in the advertising industry. In researching this context, the language policy in situ allowed for freedom for all participants to use their emergent second language skills with the strengths of the first language. In another research study with a heritage language learner/teacher (Austin, 2019), translanguaging occurred naturally as a result of a long and hard won professional and social friendship which allowed for a narrative inquiry into the education of heritage learners. Without such a stance, the intimate and revealing interviews and prolonged discussions could not have taken place. Unlike conventional ‘fly on the wall’ studies that present researchers or ethnographers as disembodied and in ‘panoptical positions’ (Burawoy, 2017: 219), we advocate for researchers and participants to co-construct

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and decolonize research through translanguaging. We propose to unveil the researcher’s positionality, the relationships between researcher and participants’ linguistic resources, and their processes of becoming during and after the research. Developing a translanguaging stance to decolonize research involves developing researchers developing their own positionality regarding translanguaging, as well as changing/decolonizing the social practice and culture of the sites where we research. A translanguaging stance enriches research and opens up opportunities to bring up semiotic and cultural resources together. Decolonizing the researchers’ views on the supposed inferiority of such practices and supposed normativity of monolingual standards shifts the project to an asset-based perspective as a significant move that we propose for researchers in multilingual contexts. We suggest that researchers reveal their own language and literacy trajectories to participants and academic audiences, and harness researchers and participants’ linguistic resources in the studies. (4) Creating translanguaging spaces in research

A third practice consists in creating translanguaging spaces with research participants and collaborators. For this practice, we draw on the concepts of translanguaging space and critical translanguaging space. Li Wei (2011: 1222) refers to translanguaging space as ‘a space for the act of translanguaging as well as a space created through translanguaging. The notion of translanguaging space encompasses the concepts of creativity and criticality’. With critical translanguaging space, Hamman (2018: 22) refers to ‘a sociolinguistic learning environment that interrogates microand macro-level power flows in the classroom and establishes strategic spaces for language use’. In Rosa’s study with Colombian teachers, we show how the researcher performed and opened up translanguaging spaces, so that participants felt free to express their ideas using different semiotic resources. This example was typical of the individual interviews and the approach for group sessions, field notes and other artifacts. Traditionally, qualitative research interviews are conducted in the participants’ most comfortable language (Cortazzi et al., 2011: 505), but a translanguaging space framing acknowledges participants’ multilingual repertoire. In this interview excerpt, Caro responds to Rosa’s invitation to use either English or Spanish at any moment that she feels comfortable in doing so. R:  Caro muchas gracias por compartir, nos vamos a mover como tú quieras, puedes usar inglés o español en cualquier momento como te sientas mejor. Vamos a comenzar. [Caro, thank you for sharing, we will move as you please, you can use English or Spanish at any moment as you feel better. Let’s begin]

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R:  Nos vamos a mover a este momento. [We are going to think back to this moment] R:  So now that the workshops are over a few months ago in this moment of your life how do you think that the workshops contributed to or impacted your professional development as a language teacher. C:  I think that the change in the vision of using Spanish and these strategies as translanguaging changed my professional development. And I think that the opportunity that I have of reflecting with my colleagues about this it is meaningful, because that is something that has never been established as a policy something that was forbidden but there was not a reason, so I think now we have the knowledge we have research we have sources that you have given us to support this translanguaging strategies in the classroom. R:  I f you were to give advice to a teacher who tries to bring students linguistic resources in the classroom what could that be? C:  Bueno, yo le diría que /// analice los momentos en que el español emerge en la clase y que analice el propósito comunicativo del estudiante del por qué el estudiante decidido usar esta primera lengua y no la que está aprendiendo para que puedan decidir si sí es apropiado o no o pueda tomar ventaja de esa participación para el aprendizaje del estudiante. [Well, I would tell them to /// analyze the moments when Spanish emerges in the class and to analyze the student’s communicative purpose of why the student decided to use this first language and not the one he or she is learning so that you can decide whether or not it is appropriate or can take advantage of that participation for the student’s learning.] (Caro, interview, April 2019)

Creating a critical translanguaging space in the aforementioned interview produces affordances that could not have emerged if interviews were conducted in English or Spanish solely. First, it acknowledges participants’ multilingualism and treats their repertoires as equally important. Second, it gives the participants agency to express their thoughts using their whole linguistic repertoires, not by the imposition of the researcher. This translanguaging space is negotiated and created dialogically. A third affordance consists in including knowledge, expressions and categories from multiple languages and cultures. These meanings are enriched by the multiplicity of cultural and linguistic resources that participants and researchers bring to the studies. In this interview segment, the participant goes beyond using linguistic resources fluidly. Caro critically reflects upon her language practices as a teacher. As evident here, translanguaging between the researcher and participant appears in dialogue. This shift in historically associated languages aligns well with Lin’s (2019) conceptualization about the dialogic nature of translanguaging. Drawing on Bakhtinian ideas and Barwell (2016), translanguaging should be understood in terms of response in

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dialogue, ‘rather than a choice made within a semiotic system. Translanguaging does not belong to a single individual’ (Barwell, 2016: 13). Translanguaging in research occurs socially and dialogically. A third affordance that emerges when translanguaging spaces are created in interviewing and other researchers’ practices is welcoming categories and metaphors that participants and researchers have in their repertoires but normally are suppressed if the research is conducted monolingually. The following vignette illustrates how through translanguaging, a new local category is created. In the following example, Miss J., one of the participants in the study with Colombian teachers, comes up with a metaphor in Spanish to explain her ideas on translanguaging and how monoglossic pedagogies affect her students. No hay que cercenar a los estudiantes [We cannot mutilate students] Languages are connected, none of them has a better status. We cannot leave languages outside. Languages are not only words, they connect to speakers’ experiences and backgrounds-Si los dejamos de lado estamos cercenando a los estudiantes. [If we, exclude them, we are mutilating students from their experiences] -de sus experiencias, background y de toda la cultura que traen. [From their experiences, background and all the culture they bring] -No se debe cercenar, a los estudiantes. [We must not mutilate our students] (Miss J., Interview, April 2019)

Cercenar in Spanish can translate into mutilate: to cut off permanently, destroy a limb or an essential part. With this metaphor, Miss J. acknowledges the violence of monoglossic pedagogies that leave students’ language and cultural resources outside the classrooms. This type of Cercenamiento [Mutilation] has been historically reproduced by schooling and research that usually legitimize Anglophone knowledge production. Creating translanguaging spaces in research affords participants to include knowledge in multiple languages and use expressions and metaphors that may be left out of research if it is conducted monolingually or using languages separately. We propose that researchers create translanguaging spaces in the process of conducting research. Even if the researcher does not share a common language with the participants, inviting a language broker/­ translator to join these sessions contributes to making these interactions fluid, dialogic and critical spaces. By unleashing the linguistic muzzle for themselves, both researchers and participants can leverage their multiple linguistic and cultural resources and help construct new understandings that may have been otherwise constrained.

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(5) Giving accounts of resistance, tension and conflict

A final practice for decolonizing research using translanguaging consists in identifying resistance, disruption and conflict. Using translanguaging while conducting the research means engaging with unpredictable emotional factors: discomfort, resistance, disruption and conflict, all of which need to be accounted for. In line with Creese and Blackledge’s (2019) definition of translanguaging, with this fifth research practice, we want to highlight ‘the ideological and tensional interplay between languages as products and languaging as process’ (Creese & Blackledge, 2019: 801). We recognize that a research context that is malleable in terms of de facto language policy and planning allows for a range of emotions to be displayed through language choice and participant voice in interactions with researchers. De facto language policies are ‘covert ways in which official policies are constructed and naturalized’ (Castagno & McCarthy, 2017: 4). We can see policies enacted in interviews, classroom interactions, as well as in texts. Participants interact with (dis)comfort, resistance, as well as joy and glee when linguistic constraints are removed. We propose that these moments of tension and contradiction be included in research reports as they shift the context. We illustrate a moment of tension from when translanguaging contradicted the monolingual de facto policies of the context. In the following example in the study with the Colombian teachers, one of the participants Gabriel expresses his discomfort and disagreement with using translanguaging in his context. Gabriel was the only one of the seven research participants who expressed their opposition to translanguaging. During the Colombian research, Gabriel was a full-time language instructor. He worked with a curriculum that prepares students to take international tests. The university requires undergraduate students to pass an International English language test, such as TOEFL, IELTS and FCE, which certifies they have a B2 level according to the Common European Framework. Without this test, students cannot qualify to undertake their internships, nor can they graduate. In tests such as IELTS, the examiners are hired contractors who can prove ‘fully operational command of the language: appropriate, accurate and fluent with complete understanding with an English level equivalent to IELTS band 9’ (British Council, Colombia, 2019). Examiners are assumed to be monolingual. R:  Nos puedes contar, [Can you tell us] what was your overall impression including the students’ linguistic resources in your teaching? G:  Yo siempre tuve ciertas dudas al principio, porque cuando yo enseño inglés tiendo a omitir otras lenguas, otras cosas, porque no me parecía correcto partiendo de mi experiencia, lo que yo

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tuve. Una instrucción en inglés no me va a aportar mucho background para el aprendizaje, sino uno no es forzado a estar inmerso en un ambiente de aprendizaje continuo, digamos que los resultados pueden demorar un poco más. [ I was always hesitant in the beginning, because when I teach English I tend to avoid other languages, other stuff because I didn’t think it was right based on my experience as a learner. In instruction in English will not contribute to my learning, if you are not forced to be immersed in a continuing learning environment, I would say results will take longer] Rosa:  ¿Cuáles crees que son los retos de usar translanguaging en tu contexto? [Which were the challenges of using translanguaging in your context] Gabriel:  Depender mucho de esa estrategia solamente para el aprendizaje. Yo digo que eso es como las training wheels de las bicicletas, pues que en un inicio está bien usarlo, pero a la larga es contraproducente. [ Depending a lot on this strategy for learning. I say this is like using training wheels /stabilizers for learning to ride a bike. At the beginning it is ok to use them but in the long term, it is counterproductive]

In Gabriel’s case, translanguaging clashed against monoglossic standards that are assessed in international tests. This clash parallels the clash between translanguaging as a decolonizing practice and the neoliberal ideals and facts materialized in language testing regimes (Heller & McElhinny, 2017: 238). The dominant desire in this context is to survive in a neoliberal and globalized world. Gabriel resists and even challenges Rosa’s position while at the same time performing translanguaging by including training wheels in his response. Instead of silencing this conflict, Rosa integrated it into her report and explored the participant’s position in relation to his context. By allowing for a more accurate and full representation/exploration of the tensions and complexities arising among the participants, Rosa opened the space for Gabriel and others to legitimately challenge the affordances of translanguaging. From our approach, we appeal to give account of moments when the researchers’ languaging position and language ideologies are questioned, as this has the potential to bring deeper understandings of the social, historical and political reasons behind language practices. It is important to allow researchers to reflect upon moments of contradictions when researchers’ ideologies, languaging and frameworks do not match participants’ beliefs and practices. Decolonizing research using translanguaging implies devoting space and time in the research for reflection on ideological and linguistic tensions and conflict. Usually as researchers, we give account of findings and patterns that contribute to responding to our research questions and align with pre-established

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frameworks. Reflecting upon instances of conflict and mismatches has the potential to offer a more complete account of research work involving multiple languages. Conclusions

In response to our main question, from a translanguaging and decolonizing stance, what research practices can we develop to conduct research critically and ethically, we propose five practices, emerging from our own research experiences, that translate decolonizing and translanguaging principles into research. First, we advocated for researchers to identify the coloniality of language policies, histories and linguistic practices in the macro and meso contexts of research. Second, we encouraged researchers to decolonize their own linguistic histories and integrate translanguaging stances in research, by recognizing their own multilingualism and that of their participants as assets instead of barriers. Third, we suggested creating translanguaging spaces in research – perhaps with participants during interviewing, or during memoing, data analysis or other research processes. Fourth, we called for researchers to decolonize epistemologies and bibliographies by including studies in and about multiple languages and geographies (underscoring those geographies and languages that have been historically marginalized by Western scholarship). Fifth, and finally, we proposed giving accounts of resistance, disruption and conflict in the research. We argued that moments of ideological conflict and linguistic tensions, when unexpected events challenge pre-established frameworks and assumptions, are valuable as they reveal local knowledge. Implication

Why do we need to develop a translanguaging research agenda that strives for decolonizing purposes? First, a nexus is needed between the research of those who seek to address epistemic and economic violence of coloniality and those who seek to research the indigeneity that has been resilient in the struggle to respect the larger epistemic, ethical, and political project of decolonization of the lands, minds, bodies and cultural practices (Tuck & Yang, 2012). We see research producing new knowledge that researchers and participants may validate, or challenge, in their engagement with theories that influence their practices. Second, decoloniality and decolonization provide an intersectional and transnational perspective to detect how people are otherized, racialized, classed and gendered through use of educational discourses, classroom practices and the imposition or suppression of certain languages and literacies. These concepts also may illuminate resistance, survival and thriving moves. Hence, this radical transformative project goes beyond qualitative research and sociolinguistic studies.

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While engaging in this mindset, for this study we needed to expect and be open to contradiction. For example, consider the fact that we use two languages historically associated with colonialism, Spanish and English, for translanguaging in this context. We are aware that this consideration of two languages also implies thinking and unthinking our own interiorized colonial language ideologies and beyond that, opening up spaces for changing both beliefs and practices and engaging in collaboration and conflict as we work within and against coloniality. We elaborate more on engaging with conflict in the fifth research practice proposed here. In this chapter, we have argued that for decolonizing research using translanguaging we embrace multiple situated versions of translanguaging and multilingualism across time and space. We cannot conceptualize translanguaging as a fixed construct but rather as one that can be flexibly interpreted to serve multiple purposes beyond semiotics and pedagogy. We invite researchers to critically engage with the multiplicity, complexity, mobility, situational and contradictory meanings of translanguaging in their own contexts. Translanguaging, as any other construct, can enter discourses that become a valued commodity and then packaged as a panacea for multilingual learners’ education in all contexts. Although we are aware of the affordances of multilingual language use in daily life and research, we recognize these affordances are tied to context, historical and power relationships; and intertwined with users’ identity forms race, class, gender, national affiliations and life histories. To document the inevitable differential consequences from such practices, we advocate ‘visibilizar’ [making visible] histories and research practices from the periphery. While the translanguaging orientation to multilingualism shatters long-held beliefs about bilingual language use, we acknowledge that this concept is not neutral. We recognize the historically and socially constructed hierarchies, structures and categories that the participants, including ourselves, recreate and inhabit. By questioning such categories, through adopting research practices that involve translanguaging (of researchers and of participants) and that create alternative spaces where subalternized knowledge and languages are central, we hope this contributes to decolonizing research that is context-sensitive in time and space. Clearly, we acknowledge that even these research practices used together or alone cannot end the larger issue of language domination and lack of visibility of knowledge from the Global South in research. However, in this chapter, we have demonstrated how knowledge flows in multiple directions. We can learn from research practices developed in the Global South, question long-held beliefs on language and research, and generate new, and more context-appropriate, practices. We are hopeful that inclusion of these practices can start to generate productive multilingual spaces for mutual understandings between researchers and participants that otherwise would not exist. When

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decolonizing and translanguaging positions are articulated and negotiated through research collaborations, these positions can produce spaces for reflection, as well as data for analysis. By attending to the differences in use that exist among participants and the effects these differences produce in our relationships, our very procedures and as well as the consequences of our collaboration can be documented and transformed. As such, the practices we propose here are not to be understood as prescriptive, orderly, or fixed. We recommend that researchers critically evaluate and adapt them for their own context. Keeping in mind that transforming our research practices also creates acceptance of future researchers who engage in translanguaging, as well as social identifications with translanguaging, no es poca cosa, verdad? References Acosta, A. (2014) The wager of critical multilingualism studies. Critical Multilingualism Studies 2 (1), 20–37. Attia, M. and Edge, J. (2017) Be (com)ing a reflexive researcher: A developmental approach to research methodology. Open Review of Educational Research 4 (1), 33–45. Austin, T. (2019) Towards decolonizing heritage language teacher education, instruction and learning. In D. Macedo (ed.) Decolonizing Foreign Language Education: The Misteaching of English and Other Colonial Languages (pp.131–151). New York and London: Routledge. Austin, T., Pirbhai-Illich, F., Grant, R., Tinker Sachs, G., Wong, S., Nasser, I. and Kumagai, Y. (2015) From research to transformative action: Interpreting research critically. In K. Bhopal and R. Deuchar (eds) Researching Marginalized Groups (pp. 183–195). New York and London: Routledge. Austin, T., Willett. J., Gebhard, M. and Lao, A. (2010) Challenges for Latino educators crossing symbolic, cultural, and linguistic boundaries: Coming to voice in teacher preparation with competing voices. Journal of Latinos and Education 9 (4), 262–283. Barwell, R. (2016) A Bakhtinian perspective on language and content integration: Encountering the alien word in second language mathematics classrooms. In T. Nikula, E. Dafouz, P. Moore and U. Smit (eds) Conceptualising Integration in CLIL and Multilingual Education (pp. 101–120). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Blackledge, A. and Creese, A. (2010) Multilingualism: A Critical Perspective. London: Bloomsbury Publishing. British Council Colombia (2019) IELTS examiners: Colombia-Online Document. See https://www.britishcouncil.co/en/about/jobs/ielts-examiners-0 (accessed 15 October 2021). Burawoy, M. (2017) On Desmond: The limits of spontaneous sociology. Theory and Society 46 (4), 261–284. Castagno, A.E. and McCarty, T. (eds) (2017) The Anthropology of Education Policy: Ethnographic Inquiries into Policy as Sociocultural Process. New York and London: Taylor & Francis. Canagarajah, S. (2007) Lingua franca English, multilingual communities, and language acquisition. The Modern Language Journal 91 (1), 923–939. Copland, F. and Creese A. (2015) Linguistic Ethnography: Collecting, Presenting and Analyzing Data. London: Sage.

