Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy: Global Perspectives 9781847694478

Citation preview

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS Series Editor: John Edwards, St. Francis Xavier University, Canada Multilingual Matters series publishes books on bilingualism, bilingual education, immersion education, second language learning, language policy, multiculturalism. The editor is particularly interested in ‘macro’ level studies of language policies, language maintenance, language shift, language revival and language planning. Books in the series discuss the relationship between language in a broad sense and larger cultural issues, particularly identity related ones. 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.

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS Series Editor: John Edwards, St. Francis Xavier University, Canada

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy Global Perspectives Edited by Catrin Norrby and John Hajek

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS Bristol • Buffalo • Toronto

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy: Global Perspectives/Edited by Catrin Norrby and John Hajek. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Language policy. 2. Language and languages–Variation. I. Norrby, Catrin. II. Hajek, John. P119.3.U55 2011 306.44’9–dc23 2011028015 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue entry for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN-13: 978-1-84769-446-1 (hbk) ISBN-13: 978-1-84769-445-4 (pbk) Multilingual Matters UK: St Nicholas House, 31-34 High Street, Bristol BS1 2AW, UK. USA: UTP, 2250 Military Road, Tonawanda, NY 14150, USA. Canada: UTP, 5201 Dufferin Street, North York, Ontario M3H 5T8, Canada. Copyright © 2011 Catrin Norrby, John Hajek 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 Datapage International Ltd. Printed and bound in Great Britain by the MPG Books Group.

Contents Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .vii Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi General Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level Introduction to Part 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec: French as a Force for Unity in a Diverse Society? Jane Warren and Leigh Oakes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation? The Case of Swedish as the ‘Principal Language’ of Sweden Sally Boyd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Language Policy and Smaller National Languages: The Baltic States in the New Millennium Uldis Ozolins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Language Policy in Australia: What Goes Up Must Come Down? Paulin G. Djite´ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Regional Languages, the European Charter and Republican Values in France Today Leigh Oakes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . .3

. . . . . . .7

. . . . . . 22

. . . . . . 37

. . . . . . 53

. . . . . . 68

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice: Indigenous and Migrant Languages in Education Introduction to Part 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 6 Breton Language Maintenance and Regeneration in Regional Education Policy Tadhg O´ hIfearna´in . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 7 Language Policy in Spain: The Coexistence of Small and Big Languages David Lasagabaster . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 v

vi

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

8

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico: The Case of Spanish Catherine E. Travis and Daniel J. Villa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 9 Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia Gillian Wigglesworth and David Lasagabaster . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 10 Bringing Asia to the Home Front: The Australian Experience of Asian Language Education through National Policy Yvette Slaughter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds Introduction to Part 3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Testing Identity: Language Tests and Australian Citizenship Kerry Ryan and Tim McNamara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War in Northern Ireland Diarmait Mac Giolla Chrı´ost . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol Claudia Maria Riehl and John Hajek . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Addressing Policy on the Web: Netiquettes and Emerging Policies of Language Use in German Internet Forums Heinz L. Kretzenbacher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Language Policy in Practice: What Happens When Swedish IKEA and H&M Take ‘You’ On? Catrin Norrby and John Hajek . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry Deborah Cameron . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . 177 . . 180

. . 195 . . 210

. . 226

. . 242 . . 258

Author Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273 Subject Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277

Contributors Sally Boyd is Professor of General Linguistics at the University of Gothenburg in Sweden. Her research interests focus on multilingualism from a sociolinguistic perspective, and her work includes research on language policy and language legislation in Sweden, language use among youth in multiethnic and multilingual urban areas, and attitudes to foreign accents in Swedish schools. Deborah Cameron is a sociolinguist and discourse analyst whose research interests are language, gender and sexuality, language ideologies and the effects of globalization on language. Her publications include Verbal Hygiene (1995), Good To Talk? Living and Working in a Communication Culture (2000) and On Language and Sexual Politics (2006). She is Professor of Language and Communication at the University of Oxford. Paulin G. Djite´ teaches Sociolinguistics, Translation and Interpreting and French in the School of Humanities and Languages at the University of Western Sydney. His books include From Language Policy to Language Planning: An Overview of Key Languages in Australia (1994), Voir l’Ame´rique et mourir (1992), The Sociolinguistics of Development in Africa (2008) and The Language Difference: Language and Development in the Greater Mekong SubRegion (2011). John Hajek, a former research fellow at the universities of Oxford and Melbourne, is Professor in Italian Studies at the University of Melbourne where he has held appointments in linguistics and Italian since 1995. He is Director of the Research Unit for Multilingualism and Cross-Cultural Communication at the University of Melbourne. He has more than 100 publications, covering a wide area of linguistic topics: sociolinguistics, phonetics, phonology and linguistic typology, with a special interest in Italian and other European languages, as well as the languages of the Asia-Pacific region. Heinz L. Kretzenbacher is Senior Lecturer in German at the University of Melbourne and specialises in German linguistics, German as a foreign vii