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Cortazzi, M., Pilcher, N. and Jin, L. (2011) Language choices and ‘blind shadows’: Investigating interviews with Chinese participants. Qualitative Research 11 (5), 505–535. Creese, A. and Blackledge, A. (2019) Translanguaging and public service encounters: Language learning in the library. The Modern Language Journal 103 (4), 800–814. De Jong, E. (2016) Afterword: Toward pluralist policies, practices, and research. Language and Education 30 (4), 378–382. De Mejía, A.M. (2002) Power, Prestige and Bilingualism: International Perspectives on Elite Bilingual Education. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Flores, N. and Rosa, J. (2015) Undoing appropriateness: Raciolinguistic ideologies and language diversity in education. Harvard Educational Review 85 (2), 149–171. Flores, N. and García, O. (2017) A critical review of bilingual education in the United States: From basements and pride to boutiques and profit. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics 37, 14–29. García, O. and Wei, L. (2014) Translanguaging: Language, Bilingualism and Education. London: Palgrave Macmillian. García, O., Flores, N. and Spotti, M. (eds) (2017) The Oxford Handbook of Language and Society. New York: Oxford University Press. Grimes, B.F. (2016) Ethnologue: Languages of the world: Dallas, Texas: Online Document. See https://www.ethnologue.com/country/CO (accessed 25 January 2016). Gumperz, J.J. (1982) Discourse Strategies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hamman, L. (2018) Translanguaging and positioning in two-way dual language classrooms: A case for criticality. Language and Education 32 (1), 21–42. Heller, M. (ed.) (2007) Bilingualism: A Social Approach. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Heller, M. and McElhinny, B. (2017) Language, Capitalism, Colonialism: Toward a Critical History. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Kleyn, T. and García, O. (2019) Translanguaging as an act of transformation: Restructuring teaching and learning for emergent bilingual students. In L.C. de Oliveira (ed.) The Handbook of TESOL in K-12 (pp. 69–82). Hoboken: Wiley Blackwell. Li, W. (2011) Moment analysis and translanguaging space: Discursive construction of identities by multilingual Chinese youth in Britain. Journal of Pragmatics 43, 1222–1235. Lin, A.M. (2019) Theories of trans/languaging and trans-semiotizing: Implications for content-based education classrooms. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism 22 (1), 5–16. Lopes Cardozo, M.T. (2012) Transforming pre-service teacher education in Bolivia: From indigenous denial to decolonisation? Compare: A Journal of Comparative and International Education 42 (5), 751–772. López-Gopar, M.E. (2007) El alfabeto marginante en la educación indígena: El potencial de las multilectoescrituras. Lectura y Vida 28 (3), 48–55. Makoni, S. and Pennycook, A. (2007) Disinventing and Reconstituting Languages. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Makoni, S. (2017) From elderspeak to gerontolinguistics. Sociolinguistic myths. In O. García, N. Flores and M. Spotti (eds) The Oxford Handbook of Language and Society (pp. 369–379). New York: Oxford University Press. Martin-Jones, M., Kroon, S. and Kurvers, J. (2011) Multilingual literacies in the global south: Language policy, literacy learning and use. Compare: A Journal of Comparative and International Education 41 (2), 157–164. Medina Riveros, R. (2020) Teachers co-constructing multilingual and multimodal digital Literacy Practices: Examining critical transnational professional development. Doctoral Dissertation. University of Massachusetts Amherst.

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Moore, D. and MacDonald, M. (2013) Language and literacy development in a Canadian native community: Halq’eméylem revitalization in a stó: Lō head start program in British Columbia. The Modern Language Journal 97 (3), 702–719. Patel, L. (2016) Decolonizing Educational Research: From Ownership to Answerability. New York: Routledge. Pirbhai-Illich, F. (2010) Aboriginal students engaging and struggling with critical multiliteracies. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy 54 (4), 257–266. Pugach, M.C., Gomez-Najarro, J. and Matewos, A.M. (2019) A review of identity in research on social justice in teacher education: What role for intersectionality? Journal of Teacher Education 70 (3), 206–218. Rymes, B. (2012) Recontextualizing YouTube: From macro–micro to mass-mediated communicative repertoires. Anthropology & Education Quarterly 43 (2), 214–227. Smith, L.T. (2012) Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. London: Zed Books. Stein, P. and Newfield, D. (2006) Multiliteracies and multimodality in English education in Africa: Mapping the terrain. English Studies in Africa 49 (1), 1–20. Stoler, A.L. (2010) Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Swain, M. (2006) Languaging, agency and collaboration in advanced second language learning. In H. Byrnes (ed.) Advanced Language Learning: The Contributions of Halliday and Vygotsky (pp. 95–108). London: Continuum. Tuck, E. and Yang, K.W. (2012) Decolonization is not a metaphor. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society 1 (1), 1–40. Zavala, M. (2013) What do we mean by decolonizing research strategies? Lessons from decolonizing, indigenous research projects in New Zealand and Latin America. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society 2 (1), 55–71.

15 The (Hidden) Politics of Language Choice in Research on Multilingualism: Moments of (Dis)Empowerment Liliane Meyer Pitton and Larissa Semiramis Schedel

Introduction

Language choice is a traditional object of research on multilingualism (Martin-Jones et al., 2012) and is regularly discussed as a methodological issue (see the next section). Yet, linguistic choices, variation and accommodation are never neutral but always socially and ideologically situated. Thus, we find these moments of choice reveal a lot about processes of speaker categorisations and the politics of difference (Gal & Irvine, 2019; Jaffe, 2009) that govern research on multilingualism. We argue that questions of language choice affect the research process at every stage, including both the actual empirical work and the phases of defining a topic, getting funding, setting up a research group or network, as well as all communication, internal and external, about the research. There appears to be a clear lack of work that critically revisits all those moments throughout the whole research process where language choices are established, questioned, contested or negotiated with important consequences on the outline and outcomes of the research. In this chapter, we therefore approach language choice in research in a more holistic fashion. Drawing on our experience in research on multilingualism in Switzerland and Malta, we propose a genealogical approach to language choices to analyse the various forms of power, hierarchical structures and underlying linguistic ideologies, which inform and ensue from those choices. We detail their consequences for the research process and results focusing on their link to the (dis)empowerment of the researchers and the researched. Our aim is to uncover the ‘hidden’ politics of language choice, which often stay unnoticed by the persons involved in the 307

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research process and are accordingly rarely acknowledged in the analysis and publication of results. The chapter starts with a literature review; then, we explain our genealogical approach by applying an autoethnographic analysis of language choices throughout three research projects. In the conclusion, we discuss the value of decolonising language choices for a more holistic understanding of research, especially when multilingualism is the investigation’s focus. Language Choice and Power as Methodological Issue

Reviewing literature that thematises language choice and its connection to power from a methodological angle, we found that the majority addresses mainly empirical questions and usually just in one of the following phases of research: the pre-field phase where the choice of appropriate research methods and procedures has to be made; the phase of the actual data generation and the post-field phase with the analysis, interpretation, representation and translation of the multilingual data in the foreground. The (dis)empowering effects of language choices regarding the research design, communication and the researchers’ positionality are less frequently thematised, and only few scholars adopt a more comprehensive perspective on language choices (e.g. Araújo e Sá et al., 2020; Ganassin & Holmes, 2013; Giampapa & Lamoureux, 2011; Holmes et al., 2013). The consideration of language choice and its consequences for the research is intimately linked to the epistemic posture of the researchers and their view of what constitutes ‘data’. Constructionists’ approaches conceive data as being produced in interaction through the process of research. They analyse language choices in interview or other interactional situations in the field as part of the participants’ ongoing ­co-construction of the situation (De Fina & Perrino, 2011; Talmy, 2010). This view opposes (neo)positivist approaches that understand data as being part of a given reality that exists independently of research and needs to be collected with minimal corruption (see Alvesson (2003) for a critique). These approaches perceive language choice as influencing the quantity and quality of the account, which therefore needs to be standardised (Andreenkova, 2019). While ethnography has increasingly developed a reflexive stance concerning the researchers’ position and roles (Agar, 1996), language choice or the process of (re-)learning a language for or in the field is rarely accounted for, as Gibb (2020) criticises. Specific questions arise when the lack of adequate language knowledge requires the help of an interpreter or translator, necessitating a critical reflection and designation of their role in the data production and interpretation (e.g. Jentsch, 1998). More recent literature exposes enhanced methodological reflexivity concerning the politics of the researchers’ multiple (ascribed or performed) identities,

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positionalities and ensuing power relations in the field, also touching on the question of language choice (e.g. Gallego-Balsà, 2018; Giampapa & Lamoureux, 2011). However, interactional approaches have shown that language choice may not only index an ‘act of identity’ (Le Page & Tabouret-Keller, 1985) and rely on social and contextual norms (Gumperz, 1982), but may also reveal a range of discursive and conversational functions (Auer, 1995; Gafaranga, 2005). Finally, the process of editing data, e.g. transcription and translation, raises questions about the representation of (oral, non-standard or nonverbal) language and its variations, and therefore their speakers or what the audience will see or not (Bucholtz, 2000; Jaffe, 2000; Roberts, 1997). Scholars have criticised the choice of using dominant languages for academic discussions and called for the decolonisation of research methodologies, which should be achieved by (self-)reflectively revisiting the methodological choices to question issues of power and social justice (e.g. Smith, 2012). Valuable contributions are Pelikan et al. (2019) and Steffen et al. (2019), who address inequalities related to authorship, access to academic discussions, and funding policies through the lens of language choice. Their conclusions criticise the silencing or marginalising of academic practices and knowledge in languages other than English and researchers from non-occidental contexts. To sum up, most scholarly investigation of language choice primarily concerns data production, its analysis and representation of results. Some of these studies analyse the connection of language choice to power relations and status. There are few accounts of language choices and policies that frame the wider research context. There is also a clear lack of work addressing the dynamic of language choice throughout all the phases of an entire research project and how power relations may be established, negotiated, or changed at different stages. Therefore, we propose what we call a genealogy of language choice, i.e. an attempt to retrace language choices throughout the whole research process to find answers to the following questions: When are language choices made during the research process, and what are their implications for the further research process? How are these language choices embedded in and (re)producing power structures? In what way does the exposure of the hidden politics of language choices contribute to the decolonisation of language in research projects? Methodology A genealogical approach to language choices and power

Adopting a critical, ethnographic sociolinguistic approach to examine the relationships between language, power and knowledge (Heller, 2002; Martín Rojo, 2015), we view research as a process of knowledge

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production (Foucault, 1980a), thus reflecting and (re)producing power imbalances. According to Foucault (1978), ‘knowledge’ and ‘power’ are inseparably intertwined, as power determines what is accepted as knowledge while simultaneously depending on this knowledge. In Foucault’s view, power is experienced, exercised and negotiated in a ‘network of social relations’ (Martín Rojo, 2015: 2–3) and is hence a ‘multiple phenomenon’ with many dimensions (Cameron et al., 1997: 156, emphasis in original). To investigate the position of a subject in these social power structures and to denaturalise established ‘knowledge’, which tends to be perceived as fact ‘without history’ (Foucault, 1980b: 139), he proposes a genealogical approach. In this chapter, we apply such a genealogical approach to the language choices in our own ethnographic research projects. By focusing on the conditions and consequences of language choices in different moments of the whole research process, we demonstrate how they may shape, challenge, disrupt, subvert or reinforce power structures and social inequalities in interpersonal relations between researchers and researched, and on a wider social and institutional level. We analyse those language choices from the vantage point of (dis)empowerment. We agree with Ross (2017: para. 2), who views moments of (dis)empowerment as a (negative or positive) change in the distribution of power ‘that arises in the context of specific interactions between researcher[s] and participant[s], as well as more broadly through choices that are made about research design and methodological approach’. We also add questions of power relations set by the political and economic conditions where researchers work, get funded, collaborate, communicate and publish. Our analytical strategy is a form of autoethnography (Ellis et al., 2010), where we reconstruct the processes and language choices based on available documents, notes, fieldwork data, working papers and publications, but also through introspection and autobiographical reflections. The autoethnographic analysis revisits the personal experiences of the researchers, putting them in perspective using subsequently acquired knowledge and new interpretations of the research setting and data. This method has, however, its limitations, as the self-reflective narration is inevitably a one-sided story, predominantly restricted to the researchers’ interpretation. It further requires the researchers’ exposure of inner feelings, which might be vulnerabilising and disempowering, but can also prove to be freeing and empowering (Mendéz, 2013). The projects drawn on for our autoethnographic analysis stretch over more than 10 years. We, Liliane and Larissa, have been involved in these projects in different positions. This allows us to show that language choices and forms of (dis)empowerment do not only evolve within one project and setting but are also connected to subsequent situations and choices. Further, they also give us the possibility to link language choice to different positionalities of researchers and researched, depending on

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their respective (professional) status, their ‘localness’, their dependencies, as well as prior knowledge of the context and related ideological contingencies. These aspects mediate or advocate senses of belonging, attitudes towards specific languages and speakers, and establish or question the legitimacy as a speaker, as a researcher, or as a research participant. The projects

The three projects investigate(d) contexts of mobility (migration, tourism) and involve(d) multilingualism – and therefore language choices – on several dimensions: they study(ied) multilingual practices in official multilingual countries and are(were) carried out by multilingual researchers working in multilingual work environments. The research and work environment of Projects 1 and 2 was Switzerland, an officially multilingual country with its four national languages German (2/3 majority), French, Italian and Rhaeto-Romanic, which are organised according to a territorial principle with only few areas of cohabitance (Berthele, 2016). The German-speaking part is further characterised by the predominant use of Swiss German dialects in all domains of life, standard German being restricted to written and formal communication. Switzerland’s multilingualism is enhanced by 23% of the resident population using a nonnational language as one of their main languages (FSO, 2021). The fieldwork for Project 3 was conducted in the Mediterranean island state Malta, officially bilingual with English and Maltese, but whose linguistic situation is also characterised by the strong presence of Italian and the multilingual practices of an increasing number of migrant workers and international (language) tourists. • Project 1 (2008–2015) was Liliane’s PhD research. She investigated the question of language loyalty/maintenance of Russian-speaking partners in bilingual/binational French-Russian-speaking couples and families living in the French-speaking part of Switzerland. She conducted language-biographical interviews and recordings of routine interactions within the families, as well as participant observation in different settings (Meyer Pitton, 2015). • Project 2 (2011–2021) explored how the intra-national French-Swiss German language border in Switzerland is formulated, performed and instrumentalised in the context of tourism. Focusing on two touristic regions situated at this language border, Larissa, as PhD candidate, did fieldwork in the canton of Fribourg, and Liliane, as a postdoctoral researcher, in the canton of Valais. They conducted interviews with local tourism actors, analysed marketing material, participated in a range of touristic events and activities and documented the touristic landscape (e.g. Meyer Pitton, 2018; Schedel, 2018). • Project 3 (2017–ongoing) is Larissa’s postdoctoral project and consists of an ethnographic study of the development and current state of the

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English language travel industry in Malta. Drawing on interviews with different actors involved in this industry, on participant observations of the daily routine at language schools and workplaces offering work experience in an English-speaking environment for international voluntourists/interns, and on marketing material, Larissa explores the discourses, practices, and subjectivities of multilingual language learners/workers in an industry that accentuates monolingual ideologies. The researchers’ positionalities

For a more nuanced understanding of our identities and our positionalities in these projects, knowing our different backgrounds in national origin, academic socialisation and language profiles is relevant. Liliane was born and raised in the German-speaking part of Switzerland in a Swiss German-speaking family and environment up to age 20. She started learning French at school at age 11 and then spent a school year in French-speaking Canada (age 17–18). At age 20, she moved to Neuchâtel in the French-speaking part of Switzerland for her university studies and has lived there ever since. While English had only been an elective subject during her compulsory schooling, she had always felt at ease using it for recreational and academic purposes. Before starting her PhD in 2008, she worked for four years in the Swiss Federal Administration in Fribourg and Bern, using French, (Swiss) German and English daily. At age 22, she started learning Russian, which she continued with varying intensity up to the completion of her PhD. Larissa grew up in Southern Germany, where a Swabian dialect is spoken. She learned English, French and Italian at school and graduated with a bilingual German–Italian high school diploma. She studied bilingual and bi-/multinational BA, MA and PhD programmes in Germany, France, Italy and Switzerland and has also bi-/multilingual work experience in these countries. Before she started working on her project in Malta, her use of English was nearly exclusively limited to publications, conference presentations or travelling. Due to a traumatising learning experience at school, she had even refused to use English for some time. These short bios focus on language, although we recognise that other dimensions (such as gender, social class, ethnicity, etc.) intersect with language choice and have an influence on how power relations are constituted and play out (Giampapa & Lamoureux, 2011). Further, we acknowledge that, with exception of gender, we speak from a rather privileged position as we qualify as white, European, upper middle class and either as citizen or as migrant with a temporary residency status. While this evidently leads to less dramatic power imbalances than are experienced by many others, our analysis hopefully raises awareness for the importance of

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considering mechanisms of (dis)empowerment for less privileged researchers and researched. Genealogies of Language Choice and Moments of (Dis)empowerment

Here, we identify language choices throughout the different phases of the three projects and analyse their (dis)empowering effects for researchers and researched, as well as for their languages. As Project 3 is still ongoing, an analysis is only provided for the initial research stages. Language choices between research interests and funding strategies

The design of a research project is always situated in a specific setting with social, political and economic opportunities and constraints necessarily influencing language choices. • The funding of Project 1 was linked to its being part of a graduate school for linguistics jointly organised by three Universities in German-speaking Switzerland. Therefore, German was (implicitly) defined as the common language of communication and at least one of the languages the potential PhD candidates had to master, even if the subdisciplines and research projects represented did involve other languages. Project 1 was one of three PhD projects within a research module that investigated multilingual (binational) families resulting from marriage migration in Switzerland. Its description did not define any specific languages, as the choice was dependent on the PhD candidates to be recruited, but it stated a ‘particular interest for female marriage migrants from Russia, the Philippines, or South East Asia’. Notably, these choices only partly represented the main characteristics of binational marriages in Switzerland at that time (FSO, 2009: 2). Also, there was no specification of the other languages to be involved in the ‘multilingualism’ of the concerned families, except that the partners should be of Swiss nationality. Through its presupposition that in ‘binational’ and ‘multilingual’ one ‘nation/language’ should be Swiss and its focus on female migrants, the variety of possible constellations of multilingual families in Switzerland that could be included in the research was substantially reduced. • While Liliane acted as the main writer of the proposal of Project 2, mainly designed as her postdoctoral research, the development of the project relied on funding held by her PhD supervisor that was available for studying aspects of bi-/multilingualism in relation to the officially bilingual (French–German) canton of Valais. With tourism being an important branch in the Valais, the choice of studying

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tourism at the cantonal language border fit these requirements. Since only academics with a permanent position were eligible to apply for project funding at the Swiss National Science Foundation (SNSF), Liliane had to rely on her supervisor for the application. All these elements influenced the linguistic orientation of the topic, as well as the language of the proposal, which was German due to Liliane’s predominantly German-speaking work environment (University of Bern) and her supervisor’s main language. A second applicant, a professor at the bilingual (French–German) University of Fribourg, joined the project group later on, adding a second bilingual research context. Even though Liliane was used to communicating with this professor in French, the common language of the project group remained German. The choice of German became an issue when the discussion of potential reviewers arose: the insertion of the topic into a critical sociolinguistic approach, mainly developed by an Englishspeaking academic community, made it difficult to establish a shortlist of potential reviewers. The language of the proposal suddenly became a potential risk for its evaluation. • Project 3 was developed by Larissa as her postdoctoral project at the University of Bonn without specific constraints on the choice of topic, except for her own research interests, career aspirations, and language skills. Attracted by the English language travel industry in multilingual Malta but (still) struggling with her insecurity in her English skills, she perceived the topic as not only a challenge but also as an opportunity to improve her English. Her interest in this topic was also partly influenced by the political economy of languages in her field and in the academic community and by current ‘hypes’ for certain topics (e.g. language commodification). Her language- and content-related choices can be understood as an attempt to empower herself as a researcher by increasing her employability and her chances of receiving funding. Language choices in this initial phase depend on the research portfolio and language skills of the researchers involved in the writing of the project proposal and on their affiliation to institutes/universities with specific language profiles. Moreover, funding agencies and academic communities may have considerable influence on the choice of potential peer reviewers or network contacts and hence also on the language of the proposal (Steffen et al., 2019). Some topics and languages may be more fashionable and therefore happen to be chosen more often as a research interest and are more likely to receive approval in funding procedures (Berthele, 2016). These language choices result in some groups of speakers ‘worthy’ as subjects and neglect other languages and their speakers. They also determine, in part, the future communication language in the project groups, often formed at this stage. This has in-/excluding as well

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as (dis)empowering effects for potential researchers involved later in the process. It is also worth noticing that linguistic and organisational choices in project 1 and 2 reproduce the territorial organisation of languages in Switzerland and its power imbalances. Choosing candidates and languages: Recruitment practices

The recruitment process constitutes another setting of potentially (dis)empowering language choices. • The call for the three PhD applicants to be enrolled into the research module of Project 1 was published in German with the requirement that ‘the applicants have a very good command of one of the languages of marriage migration and perhaps already a contact to the type of family described’. The professors coordinating the research module were looking for applicants with language knowledge they did not necessarily have themselves. Liliane felt encouraged by this description, being proficient in two ‘Swiss’ languages and having learned Russian. After an interview held in (Swiss) German, she was offered one of the positions – without any testing of her Russian skills. The two other applicants enrolled proposed investigating the ‘marriage migrant languages’ Spanish and also Russian. This choice implied a loss of the ‘Asian’ aspect emphasised in the detailed outline of the project and a potentially complicated situation with two candidates focusing on Russian. • Project 2: While Liliane was already set as postdoctoral researcher to be employed at the University of Bern, a PhD candidate had to be recruited to work at the University of Fribourg. The job announcement circulated in French and German with the following description of the required linguistic profile: ‘Very good skills in French and German. Good skills in English would be an asset’. Skills in Swiss German were not explicitly mentioned. As Larissa was afraid that her French skills might be put into doubt due to her German origin, she wrote her application in French, but also stated that she had a dialectal background and good receptive skills in Swiss German. Among the preselection of applications done by the prospective supervisor, it was Larissa’s mention of experience with Swiss German, combined with her other competences and skills, that singled her out in Liliane’s eyes. The job interview was conducted in French, but Larissa’s comprehension of Swiss German was also tested. While her missing productive skills in Swiss German were not considered important in the recruitment process, they would later become a disempowering difficulty in the research process. • Larissa was first working alone on Project 3, until she received funding to recruit an assistant for the transcription of her (mostly English)

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data. She tested the candidates’ skills by conducting the job interview partly in English. While looking for (among others) linguistic support, she was however afraid of being confronted with candidates more confident in English than her, who could have questioned and disempowered her position as legitimate researcher for the topic – which the chosen candidate ultimately did not do. Language skills were crucial for all the successful applications. As candidates, Liliane and Larissa found themselves empowered by the recruitment process confirming the relevance of their choices to learn specific languages and how they managed to present their skills in the application process. On the other hand, the focus on specific languages, sometimes in absence of any testing, neglected other skills, linguistic or not, that might have been valuable for the chosen research context (Gibb, 2020). The language choices made in the recruitment process also had consequences for the focus of the research and the in-/exclusion of potential subjects. Linguistic dynamics in research groups and work environments

With regard to the choice of one or several working language(s) in multilingual research groups and work environments, the politics of language choice might depend on prevailing institutional language policies, on the composition of the research teams as well as on the status, dependencies, skills and preferences of individual researchers (Pelikan et al., 2019). • Project 1: Her Russian knowledge had been a source of empowerment for Liliane, singling her out in recreational and professional situations. However, in the research group, her skills were suddenly devalued through the presence of another PhD candidate working with Russian, who, moreover, appeared to be more fluent than her. Further, since the topic of a PhD thesis requires a form of uniqueness, the choice of two candidates working on the same language created a somewhat ambiguous situation. This could be partially resolved by a territorial/linguistic separation of their respective research focus: Liliane decided to focus her investigation on Russian-speaking spouses in the French-speaking part of Switzerland and the other PhD candidate focused on the Swiss German-speaking part. Her academic socialisation and her residence in French-speaking Switzerland proved to be a source of empowerment for Liliane, as it assured her independence in handling her PhD topic and research, even though French had not been a necessary skill for the recruitment. However, the choice of French prevented her from using her network in the German-speaking part for research purposes and marginalised her somewhat within the graduate school, which evolved in a predominantly (Swiss) German-speaking context.

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• Project 2: With the addition of Larissa to the project group, (Swiss) German was reinforced as a communication language within the group – even though French was an important language of the field as well as one of the official languages of the University of Fribourg. Larissa also had to become accustomed to the language practices and policies in a new work environment. While her colleagues spoke a wide array of languages, most of the informal conversations were in (Swiss) German and French. Their meetings were, however, often conducted in English. This emphasis on English unsettled Larissa as she felt disempowered when she had to present her ongoing research in English, particularly when confronted with colleagues who had a background in English studies. Her multilingual repertoire, which she had experienced as valuable in former work contexts, had lost some of its uniqueness and value in this new multilingual setting. These accounts show that language choices and policies in the researchers’ work environment may have an impact on the way topics are defined or refined. They also contribute to the (dis)empowerment of researchers depending on their individual linguistic repertoire and their aspirations of integration and communication within different relevant groups. Language knowledge that had been valued in the recruitment process may prove to be problematic or insufficient in the actual work setting, while other languages – which were mentioned as optional or not at all – suddenly gain importance (Schedel, 2018: chap. 5). Access to and interaction in the field

As pointed out in the literature review, language choice in the access to ‘the field’ and interaction with research participants has been studied more extensively than its role in other phases of research. While there is a lot to say about language choices in the fieldwork of each of our projects, we will focus mainly on those that are related to previous choices and are linked to issues of (dis)empowerment. • Project 1: Liliane experienced some insecurity concerning her ability to conduct research in Russian due to the (implicit) comparison to her colleague, but also because she felt awkward speaking Russian in the Swiss context to people who were often good or excellent users of French. In the beginning of her fieldwork, French was therefore the dominant language of contact and in interviews. This became a frequent issue in discussions within her research group and in the wider academic network, where neopositivist or romanticist stances to language choice (see Alvesson, 2003) came up regularly, questioning the interview data’s value in any other than the person’s first language. Liliane’s fieldwork experience and subsequent analysis of the data showed, however, that language choices were influenced by the

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complex interrelation of personal preferences, contact situations and the development of relationships. It turned out that the same language choice might have empowering and disempowering effects in one interaction and for both participant and researcher. Using French might have been a form of disempowerment for the participants, but it was also a way of forming common ground, as it was a second language for the researcher as well. For some participants, it was a welcome opportunity to practice their French in a ‘safe’ environment with less at stake compared to a public or a class setting. For others, it was an occasion to show how excellent their French was. The use of Russian, which increased later during the fieldwork, certainly gave a superior position to the research participants as far as language skills were concerned. However, it had also disempowering effects on those participants that did not feel confident enough to use French. It forced them to admit their inability (self-admitted, not tested) to have a conversation in French despite living for several years in French-speaking Switzerland, while Liliane appeared to be capable of doing research in her (albeit limited) Russian. • Project 2: Access to the field was mainly done by a first formal email contact in German and/or French, where both authors usually used or focused on the language they presumed to be the predominant language of the institution or person. This decision was based on previous information found on the internet and the territorial ‘rules’ of language use in Switzerland, therefore relying on (and thus reinforcing) stereotypical views of language knowledge and use. The dialectal variation of German in Switzerland posed insecurities for both authors despite their different linguistic and national background. Liliane felt insecure concerning her understanding of the local variety of Swiss German as it differs quite substantially from her native variety, while Larissa does not speak Swiss German, but a dialect from Southern Germany. Both were therefore exposed as ‘foreigners’, albeit on different scales. Even though French was Liliane and Larissa’s second language, its use caused them less insecurities, as French exhibits less regional variation in Switzerland than German (Casoni & Janner, 2020: 21). Due to the research focus on bilingualism, they sometimes ended up in a position of linguistic superiority when they proved to be more ‘bilingual’ than the researched. The presence of the two authors as participant observers sometimes led to stressful situations for their interlocutors, who felt judged in their way of demonstrating the bilingualism required for their job (Meyer Pitton & Schedel, 2018a). In some cases, Larissa and Liliane found themselves in the role of assistant interpreters, which certainly empowered them in their position as language experts, yet this role influenced the situation, which proved uncomfortable for their role as researchers.

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• Project 3: In Malta, English was shown to be, in most cases, the only common language between Larissa and her multilingual participants. While for some learners of English, the interview was a welcome opportunity to practice the language, others felt disempowered by their linguistic insecurity and became silent. Several instances in the data show positive, empowering comments on the participants’ language skills, and also Larissa received many compliments categorising her as a competent speaker of English, French and Italian. Further, she found herself in the role of a language expert or being encouraged by English teachers to train herself as an English teacher. Nevertheless, she also experienced the contrary, e.g. a teacher constantly corrected her pronunciation during an informal conversation, treating her as a student and disempowering her as a researcher. At times, when Larissa observed participants at work and interacted multilingually with them, they were gently but regularly reminded of the institutional English-only policy by other staff members. Nevertheless, the use of Maltese and other languages regularly occurs in the local English language travel industry. This is a challenge for Larissa as her language skills do not allow her to include them appropriately in her research. She is still working on a strategy on preventing the silencing and hence disempowerment of those languages and their speakers in her research. These examples show that language choices do not only depend on the effective skills of the interlocutors, but also on institutional policies (Gallego-Balsà, 2018), the conversational context, the relationships established, the conceptualisation of the interview or interaction as learning or teaching opportunity, etc. Therefore, speaking in a first or second language may have disempowering as well as empowering effects for the researcher and the researched at the same time. Working on multilingual data

In all three projects, data had to be transcribed and parts of it subsequently translated for publication purposes. Consequently, the question about what had to be transcribed, how and by whom arose. • Project 1: The transcription of the Russian data led to discussions and different positions within the research group. While some argued for using the Cyrillic script, Liliane preferred using the Latin transliteration. She was not used to writing with a Cyrillic keyboard and hesitated to take on this additional workload. Moreover, she was aware of the difficulties the Cyrillic script would present for conferences and publications, which were exclusively in languages with the Latin alphabet (since her Russian skills were not at the level of academic publications) and therefore for a Latin alphabet audience

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(Meyer Pitton, 2015). The debate increased Liliane’s insecurity concerning her researcher position in relation to Russian. She managed to resolve the situation by agreeing with her supervisor to use the Latin transliteration. This decision proved to be empowering for her, but it also contributed to the reinforcement of the Latin script as the default script (and its users as the relevant audience), while rendering the Cyrillic script and its users invisible. It finally also proved to be a valuable tool for dealing with oral data that could not be clearly attributed to a specific language due to the bi-/multilingualism of her research participants and interactions; using two distinct scripts would have pushed her to assign each utterance/sound to only one language, therefore enhancing their separateness instead of pointing out the specificity of bilingual language use (Vakser, 2017). • Project 2: A major part of the transcription work was outsourced to research assistants. This concerned namely the transcription of Swiss German data, which may be quite arduous due to the regional variations and the lack of a written standard. For Liliane, this put her in the welcome position of delegating a task she did not particularly enjoy and only having to supervise, control, and fine-tune the transcriptions. For Larissa, however, this was a source of disempowerment, as she did not feel competent in judging the adequacy of the work done by her research assistants. Therefore, this situation gave her the feeling of losing control over her own data. • Project 3: In Malta, Larissa had conducted interviews in different (learner) varieties of English, French, Italian and German, which empowered her to transcribe them on her own, since she mastered all of them. For the transcription of English data, she was supported by her research assistant. Although the multilingual research participants had used some terms in other languages during the interviews (mostly Spanish or Maltese), Larissa and her assistant managed to transcribe them with the help of online dictionaries. If learners had a strong accent, they decided not to transpose this in the transcription to avoid a stereotypical, negative representation (Roberts, 1997) and to allow readers of the interview data to focus on the content instead of the pronunciation. Transcription and translation involve delicate choices with potentially (dis)empowering effects for research participants depending on their representation as (un)skilled, (il)legitimate speakers (Bucholtz, 2000). Researchers, on the other hand, might feel (dis)empowered related to their dependency on other people’s (paid) help for the transcription and translation. Language variation and different alphabets involve additional work for data editing and bring up the dilemma of either abiding to the specificities of the language varieties involved or omit some aspects to facilitate the editing and communication of results. While the

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choice to adapt to the linguistic habits of the relevant academic community (e.g. Latin alphabet/standard language) disempowers speakers of non-standard varieties or languages with lesser-known scripts, it may also be a way to give them a voice by facilitating access to the data. Access to academic communities and research communication

Language is also involved in research when it comes to questions of access to relevant literature and the participation in knowledge production (Araújo e Sá et al., 2020). For Liliane and Larissa, this meant dealing with the predominance of English in their academic communities (critical sociolinguistics and linguistic ethnography/anthropology), instead of the languages both felt most proficient in (German and French) and the main languages of the ‘field’ of Project 1 and 2. This situation had an influence on decisions about where and how to communicate their research and in what language. • Project 1: During her PhD research, Liliane often felt empowered by her multilingualism as this allowed her to access literature and participate in scientific events in several languages. However, it appeared to be a hindrance when it came to publishing in English, as reviewers and editors regularly commented on her lack of ‘native’ skills in English. These experiences, as well as the institutional setting, encouraged her to write her thesis in German. This choice initially proved to be problematic, as Liliane had done most of her former academic work in French and many of her references were in English. Further, this language choice disempowered her research participants, as it prevented most of them from accessing the results. Finally, it also discouraged Liliane to edit her thesis as a monograph, as she did not see much sense publishing in German, and its translation into English appeared to be too much of an effort at that time. While this decision certainly had a disempowering effect on her academic career prospects, it allowed her to circumvent the strenuous and usually financially disadvantageous process of dealing with publishing companies. She published her manuscript online and with open access, which may be a way to contribute to the academic discussion in German. • Project 2: Larissa also chose to write her thesis in German, which was her first language as well as one of the languages prevalent in her field and in her university. However, this choice limited the reception of her monograph in the international academic community of her disciplinary field.   To share and discuss their findings with a wider public, including the research participants, the authors published a summary in French and German on the institutional website and sent it to all research contacts. Further, they gave public bilingual presentations at both research sites. As both initiatives did not trigger any substantial

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feedback, it remains open if and how the outcomes (dis)empowered the research participants and their environment.   As for their linguistic choices in further academic publications, the different professional prospects of the two authors were crucial. Liliane abandoned the strictly academic career path after her postdoc, so she felt somewhat liberated from the career-related linguistic constraints and privileged publications. Subsequently, she chose to write in German and French, where she appears to be considered a legitimate writer. Larissa, however, continues publishing in English to strengthen her academic research profile despite regular discouraging review comments on her English skills.   The authors made a timid attempt at challenging the common monolingual policies by proposing articles (in French and English) without systematic translations of data (in French and (Swiss) German) in a multilingual co-edited issue of a Swiss journal (Meyer Pitton & Schedel, 2018b: 9). Some reviewers’ negative comments, however, made them decide to add a translation of the data in the language of the respective article. English comes across as mandatory to acquire (possibly) the necessary international reputation, to participate in the wider academic community, and to be eligible for an academic career (Lillis & Curry, 2010). This predominance of English penalises researchers working on multilingualism. It requires more effort in translating data and proofreading publications, resulting in additional workload, time constraints and financial investments. Finally, the necessity to mainly communicate internationally and in English limits the opportunity to reach people in the actual context of their research and who would have the most genuine interest in being informed about the results. It therefore disempowers the local communities, making them only the subject of the research but not the audience. Even though multilingual skills are often indispensable for doing the actual research work, they are devalued in communicating within an international academic community (Pelikan et al., 2019; Steffen et al., 2019). Choosing languages other than English can, however, also present a means to resist the linguistic mainstreaming of academic thinking and to contribute to the vitality of academic communities in different languages. Multilingual data also lead to the question which languages must be translated, where and for whom, since a consistent translation strategy contributes to guaranteeing access to research, yet reinforces monolingual strategies, albeit in different languages. Conclusion

The aim of our analysis was to dismantle the hidden politics of language choice across different multilingual research settings and to

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highlight its complexity and dynamic. Concerning our first two guiding questions, we have revealed how language choices may lead to variable situations of (dis)empowerment of the people and languages involved in the research process – sometimes resulting in rather stable power hierarchies, while others change between different encounters or even in one single interaction. We also demonstrated how language choices contribute to including or excluding (potential) researchers and research participants or questioning their legitimacy. Moreover, it became clear that the requirements for specific ‘linguistic expertise’ of researchers or the presupposition of specific linguistic profiles of the subjects do not always correspond to the languages ultimately relevant in the team or the field. While most accounts of language choice and (dis)empowerment focus on the empirical work, we join Gibb (2020) in his call for ‘demystifying’ multilingual fieldwork and for raising awareness of this issue by entering into discussion with funding agencies, or, as Pelikan et al. (2019) put it, to include it into the ethical considerations of research. As per our third guiding question, we have demonstrated that revealing the genealogy of language choice throughout a whole project allows researchers to decolonise language in their research on multilingualism by raising awareness on issues of linguistic domination, inequalities, and (dis)empowerment. This awareness causes one to reflect on the consequences linguistic choices have for the kind of knowledge produced, how, with and for whom. Finally, the consideration of these choices can also be productive in the interpretation of the findings and the subsequent rendering and understanding of the research results. Moreover, the awareness of the potentially disempowering effects of their language choices could help researchers to develop counter measures for empowering not only their research participants but also themselves. Keeping these points in mind, we argue that the inclusion of a critical analysis of language choices at every stage of the research is essential as well as valuable in enriching the understanding of the specific setting of the research. While we have illustrated the genealogical approach by drawing on ethnographic examples from the field of sociolinguistics, we believe that this approach will be equally beneficial for scholars from other fields, especially when researching multilingualism. Acknowledgements

The authors would like to express their gratitude to the SNSF, which funded Projects 1 and 2, to the Universities of Bern, Fribourg and Bonn, which provided the authors with the research infrastructure and funding, as well as to their supervisors and project leaders for their support. They would further like to thank the editors for helpful comments on this contribution as well as Jennifer Raab for proofreading the manuscript. Any mistakes are their own.