viii

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

language, and languages for special purposes. He has published numerous articles in these fields, both in English and in German. David Lasagabaster is Associate Professor of English Studies at the University of the Basque Country. He has published widely on second/ third language acquisition, CLIL (content and language integrated learning), attitudes and motivation, bilingualism and multilingualism. Among his latest publications are Multilingualism in European Bilingual Contexts: Language Use and Attitudes (2007, edited with A. Huguet) and CLIL in Spain: Implementation, Results and Teacher Training (2010, edited with Y. Ruiz de Zarobe). Since 2008, he has been a member of the executive committee of the International Association for Language Awareness. Diarmait Mac Giolla Chrı´ost is Reader in the School of Welsh, Cardiff University. He is a native of Ireland and an authority on linguistic minorities and language planning, and, in particular, the situation of the Irish language. He is author of a number of books, including Language and the City (2007) and The Irish Language in Ireland: From Goı´del to Globalisation (2005). Tim McNamara is Professor of Applied Linguistics at the University of Melbourne. His main areas of research are language testing, in particular its social and political aspects, and language and identity. His publications include Measuring Second Language Performance (1996), Language Testing (2000) and Language Testing: The Social Dimension (2006, with C. Roever). Catrin Norrby is Professor of Scandinavian Languages at Stockholm University and Principal Fellow in the School of Languages and Linguistics at the University of Melbourne. She has published several monographs, edited books, textbooks and articles in the areas of sociolinguistics, discourse analysis and second language acquisition, both in English and in Swedish. She is co-author of Language and Human Relations: Styles of Address in Contemporary Language (2009, with Michael Clyne and Jane Warren). ´ hIfearna´in is Senior Lecturer in Irish at the University of Tadhg O Limerick. Before moving to Limerick in 1996, he worked in the Breton and Celtic Department of the Universite´ de Haute Bretagne
Rennes 2 and continues to collaborate with colleagues and friends in Brittany. His main research concentrations are language policy, ideology and practice, as well as standardisation and revitalisation in relation to minoritised languages. He has conducted a number of field-based and theoretical

Contributors

ix

research projects on the contemporary sociolinguistics of the Celtic languages of Ireland, the Isle of Man, Nova Scotia and Brittany. Leigh Oakes is Reader in French and Linguistics at Queen Mary, University of London. His areas of specialisation are language and national identity in France, Que´bec and Sweden; language planning; language attitudes; variation in French; language in the European Union; language and globalisation. He is author of Language and National Identity: Comparing France and Sweden (2001) and Language, Citizenship and Identity in Quebec (2007, with Jane Warren). Uldis Ozolins teaches Politics at La Trobe University, Melbourne, and is adjunct Associate Professor at the University of Western Sydney. He has published extensively on language policy in Australia, the Baltic States and wider international contexts, with a particular interest in the politics of language in the context of ethnicity and nationalism. Claudia Maria Riehl is a leading European expert in multilingualism, language contact and conflict and second language writing. Author of numerous books and other publications in all of these areas, she is Professor of German Linguistics and Vice-Director of the Centre of Language Diversity and Multilingualism at the University of Cologne. Kerry Ryan has a background in language testing, having worked at the University of Melbourne’s Language Testing Research Centre since 2005. His research interests centre largely around the use of language tests for political purposes. He is currently doing a PhD on the Australian citizenship test at the Institute for Social Research, Swinburne University of Technology. Yvette Slaughter completed her doctorate on the study of Asian languages in Australia. Her areas of interest include language policy and the many issues that impact on the study of languages in Australia, including the provision and uptake of languages and attitudes to languages and language learning. Catherine E. Travis is Associate Professor with a joint appointment in the Department of Spanish and Portuguese and Department of Linguistics at the University of New Mexico (PhD La Trobe University, Australia, 2001). In her research she seeks to better understand the ways in which grammar emerges from language use through the study of patterns of syntactic variation in spoken discourse. She has worked with both contact and non-contact varieties of Spanish (namely Colombian and New Mexican Spanish), as well as English, Japanese and Portuguese.

x

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

Daniel J. Villa is Professor of Spanish in the Department of Languages and Linguistics at New Mexico State University, Las Cruces, New Mexico. His teaching and research interests include Spanish/English language maintenance and shift, the demographics and economic presence of Spanish speakers in the United States, the sociolinguistic study of Southwest Spanish and the teaching of Spanish to heritage speakers. His work has been published in journals such as the Foreign Language Annals, Language Learning and Technology, the Southwest Journal of Linguistics and Spanish in Context, as well as in two books and a number of edited collections. Jane Warren is Honorary Fellow in the School of Languages and Linguistics at the University of Melbourne. She has published at the juncture of sociolinguistics and cultural studies, in journals such as Culture, Theory and Critique and French Cultural Studies. She is co-author of Language, Citizenship and Identity in Quebec (2007, with Leigh Oakes) and Language and Human Relations: Styles of Address in Contemporary Language (2009, with Michael Clyne and Catrin Norrby). Gillian Wigglesworth is Professor of Linguistics and Applied Linguistics at the University of Melbourne. Her research interests include first and second language acquisition, language testing and evaluation, and bilingualism, using both quantitative and qualitative approaches to data collection and analysis. She is currently working on two research projects examining Indigenous children’s language acquisition in remote communities in Australia. Her most recent publications include Bilingualism: An Advanced Resource Book (2007, with B.C. Ng) and Children and Language in Multilingual Communities (2008, edited with Jane Simpson).