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16 Speaking ‘No Language?’: Reflections on (Il)Legitimate Multilingualism from Fieldwork in Gagauzia Christiana Holsapple

This chapter scrutinizes how ‘no languages’ – conceptualized below – or non-standard languaging has played a role throughout my research process, thereby problematizing notions of multilingual research practice that often make visible only codified, named languages. I reflect on my own multilingual research practices in Gagauzia, a peripheral multilingual borderland, highlighting the vibrancy of actual communicative practices under the radar of standard language glosses. Drawing on these insights, I contemplate and critique dominant patterns and conventions of scholarship and research practice that are based on the idea of discrete bounded languages constructed as belonging to particular imagined groups rooted in specific territories. Giving attention to the growing body of literature on translingual practice and theory (Ayash, 2019; Baynham & Lee, 2019; Canagarajah, 2018, 2020), I argue that a shift away from confining our work to standard, bounded languages can allow for more nuanced conveyance of findings, transcending the hegemonic implications of adjusting ways of languaging – our own and our interlocutors’ – to fit the boundaries of territorialized, labeled languages. I begin by giving some introductory information about myself and my research. Next, I review relevant literature, discussing how and why particular ways of languaging can be rendered illegitimate, contrasting the idea of multilingualism with a reverse conceptualization of speaking ‘no language’. I then give a brief methodological explanation for the chapter before launching into the main discussion that addresses various language-related challenges I have faced at four stages of my research: prefieldwork, arrival to the field, data generation and data translation. The first section reflects on my pre-fieldwork planning and linguistic 327

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positionality going into the field, putting the spotlight on the historic and political ‘baggage’ of any language’s usage. Next, I give attention to the languaging that I encountered when I arrived to the field, drawing attention to discrepancies between labeled languages and actual communicative practices and reflecting on how I was challenged to augment my own linguistic repertoire. The data generation section ponders how language(s) can be performed and adjusted in research contexts, also drawing attention to the reductionist aspects of audio recording and transcribing processes. Finally, in the fourth section, I turn my attention to the challenges of data translation, problematizing how complexity tends to be reduced and/or rendered invisible in the process of creating standard-English texts for the world of academia. To conclude the chapter, I reflect on embracing my positionality as a speaker of ‘no language’, and I suggest ways to make space for and legitimize translingual practice – both generally, and, by extension, in research practice – discussing its implications for researcher empowerment. Autoethnographic Context

My languaging reflects my transnational (Canagarajah, 2020; Vertovec, 2009) positionality. Having lived in many different parts of the world throughout my life, I have been exposed to and developed jumbled competencies in a variety of Englishes (see Pennycook, 2007, on global Englishes being practiced and claimed in extremely different ways), Russians and Spanishes. Since 2017, Estonia has been my home, where intensive Estonian language-learning through governmental integration initiatives has further complexified my languaging patterns. Here, while my PhD studies involve coursework and academic interactions in English and Russian, they are Englishes and Russians outside the nation-states that legitimize them, and my circles of interaction are decidedly heterogeneous, reflective of superdiverse (Vertovec, 2019) circumstances. My ways of languaging outside academia are largely ‘incorrect’ or non-standard and reflect a lifetime of navigating diverse language regimes (Kroskrity, 2000) and interacting predominantly with other individuals of transnational backgrounds. They show that despite dominant envisioning of standard languages and ‘correct’ speech, ‘repertoires are the real “language” we have and can deploy in social life: biographically assembled patchworks of functionally distributed communicative resources’ (Blommaert & Backus, 2012: 27–28). Background on Gagauzia and research

Above I have described myself as a transnational researcher in discussing my positionality and linguistic repertoire, and the focus of my study, in many ways, also centers on forms of transnational belonging and practice. Gagauzia

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is a small autonomous region in southern Moldova with an official population of 134,535, accounting for 4.49% of Moldova’s total populace (Republic of Moldova 2014 Census Data). As is the case with the rest of Moldova, in which remittances contribute a quarter of the GDP (World Bank, 2019), Gagauzia is characterized by widespread domestic poverty and extremely high levels of out-migration (International Organization for Migration, 2019). The autonomy has three official languages: Gagauzian, Moldovan and Russian, and their legal code makes a point of guaranteeing the usage of ‘other’, unspecified languages (Law on the Legal Status of Gagauzia, Article 3(1), ATU Gagauzia Official Webpage, 2019). On the receiving end of a plethora of diverse political projects of belonging enacted by larger titular p ­ olities – Russia, Turkey, Bulgaria and Romania the most salient – Gagauzia is a borderland region historically at the intersection of competing regional powers, whose legacies are evident in locals’ narratives on their places in the world, as well as in their citizenship and languaging practices. My PhD research1 focuses on the politics of belonging (Yuval-Davis, 2011) in Gagauzia, looking at how locals can often draw on a repertoire of national categories and the accompanying access to privilege simultaneously offered and/or imposed by titular nation-states. An ethnographic project, my study builds on data generated during 12 months of participant observation, carried out during September 2015–June 2016 and a return visit January–April 2018. During these stays, I lived with a local host family, worked as a teaching assistant at Gagauzia’s sole higher-education institution, Comrat State University, and generally took active part in quotidian life such as child and animal care, house and farmwork, and socializing, in an effort to privilege the mundane. As articulations and/or performances of language are often intertwined with claims to b ­ elonging – both affectively and for purposes of obtaining citizenship – paying attention to local ways of languaging was a salient aspect of my fieldwork. I also carried out fifteen semi-structured interviews that focused on practices and attitudes surrounding national labels, languaging, and citizenship. In this chapter, I scrutinize multilingual research practice drawing on fieldwork in a peripheral borderland – Gagauzia – and academic experience in a university position from within a country – Estonia – that is not a center of power or hegemony in the world of academia (see Canagarajah, 2002; Reiter, 2018 on the geopolitics of academic writing and knowledge production). These views from the margins offer original insight and context that throw into relief the divides between legitimate and illegitimate ways of languaging and can help us think critically about the multilingualism that falls through the cracks in our research practices. Languages, Languaging, Translanguaging

This chapter hinges on the point that ‘language’ as a bounded and fixed concept is a European invention, much in the same way that

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ethnicity is, as categorizing forms of speech into neat groupings has historically been a means of gaining political and territorial hegemony (Gal, 2006; Jaffe, 2008; Makoni & Pennycook, 2007). A language’s naming carries implications regarding affiliation with geopolitical space(s), as naming practices are concerned with the categorizing of essentialized groups, rather than reflective of distinctions among actual speech communities or practices. In short, languages are political, not ontological or linguistic categories (Brumfit, 2006). This chapter calls for disengagement from thinking in terms of languages in favor of thinking in terms of languaging: As Becker (1991: 34) puts it, ‘there is no such thing as language, only continual languaging, an activity of human beings in the world’. Further, it strives to think beyond languaging, drawing on notions of translanguaging that involve a ‘sense of living between and talking across boundaries and borders, maybe even talking down the actual and psychological boundaries and borders set up by monolingual linguistic ideologies and their exclusionary language practices’ (Baynham & Lee, 2019: 18). Multilingualism vs. ‘no language’

Building on these conceptualizations, this chapter also problematizes normative notions of multilingualism, based on units of separate, named languages, by creating a juxtaposition with the idea of speaking ‘no language’, based on non-standard, often stigmatized ways of languaging. In her A Biography of No Place (2004), Kate Brown reconstructs the history of the kresy, a peripheral, borderlands region between historic Poland and Russia, the vibrant demographic and cultural characteristics of which have been made invisible through the homogenizing, categorizing efforts of various ruling powers. She explains: ‘As histories are often tied to nationstates, I feel the need to justify writing a history of no place, meaning a place that has never been a political polity nor possessed any historic notoriety’ (Brown, 2004: 1). Brown’s line of thought can be extended to consider languages, also normatively connected to nation-states. Non-standard communicative practices, without the legitimization of nation-states, are often not named, or they are named derogatively, creating the positionality of speaking ‘no language’. The ‘quixotic, hard-to-pin-down’ characteristics of Brown’s ‘no place’ were eradicated and its history was made invisible – willfully, she argues – through homogenizing, categorizing policies seeking to make it a comprehensible nationspace (Brown, 2004: 3–4). Similarly, speech practices without a name – that is, without adhering to one neat category – and without nation-state legitimization generally go unrecognized: They do not receive analytic attention and are glossed over as merely ‘uneducated’ or ‘incorrect’ varieties of standard languages. Blommaert et al. (2005: 198) draw attention to such perceptions of ‘they don’t speak any language’, arguing that ‘competence is about being positioned, not about general or open-ended potential’ (2005: 211) and, therefore,

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‘communication problems in such situations are the result of how individuals and their communicative “baggage” are inserted into regimes of language valid in that particular space’ (Blommaert et al., 2005: 198). To draw on another example problematizing regimes of language that also underscores the politics of linguistic choice, Gloria Anzaldúa in Borderlands/La Frontera (1987: 59) writes: Until I am free to write bilingually and to switch codes without having to always translate, while I still have to speak English or Spanish when I would rather speak Spanglish, and as long as I have to accommodate the English speakers rather than having them accommodate me, my tongue will be illegitimate.

Anzaldúa’s contemplation of ‘how to tame a wild tongue’ (1987: 53) ­highlights how dominant understandings of multilingualism are based on the unit of standard language: Fluency in Spanish and English is seen as multilingualism, but Spanglish does not have a place in legitimate linguistic practices. Gal (2006: 17) maintains: ‘For those living in standardized linguistic regimes – as we all do – the institutional valorization of them makes all other forms seem inadequate or simply invisible’. These ­inadequate and invisible forms of multilingualism are at the crux of this chapter’s discussion. Chapter methodology

In selecting themes to write about for this chapter, I have singled out topics that make me uneasy with my own multilingual research practices (see Finnegan, 2015; Heller, 2011; Wierzbicka, 2014, for p ­ roblematizations of the linguistic aspects of the powerplays involved in research practice), most of which center around the inability to escape asymmetry in navigating the language regimes and ideologies through and within which I work. My discussion of linguistic positionality in the first section sprang from retrospective realizations during the transcribing and analysis stages of my research that prompted a gradual waking up to the knowledge that I myself as the researcher am the data generation tool, meaning I have hegemony on what is made relevant. A salient aspect determining what draws my attention in the field involves my own ways of communicating, my own linguistic (non)competencies, and negotiating the network of power relations tied into which ways of languaging are considered suitable for which interactions and spheres. The next section’s discussion of non-­ standard languaging in Gagauzia and the challenges of representing the complexity of this (or any) linguascape draws on realizations that began to dawn upon me in the field. These realizations epitomize the gap between my mindset going into the field and my altered ways of thinking after a year of living the mundane with my host family and beginning to

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grasp the fallacy of many of the assumptions with which I had planned my research project. Post-fieldwork, I began to acknowledge that I was decidedly guilty of ‘methodological nationalism’ (Schiller & Çağlar, 2013) that takes the nation-state (and, by extension, the languages attached to and legitimized by nation-states) as the unquestioned starting units and boundaries of analysis. Writing this chapter has been an endeavor to disengage from thinking in terms of the binary constructions of Western modernity (Mignolo, 2018: 155–160) that often posit essentialized and imagined groups as having assumed links with corresponding speech practices – in short, the language-culture-nation ideological nexus (Heller & Duchêne, 2008). The third and fourth sections, focusing on making complexity (in)visible during data generation and translation, tackle dilemmas arising from a shift in thinking that I experienced during a short course on intersectionality at Jönköping University in April 2019. The diversity of stimulating, even confrontational viewpoints that I encountered there obligated me to interrogate my own (often reductionist) ways of engaging with data and utilizing language labels. Pre-fieldwork positionality and planning: Navigating asymmetry and naming

Anzaldúa’s reflection above on the societal norm of accommodating speakers of English, rather than the reverse, brings to light the politics of linguistic choice: this is never a neutral decision but is rather always embedded in larger configurations of power and affective associations. How do our linguistic choices shape what we discover as multilingual researchers? How might my findings have been different if I had gone into the field with knowledge of Turkic languages and interacted only in Turkish or Azerbaijani, for example? Or what if I had gone to Gagauzia with only Moldovan/Romanian language skills? How would the narratives people presented to me have been different? What aspects of local lived experiences might have drawn my attention differently? In both these hypothetical cases, I would have needed to navigate the challenge of choosing how to refer to the mutually intelligible linguistic varieties being spoken: Moldovan, Romanian or state language? Gagauzian, Turkish, Azerbaijani, etc.? This, in itself, would have yielded insight on language ideologies through observation of how people reacted to different glotonyms. It also would have obligated me to position myself – even if ambiguously – in relation to the larger geopolitical contexts that the naming of these languages represent. Finally, what if I were a monolingual speaker of, say English or French, and decided to carry out interviews and interactions relying entirely on interpreters? Those in the position of being monolingual in the world are a minority, but a powerful minority, as speakers of standardized languages institutionalized by hegemonic geopolitical configurations (Bonfiglio, 2010: 2) – a realization in itself of relevance to

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who has the right not to be multilingual and still make their way in the world. However, my point is not to advocate usage of one language over another. In planning my research, I chose to carry out interactions and interviews in Russian, as it was the primary language of my interlocutors, and I already had advanced proficiency (at least, according to standardized testing: in what follows, I discuss the linguistic complexity that emerged in the field) that could facilitate in-depth discussion. I do not consider my data any less valuable for having generated it through usage of a specific language, but I do consider it important to be explicit that my choice of language certainly impacted what caught my attention, and, therefore, what data I generated. Regardless of which language, I argue that the planning stages – and beyond – of critical multilingual research practice should involve interrogation of the historic trajectories of the ‘languages’ in/through which we work. For instance, I went into the field well aware that Gagauzian is listed on UNESCO’s endangered languages list (Moseley, 2010), but my pre-research contemplation of the frameworks of power in which such claims are embedded also allowed me to reflect critically on the implications of how and why such categorizations and accompanying discourses are advanced (see Heller & Duchêne, 2008, on discourses of endangerment). Tracing the history of the emergence of the glotonym ‘Gagauzian’, language policies in the region, and larger geopolitical claims intertwined with discourse on language helped me avoid uncritically taking at face value normative associations surrounding named languages when embarking on my project. In the context of my case study, while efforts to reinvigorate an imagined cohesive set of speech practices labeled as ‘Gagauzian’ are encouraged, I have not seen any efforts to ‘preserve’ the actual languaging that I observed as widespread in Gagauzia: the codemeshing, the translanguaging, the ‘wrong’ ways of talking. UNESCO does not have Surzhyk or Trasianka – stigmatized names for non-standard ‘mixed’ Russian with Ukrainian and Belorussian, respectively (Hentschel & Zaprudski, 2008) – Singlish (Huang Hoon, 2008) or Spanglish on their list of endangered languages, though, in theory, such communicative practices should be the most ‘endangered’ considering their stigmatization and lack of usefulness in official spheres. To contemplate its trajectory further, the fact that Gagauzian is even on UNESCO’s list is a result of the Soviet Union’s efforts to standardize local communicative practices, according a name and, therefore, legitimacy to certain imagined-as-cohesive linguistic practices corresponding to an institutionalized ethnic category (see Hirsch, 2005, on Soviet co-construction of ethnicity, language and nation). Without this institutionalization, it is probable that today, ‘Gagauzian’ would not be the target of UNESCO preservation initiatives, as without the power of a name and the accompanying top-down legitimization, it would likely be constructed and perceived merely as corrupted Turkish, a dialect, or given some stigmatized name like Trasianka that sets it outside

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the realm of legitimate language. This type of charting of a language’s ‘baggage’ is an imperative preliminary step in designing multilingual research projects, as it allows us to be more cognizant of the frameworks of power in which we operate and give thought to what structures we may reify as a result of our own linguistic choices. Indeed, Phipps (2019: 3) grapples with the ‘realization that my own multilingualism [...] was simply that of one who is fluent in way too many colonial languages’. Any language’s usage – colonial languages, like English and Russian, most glaringly, but even ‘endangered’ languages like Gagauzian as a less obvious example – comes with its historic baggage: how it has been legitimized or standardized, utilized as a fulcrum for advancing identity and territorial claims, the implications of its symbolic power and usefulness. I hold that an important aspect of planning a multilingual research project entails critical scrutiny of the larger power configurations that have created the circumstances for which languages we use. In doing so, it will often become evident that only a certain kind of multilingualism is supported and legitimized – both on an individual researcher level and in terms of larger discourse – the kind that takes bounded (often colonial) ‘languages’ as its unit for according the status multilingual, the kind that contributes to reducing the complexity of, or even stigmatizing, some actual communicative practices. When we give attention to the inequalities that position us and shape our language ­practices – ideally, as part of the research planning phase – we can reflect on what role we play in advancing – or not – the frameworks in which they are embedded. Next, I turn attention to the various language registers, varieties and translingual practices that I encountered in Gagauzia, reflecting on how I was challenged to navigate ways of communicating beyond the simple label of ‘Russian-speaking’. Arrival to field: Augmenting my communicative repertoire

Gagauzia is commonly referred to as linguistically russified (UNDP, 2016: 104), a categorization I have advanced myself, as Russian does hold dominance in governmental and educational activities. Gagauzian local ethnologist Mikhail Guboglo (2006) in his monograph In the Name of Language writes on both the level of Russian language predominance, as well its importance as a barrier against Moldovan assimilating policies in Gagauzia. But how does tacking on labels like ‘russified’ or ‘Russianspeaking’ reduce and obscure the nuances of the region’s linguascape, in this case, for instance, the local varieties of Russian? Slotting Gagauzia and its population under the heading of ‘russified’ lumps them into an imagined group with other ‘Russian-speaking’ populations and fails to give attention to the complexity and local distinctions of actual linguistic practices. Most grant, scholarship, and work applications have required me to claim ‘fluency’ in Russian. Taking the Russian C1 exam was an

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insightful experience, showing me first-hand how standardized language tests call for a very particular kind of test-taking skill based on linear assumptions about knowledge (problematized in Hogan–Brun et al., 2009). While I went into the field equipped with ‘fluency’ in Russian, the diverse ways of languaging in Gagauzia – though all labeled as Russian – made me realize that claims of ‘multilingualism’, of ‘knowing’ a language are highly situational and relative. As Blommaert and Backus (2012: 30) put it: ‘So, “how good is his English” then? Let it be clear that this question can only be appropriately answered with another one: “which English?”’ Translingual practice, broadly defined as the ‘co-occurrence of elements from different languages, registers, modalities, discourses, etc. in the repertoire’ (Baynham & Lee, 2019: 8) was an ever-present part of the languaging I encountered during my fieldwork in Gagauzia. I would often notice the usage of words ‘borrowed’ from Gagauzian and Moldovan in Russian speech – translanguaging that can be thought of ‘interlingual selection across languages’ (Baynham & Lee, 2019: 57). My host family would refer to the visiting of friends and family after the actual day of a celebration as aftalyk.2 ‘Zavtra pridut na aftalyk’ (Tomorrow they’ll come for the aftalyk: Russian, with the Gagauzian aftalyk ‘borrowed’) my host sister would inform me after our New Year’s celebration. I was also intrigued by the ubiquitous interjection mei (the only comparable linguistic device with which I can draw a parallel is lah in Singlish), often used to add emotion or expressiveness. A typical question could be phrased ‘Chto ty delaesh’, mei?’ (What are you doing, mei?: Russian, with the Moldovan interjection mei), or locals could simply affirm ‘Net, mei!’ (No, mei!). My friend might roll her eyes about the histrionics of her boss, calling her mare printsessa (a grand princess: Mare is ‘borrowed’ from Moldovan). ‘Duzhe tsikavo’ (very interesting: Ukrainian) my host sister tuts, reading over the day’s headlines. I remember my first day with my host family hearing ‘ia pOniala’ (I understood) with the stress on the ‘o’ and thinking this was some verb I did not know, before quickly realizing that, along with ‘sozvOnimsia’ (we will call one another) and ‘ia spAla’ (I slept), it was simply the ‘incorrect’ stressed–syllable that children’s schoolbooks often warn against. ‘Stri!’ (look! – stri has been shortened from the codified form smotri) the eight-year-old in my host family would command, and receive scolding from the babushka for this improper speech. Our babushka herself, who grew up speaking Gagauzian with her siblings, would occasionally mix up ‘on’ and ‘ona’ (he and she), which her daughter would wave away as a symptom of thinking in Gagauzian, which lacks gender categories. ‘Christiana, iskai menia!’ (look for me! – iskai was her conjugation of the irregular verb iskat’, while the codified conjugation is ischi) the three-year-old would yell during our games of hideand-seek, one of her many ‘incorrect’ – yet, from my point of view, logical – utterances of early speech development (Kharchenko, 2005).

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The complex and ‘incorrect’ ways of languaging – slang, marked nonstandard accents, cross–language borrowing, children’s speech – meant that I was challenged constantly to alter my communicative repertoire to interact in this particular space. Drawing attention to the ‘political and historical situatedness of linguistic competence’ (2005: 197), Blommaert et al. (2005) argue ‘Multilingualism should not be understood as “full competence in different languages,” despite dominant ideologies which emphasize complete facility’ (2005: 199). Indeed, as ‘multilingual’ usually only refers to standardized, codified communicative practices, the kind of languaging I have described earlier is typically made invisible – both by speakers themselves and by outside researchers – by being glossed over as simply ‘incorrect’ Russian. I again draw parallels with Brown’s (2004) ‘no place’. She holds that ‘The generalizing, standardizing efforts of modern governance have engendered an impatience for the kind of social complexity, local nuance, and hybrid cultures that made [the region] at the beginning of the century a puzzling and engaging place’ (Brown, 2004: 14). I would also describe the languaging I encountered in Gagauzia as ‘puzzling and engaging’, though dominant ways of considering multilingualism in terms of the units of separate languages often makes these nuances invisible. Arguing that best practice for multilingual researchers should involve critical thought on how our ways of defining and categorizing may mask complexity, I hold that we should give attention to the non-standard aspects of how language is employed – both by ourselves and our research partners. One aspect involves the politics of ‘correct’ language, an ever– present part of my research process, which I discuss in the next section on language adjustment – both my interviewees’ and my own. Generation of data: Language performance and adjustment

How did the setting of my recorded interviews impact the kind of language performed? My interviews were loosely structured with openended questions, and I made efforts to hold them in comfortable, informal settings and facilitate a flexible way of chatting, allowing participants to share ideas and recount anecdotes as they came to mind. That being said, our conversations were clearly interviews. At the time, I was studying with the University of Glasgow in the UK, whose ethics process (see Mills, 2003, on the politics of research ethics codes) required I obtain interviewees’ informed, signed consent. The signing of a document on foreign letterhead, along with the dictaphone, with its bright red light ‘recording’ and its count of the minutes and seconds ticking away ensured that participants were decidedly aware of the circumstances and larger context of our conversations. One interviewee, for instance, adjusted her language to opt for more formal wording: ‘U menia netu – net! Netu – eto razgovornyi variant’ (Loosely translated: ‘I don’t have – do not have! Don’t is the conversational form’.). Thinking about how my interlocutors adjusted or

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‘corrected’ their language for our interviews, I should ask what complexity or nuances were reduced. This gap was evidenced by participant observation data that revealed much more complex ways of languaging that do not fit the box of standard Russian. After these processes of adjusting language, how closely do multilingual research ‘findings’ reflect what we are actually trying to represent? Another important point is that I only audio-recorded the interviews, opting for a less intrusive way of documenting our conversations. While I believe this was an appropriate choice, as I doubt most of my interviewees would have agreed to video recording, it does mean that that my analysis was limited to speech. As human interaction is a ‘verbally, visually, and spatially interdependent composition’ (Bagga–Gupta & St. John, 2017: 369), the generation of data through the recording and transcribing of interviews is fundamentally reductionist, a core issue that ethnopoetics seeks to address (Tedlock, 1992). Canagarajah (2018: 39), further, maintains ‘non-verbal resources are not a supplement to talk or thinking. They mediate and shape language use’, arguing further that ‘diverse semiotic resources work together as an assemblage, without the possibility of separating them’. How might my findings be different if I had video-recorded the interviews? On one hand, this would have allowed for insight into the non-verbal semiotic resources employed, likely drawing my attention to different aspects of the interaction or changing my understanding of the spoken words. On the other hand, building upon the points made earlier, how would the presence of a video camera impact the ways my interviewees performed their identities and languaged (problematized in Blackledge & Creese, 2019: 4–8; also see Duranti & Goodwin, 1992, on the importance of accounting for the context of interactions)? These questions are particularly pertinent when the object of study is language practices, but they are of relevance for any type of multilingual research, compelling us to ponder how efforts to perform language ‘correctly’ can play a role in what data is created. I hold that these sorts of dilemmas are exactly why participant observation is so vital, as it allows for filling in the gaps or picking up on discrepancies. It gave me the opportunity to ponder why particular narratives were articulated (or not) during interviews and to think about how the languaging performed during interviews was adjusted. Next, I turn my attention to the challenges of translating this data, focusing on the ways I drew on diverse linguistic tools throughout the process before reaching a final ‘standard-English’ product. Translation of Data: Negotiating Meaning through Diverse (Linguistic) Resources

What complexity is hidden through usage of language labels describing the steps of multilingual research practices? For instance, I might write about my methodology: ‘I translated interview data from Russian to

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English’. But this is only a superficial overview of what the process actually entailed. Yes, I translated from Russian, but from what kind of Russian? As I described, within just the one household of my host family, a variety of dynamic Russians (or non-Russians if taking a pathologicalstandard-language view) were practiced. And I translated into English, but it was a messy, multilingual path to reach the finished product of standard English. I might ‘free translate’ first, letting the meanings flow through all the bits of language I have labeled ‘non-Russian’ in my mind, coming out maybe in some register of English or Spanish, often with longer phrases to describe a word for which I fail to find an equivalent. After this first raw run, I comb through multiple times to root out all the colloquialisms, calques, mixed or enmeshed codes – elements of my own idiolect, of the way I actually language – to reach a sanitized final product of text in codified English. For instance, in discussing his perceptions surrounding ethnicity and native language in Gagauzia, one interviewee characterizes this link as something doubtful or ambiguous, saying ‘Tut palka o dvukh kontsakh’. Arma de dos filos (Spanish) is the first alternative way to express this idea that comes to mind, which I then change to the English ‘double edged sword’. However, ‘double edged sword’ does not fit the context exactly of talking about ambiguity (at least in my way of Englishing I don’t think it does, though I am certainly the first to acknowledge that I am in the neverending (futile?) process of ‘learning’ English), and in a later draft, I opt for ‘it cuts both ways’ in an attempt to capture the idea of ambivalence or contradictory nature. Initially, I simply translate ‘natsional‘nost’’ as ‘nationality’, until a colleague reminds me that ‘nationality’ in English probably more often refers to citizenship, rather than ethnicity. ‘Here there are no perspectives’ (from the Russian: ‘Zdes’ net perspektiv’) reads an early draft, before I catch the Russian calque and change it to ‘prospects’. ‘Está vliiando’ (the first word is Spanish, while the second has taken the Russian verb vliiat’ and conjugated it as a Spanish participle) I type, a manifestation of my ‘bad’ habit of intertwining Spanish and Russian in my home life, before quickly replacing this neologistic jumble with the English ‘impact’. But ‘impact’ or ‘impact on?’ – I hesitate, unsure of which variety of English to use. These ‘mixed-up’ translation processes, of course, speak to my lack of training as a translator, and, by extension, my not being accustomed to sorting my linguistic resources into separate folders in my mind for distinct labeled languages. As discussed in the introduction, my transnational positionality and circles of interaction mean that in my daily life, I more often draw upon and stitch together patchworks of shared linguistic tools in a given situation, rather than drawing decisive boundaries regarding which communicative device belongs to which ‘language’. This communicative negotiation is not something unique, as we all navigate particular registers (Agha & Frog, 2015), even if only communicating

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within the confines of one ‘language’. My translation processes show that it is appropriate to talk about multilingualism in terms of ‘truncated’ knowledge. No language, including a ‘native language’, we can claim to ‘know’ ‘is in any realistic sense “complete” or “finished:” all of them are partial, “truncated,” specialized to differing degrees, and above all dynamic’ (Blommaert & Backus, 2012: 27). So how ‘multilingual’ are my translation processes? I would say, more complex than just Russian to English translations. However, these ways of negotiating meaning through diverse linguistic resources that is embedded in multilingual research practice are often glossed over with labels of named, standard languages – the correct ways to communicate. If we give attention to our own processes of rendering non-standard languaging invisible, we can begin to contemplate why this glossing over happens, specifically what connection it may have with maintaining hegemonic standard language (and often by extension, national) frameworks. And if I compare this sanitized English text with the original audio recording, and, by extension, the audio recording with the actual interaction itself, how closely do their meanings, the nuances of their meanings particularly, align? Blackledge and Creese (2019: 5) ask: ‘You don’t feel that, having now represented [their voices] as text, having textualized and recontextualized them, [...] and whatever else, you don’t feel that this process makes them into newly created characters? That is, in some sense you are their authors?’ One instance with which I was particularly unsatisfied involved an interlocutor’s articulation of her native language(s). She asserted: ‘U menia gagauzskii – rodnoi, i russkii – dvoiurodnoi!’ This is a play on words. Rodnoi refers to something ‘native’ or related closely. One’s rodnoi brother, for example, is one’s own brother from the same parents. Dvoiurodnoi also implies a relation, but a more distant one. One’s dvoiurodnoi brother is one’s cousin. The root of both words is the same, though, pointing to the fact that both refer to something ‘native’, so to speak, but with dvoiurodnoi implying a more distant relation. The prefix of dvoiurodnoi is a form of ‘two’, so the word literally means native, but secondary, which is a clever way to refer to one’s language background: The interviewee feels that Russian is a native language for her, but not as native as Gagauzian. 3 I mused about ways to somehow find a near-equivalent in English – mother tongue vs. aunt or step-mother tongue? – but discarded them as just not capturing the same relation and smooth phrasing as rodnoi vs. dvoiurodnoi. Nabokov called for ‘footnotes reaching up like skyscrapers’ (1955: 512) in translation practices, and I am inclined to agree. Keeping fragments of highly-specific text in the original language and providing detailed commentary in footnotes is necessary to avoid the near-equivalent glosses, problematized by Pavlenko (2005: 12–21), and this is the route I took with the rodnoi vs. dvoiurodnoi translation dilemma. Critical multilingual research should involve recognizing the shortcomings of

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near-equivalents in conveying meaning. Anna Wierzbicka (2014: 4) draws attention to the ‘blinding power of English as the global language of science and the unquestioned tool for interpreting the world’ (2014: 4), highlighting the limitations of English’s conceptual vocabulary and problematizing the assumption that there exists some innate set of cognitive tools that transcend language, applicable to making sense of diverse ways of being. No language is a neutral instrument, and this must be recognized when reflecting on our practices and roles as multilingual researchers. The next section briefly delves into translingual practice as a (beginning of a) solution to such dilemmas. Going forward? Translingual practice

Giving languaging without boundaries a space encourages ‘modes of engaging with language repertoires and social diversity to construct strategic identities, social positions, voices, and texts as relevant to each person’s interests’ (Canagarajah, 2020: 13), for ‘codemeshing and translingualism go beyond language boundaries, binaries, and hierarchies to consider [...] diverse semiotic resources (beyond labeled languages)’ (Canagarajah, 2020: 8). Advancement of a shift towards broader understandings of multilingualism and legitimizing diverse languaging practices has implications for researcher empowerment. Holmes et al.’s (2013) exploration of multilingual research directions identifies studies reporting researchers as experiencing a sense of disempowerment by having to constrain their work within standardized procedures of largely-monolingual academic writing (2013: 287–292). Translanguaging, on the other hand, has been shown to be ‘socially empowering’ (Canagarajah, 2020: 11), as it allows for a complex way of navigating diverse, competing ideologies and rhetoric related to language. ‘The translanguaging strategy is to make the best of whatever shared language and semiotic resources are available in situ for the making of meaning’ (Baynham & Lee, 2019: 183). The idea of making the best of our resources – as opposed to limiting and constricting them – certainly sounds like the direction that critical multilingual research practice should be headed. Discussion of translingual practice brings me to point out how I adjust and constrain my own English when producing work for the world of academia. Should I? What if I declined to box in my natural ways of languaging? I return to Anzaldúa’s (1987: 59) assertion ‘I would rather speak Spanglish’. When I think about it, so would I. I would rather be languaging with my ‘errors’, calques, mixing of vocabulary and grammar, without constantly internalizing feelings of speaking every language poorly. I invite us to think about how our research processes and findings would be different if there were a space for this kind of languaging. What kind of vibrancy and nuances would it facilitate and make visible? Without having to reduce and sanitize ideas to fit the confines of standard

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English, maybe multilingual research would be more complex for it. I propose that other multilingual researchers critically examine their own languaging repertoires, thinking about how those repertoires change in the process of creating digestible scholarly work for the world of academia. I challenge myself in this way currently, and it is not straightforward. But maybe that is the crux: that multilingual research has become too straightforward, with complexity often made less visible through normative practices of adhering to standard languages, and I encourage us to think about where we can make space for richer, less constricted multilingual practice. Conclusions: Positionality as a Language ‘Non-knower’

This chapter has highlighted that a salient aspect of critical multilingual research involves navigation of the social, cultural and historical patterns of the so-called languages that we employ. It calls for pondering the larger processes of legitimization of certain communicative practices and the stigmatization and/or erasure of others, closely connected to the naming of language. Writing this chapter has obligated me to critically reflect on my own language competencies (or non-competencies) and give thought to how they shaped the data that I generated and interpreted – a reflection process that I hold is vital for any multilingual researcher. So am I multilingual? Or do I speak no languages? Considering that dominant ideas of multilingualism do not make room for non-standard, translingual practice, the latter characterization is likely more apt. And orientating myself as a non-speaker – as opposed to multilingual – can allow for a shift in positionality that means being open to non-codified ways of communicating. It encourages critical thinking about the nationalistic frameworks that drive standard languages and what implications these hegemonic configurations have for how we carry out multilingual research. This opting for a positionality as a non-knower, of rejecting claims to know and adopting a mindset of ‘preguntando, caminamos’ (asking, we walk) to draw on Zapatista decolonial thought (Ziai, 2018: 121–122) means that I endeavor to carry out multilingual research with a more pluriversalist (Reiter, 2018), as opposed to universalist, orientation. Perhaps other researchers of similar experience, those with transnational ways of belonging and translingual ways of communicating can benefit from such a changing of gears, a reorientation in how we position ourselves and others. Notes (1) My research is supported by the Estonian Research Council project PSG48. (2) For ease of readability, I have transliterated all Russian and Ukrainian data excerpts according to the American Library Association and Library of Congress transliteration system.

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(3) Analyzing and translating this data excerpt also calls for a problematization of notions of rodnoi iazyk (native language) in the former Soviet space. The Soviet Union’s ‘spectacularly successful attempt at a state-sponsored conflation of language, “culture,” territory and quota-fed bureaucracy’ (Slezkine, 1994: 414) resulted in the term ‘native language’ often referring to the language corresponding to documented ethnicity, regardless of actual language abilities or practices (Karklins, 1980).

References Agha, A. and Frog (eds) (2015) Registers of Communication. Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society. Anzaldúa, G. (1987) Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza. San Francisco: Aunt Lute. ATU Gagauzia Official Webpage (2019) Law on the special legal status of Gagauzia. See www.gagauzia.md/pageview.php?l=ru&idc=389&nod=1& (accessed November 2019). Ayash, N.B. (2019) Toward Translingual Realities in Composition: (Re)working Local Language Representations and Practices. Logan: Utah State University Press. Bagga–Gupta, S. and St John, O. (2017) Making complexities (in)visible: Empirically derived contributions to the scholarly (re)presentations of social interactions. In S. Bagga–Gupta (ed.) Marginalization Processes across Different Settings: Going beyond the Mainstream (pp. 352–388). Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Baynham, M. and Lee, T.K. (2019) Translation and Translanguaging. London: Routledge. Becker, A.L. (1991) Language and languaging. Language & Communication 11 (1–2), 33–35. Blackledge, A. and Creese, A. (2019) Voices of a City Market: An Ethnography. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Blommaert, J. and Backus, A. (2012) Superdiverse repertoires and the individual. In Tilburg Papers in Culture Studies, Paper 24. See www.tilburguniversity.edu/sites/tiu/ files/download/tpcs paper24_2.pdf (accessed March 2020). Blommaert, J., Collins, J. and Slembrouck, S. (2005) Spaces of multilingualism. Language and Communication 25 (3), 197–216. Bonfiglio, T.P. (2010) Mother Tongues and Nations: The Invention of the Native Speaker. Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton. Brown, K. (2004) A Biography of No Place: From Ethnic Borderland to Soviet Heartland. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Brumfit, C. (2006) A European perspective on language as liminality. In P. Stevenson and C. Mar–Molinero (eds) Language Ideologies, Policies and Practices: Language and the Future of Europe (pp. 28–43). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Canagarajah, S. (2002) A Geopolitics of Academic Writing. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press. Canagarajah, S. (2018) Translingual practice as spatial repertoires: Expanding the paradigm beyond structuralist orientations. Applied Linguistics 39 (1), 31–54. Canagarajah, S. (2020) Transnational Literacy Autobiographies as Translingual Writing. London: Routledge. Duranti, A. and Goodwin, C. (eds) (1992) Rethinking Context: Language as an Interactive Phenomenon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Finnegan, R. (2015) Where is Language? An Anthropologist’s Questions on Language, Literature and Performance. London: Bloomsbury. Gal, S. (2006) Migration, minorities and multilingualism: Language ideologies in Europe. In P. Stevenson and C. Mar–Molinero (eds) Language Ideologies, Policies and Practices: Language and the Future of Europe (pp. 13–27). New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

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Guboglo, M.N. (2006) Imenem iazyka: ocherki etnokul’turnoi i etnopoliticheskoi istorii gagauzov [In the Name of Language: Essays on the Ethnocultural and Ethnopolitical History of Gagauzians]. Moscow: Nauka. Heller, M. (2011) Paths to Post-Nationalism: A Critical Ethnography of Language and Identity. New York: Oxford University Press. Heller, M. and Duchêne, A. (2008) Discourses of endangerment: Sociolinguistics, globalization and social order. In M. Heller and A. Duchêne (eds) Discourses of Endangerment (pp. 1–13). London: Continuum. Hentschel, G. and Zaprudski, S. (eds) (2008) Belarusian Trasjanka and Ukrainian Suržyk: Structural and Social Aspects of their Description and Categorization. Oldenburg: Studia Slavica Oldenburgensia. Hirsch, F. (2005) Empire of Nations: Ethnographic Knowledge and the Making of the Soviet Union. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Hogan–Brun, G., Stevenson, P. and Mar–Molinero, C. (eds) (2009) Discourses on Language and Integration: Critical Perspectives on Language Testing Regimes in Europe. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Huang Hoon, C. (2008) Beyond linguistic instrumentalism: The place of Singlish in Singapore. In R. Rubdy and P.K.W. Tan (eds) Language as Commodity: Global Structures, Local Marketplaces (pp. 57–69). New York: Bloomsbury. International Organization for Migration (2019) Republic of Moldova. See www.iom.int/ countries/republic–moldova (accessed September 2019). Jaffe, A. (2008) Discourses of endangerment: Contexts and consequences of essentializing discourses. In A. Duchêne and M. Heller (eds) Discourses of Endangerment (pp. 57–75). London: Continuum. Karklins, R. (1980) A note on ‘nationality’ and ‘native tongue’ as census categories in 1979. Soviet Studies 32 (3), 415–422. Kharchenko, V.K. (2005) Slovar’ sovremennogo detskogo iazyka [Dictionary of modern children’s language]. Moscow: Astrel’. Kroskrity, P. (ed.) (2000) Regimes of Language: Ideologies, Polities and Identities. Santa Fe: School of American Research. Makoni, S. and Pennycook, A. (2007) Disinventing and reconstituting languages. In S.  Makoni and A. Pennycook (eds) Disinventing and Reconstituting Languages (pp. 1–41). Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Mignolo, W.D. (2018) The decolonial option. In W.D. Mignolo and C.E. Walsh (eds) On Decoloniality: Concepts, Analytics, and Praxis (pp. 105–244). Durham: Duke University Press. Mills, D. (2003) ‘Like a horse in blinkers’? A political history of anthropology’s research ethics. In P. Caplan (ed.) The Ethics of Anthropology: Debates and Dilemmas (pp. 37–54). London: Routledge. Moseley, C. (ed.) (2010) Atlas of the World’s Languages in Danger (3rd edn). Paris: UNESCO Publishing. See www.unesco.org/culture/en/endangeredlanguages/atlas (accessed October 2019). Nabokov, V. (1955) Problems in translation: Onegin in English. Partisan Review 22 (4), 496–512. Pavlenko, A. (2005) Emotions and Multilingualism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pennycook, A. (2007) Global Englishes and Transcultural Flows. New York: Routledge. Phipps, A. (2019) Decolonising Multilingualism: Struggles to Decreate. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Reiter, B. (ed.) (2018) Constructing the Pluriverse: The Geopolitics of Knowledge. Durham: Duke University Press.