Acknowledgements The first ideas for this book arose out of a workshop that we organised on language policy in practice which was held in September 2008 within the School of Languages and Linguistics at the University of Melbourne in Australia. The workshop was initially arranged around the visit of Sally Boyd from Sweden to the School. We then invited a number of local researchers to present their work on the same topic
across a wide range of different contexts. The workshop was very successful and generated substantial interest amongst all participants, including the audience. As a result, a permanent record of our presentations and discussions seemed an appropriate outcome. Those who presented at the workshop subsequently agreed to contribute to our volume, as did a select number of Australian and international contributors who were invited to share their expertise on language policy issues. We wish to acknowledge the support of our School and Faculty which both sponsored Sally Boyd’s visit through the Faculty Visitors Scheme and, in particular, that of the Research Unit for Multilingualism and Cross-cultural Communication, which formally hosted the workshop. We are also grateful to the Swedish Institute’s financial contribution towards the event. Special thanks must go to Jane Warren, our colleague and research co-worker for many years at the University of Melbourne, but now resident of the United Kingdom. She very kindly agreed, in addition to contributing as an author, to help with the final editing necessary for submission of the complete manuscript to Multilingual Matters. Not only did she take on responsibility for the fiddly practicalities of the final formatting, she also provided insightful comments on style and expression. Thanks also to our colleague Doris Schu¨pbach for expertly compiling the book’s comprehensive index. Finally, we thank each of the contributors to this volume. It really has been a wonderful experience working with the many colleagues who

xi

xii

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

were willing to share with us their expertise with respect to language policy. It is our hope that readers will find the book’s broad take on language policy manifest in many different guises and forms interesting and thought-provoking. The Editors

General Introduction In various Western societies around the world, the past decades have witnessed a shift from language policies in which a single, national language has been promoted to policies in which other, usually minority (Indigenous and migrant), languages have been increasingly taken into account. This volume has two main aims. It compares and contrasts language policies
recent and past
and their practical outcomes in various settings, including, but not, restricted to the following countries: Australia, the Baltic States, Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Northern Ireland, Spain, Sweden, the United Kingdom and the United States. It also explores the increasingly dominant role of English in many speech communities, and how English as a global force interacts with national, transnational or local interests in a variety of contexts. The volume sheds new light on compelling and challenging situations in a range of speech communities that vary in size and power in a global context. In particular, it addresses the extent to which language policy discourses tend towards language uniformity or diversity. ‘Language policy’ is examined in its various manifestations
public or private, or even commercially driven. The contributions scrutinise how policies are not only implemented but also resisted, contested and even manipulated. In other words, the volume brings together research on language policies across a range of communities within everyday reality as evidenced in how language policy works in practice
in the educational sector, the corporate world and in day-to-day interactions between people in various settings. The contributions draw on different but complimentary methodologies, using quantitative and qualitative approaches. The volume consists of 16 chapters divided into three parts, each representing a specific focus on language policy. In Part 1
Language Policy at the Official Level
the emphasis is on the most recent developments in official language policy through legislation in a number of countries. A theme common to all contributions in this first part is that of tension
tension between majority language(s) and minority languages of different size and status, but also tension created by the xiii

xiv

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

power of English and its impact on the linguistic landscape of some of the communities described here. Part 1 opens with an exploration by Jane Warren and Leigh Oakes of the role of French as a force for unity in Quebec, Canada. As is the case in other Western democracies, Quebec is home to a culturally and linguistically diverse population. In addition to the majority French
Canadian group, there is an increasingly diverse range of migrant groups, as well as Aboriginal and Anglophone minorities with longstanding demands for recognition. However, unlike other Western societies, Quebec’s lack of independent statehood, as a French-speaking province within an English
French bilingual Canadian state, means that it has to constantly affirm its Francophone identity. The authors examine current official discourse, which emphasises the unifying force of the French language as a means of fostering a sense of belonging among Quebec’s minorities, and the extent to which this has been embraced by the minority groups themselves. The authors argue that outside the French
Canadian majority, the generations of young Quebecers of immigrant background represent the best chance for the future of French in Quebec. Chapter 2, by Sally Boyd, critically examines the recently adopted (July 2009) language law for Sweden and compares its aims and rationale with the situation in other countries in the European Union. Swedish language legislation is a direct response to increasing pressure from English as a superposed language in high-status contexts and the increasing language diversity represented by five official historical minority languages and close to 200 migrant languages. The law declares Swedish to be the principal language of the country, confirms the status of the historical minority languages and Swedish sign language, and requires public authorities and bodies to use Swedish as their primary language. It also stipulates that Swedish is the official language of Sweden in international contexts and gives public authorities responsibility for individuals’ right to language. One of Boyd’s conclusions is that the law is inconsistent: despite its explicit aim to protect language diversity, it has monolingual individuals and contexts as the norm. By aiming to reinforce the position of Swedish vis-a`-vis English, the law may in fact have negative consequences for speakers of languages not recognised to be part of the Swedish cultural heritage, that is the languages of recent migrants and their children. The topic of Chapter 3, presented and analysed by Uldis Ozolins, is recent language policy in the post-independent Baltic States (Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania) where the political aim has been to reverse the