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Republic of Moldova 2014 Census Data (2017) See www.statistica.md (accessed September 2019). Schiller, N.G. and Çağlar, A. (2013) Locating migrant pathways of economic emplacement: Thinking beyond the ethnic lens. Ethnicities 13 (4), 494–514. Slezkine, Y. (1994) The USSR as a communal apartment, or how a socialist state promoted ethnic particularism. Slavic Review 53, 414–452. Tedlock, D. (1992) Ethnopoetics. In R. Bauman (ed.) Folklore, Cultural Performances, and Popular Entertainments: A Communications-centered Handbook (pp. 81–85). Oxford: Oxford University Press. United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) (2016) National Human Development Report. See http://hdr.undp.org/sites/default/files/reports/2757/raport_en_nhdr.pdf (accessed November 2019). Vertovec, S. (2009) Transnationalism. London: Routledge. Vertovec, S. (2019) Talking around super-diversity. Ethnic and Racial Studies 42 (1), 125–139. Wierzbicka, A. (2014) Imprisoned in English: The Hazards of English as a Default Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. World Bank (2019) Moldova. See www.worldbank.org/en/country/moldova/overview (accessed November 2019). Yuval-Davis, N. (2011) The Politics of Belonging: Intersectional Contestations. London: Sage. Ziai, A. (2018) Internationalism and speaking for others: What struggling against neoliberal globalization taught me about epistemology. In B. Reiter (ed.) Constructing the Pluriverse: The Geopolitics of Knowledge (pp. 117–136). Durham: Duke University Press.

Afterword Prue Holmes, Judith Reynolds and Sara Ganassin

Researchers in the Arts and Humanities and Social Sciences are increasingly confronted by human problems that intersect across geopolitical spaces, human relations and languages. Normative research approaches are no longer sufficient in understanding human experience in these complex contexts, and where people, through the languages they speak and other forms of communication, jostle for recognition and survival. The authors of the 16 chapters in this edited research volume illustrate sensitivity to the crucial shaping role of languages in the research process. We asked the contributors to focus on the political aspects of languages in their research, for example, how languages are positioned in the research domain; how researchers handle decisions about languages in their research in these geopolitical linguistic spaces; how they make use of their own linguistic researcher resources; how they negotiate power in intercultural and interpersonal relationships; and whose voices are listened to when languages, and those who speak them, are marginalised or silenced. The studies presented in this edited volume intersect across four key themes that illustrate the political dimensions of researching multilingually. These include: critically confronting the language ideologies present in hegemonic structures; purposefully working to transform power relations brought about by the privileging of certain languages over others in research relationships; decolonising researcher methodologies in order to open up knowledge construction that recognises the multiple languages, forms of engagement and modalities employed in local contexts, and where individuals and groups are marginalised through forced and economic migration, conflict, occupation and other forms of oppression; and finally, through researcher awareness, decolonising languages by questioning the primacy of a ‘named languages’ approach and instead surfacing and prioritising the diversity of language and communicative practices characteristic of many research contexts. As such, the researchers have discussed their successes, challenges and failures as they have decentred and decolonised approaches to languages in various ways in their research. In doing so, they draw attention to researching multilingually as social and political action. We discuss these two aspects of researching multilingually next in relation to the researching multilingually framework (Holmes et al., 2013, 2016) and drawing on recent work 345

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on language and intercultural communication research as social action (Ladegaard & Phipps, 2020a; see also Zhu, 2020). Researching Multilingually as Social Action

Researching multilingually as social action begins with an awareness of the researcher’s own linguistic resources and those of others in their research; recognition of the spaces in which the research is conceptualised, planned, conducted and disseminated; understanding and engaging with the relational aspects of the research at all stages and levels; and then, throughout the research process, making intentional decisions about how languages, linguistic resources and embodied forms of communication matter and are foregrounded (Andrews et al., 2020; Holmes et al., 2013). Zhu Hua, following Weber (1968), describes research as social action with social justice as its purpose: ‘research is as much about understanding and interpreting behaviours of others as interacting with and influencing others’ (Zhu, 2020: 206). Through their research, researchers can raise awareness, which triggers discussions leading to action in response. We argue that a focus on languages in the research process is crucial in promoting research as social action: to become appropriately aware of our own impact, as a speaker of language(s), on the world we inhabit, and to ensure engagement with those people whose voices – and languages – are marginalised [and pushed to the periphery] in the research process. As the researchers in our volume have illustrated, a focus on language throughout the research process is not just about named languages, but also, and of equal import, about travelling, colonial and tribal languages, translanguaging, other forms of representation and multimodal and embodied communication. Zhu (2020), drawing on studies by researchers undertaking research as social action (Ladegaard & Phipps, 2020a), highlights five key questions that seek to inform and promote debate about research as social action leading to social justice. The first concerns the values that motivate the researcher to undertake the research. In researching multilingually as social action, researchers in our volume have highlighted their values concerning languages: an intentionality towards foregrounding language, including their own linguistic resources, in their researcher praxis (e.g. the role they ascribe to interpreters and translators and their evolving relationships in co-constructing the research). The second key question concerns who is involved: researchers, as well as other social actors (participants, community groups, policymakers, key influencers, funders). Our researchers recognised the crucial role of their decisions concerning languages in enabling the participation of social actors whose voices need to be heard: which languages and which other ways of communicating should be prioritised, when, where and why? Who has agency in mobilising forms of communication? What structures obstruct whose languages are permitted or listened to?

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The third key question focuses on the relationship between the researchers and the social actors. Here, Zhu (2020) points out that ‘participants’ in research as action are partners and co-agents of change in the research. The researching multilingually framework focuses on this relational aspect, and many of our chapters illustrate the importance researchers placed on linguistic choice and negotiation in managing relationships, languages, translanguaging and multimodal communication in the research process – with all stakeholders connected to the research, especially at the community level where the outcomes of the research matter the most. The fourth key question concerns who benefits from an understanding of research as social action. Zhu (2020) argues that not just the ‘participants’ and communities benefit, but also the researchers themselves as they are transformed through their research processes and interactions. The researchers in our chapters have illustrated transformation through their reflections on their researching multilingually approaches in their research and through reflexive and reflective accounts of how they handled their own linguistic resources. Others pointed to the societal impact of the research outcomes when the languages of the social actors are accounted for. The final key question concerns evaluating the success of research as social action and demonstrating its impact. Zhu Hua (2020) suggests that research as social action is a stance or approach, which possibly creates difficulty in measuring the impact of research, especially within the current neoliberal educational climate of league tables and world rankings. Thus, she points to the need for a serious conversation, although she is not explicit about who should be involved. Presumably, any such conversation must include not just the researchers, but all social actors involved in research, including funders and research policymakers; and above all, those with and for whom the research is being undertaken. The emergent conclusions and implications offered across the 16 chapters open up lines of thinking for a serious conversation concerning how researchers mobilise and manage their own and others’ linguistic resources in their research as they investigate the difficult questions confronting human beings in the 21st century. Their documentation of their researcher approaches and decisions concerning the role of hegemonic structures and (intercultural) communication in power relations offer stimuli for this discussion and for further exploration. Some of the chapters also highlight the importance of theoretical and methodological approaches that seek to decentre named and established languages for local and other forms of communication. Researching Multilingually as Political Action

In bringing together this volume, we have adopted the position that social action in research is of necessity also political action. This position stems first from our broad understanding of what is political: the struggle for, and negotiation of, any form of social power and/or influence (Chilton,

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2004: 1). In research, it stems from the recognition that language use involves the negotiation of power relations between individuals and groups, bringing in inherently political issues of identity and voice (see the Introduction). This positioning is implicit in discussions of research as social and political action (Ladegaard & Phipps, 2020b; Phipps & Ladegaard, 2020; Zhu, 2020), which involves ‘the creation of a space that allows the Other to participate in the production of knowledge, and promotion of social justice through multilingual and intercultural communication’ (Yohannes, 2020: 213). In researching multilingually as political action, the researchers in our edited research volume have highlighted in their various ways the political nature of their work when language is foregrounded, and their developing researcher awareness and response. From their examples, and from the discussion above, we propose a three-dimensional approach to research as political action in support of social justice, and in support for the foregrounding of languages in the research process. First, researchers might reflect on their own linguistic resources, as well as the languages in play in their research. These linguistic resources are not reified, objectified and countable researcher tools, but ways of making meaning, and being human together. Through languages, languaging – understood as human embodiment, emotion and lived experience (Phipps, 2019) – and translanguaging – described as drawing on all available linguistic and other semiotic resources in communication (Canagarajah, 2013; Zhu & Li, 2020) – researchers, as social and political actors, do their work, make research happen and support people and communities to flourish. As many of our contributors have argued, researchers must engage in this task with a critical and reflexive awareness of the political and ideological implications of the language(s) present in their research spaces and act upon this awareness in the whole research process and across all its stages – from the inception of the study to dissemination and impact. Second, in dealing with power relations, researchers need to recognise and account for the political structures, hierarchies and communicative processes in the research context that privilege or silence certain languages and voices over others: whose languages and actions matter – when, where and why? What role do the researchers’ own linguistic and communicative resources play in negotiating their positionalities vis-à-vis other stakeholders in the research process (e.g. funders, research beneficiaries, gatekeepers and when is it appropriate, or not, to call on interpreters and translators)? Thus, researchers may need to transparently discuss language issues in publications, or have open and frank discussions with stakeholders regarding language practices and choices. And finally, in negotiating power structures and hegemonies in research praxis, researchers might consider the importance of theories and methods that prioritise communication with those whom the research is supposed to benefit. This stance invites researchers to question

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conventional social science methodology as a potentially ‘retroactive, knowledge-producing operation that makes things stand still, … [risking] closure and stasis’ (MacLure, 2013: 659). It also invites them to recognise the dangers of generating knowledge in contexts of all forms of oppression, social injustice and colonisation, which is then synthesised and disseminated among the educated, powerful and global elites in education and governance (whether in developed countries or elsewhere), potentially sidestepping those who should benefit from it (Smith, 1999/2012). Instead, researchers might consider: adopting critical and decentring approaches that highlight the importance of drawing on local knowledge and experience, and the languages in which these experiences are articulated and represented; foregrounding everyday communicative practices that recognise and resist politically-constructed linguistic categorisations imposed from above; and then feeding back outcomes locally and in communicative forms understood by those whom the research outcomes should ­benefit (Smith, 1999/2012; Walsh & Mignolo, 2018). Central to this decolonising, decentring stance is, for the researcher, a recognition of and action on the role of language, and linguistic and cultural diversity. We suggest that researchers, in recognising these complexities in their research, can adopt theoretical and methodological approaches that lead to research as social and political action and that explicitly engage with the politics of researching multilingually. Many of the chapters in our edited research volume exemplify this stance. Implications and Future Directions

Recently, research funders have begun to encourage multilingual, transnational and multidisciplinary research which aims to tackle the large, difficult questions confronting humanity, society and the environment in the world today.1 However, not all researchers will participate in large, multilingual, multidisciplinary, transnational teams; many will undertake research in multilingual, intercultural contexts in their own localities and communities, and under difficult conditions where structural hegemonies, inequalities and power relations marginalise languages and voices, as illustrated by many of the studies in this volume. All of these projects mandate the need for researchers to attend to languages and (intercultural) communication in their research approach and processes, and in its dissemination. Then, people in all communities – including refugees and others forced to migrate, whose voices and languages often go unheard – might have the opportunity to participate and exercise agency in bringing about change. If we, as researchers, hope to make a difference by undertaking research as social action (Zhu, 2020), and as political action, we will need to be alert to and adopt a researching multilingually stance that seeks to: (i) decentre theories and methodologies that are blind and resistant to

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knowledge and social practice in the periphery; (ii) resist normative understandings of languages that prioritise certain languages over others, and in doing so, be ‘astute in … [the] use of language, in its slippages into imperial forms’ (Phipps & Ladegaard, 2020: 219); (iii) be open to translanguaging and other non-linguistic forms of intercultural communication; (iv) ensure inclusivity of voices that matter through co-creation of the research and (v) be respectful and inclusive of cultural and linguistic practices of those involved in and who will benefit from the research (Smith, 1999/2012). Further ways forward, although not the focus of the studies here, include posthumanist and new materialist approaches that foreground multimodal and creative arts methodologies (Burnard et al., 2016; Frimberger, 2016; Harvey et al., 2019; Pennycook, 2018; Phipps & Kay, 2014). New materialism recognises (intercultural) communication as an embodied, emotional and relational experience that includes but also transcends language. New materialist and posthumanist approaches open up ways for researchers to resist language as the main ‘professional means of making sense of and to ourselves and others’ (Phipps, 2013: 339) and to demote it from its lead position in the hierarchy of knowledge in higher education (Harvey et al., 2019). We finish by drawing attention to the conclusions stated in the final report of the Arts and Humanities Research Council’s ‘Translating cultures’ theme on its closure in 2019. The authors of the report highlight the importance of research practice which ‘listens to, and learns from, the multilingualism of communities and of research practice itself’ (Kamali et al., 2019: 64). They suggest the following checklist for researchers when undertaking their research, developed from similar questions posed by Professor Alison Phipps in her own research: • ‘To what extent do I acknowledge linguistic and cultural diversity in my research?’ • ‘To what extent do I recognise that the contexts on and in which I work are themselves multilingual?’ • ‘To what extent do I understand the various processes of translation on which my research depends at every stage of its development, from conceptualisation to dissemination?’ • And finally: ‘Can I live with my answers to these questions with integrity?’ (Kamali et al., 2019: 64) The studies assembled in this volume evidence the importance of these questions and, in doing so, showcase the political dimensions of researching multilingually. We invite readers to take inspiration from the experiences of the contributors to our volume and to also respond to these questions. In doing so, researchers will need to be attentive to the political dimensions of languages, languaging, translanguaging, intercultural communication and other multimodal forms of communication. Further, in

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accounting for the politics of researching multilingually in their own research, researchers may begin to initiate a researcher trajectory of developing research as social and political action. Note (1) For example, United Kingdom Research and Innovation (UKRI) is the UK’s largest funding body that works in partnership with universities, research organisations, businesses, charities and government. Under the Global Challenges Research Fund (GCRF), UKRI supports research that engages with cultural and historic contexts, knowledge bases, creativity, languages, diverse voices and beliefs in lower- and ­m iddle-income countries. See https://ahrc.ukri.org/funding/internationalfunding/ the-global-challenges-research-fund/

References Andrews, J., Holmes, P., Fay, R. and Dawson, S. (2020) Researching multilingually in Applied Linguistics. In H. Rose and J. McKinley (eds) The Routledge Handbook of Research Methods in Applied Linguistics (pp. 76–86). London: Routledge. Burnard, P., Mackinlay, E. and Powell, K. (2016) The Routledge Handbook of Intercultural Arts Research. London: Routledge. Canagarajah, S. (2013) Translingual Practice: Global Englishes and Cosmopolitan ­Relations. New York: Routledge. Chilton, P. (2004) Analysing Political Discourse: Theory and Practice. London: Routledge. Frimberger, K. (2016) A Brechtian theatre pedagogy for intercultural education research. Language and Intercultural Communication 6 (2), 130–147. Harvey, L., McCormick, B. and Vanden, K. (2019) Becoming at the boundaries of language: Dramatic enquiry for intercultural learning in UK higher education. Language and Intercultural Communication 19 (6), 451–470. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2013) Researching multilingually: New theoretical and methodological directions. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 285–299. Holmes, P., Fay, R., Andrews, J. and Attia, M. (2016) How to research multilingually: Possibilities and complexities. In Zhu Hua (ed.) Research Methods in Intercultural Communication (pp. 88–102). London: Wiley. Kamali, L., Forsdick, C. and Dutton, H. (2019) Translating Cultures Theme: Final Report. Liverpool: Arts and Humanities Research Council, University of Liverpool. Ladegaard, H.J. and Phipps, A. (2020a) Translational research: Language, intercultural communication and social action [Special issue]. Language and Intercultural Communication 20 (2), 67–219. Ladegaard, H.J. and Phipps, A. (2020b) Intercultural research and social activism. Language and Intercultural Communication 20 (2), 67–80. MacLure, M. (2013) Researching without representation? Language and materiality in post-qualitative methodology. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 26 (6), 658–667. Pennycook, A. (2018) Posthumanist applied linguistics. Applied Linguistics 39 (4), 445–461. Phipps, A. (2013) Linguistic incompetence: Giving an account of researching multilingually. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 23 (3), 329–341. Phipps, A. (2019) Decolonising Multilingualism: Struggles to Decreate. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Phipps, A. and Kay, R. (2014) Editorial: Languages in migratory settings: Place, politics and aesthetics. Language and Intercultural Communication 14 (3), 273–286.

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Phipps, A. and Ladegaard, H.J. (2020) Notes towards a socially engaged LAIC. Language and Intercultural Communication 20 (2), 218–219. Smith, L.T. (1999/2012) Decolonising Methodologies. London: Zed Books. Walsh, C. and Mignolo, W. (2018) Introduction. In W. Mignolo and C. Walsh (eds) On Decoloniality: Concepts, Analytics, Praxis (pp. 1–14). Durham, US: Duke University Press. Weber, M. (1968) Economy and society: An outline of interpretive sociology. (G. Roth and C. Wittich, Ed. and Trans.). New York: Bedminster Press. Yohannes, H.T. (2020) Commentary. Language and Intercultural Communication 20 (2), 213–217. Zhu, H. (2020) Making a stance: Social action for language and intercultural communication research. Language and Intercultural Communication 20 (2), 206–212. Zhu, H. and Li, W. (2020) Translanguaging, identity and migration. In J. Jackson (ed.) Routledge Handbook of Language and Intercultural Communication (pp. 234–248). London: Routledge.

Index

Abu-Lughod, L. 171, 172, 175, 180, 181 Ackroyd, J. 248, 252 Acosta, A. 287 acteur L 133, 136, 137, 145 action research 74, 85, 247–64 active listening 40 agency, linguistic 70, 73, 122, 142, 159–65 Agha, A. 338 Algeria 10, 70, 72, 74–5 Alhadeff-Jones, M. 55, 56, 57, 60, 63, 135, 137, 139 ‘alterlinguistique’ paradigm 133 altero-reflexivity 66, 136–7, 145, 148 Althusser, L. 171 Aminov, K. 35 Ammon, U. 90, 93 ancestral languages 52–3 Anderson, G.L. 250 Andrade, J. 153 Andrews, J. 8, 86, 211, 217, 239, 240, 282, 346 Anzaldúa, G. 331, 332, 340 Applied Theatre (AT) 247, 252 Apter, E. 213 Arabic as an academic language 70, 78–9 in Algeria 72, 74 directionality of text 125, 216 Gaza 6, 8 literature reviews 77 Luxembourg 213, 215–16 refugees in Cyprus 116–17, 119–22, 124–5 transcription 211 Araújo e Sá, M.H. 10, 11, 308, 321 Aravossitas, T. 171 Aristotle xvii, xviii

Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) 24n(1), 32, 350 assets, linguistic 71, 87, 192, 274–5, 281, 283, 295, 302 see also linguistic repertoires/linguistic resources Atkinson, M. 182, 235 Attia, M. 291 Au, A. 273 audio recordings 74–5, 160–1, 214–20, 223, 337, 339 audism 15, 248–9 Austin, T. 294, 296 autoethnography 132, 138, 144–7, 148, 310–11, 328–9 Backus, A. 111, 112–13, 118, 121, 122, 123, 328, 335, 339 Bagga-Gupta, S. 337 Baggioni, D. 51 Bakhtin, M.M. 115, 154, 155, 164, 201, 298 Baraldi, C. 41 Bartlett, L. 171 Barwell, R. 298–9 Bauman, H.-D.L. 248, 249 Baynham, M. 16, 330, 335, 340 Becker, A. 8, 16, 330 belonging, politics of 329 below, conceptualising languages from 16–17 Bennabi, M. 77 Benrabah, M. 72 Berber languages 74 Berger, P.S. 74 Berthele, R. 311, 314 Betancourt Pérez, É. 157 Bhabha, H. 231–2 Bierschenk, T. 37 353

354  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

Bigelow, M. 9 bilingual classroom assistants 114 bilingual profiles 279, 283, 294–5, 312–13 see also intellectual biographies bilingual publishing practices 94, 103, 106 Bird, C.M. 209 Bizon, A.C.C. 154 Blackledge, A. 8, 112, 154, 158, 159, 269, 287, 289, 290, 294, 300, 337, 339 Blanchet, P. 52, 55, 94, 137, 142 blind spots 189, 196, 204 Blommaert, J. 2, 10, 12, 16, 17, 102, 111, 112–13, 118, 121, 122, 123, 328, 330–1, 335, 336, 339 Bloor, M. 182 Boal, A. 252 bodies of experience 75 Bonfiglio, T.P. 332 Borchgrevink, A. 32, 38, 170, 211 Bot, H. 220, 222 Bourdieu, P. 12, 13, 70, 71, 82, 83, 87, 100, 103, 155, 169, 200 Boutet, J. 95, 103, 105 British Educational Research Association (BERA) 141–4 British Sign Language 247–64 ‘Broken World, Broken Word’ 8 brokerage, linguistic 121 Brown, K. 330, 336 Brumfit, C. 330 Bucholtz, M. 104, 171, 210–11, 212–13, 218, 320 Buckingham, H. 218 Burawoy, M. 296 Burdick, C. 269 Burns, A. 74 Busch, B. 112, 113, 120, 123 Butler, J. 171 Byram, M. 72 Byrd Clark, J. 70, 72–3, 75, 79, 115, 127, 128, 189, 190, 191, 193, 198, 200, 202, 203, 205 Çağlar, A. 332 Calvet, L.J. 134, 145 Calvino, I. xx Cameron, D. 116, 310 Canada 189–208

Canagarajah, S. 7, 8, 14, 65, 73, 86, 176, 268, 269, 327, 328, 337, 340, 348 Canut, C. 96 Caretta, M.A. 32, 38, 182 Caribbean 151–68 Carpooran, A. 50, 52, 53 case study designs 137 Castagno, A.E. 300 caste 169–85 Castellotti, V. 147 Cavalcanti, M.C. 154 Cavalla, C. 93 Chambers, R. 229 Chandras, J. 169 chaos theory 54 Chen, S.H. 71, 80, 84 Cheptum, F.J. 182 children children’s language practices 49–69 as research participants 140 researching with versus researching on 115, 118 Chilisa, B. 72, 82 Chilton, P. 347 Chinese as a foreign language (CFL) 271 Chinese community schools 73 Chiseri-Strater, E. 157–8 choice of language 38, 221, 257, 297, 307–26 Christensen, P. 115, 118 circles of relations 81–2 Clark, A. 140 classroom assistants, bilingual 114 classroom naming practices 268 classroom negotiations 269 classroom research 111–30 co-construction of experiences 52 co-construction of identity 78 co-construction of knowledge 15, 46, 235, 276, 284, 296–7 co-construction of meaning 73, 267–86 codeswitching 113, 126, 176, 178, 192, 219, 331 see also translanguaging cognitive justice 15, 229–46 collaborations between speakers of the same language 119–22

Index 355

collaborative research processes 220 see also team-based research collaborative writing 60 collective co-interpretation 158 colloquial language 116, 144, 176, 182–3, 213, 270, 336 Colombia 287–306 colonialism see also decolonialisation Caribbean 151–68 dominance of Euro-Western languages 72 India 173 Mauritius 51, 131, 133–4 and monolingualism 191–2 third spaces 231–2 and translanguaging 291 community radio 230, 235, 240 comparing translation 159 competence, linguistic see also linguistic repertoires/linguistic resources plurilingualism 74, 192 politics of 336 positionality 330–1 power relations 334 restricted 113, 192, 211, 214, 219, 330–1 semiotic tools 247 in team situations 146 translation 62 and the use of interpreters 230, 234, 237 complexity 49–69, 135, 136, 137, 139 complicity 235, 242–3 conceptual framework of ‘researching multilingually’ 5–9 Connell, R. xix, 11, 14 consent 131, 140–4, 259, 275 constructivism 60–3, 135, 234, 308 conversation analysis 116, 125 coping mechanisms 59 Copland, F. 43, 213, 294 co-researchers 230, 234–43, 254, 256–7, 258, 280, 296–7 Cornwall, A. 32, 41, 254 Cortazzi, M. 297 Couldry, N. 235 Council of Europe 74 countable entities, languages as 7, 16–18, 219, 289, 329–30, 338 covert transcripts 223

creative arts processes 8 credibility 73, 83–4, 85, 86 Creese, A. 8, 43, 112, 154, 158, 199, 202, 213, 269, 287, 289, 290, 294, 300, 337, 339 creole languages 50, 134, 153, 156 see also Kriol; Mauritian Creole (KM) critical consciousness 163 critical dialogical ethnography 157 critical ethnography 151–68, 294, 309–10 critical multilingualism 287, 289–90, 333 critical sociolinguistics 13, 96, 197, 314 critical translanguaging spaces 297–8 Crook, M. 236 cultural capital 71, 73, 80, 82–3, 87, 155 cultural protocols 72 cultural repertoires 196, 267–86, 287 Curry, M.J. 93, 96, 101 Cypriot 116, 118, 125 Cyprus 111–30 Dales, L. 229, 232, 237 Danero Iglesias, J. 170, 211, 220, 237–8 Davidson, P.M. 223 de Mejía, A.M. 292 deaf people 15, 247–64 Deaf Studies 251 decolonialisation see also Part 3; Part 4 decolonial power relations 151 decolonising languages 16–18 decolonising methodologies 14–15, 72, 309 decolonising research practices 292–3 definition xix thematic overview 14–15 and voice to the marginalised 4 definition of ‘researching multilingually’ 2, 7–8 Delgado Luchner, C. 33 Denzin, N.K. 75, 115, 117, 126, 127, 139–40 departmental affiliations 58 Dervin, F. 1, 11, 70, 72–3, 75, 79, 115, 127, 128, 193, 202 Dewaele, J.M. 56 dialogic reflexivity 291, 298 dialogic speech 115

356  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

diaspora 169, 171–2, 181, 182–3 diglossia 53, 60, 65, 66, 116, 133, 141 directionality of text 125, 216 disciplinary rules 103 discourse analysis 116, 212 discrete entities, debate over languages as 7, 16–18, 219, 289, 329–30, 338 dis-experienciation 142 disfluencies 222, 237 dissemination see also research outputs in BSL and English 254 in local languages 43–4 prestige/less-prestigious languages 64–6 document filing 62 doxa 103 Drury, R. 111, 114 dual language publication 94, 103, 106 Duchêne, A. 16, 103, 332, 333 Due, C. 111, 114 Duff, P. 269 Duranti, A. 211, 337 Dutta, M.J. 232 Eade, D. 32, 41 Early Career Researchers (ECRs) 11, 90–108 ECE Project 131–50 Edge, J. 291 education Arabic 74 Caribbean 157 and caste 175 and discrete language ideologies 50 Mauritian Creole (KM) 52–3, 133–4 monolingualism 269 multireferentiality 56–7 official language policies 190 Edwards, R. 32, 230, 238, 239, 241 elite bilingualism 292 Ellis, C. 310 emergent multilingualism 113, 117, 219, 270, 272, 274, 296 Emery, S.D. 249, 251 empathy 10 employability 100, 101, 104, 105, 314 empowerment 119, 146, 162–3, 250, 253–5, 277, 307–26, 340 ‘endangered’ languages 333–4 Engel, P. 54, 133

English as an academic language 61–5, 71–9, 85, 87, 93, 101–2, 126, 322 for administrative purposes 61, 141 in Algeria 81 attitudes towards language choices 93–4 audience size 97–8 bilingual theatre with BSL 247–64 Caribbean 151, 153, 160, 163, 164, 165–6 Colombia 292 colonialism 303 countering dominance of 93–4 Cyprus 116, 118, 122–4, 125 decolonising English-centric epistemology 293–4 Early Career Researchers (ECRs) 90 English as a Foreign Language 74 as a global language 10, 14 global/World Englishes 283, 328 ideologies of academic language 101–2 and imperialism 229 India 176–7, 181, 233, 234 as an international language 35 journals 65, 76–7, 98 as language of publication 11, 93, 94, 96–105 language teachers in Colombia 287–306 as a lingua franca 10, 32, 35, 36, 37, 123, 317 Luxembourg 213 Malta 311, 314 Mauritius 50–1, 139 non-standard varieties of 221, 338 participants’ use of 79 and power dynamics 237 science academia 10, 90, 98, 101, 340 seen as dominant source of knowledge 232 as shared linguistic resource 122–4 simple 141 for transcription annotations 217 transcription of translanguaging 219–20 in transdisciplinary teams 200 in translanguaging 75 Enzenhofer, E. 209–10, 212 Estonia 328, 329

Index 357

ethics 9, 78, 86, 139–44, 148, 198–9, 201, 336–7 ethnography autoethnography 132, 138, 144–7, 148, 310–11, 328–9 children’s language practices 115–17 class and caste in India 171–2, 180, 181–2 complex contexts in the Caribbean 151, 156–9 effect of language choices 308–9 ethics procedures 199 and linguistic incompetence 211 lived experiences of language 234 multilingual teachers in Colombia 287–306 negotiation of power relations 80 transcription 209, 213 and translanguaging 281 and trust 202 and university academia 197 Eurocentricity 14, 33, 152, 166 Evans, M. 231 Evans, R. 32, 43 exit interviews 240–3 expérienciation 51–2, 54, 58, 133, 135–8, 140, 142, 145, 147 experiential learning cycle 6 expert/novice binary 10, 160, 171–2 Fairclough, N. 12 Farsi 118, 123–4, 125 Fassetta, G. 6 Federici, F.M. 33 field (Bourdieu) 71, 74, 79 fieldwork 317–19 First Nations people 192 flexible multilingualism 240 Flores, N. 269, 283–4, 291 fluidity 221 Flutter, J. 136 Flynn, P. 33 focus groups 236, 240, 241–2, 274 Fondin, H. 93 Footitt, H. 34, 44 formal/informal communications 80–2, 83, 86, 176, 180–1 see also colloquial language Forsey, M. 223 Foucault, M. 12, 154, 162, 310 France 11, 90–108

Franklin, P. 11 Frath, P. 94 Freire, P. 15, 248, 249–50, 251, 261 French as an academic language 57–8, 61–2, 64, 66, 78–9, 90–108, 141, 143, 145, 147, 198–200, 321–2 in Algeria 70, 72, 74, 80 audience size 98 in Canada 189–208 Canada 198, 199 as a foreign language 74 French as a Second Language 200 ideologies of academic language 101–2 journals 98 as language of publication 11, 92–3, 94, 96–105 literature reviews 77 Luxembourg 213 Mauritius 50–1, 58, 132, 139, 143, 148 science academia 93–4 Switzerland 311, 316, 317–18 in transdisciplinary teams 200 Gafaranga, J. 309 Gagauzia 327–44 Gagauzian 329, 333, 334–6 Gal, S. 101, 237, 307, 330, 331 Gallego-Balsà, L. 309, 319 Ganassin, S. 9, 73, 123, 126, 131, 144, 155, 158, 165, 170, 211, 240, 308 Gandhi, L. 16 García, O. 8, 16, 17, 112, 156, 162, 170, 176, 191–2, 219, 267–9, 270, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 279, 282, 283, 289, 290, 291, 294 gatekeepers 36–7, 40, 102, 103, 105, 348 Gaventa, J. 254 Gavioli, L. 41 Gaza 6 Geertz, C. 75, 170, 172 gender 174, 179–80, 238, 313 genealogical approaches to language choices and power 309–11, 323 German as an academic language 90, 313, 316–17, 321 Luxembourg 213 Switzerland 311, 318

358  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

Giampapa, F. 13, 155, 170, 172, 182, 308, 309, 312 Gibb, R. 6, 170, 211, 220, 237–8, 308, 316, 323 Gieve, S. 154, 163 Gile, D. 258 Gillam, L. 12 globalisation 53–4, 72, 301 global/World Englishes 283, 328 go-alongs 235–6 Goffman, E. 70, 171 Gonzalez, G. 72 Goodwin, C. 337 Google Drive 60 Google Translate 59 see also machine translation Gramling, D. xix, 7–8 Grant, A. 138 grant applications 199–200, 201–2 Gray, J. 274 Greatbatch, D. 222 Greek 116–17, 118, 120, 121, 123, 125 Green, J. 210 Guba, E.G. 73, 85, 234 Guboglo, M. 334 Guilherme, M. 14, 16 Guillemin, M. 12 Gumperz, J.J. 289, 309 Habermas, J. 12 habitus 71, 85, 86 Halai, N. 65, 144 Halcomb, E.J. 223 Hale, S. 239, 254 Hall, K. 171 Hamman, L. 297 Hammersley, M. 235 Hansen, H.P. 220, 223 Harding, S. 233 Harré, R. 273 Harris, R. 251 Hart, J. 114 Harvey, L. 350 Hayfield, N. 172 Heller, M. 16, 96, 100, 152, 289, 301, 309, 332, 333 Henry, M.G. 169, 172 heritage languages (HL) 169–85, 296 Herr, K. 250 heteroglossia in the classroom 160–2, 165, 166

Hetherington, L.E.J. 137, 140 Hindi 176, 232, 233 historicity 63 Hobsbawm, E. 190 Hochgesang, J.A. 251 Hockey, J. 223 Hogan-Brun, G. 335 Holliday, A. 14, 75 Holmes, P. 2, 5, 10, 33, 50, 71, 72, 73, 75, 85, 112, 117, 123, 131, 135, 155, 157, 165, 167, 170, 199, 205, 211, 212, 232, 260, 267, 308, 340, 345, 346 Hookoomsing, H. 136, 148 Hordge-Freeman, E. 171 Hornberger, N. 170, 171 hospitality, linguistic 31–48 Hughes, J. 252 humility 35, 43 humour 65 Humphries, T. 248, 249 Huxley, C. 172 hybridity 231–2 Hyland, K. 103 iconisation 101 identity acteur L 136 becoming an identity 194, 203, 297 capacity to make oneself understood 12 and caste 175–6 and creole languages 153 deaf people 251, 255–6 diaspora researcher’s 172–3 dual identities 85 expérienciation 148 in field research 12 heritage languages (HL) 169, 170–2 and language choice 81, 85, 86, 99, 105, 309 language insecurity 145 linguistic competence 336 monolingualism 191–2 multilingual identities 60, 63, 122–3, 295–6 multiple separate linguistic identities 191 and named languages 290 negotiation of 66, 78–85, 155, 164–5, 171, 203

Index 359

plurilingualism 70, 74–5, 85 regional identities 178 researcher’s 159, 171–2, 194–7 shared group identity 63–4 social construction of 171, 200 teacher’s 271 translanguaging 8 ideologies academic language ideologies 100–2 audism 248 decolonising languages 17 in education settings 10 heritage languages (HL) 170 iconisation 101 ideologies of English as an academic language 101–2 language-nation-state 190, 192, 289, 330–2 linguistic purity 175–6 monoglossia 269, 281, 283–4, 289 monolingualism 269, 281, 283–4, 299, 301 multilingualism 289, 291, 330 multilingualism as multiple monolingual systems 191 native-speaker ideals 6, 94, 159, 198, 220–1, 237, 275, 296, 321 political ideologies 178, 181 standard languages 339 in team-based research 200 and translation 212 India 169–85, 229–46 Indigenising the academy 189–208 indigenous knowledge 229–46, 294 informal relationships 80–3, 86, 87 informal/formal communications 80–2, 83, 86, 176, 180–1 see also colloquial language informed consent 131, 140–4, 259, 275 INGOs (international nongovernmental organisations) 31–48 insider/outsider positionings 155, 158, 164–5, 172, 173, 181, 198, 242 intellectual biographies 238–40, 243 see also bilingual profiles intentionality as a stance 6, 75 intercultural competence 74, 83, 219 intercultural encounters 79, 84 intercultural intersubjectivity 14

interdisciplinary research collaboration 33 interlingualism 192–3 international aid agenda 32 International Listening Association 34 International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA) 218 international tests 300–1 interpreters 31–48, 117, 118, 128, 229–43, 254, 257–9 interview methods 74–5, 220–4, 235–6, 240, 274, 278, 288, 297 intonation 277 INTRAC (International NGO Training and Research Centre) 35–6, 37 investment in learning languages 312 Irvine, J. 101, 307 Iversen, R.R. 182 Jacobs-Huey, L. 171 Jaffe, A. 220, 221, 222, 307, 330 James, A. 115, 118, 128 Jeppesen, J. 220, 223 Jörg, T. 54 Jørgensen, J.N. 112 journals 65, 294, 322 Kalocsányiová, E. 209, 211, 212, 213, 215, 220, 221 Khan, K. 155 Kharchenko, V.K. 335 King, G. 236 King, K. 9 Kiramba, L. 156, 165 Kleyn, T. 294 knowledge construction co-construction of knowledge 15, 46, 276, 284, 296–7 cognitive justice 229–46 indigenous knowledge 229–46, 294 interpreters’ role in 42 localised knowledge 14 traditional knowledge 229–46 Kolb, D.A. 6 Kramsch, C. 12, 169, 191, 193 Kriol 151, 152, 153, 156–7, 158, 160, 162, 163, 164, 165 Krog, A. 73, 238 Kroskrity, P. 328 Kusenbach, M. 235 Kusters, A. 247–8