General Introduction

xv

previous dominance of Russian by implementing language policies that make the national language the sole official language in each country. In Estonia and Latvia, language legislation has been taken one step further by making basic competence in the national language a condition for citizenship, a matter that has consequences for the substantial number of Russian speakers who settled there during the Soviet era. Seen as essential post-colonial measures by the Baltic States after a long period of Soviet occupation, these policies are endlessly criticised by Moscow as discriminatory. However, Ozolin’s analysis of the contemporary Baltic sociolinguistic situation reveals a willingness to learn and use the national languages in question on the part of many Russian speakers and a marked degree of linguistic tolerance from all sections of the population, belying the political rhetoric that focuses on conflict. Chapter 4 shifts the perspective to language policy in an Englishdominant community
Australia. Paulin G. Djite´ presents an overview of the different phases of Australian language policy dating back to the 1870s and charts the shift from an assimilationist focus to a policy of inclusion and linguistic diversity characteristic of the public discourse of the late 1970s, which culminated in the National Language Policy implemented in 1987. However, the period since the mid-1990s is in sharp contrast to the enthusiasm generated in earlier decades, and language policy is no longer high on the public agenda. There are several reasons for the changing climate, and the chapter investigates how the changing ideological context of language policy as well as economic concerns can help explain the disabling and narrowing changes in recent years. In the final chapter of Part 1, Leigh Oakes offers an analysis of the changing nature of official French language policy. France has a long and difficult history of coming to terms with its regional languages, as evidenced most recently by reactions to the Council of Europe’s Charter for Regional or Minority Languages. Following an intense public debate in the late 1990s, the government signed the Charter but never ratified it on account of an adverse ruling by the Constitutional Council barely a month afterwards. Oakes reviews developments since then and examines the official position on regional languages in the new Sarkozy era and the debate in 2008 that culminated in their being included in the Constitution. The chapter also considers how regional languages are helping France to rethink its republican values so as to make the latter better suited to the realities of the 21st century. In Part 2
Language Policy in Practice: Indigenous and Migrant Languages in Education
the focus of inquiry shifts to the practical implementation

xvi

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

of official language policy in education. The contributions in this part all highlight the role of minority languages in education and how they interact with the majority language(s) in the respective communities. The minority
majority situations examined range from regional languages in France and Spain and Indigenous languages in Australia to varieties of Spanish in New Mexico and Asian languages in Australia. ´ hIfearna´in opens Part 2 with an investigation of ideology, Tadhg O accommodation and conflict in Breton language education. Despite overt policies in school, judicial and administrative spheres to suppress it, Breton remained a major language in rural western Brittany until the mid-20th century and was cultivated in literate intellectual circles. In the second half of the century a dramatic reduction in intergenerational transmission occurred, attributed largely to the rapid integration of Breton speakers into mainstream French society, accompanied by a welldocumented ambivalence of native speakers to language maintenance, and even their hostility to revivalism. This chapter charts a radical shift in the language attitudes and practices of speakers and local institutions over the last 10 years, reflected in widespread public support for Breton and the development of language promotion policies by Brittany’s Regional Council. It critiques aspects of the emerging language policy in the context of the experiences of language professionals, activists who navigate between traditional dialect and standard varieties, promoting their language through public structures long employed to marginalise it. The subject matter of this chapter links to Leigh Oakes’ chapter in Part 1 on France’s changing stance toward the regional minority languages spoken there. In Chapter 7, David Lasagabaster examines the interaction between the national majority language, Spanish, and the co-official regional languages Basque, Catalan and Galician in the context of bilingual education programmes that promote education in the regional languages. At the same time, Spanish society at large is well aware of the need to learn foreign languages and English has overwhelmingly become the main foreign language, its presence increasing through the burgeoning of CLIL (Content and Language Integrated Learning) programmes. The number of Basque, Catalan and Galician speakers is currently steadily rising, but this is taking place in a context of increased immigration and the presence of foreign languages, especially English. The author argues that if regional languages are to survive and prosper, multilingualism needs to become a clear objective in schools and be openly discussed. The chapter focuses on the Basque educational system

General Introduction

xvii

where CLIL is encouraging greater cooperation among language teachers at secondary level, resulting in a more coordinated language curriculum. In Chapter 8, Catherine E. Travis and Daniel J. Villa present an overview of the history of Spanish spoken in the American state of New Mexico and outline the complex linguistic situation that exists today. New Mexican Spanish has a unique history in the United States. It existed in the region before the first English speakers arrived in the Americas and has had an uninterrupted presence since 1598. ‘Traditional New Mexican Spanish’ is still spoken in parts of the state and today exists alongside ‘Border Spanish’, various dialects of northern Modern Mexican Spanish and, of course, English. The state of New Mexico is exceptional in that it affords some constitutional protection to Spanish not granted it in other American states. Despite this, Spanish in New Mexico continues to show ongoing signs of decline, with signs of greatest retention primarily in the border regions through continued migration from Mexico. This chapter presents an overview of the history of Spanish spoken in the state and outlines the complex linguistic situation that exists today. The authors consider language policy, in particular in regards to bilingual education, and what the implications of such policies have been for the maintenance and loss of New Mexican Spanish. The final two chapters of Part 2 both examine linguistic diversity in education in Australia, but otherwise address very different issues. Gillian Wigglesworth and David Lasagabaster examine the language challenge of educating Australia’s Indigenous children. Many Indigenous children grow up in a highly complex linguistic environment: in some communities the traditional languages are still being acquired, in some new mixed languages are emerging and in others Kriol
the creole spoken in Western Australia, the Northern Territory and Queensland
has become the language of the community. In most cases, when children begin to attend school they encounter Standard Australian English, a language many of them do not speak. The chapter discusses the role for bilingual education in Indigenous languages and Standard Australian English, focusing on the Northern Territory. Although the Northern Territory has the highest proportion of Indigenous people in the country, its various educational policies have left bilingual programmes in Indigenous languages seriously undermined. The authors conclude that the current outlook for Australian Indigenous languages is bleak. What is required is strong support for bilingual education from government, both state/territory and federal, adequately prepared and experienced teachers, and the involvement of local communities.