360  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

Kvale, S. 221, 222, 223, 224 Kyrgyz language 37, 38, 40, 42, 44 Kyrgyzstan 10, 31–48 Labov, W. 192 Ladd, P. 248 Ladegaard, H.A. 14, 346, 348, 350 Lamoureux, S.A. 13, 170, 308, 309, 312 language anxiety 64 language borders (symbolic) 275 language insecurity 145 language planning 134, 200 language policies xix, 52, 173, 196, 292, 300 see also official language status language portraits 113, 123 see also bilingual profiles language practice 95, 105 language teacher education 287 language tests 300–1, 334–5 language-in-use 16 language-nation-state 190, 192, 289, 330–2 languaging 8, 16, 221, 289, 328, 329–37 see also translanguaging Lansdown, G. 131, 134 Lantolf, J.P. 116 Le Moigne, J.L. 55, 56, 63, 64 Le Page, R. 156, 309 learning languages, researchers’ efforts in 103–4, 106, 128, 169, 173, 211, 232 Lee, T.K. 16, 330, 335, 340 legitimacy 171, 323 Lewis, D. 36 Lewis, S.J. 254 Li Wei 8, 16, 17, 71, 73, 112, 156, 290, 294, 297 Lillis, T. 93, 96, 101 Lin, A.M.Y. 190, 192, 298 Lincoln, Y. 12, 72, 73, 85, 115, 117, 126, 127, 234 linguicism 249 linguistic capital 85, 100, 155, 163 linguistic hospitality 31–48 linguistic marketplaces 100–5 linguistic purity 175–6 linguistic repertoires/linguistic resources approaches to research in refugee classrooms 111–12

decolonising languages 17 demarcation of languages 219 doctoral research 72, 85–6 Early Career Researchers (ECRs) 100–5 heteroglossic ideologies 289–90 in interviews 19–20, 72, 117, 297 for literature searches 78 multilingual doctoral researchers 70–1 multimodality 113, 123–4 negotiation of power relations 79–80 plurilingualism 74 and social class 176 and transdisciplinary approaches 196 translanguaging 156, 267–86, 296 linguistic rights 120 linguistic security 76 listener storytelling 236, 240 listening 31, 33–5 Listening Zones of NGOs: Languages and Cultural Knowledge in Development Programmes 31 literacy histories 294–5 literature reviews 61–2, 72, 76–7, 86, 293–4, 321–2 lived experiences of language 8, 16, 133, 143, 193–4, 204–5, 223, 236, 238 longitudinal research 190 López-Gopar, M.E. 293–4 Luckmann, T. 74 Luxembourg 209–28 Macdonald, M.N. 14 machine translation 59–60, 64, 276 MacLure, M. 15, 349 Magalhaes, I. 154, 163 Magyar, A. 70 Maitland, S. 232 Makoni, S. 16, 17, 156, 289, 330 Malta 311, 314, 318 Māori communities 251 Marathi 169–85 Marcus, P. 235 marginalised voices 4–5, 111, 114–15, 127, 153, 166, 195, 220, 231, 293–4, 309, 345–7 Martín Rojo, L. 309, 310

Index 361

Martin-Jones, M. 12, 13, 155, 158, 166, 294, 307 Mauritian Creole (KM) 50, 52–3, 60–6, 133, 138–9, 141, 143–6 Mauritius 10, 49–69, 131–50 May, S. 190 Mayall, B. 118, 119, 127, 128 Mayorga-Gallo, S. 171 McCarthy, T. 300 McElhinny, B. 301 meaning negotiation 113, 125, 144, 279, 337–41 Medina, R.A. 287 meeting minutes 60 member checking 84, 283, 288 Mendéz, M. 310 Menezes de Souza, L.M. 14, 16 Merriam, S.B. 85 metalinguistic awareness 159, 280–1 methodological nationalism 332 Meyer Pitton, L. 311, 320, 322 Mignolo, W.D.W. xix, 14, 16, 151–2, 166, 332, 349 migration 113, 151, 190, 211, 220–1, 311 Moeran, B. 95 Moïse, C. 95 Moldova 327–44 Moldovan 329 Mondada, L. 223 monoglossia 269, 281, 283–4, 289, 290, 299, 301 monolingualism in education settings 10 heteroglossia in the classroom 165 ideologies 269, 281, 283–4, 299, 301 as norm 191–2 as opposite of multilingualism 7 in universities 71–2, 74, 76–7 Morin, E. 51–2, 54, 55, 56, 63, 66, 137, 139 Morrow, V. 131, 134 Morton, T. 274 Moseley, C. 333 Moss, P. 140 Mosse, D. 36 Moya, D.S. 153, 165 multimodality 73, 113, 123–4, 159 multireferentiality 56–7 Myklebust, H. 249

Nabokov, V. 339 named entities, languages as 7, 16–18, 219, 289, 329–30, 338 naming practices, Chinese 271–2, 276–7 Narayan, K. 171–2, 181 narrative enquiry 75 nation-states and the definition of ‘a language’ 190, 192, 289, 330–2 native-speaker ideals 6, 94, 159, 198, 220–1, 237, 275, 296, 321 Neelands, J. 252 neoliberalism 32, 90, 294, 301, 347 neopositivism 317 new materialism 350 NGOs 10, 31–48 Nicholson, H. 252 Nikander, P. 212, 217 ‘no languages’ 327–44 ‘non-knower’ stance 17 non-linearity 51, 65, 113 ‘non-method’ stance of complexity 56 non-standard languages/varieties 143–4, 272, 327–44 non-verbal communication 203, 247, 269, 281, 337 see also multimodality; semiotic tools Norton, B. 12 novice/expert binary 10, 160, 171–2 Nurjannah, I. 212 Nyamnjoh, F.B. xix O’Brien, D. 251, 260 O’Brien, S. 33 observation grids 137 observing participation 52, 95, 137, 139, 142–3 Ochs, E. 105, 210, 217 official language status Algeria 74 Arabic 116 Canada 190 Caribbean 157 India 233 Kriol 152 Kyrgyzstan 35 Malta 311 Mauritius 50 Switzerland 311 one-language-one-nation 190, 192, 289, 330–2

362  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

ontolinguistique 133, 135–6, 147–8 Oozeerally, S. 50, 51, 53, 54, 56, 133, 134, 136, 148 oral dissemination/presentations 64–5 orthography 210, 218 Otheguy, R. 176, 192, 219 Other 34, 37, 42, 46, 146, 172, 193 outsider, researcher as 79, 157–8, 159, 164–6, 232, 241–2, 317–18 Padden, C. 248 Pahari 111 Palmer, L. 36 PAR (participatory action research) 247–64 paralinguistic cues 217 participant observation 95, 172, 235, 252, 254, 311, 318, 329 participatory action research (PAR) 15 partner, researcher as 158 Patiño Rosselli, C. 153 Pavlenko, A. 138, 339 Pedagogy of the Oppressed 248, 249–50, 251 Pelikan, K. 309, 316, 322, 323 Pennycook, A. 16, 17, 156, 192, 281, 283, 289, 328, 330, 350 Perrin, D. 191, 193 Perry, K.H. 12 Phillipson, R. 275 Phipps, A. 8, 11, 14, 16, 72, 170, 211, 214, 220, 223, 334, 346, 348, 350 phonetic representation 218, 219 Pinter, A. 115, 119, 120, 122, 124 plurilingual contexts 56, 192 plurilingual researcher identities 70, 74–5, 85 political entities, named languages as 16 politics of belonging 329 choice of language 307–26, 332 of field sites 233–4 of linguistic competence 336 named entities, languages as 7, 16–18, 219, 289, 329–30, 338 researching multilingually as political action 347–9 of transcription 210–13 of translanguaging 291

positionality auto-ethnography 310–11 being upfront about 194–9 decolonising methodologies 14 effect of language choices 308 ethnography as non-neutral 157–8 expérienciation 148 in field research 12 insider/outsider positionings 155, 158, 164–5, 172, 173, 181, 198, 242 as language ‘non-knower’ 340 postcolonialism 232–3 reflexivity about 137 researcher-participant 296–7 researchers as outsider 79, 157–8, 159, 164–6, 232, 241–2, 317–18 researchers in Colombia 159–65 teacher-student 277 translanguaging corriente 273 translanguaging stance 294–5 transversal 203 positivism 55, 308 postcolonialism xix, 15, 16, 229–46 posthumanist approaches 350 postmodernism 192–3, 194, 202 post-positivism 199 post-reflective accounts 9, 117–18, 144–7, 243 poststructuralism 16, 290 power relations see also Part 2 audism 248–9 child-adult 114–15, 122 choice of language 332 classroom research 114–15 colonial languages 333–4 critical consciousness 163 decolonial power relations 151, 152 doctoral research 78–85 ‘endangered’ languages 333 expert/novice binary 160 gatekeepers of ECRs 102–3 initiator-collaborator 277–8 and knowledge 310 language choices 80, 307–26 and language statuses 7–8 linguicism 249 in Mauritius 133–4 negotiation of 80 and participant voice 154–6 and postcolonialism 231

Index 363

within research groups 146–7, 148 researcher-interpreter 240 researcher-participant 73, 114, 118, 139–40, 145, 155, 164–5, 232, 273, 275, 283 researching multilingually as political action 347–9 and social class 176 and social positioning 154 sociological contexts 33 teacher-student 275 and terminology usage 41 thematic overview 11–14 and translation 212, 237 use of children’s main language 138–9 pratique langagière 95, 105 Preece, S. 171 preschools 51–67, 131–50 prestige 51, 64, 133, 141 primary schools, languages in 50 procedural ethics 12 profiles, bi/multilingual 279, 283, 294–5, 312–13 pronouns of address 146–7 pronunciation 160, 175, 216, 217–19, 280, 320 prosody 217 Prout, A. 115 publication, language of 11, 90–108, 321 Pugach, M.C. 294 pupil voice 136 Purdy, M.W. 34 raizales 156–7, 158, 160, 162, 166 Rajah-Carim, A. 133 Ramasawmy, S. 54 Rampton, B. 126, 213 Rappaport, J. 158 rapport/trust 9, 37–8, 157, 235, 250, 267–86 readability 59 reflective journals 75, 223 reflexivity, researcher altero-reflexivity 66, 136–7, 145, 148 challenging methodologies 72–3, 75–8 creating spaces for 233 delayed reflexivity 236–7 dialogic process 115

dialogic reflexivity 291, 298 effect of language choices 308 language choices 86 non-verbal communication 203 post-reflective accounts 9, 117–18, 144–7, 243 and researcher power 12 transcription 223 transdisciplinary approaches 193, 195–6, 200, 202 translanguaging 298–9, 301–2 translingual mindsets 284 refugees 111–30 register (formal/informal communications) 80–2, 83, 86, 176, 180–1, 338–9 relationships within research communities see also team-based research centrality of language to 6–7, 10 decolonising methodologies 14 de-linking/disengagement 182 initiator-collaborator 272 power relations 11–14 reflexivity, researcher 75 relationship-building activities 118, 142 researcher-interpreter 238–40 researcher-participant 283, 347 transdisciplinary approaches 191, 199–202 repertoires see cultural repertoires; linguistic repertoires/linguistic resources Resch, K. 209–10, 212 research diaries 157, 172, 223, 254 Research Excellence Framework 32 research funding 46, 58, 199–202, 205, 309, 313–15, 349–50 research outputs in BSL and English 254 choosing the language of 64–6, 321–2 in local languages 43–4 multilingual data presentation 124–6 publication language choices of ECRs 90–108 in research funding applications 46 research planning 45, 333 research teams see team-based research researcher recruitment practices 315–16

364  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

Researching Multilingually at the Borders of Language, the Body, Law and the State 8, 24 ‘Researching Multilingually’ project 7, 24, 345–52 Richards, M. 131, 134 Richardson, M. 247, 248, 250, 256 Ricoeur, P. 34, 37, 42, 46 Riessman, C.K. 224, 237 Rinaldi, C. 131 Risager, K. xx, 1, 11 RMly@Borders project 8, 24 Roberts, C. 210, 222, 225, 320 Robillard, D. (de) 51, 54, 55, 56, 60, 63, 66, 94, 133, 135, 136–7, 142, 145, 147–8 Robinson-Pant, A. 65, 70, 71, 72, 78, 213 Robson, S. 71 Rosa, J. 269 Ross, J. 212, 222, 223 Ross, K. 310 Roy, S. 190, 198 Rughoonundun-Chellapermal, N. 53 Russell, A.J. 254 Russian Kyrgyzstan 35, 37, 38, 42, 44 Moldova 328, 329, 333, 334–6 Switzerland 311, 313, 315, 319–20 Ryan, J. 86 Said, E. 14 Saldana, G. 33 sampling methods 135 San Andrés Island 151–68 Sanmiguel, R. 153 Santos, B.D.S. xix, 231 Schedel, L.S. 311, 317, 322 Schiller, N.G. 332 Schissel, J.L. 269 Schwarz-Shea, P. 233 Seeber, K.G. 258 Seidman, I. 278, 283 self-organisation 64 self-other dialectal relationships 193 semiotic tools 113, 118, 247, 277, 281, 284, 290, 337 Shaffir, W. 182 Shatnawi, M. 209, 212, 215, 220 Shawi 74

Sign Language Interpreted Performances (SLIPs) 248–9, 250 sign languages 15, 247–64 Siguán, M. 153 silencing of children 134, 140, 141–4 colonialism 131, 237 and linguistic incompetence 211 Listening Zones (Kyrgyzstan project) 44 of non-English academic practices 309 power hierarchies 348 researcher’s role in 13 of the researcher’s voice 142, 146 translation 148, 237 triple layers of 143–4 Simpson, M. 37 Singh, M. 2, 10, 70, 72, 78, 86 Singleton, J.L. 248 Sithole, T. 87n(1) Skutnabb-Kangas, T. 249 Slater, D. 234 Smith, A.B. 131, 134, 140 Smith, K. 182 Smith, L.T. 14, 72, 73, 294, 309, 349, 350 Snow, D.A. 182 social act, dialogue as 73 social action, researching multilingually as 346–7 social class 169–85 social constructionism 74, 112, 171, 210–11 social justice 4, 201, 290, 291, 294, 309 social networks 170, 174, 179–80, 316 social practice, language as 12, 96, 287, 289 socially situated subjectivity 152 sociocultural theory 34, 112, 115, 116 Sousa Santos, B. 155 Spanglish 195, 331, 333, 340 Spanish as an academic language 90, 158 Caribbean 151, 153, 157, 158, 163, 165 Colombia 292, 294 as colonial language 294, 303 spatiality 75 Spencer-Oatey, H. 11

Index 365

Spyrou, S. 115, 128 St. John, O. 337 standard versus non-standard language varieties 143–4, 272, 328, 330–1 Stebbins, R.A. 182 Steffen, G. 309, 314 Stelma, J. 6 Stemper, K. 9 Stoler, A.L. 291 storytelling 236, 240 strategic language choices 99–100 structuralism 54 superdiversity 10, 212, 328 supervision of doctoral students 71–2, 74 Swain, M. 289 Switzerland 311, 313–14 taboo 53 Tabouret-Keller, A. 156, 192, 309 Tamil 230, 232, 233, 239, 240 Tanu, D. 229, 232, 237 Taylor, N.J. 131, 134, 140 teacher education 287–306 team-based research collaborative grant writing 199–202 complexity lens on 49–69 co-researchers 230, 234–43, 254, 256–7, 258, 280, 296–7 empowerment 316–17 interpreters 31–48, 117, 118, 128, 229–43, 254, 257–9 negotiating power relations 146–7 transcription 220 technolinguistics 54 Tedlock, B. 142 Temple, B. 32, 119, 124–5, 230, 237, 238 ten Thije, J.D. 219 Tesseur, W. 34 textual ideologies 101, 102 theatre 247–64 thematic analysis 117, 252–3 thick description 75, 170, 172, 174, 215 third spaces 231–2 Thompson, D. 248, 250 Thornborrow, J. 12 Thorne, S.L. 116 Tierney, W.G. 12 Tilley, S.A. 209, 222 Tirvassen, R. 54

Tonkin, E. 211, 214 tourism 311, 313–14, 318 traditional knowledge 229–46 transcription 79, 119, 125, 162, 209–28, 309, 319–21 transdisciplinary approaches 189–208 translanguaging see also linguistic repertoires/linguistic resources in Algeria 79 and authenticity of data 84 colloquial/formal register 176–7 creole languages 156 in data collection processes 159–63 decolonising 16, 17, 290–1 doctoral research 72–3, 86 formal/informal communications 80–2, 83, 86 language as a situated practice 159 language portraits 113 multilingual doctoral researchers 71 multilingual teachers in Colombia 287–306 multimodality 73 negotiation of power relations 80–1 non-standard languages 335 opposition to 300–2 pedagogy as methodology 267–86 planning for 276–8 as preferable concept to ‘language’ 8–9 between sign and verbal languages 258 and social class 169–70, 176 stance 273–6, 294–7 three-stranded rope 273 transcription 219 transdisciplinary approaches 193, 200, 201 translanguaging corriente 270, 273–4, 276–81 translation between academic languages 146 as analytic category 237 and assumed audiences 219–20 benefits of presenting data untranslated 126 comparing translation 42–3 conveying nuances of meaning 82 as cultural mediation 212 decolonising methodologies 15 doctoral research 159

366  The Politics of Researching Multilingually

footnotes 339–40 of key theoretical constructs 147 and language choice 309, 320–1 linguistic hospitality 34 of literature reviewed 61 loss of cultural richness 43, 144 loss of semantic nuance 144 machine translation 59, 64, 276 ’mixed up’ translation 338–9 multilingual data presentation 124–5 into non-standard language forms 338 politics of transcription 210–13 and power dynamics 119 of research outputs 44, 201, 321–2 of research proposals 199 of search terms 77 silencing 148, 237 transcription 212 transcription of translanguaging 219–20 transdisciplinary approaches 201, 202 translating Western concepts into non-Western languages 40–2, 65, 77, 144 untranslatability 144 using peers for 121 Translation Studies 33, 232 translingual activism 283 translingual mindsets 9, 86, 282–4, 294 trauma 114, 121 Tremlett, A. 170, 212, 214 Trifonas, P. 171 triglossia 153 trust/rapport 9, 37–8, 157, 235, 250, 267–86 trustworthiness 73, 81, 84, 85–6, 127, 202 Tsuda, Y. 221 Tuck, E. 302 Turner, G.H. 249 Turner, L. 138 Turner, S. 32 Turner, Y. 71 UK Research and Innovation 33 UN Convention on the Rights of the Child 115

‘unequal role relations’ 11–12 UNESCO 333 UNHCR 41 universities and doctoral research 70–89 as field 74, 79 French 92 hegemonic structures 10 institutional cultural capital 82–3 internationalisation of 2, 10, 70, 87 monolingualism 71–2 neoliberalism 347 transdisciplinary approaches 197–8 unstable language practices 54–5 ‘unthinking’ 57 untranslatability 144 Vakser, S. 209, 224, 320 Valdés, G. 275, 285n(4) Van Doorslaer, L. 33 Vertovec, S. 328 video recordings 337 videoconferencing 288 Vigouroux, C. 215 virtual communication 6, 8 visibilisation 66, 303 Visvanathan, S. 15, 229, 231, 237, 243 voice see also silencing accurate representation of participants’ 224 authentic voice 115, 118–24 capacity to make oneself understood 12 of children 134, 136 children’s voice 131–50 critical sociolinguistics 13 eliminating researcher’s 118 hiding through translation 217 innovative ways of transcribing 222 marginalised voices 4–5, 111, 114–15, 127, 153, 166, 195, 220, 231, 293–4, 309, 345–7 pupil voice 136 represented by actual language not translation 126 as ‘speaking consciousness’ 154 translanguaging 8 Vygotsyky, L.S. 116 Wadensjö, C. 220, 222 Waldrop, M. 54

Index 367

Walsh, C.E. xix, 14, 152, 166, 349 Warner, C. 197, 198 Warriner, D.S. 9 Weber, M. 346 Wierzbicka, A. 331, 340 Williams, C. 269 Wolf, A. 71, 72, 78 Wolvin, A.D. 33–4 Wood, F. 182 Woolard, K. 170 World Englishes 283

Yacob-Haliso, O. 172 Yang, K.W. 302 Yanow, D. 233 Yohannes, H.T. 348 Yule, G. 218 Yuval-Davis, N. 329 Zavala, M. 294 Zhu, H. 73 Zhu Hua 346, 347, 348, 349 Ziai, A. 340