xviii

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

In the closing chapter of Part 2, Yvette Slaughter discusses Asian language-in-education development in Australia and argues that Australia provides an ideal case study because of its location within the Asia-Pacific region and federal government commitment to increasing the nation’s Asia literacy. The chapter shows that successful implementation of Asian language education is not unproblematic and depends on several factors, including convincing Australians of the need to prioritise four specific languages (Mandarin, Indonesian, Japanese and Korean), maintaining the balance and support for language learning in general, the existence of contested languagein-education-policy priorities at the federal and state levels, and the need to address the requirements of different groups of learners. This chapter and Paulin Djite´’s exploration of official language policy in Australia both scrutinise the ideologies, including so-called economic rationalism, behind policy-making at particular times in Australia’s history. In Part 3
Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds
the discussion moves to broader issues of policy implementation, sometimes beyond official control, examining testing regimes, sociopolitical conflict, as well as the more self-regulating arenas of the corporate world, shared public space and virtual realities on the internet. Continuing with the theme of languages in Australia, Kerry Ryan and Tim McNamara’s chapter on language testing and citizenship opens up a discussion of the changing attitudes to immigration in Australia where the last 15 years have seen a re-politicisation of the issue. Following precedents in Europe, new developments have found expression in the adoption of proposals for tests on the traditions, history and values of the society conferring citizenship. In particular, the chapter investigates the way in which such tests constitute demanding tests of literacy in English, which many native-born citizens in Australia could not meet, and how such tests work as a means for exclusion in Australian society. In Chapter 12, by Diarmait Mac Giolla Chrı´ost, the reader is shown the intimate relationship between language and political conflict and is reminded of the impact language policy can have on people’s day-to-day lives. The chapter addresses the language situation in Northern Ireland, and the author links the language a person speaks to their sense of who they are, as well as shaping other peoples’ perceptions of their identity. In Northern Ireland, alternative notions of identity were much contested, often fatally, until the political settlement known as ‘The Agreement’ was reached on Good Friday in 1998. It is no coincidence that the languages of the region formed an important part of that agreement. Today, armed

General Introduction

xix

violence appears mostly to be a thing of the past, yet cultural identity continues to be an arena of struggle. Language, in particular the Irish language and Ulster Scots, remains a lightning rod for the related unresolved tensions. The chapter analyses the current condition of political discourse on language policy in the region while explaining why Irish Gaelic and Ulster Scots are in the situation they are today. Chapter 13, by Claudia Maria Riehl and John Hajek, focuses on the German-speaking community in South Tyrol in Northern Italy, which is often considered to be one of the best-protected linguistic minorities in Europe. The authors note that the German-speaking community coexists with a large Italian-speaking community. Unusually for western Europe, these two groups operate simultaneously as minority and majority. To resolve conflict and protect both sides, basic governing principles, accepted by the Italian state, guarantee the use of German and Italian in all official contexts and proportional representation in all public institutions. The chapter considers the application of these governing principles in everyday life, including their impact on attitudes, the coexistence of different language groups, mutual understanding and bilingual language competence. While a detailed political compromise and agreement are meant to protect each community and resolve language problems, facts on the ground are somewhat different. Bilingualism is very uneven, and not understood in the same way by each community. Linguistic tensions persist in different ways and are often played out in the public arena. In Chapter 14, the focus shifts to virtual realities and language policy
or policing
on the internet. Here Heinz L. Kretzenbacher investigates emerging policies of language usage in German internet forums. The chapter focuses on the thorny issue of address practices in German and shows that the perceptions and practices of address choices in virtual worlds differ from face-to-face situations. It demonstrates how a moderator can implement rules and regulations about communicative behaviours on a particular forum, but a language policy can also be discursively developed by the participants themselves, providing them with a shared language norm for their interactions. In the final two chapters of the volume the discussion moves beyond issues linked to individual countries. Both chapters highlight how companies and institutions that act in an international context play a crucial role in decisions about which policies and practices are implemented. Chapter 15, by Catrin Norrby and John Hajek, examines the impact of language policies and their implementation in the corporate world in an increasingly globalised economy. The authors

xx

Uniformity and Diversity in Language Policy

draw on examples from two large multinational companies of Swedish origin: the furniture retailer IKEA and clothing company H&M. Both companies dictate linguistic behaviour, albeit to different extents, by promoting Swedish-style use of informal ‘you’ and related address practices
internally between employees as well as externally in customer-related interactions
even in countries where such informality is not the traditional norm. The chapter documents how such policies are implemented and public reaction to them in a range of linguistic contexts and in different countries. It also underlines the importance of who has the position of power in a particular situation
the employer or the customer. In the concluding chapter, Deborah Cameron provides insights into some of the policies and practices that regulate the use of language in service provision, both in commercial and in public contexts. Examples are taken mainly from the United Kingdom, but since the phenomenon under discussion is heavily influenced by globalisation, the chapter also pays attention to linguistic interventions made in the ‘offshore’ locations, (e.g. India) that are now major providers of service to customers worldwide. The chapter examines the extent to which this kind of language policy aims at or results in the transnational and cross-linguistic diffusion of certain
typically North American Anglophone
linguistic norms, leading to less diversity. A recurrent theme of this volume is that of tension and conflict: between uniformity and diversity, between official policies (at the supranational, national or more local levels) and real day-to-day life experiences, but also between policy in schools and the corporate world on the one hand and its implementation or otherwise on the other. Importantly, several of the chapters present research and discussion about language policy issues that have previously not been fully or easily available to an English-language audience, and thus this volume fills a gap in the English-language literature on language policy issues. Many of the chapters also provide up-to-date analyses in particular regions or countries, focusing on developments as recent as 2009 and 2010. The volume will give readers a range of perspectives from which to engage with a variety of pressing issues raised by multilingualism, multiculturalism, immigration, exclusion and identity in Europe, North America and Australia. It is our hope that the contributions, which tackle the often contentious nature of language policies and their practical outcomes, will serve to fuel and illuminate current debate.

Part 1

Language Policy at the Official Level

Introduction to Part 1 This part focuses on how official language policy in various countries responds to linguistic diversity. The countries represented
Australia, the Baltic States (Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania), France, Quebec/Canada and Sweden
offer an intriguing range of contexts in which to examine how national language policy is shaped by ideological and identity concerns. The chapters examine the tension between promoting the national or majority language and at the same time giving space to other minority languages spoken within the country’s borders. One of the contributions examines what happens when a transnational political regime collapses and what were previously the ‘majority’ and ‘minority’ languages swap roles and functions. In other contributions, the minority languages owe their existence not only to the long-standing presence of Indigenous groups on the territories in question but also to the increasing transnational movement of people around the globe. In such a situation, the majority or national language can be perceived as being under threat. A further theme that is explored in some of the contributions is the importance of English as a global language and its impact on national linguistic landscapes and policies. In all the chapters, it is clear that political and social upheavals of recent years have led governments to reassess the ways in which they officially define and protect the ‘national language’. In the opening chapter of the volume, Jane Warren and Leigh Oakes examine the case of Quebec, Canada. Canada is a classic example of a socalled settler society, with an Aboriginal population who has long-standing demands for recognition and an increasingly diverse range of immigrant groups who now call Canada home. The province of Quebec adds to an already complex Canadian linguistic and cultural landscape, with a majority French-speaking ‘nation’ and a minority English-speaking community alongside Aboriginal and immigrant-origin groups. Quebec’s status as a Canadian province and not an independent state, combined with the fact that French is its ‘national’ language in what is an officially English
French bilingual Canadian state, create further layers of complexity. In such circumstances, Quebec has to constantly reflect on what it means to be 3

4

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

Que´be´cois and affirm its Francophone identity in the face of the dominance of English. The chapter explores how Quebec is seeking to foster a sense of belonging to the collectivity among all groups within society. It opens by examining recent official discourse that argues for a Quebec ‘citizenship’ with French as the unifying element. This notion of citizenship is about promoting a sense of belonging, which will in turn engender a sense of attachment to the French language itself, thereby ensuring the survival of French on a continent dominated by English. It examines how this notion of Quebec citizenship sits with three minority groups in Quebec society: groups of immigrant origin, the English-speaking community and the Aboriginal population. The chapter concludes that Quebecers of immigrant background are central to the future of French in the province. In Chapter 2, Sally Boyd takes us to another country where immigration has given rise to increasing linguistic and cultural diversity, Sweden. Large-scale immigration to Sweden has only taken place since the mid20th century, and Sweden’s idea of itself as a multilingual society, where nearly 200 languages are spoken, is a relatively recent phenomenon. The chapter examines the latest language legislation, which is closely linked to increased multilingualism in Swedish society, Sweden’s ratification of the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages, and debates over the growing role of English. In the legislation, Sweden gives official status to five historical minority languages
Finnish, Mea¨nkieli, Sami, Romani Chib and Yiddish
and stronger protection of Swedish sign language. There are similarities between Quebec and Sweden, in particular the role that the national language can play as a unifying force in a linguistically and culturally diverse society, and what can be viewed as a fraught relationship between the national language and English. In Sweden’s case, English has long been welcomed as an important lingua franca, and it is only recently that concerns have been expressed about its impact on the use of Swedish in various spheres of society. The chapter concludes that the recent language legislation, while reinforcing the position of Swedish in relation to English, may have negative consequences for immigrant languages, which do not enjoy greater protection under the new legislation. Chapter 3, by Uldis Ozolins, moves the discussion to take in language policy in the post-independent Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. In three countries that were dominated by Russian during half a century of Soviet rule, the challenge is to reverse the dominance of Russian and implement language policies that make the national language the sole official language in each country. All three countries have a Russian-speaking minority group, who mostly settled during the

Introduction to Part 1

5

Soviet era. The question of citizenship arises again in this chapter, but this time in its formal meaning of being a citizen of a country: In Estonia and Latvia, a condition for citizenship is competence in the national language. The reversing of majority and minority language roles at moments of political and social upheaval can bring with it periods of conflict. This has been the case in Quebec, where English was for a long time the dominant language of the political elite in the province. In the case of the Baltic States, it seems that in spite of at times fraught political rhetoric, on the ground in Estonia and Latvia there is a degree of linguistic acceptance and support from both national and Russian groups for the new language legislation. The seeming uniformity imposed by the new national languages does in fact create the conditions for adding a national language to the linguistic repertoire of many minority language speakers. In Chapter 4, Paulin G. Djite´ takes us to another settler society, this time multilingual Australia, where around 350 different languages are regularly spoken at home. Whereas other contributions have given us a snapshot of recent language policy, this chapter begins with an overview of successive phases of Australian language policy, from the early days of European settlement through to the present day. What emerges is the extent to which the changing ideological climate in Australia has influenced government priorities and initiatives. The 1970s and 1980s were a high spot in language policy, as Australia fully embraced its multilingual character and became a beacon for forward-thinking, innovative language policy-making. More recent policy has focused much more narrowly on a group of Asian languages that are considered to offer economic benefits to Australia in the region. This has been accompanied by a tendency to regard English as the only language necessary, given its status as the leading global lingua franca, with resulting declines in foreign language learning at schools and universities. Part 1 ends by bringing us back to the French language, with an exploration by Leigh Oakes of the changing nature of language policy in France, particularly in relation to regional languages. France has a long history of imposing the national language to the detriment of all other languages. The promotion and protection of French has meant, in particular, that regional or Indigenous minority languages have been repressed until fairly recently. As is the case in Sweden, the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages has been a catalyst for reflection on the status of minority languages, with quite different results. Although France ratified the Charter, it has not signed it, as the Charter was considered to be contrary to the French Constitution. However, the

6

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

debate that the Charter provoked has resulted in a revision of the Constitution, which now states that ‘Regional languages belong to the heritage of France’. While it is still the case that immigrant languages are not formally recognised by France, its regional languages are part of a broader, European linguistic landscape, which has allowed them to reap certain benefits, and may well be changing the way France interprets its fundamental republican principles.

Chapter 1

Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec: French as a Force for Unity in a Diverse Society?1 JANE WARREN and LEIGH OAKES

Introduction The challenge facing Quebec is, on the surface, the same as that faced by most, if not all, Western democracies: how to foster a sense of belonging within a culturally and linguistically diverse society in a world in which boundary crossings and transnational movement of goods and people are increasingly the norm? In Quebec’s case, the challenge has its origins in the province’s long-standing determination to survive and thrive as a distinct French-speaking ‘nation’ on the predominantly English-speaking continent of North America. Precisely because of Quebec’s status as a province of Canada, without independent statehood, language is one area that cannot be taken for granted. It is the case that French is the official language of the province
the main language of government, education and administration
as enshrined in the groundbreaking Charter of the French language of 1977. The Charter, also known as Bill 101, has certainly had a huge impact, with French the common public language of the province. It is spoken by the vast majority of the province’s inhabitants (around 95% of Quebecers reported being able to speak French in the 2006 census), is the mother tongue of just under 80% of Quebecers and the language most used at home for nearly 82% of Quebecers. However, unlike say Britain or Australia, the ‘national’ language of Quebec does not benefit from being the exclusive language of the state, that is the unquestioned, dominant language of the collectivity. Although French is formally endorsed by the Canadian state, sharing official language status with English, the province’s lack of independent statehood means that it has to convince each wave of new immigrants to the province that they have indeed arrived in a French-speaking ‘country’ and 7

8

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

that it is through the French language
rather than English
that they will realise their immigration goals. The picture is further complicated by the historic presence of Aboriginal and Anglophone minorities in the province, and the wider Canadian context. This chapter examines how Quebec continues to affirm its distinct Francophone identity as it tries to meet its civic obligations to accommodate not only an increasingly diverse range of Quebecers of immigrant background but also long-standing demands for recognition by Aboriginal peoples and Anglophones. It focuses on the recent promotion in Quebec of a common citizenship with French as its key element, citizenship understood here as fostering a sense of belonging to Quebec. The chapter considers each minority group in turn and examines their relationship to the French language and to Quebec.

Citizenship through French A landmark event in the debate on the situation of French in Quebec took place on 29 June 2000 with the setting up of the Commission of the Estates General on the situation and future of the French language in Quebec, known informally as the Larose Commission. The Commission’s mandate included identifying and analysing ‘the main factors which influence the situation and future of the French language in Quebec’ and making ‘recommendations that aim to ensure the use, scope and quality of the French language in Quebec’ (Gouvernement du Que´bec, 2001: i). The significance of the Commission’s report, published in 2001, is not noteworthy because of the wide-reaching changes that resulted from its 149 recommendations
in fact a substantial number have not been acted upon. Rather, it lies in the way in which ‘it squarely places Quebec language policy and planning within the framework of the new civic approach to national identity which seeks to unite Quebecers of all ethnic origins’ (Oakes & Warren, 2009: 2), thereby safeguarding the future of French in the province. The report’s title
Le franc¸ais, une langue pour tout le monde (‘French, a language for everyone’)
neatly captures the Commission’s viewpoint. The position expressed by the Larose Commission is one of the more recent developments in the evolution of a civic, territorial conception of Quebec identity. This evolution began in the 1960s during what is known as the Quiet Revolution, a period which saw Quebec society go through a major transformation as a result of modernisation and secularisation. It was precisely during the late 1960s and 1970s that ‘Que´be´cois’ replaced

Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec

9

‘French Canadian’ as the term describing the group identity of the French-speaking majority, accompanied by the rise to power of the Parti Que´be´cois in 1976, and the passing of the Charter of the French language or Bill 101 in 1977. Although the Charter was not the first of the language laws to make French the official language of the province, it was certainly the most far-reaching, requiring that French is the common language in all domains of the public sphere. The civic conception of Quebec identity has come to define itself predominantly in terms of citizenship, with the French language a central component. The notion of citizenship as used in contemporary debates is less about rights than about the role that citizenship can play in social cohesion, as the Larose Commission makes clear in the case of Quebec (Gouvernement du Que´bec, 2001: 11
12). The Commission recommended that an official Quebec citizenship be instituted to sit alongside Canadian citizenship, ‘to reflect the attachment of Quebecers to the entire array of patrimonial and democratic institutions and values that they have in common’ (Gouvernement du Que´bec, 2001: 21), including the French language, viewed by the Commission as ‘the main form of attachment to the Quebec nation’ (Oakes & Warren, 2009: 94). Although the idea of formalising a Quebec citizenship has not found favour, at least for now, the underlying notions of ‘attachment’ and ‘belonging’ to the collectivity have already appeared in various forms in recent immigration and integration policies and guidelines. According to the immigration and integration Action Plan 2004
2007, the mastery of French by immigrants is an expression of belonging to a society that they have embraced as their own. The Larose Commission report itself states that for immigrants ‘to feel at home in Quebec, they will have to first feel at home in French, the indispensable tool of integration and of access to knowledge, work, culture and citizenship’ (Gouvernement du Que´bec, 2001: 71). The use by the report of the metaphor of the home, with its emotional dimension, clearly implies that an affective commitment to French, and subsequently to Quebec, is required from new arrivals to the province. Terms such as ‘attachment’, ‘belonging’ and ‘feeling at home’ in these policy documents reflect an understanding of successful language acquisition that is integrative, characterised by an individual’s desire to integrate into the target community. This is contrasted with instrumental motivation, which assumes that the individual has a functional attitude to language learning, with specific social or economic goals. Quebec has made important steps in improving the instrumental value of French, particularly through language legislation such as the Charter of the

10

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

French language by making French the common public language of administration, education, the workplace, primary and secondary education, and so on, thereby giving new Quebecers economic reasons for learning the language. This has led to some integrative motivational gains, in particular thanks to compulsory public primary and secondary schooling in French for immigrants. Les enfants de la loi 101 (‘children of Bill 101’)
children of immigrants who arrived after the introduction of the Charter of the French language and who were born either in another country or in Quebec
can be expected to have a greater affinity with Quebec and French than their parents because ‘[t]o learn a language as a child is normally to acquire a culture, at least to some extent, in part because one learns the language primarily in the course of learning other things’ (Carens, 2000: 128).

´ ne ´ ration 101 La ge In a 2008 documentary called La ge´ne´ration 101, Director Claude Godbout gives the platform to two generations of young Quebecers of immigrant background in Montreal. What emerges from their reflections is that although the 101 generation has successfully learned French, they are also determined to add English to their linguistic repertoire. Akos, a 30-year-old Quebecer of Hungarian background who has himself chosen to lead his life in French, explains: Our generation, the first cohort of children of Bill 101, is in the process of passively challenging Bill 101. The majority are choosing to continue their [post-secondary] education in English. On the job market, in the city centre at the Gap store, they operate in English. For them French is the language to accommodate French Canadians. (Cauchy, 2008) These linguistic choices by second-generation immigrants are understandable. English benefits from its status as the major global language, one of Canada’s two official languages and the language of the neighbouring United States. It also enjoys historical status as the language of economic and political power in Montreal, which has left all kinds of traces in the city, including a prestigious Anglophone university, McGill, along with other Anglophone institutions, and a substantial and historically monolingual Anglophone minority. Most immigrants to Quebec settle in the greater metropolitan region of Montreal, the economic and cultural centre of the province, where 65.7% of the population have French as their mother tongue, 12.5% English and 21.8% another language,

Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec

11

according to the 2006 census. In contrast, the capital, Quebec City, is mainly Francophone (over 95%) and immigrants who settle there and in the regions have a quite different integration experience. The majority of the 101 generation has thus grown up in Montreal, a city whose dual linguistic nature means that French is constantly challenged, sending ‘an ambiguous message’ to new arrivals and more than likely preventing them from developing ‘a feeling of belonging and of basic allegiance to the political community of Quebec’ (Georgeault, 2006: 314). Added to this French
English mix are the languages of the immigrants themselves. To give a sense of the linguistic diversity in Quebec, according to Commission scolaire de Montre´al figures, in the school year 2008
2009 half of students in the Montreal Francophone public school system had a mother tongue other than French or English, with 156 different mother tongues among them and 136 languages spoken. Montreal’s distinctive sociolinguistic situation, in which the dominant languages French and English are, as it were, pulling in opposite directions, has created a ‘clearly delimited socio-cultural space’ inhabited by Montrealers whose allegiances are not exclusively Francophone or Anglophone (Anctil, 1984: 450). The result is that trilingualism
French, English and a heritage language
is thriving. According to the 2006 census, in the greater metropolitan region of Montreal 52.1% of Montrealers whose mother tongue is a heritage language also speak both French and English. The Conseil de la langue franc¸aise, the government body that conducts research and advises the minister responsible for the Charter of the French language, has shown that typically young Quebecers of immigrant background value multilingualism, are attached to their mother tongue and are inclined to view French and English as ‘additional [tools] of communication’, enabling them to adapt to different situations and interlocutors (Conseil de la langue franc¸aise, 2002: 24). These findings underline the fact that many of these ge´ne´ration 101 Quebecers have an instrumental attitude towards learning French. They consider that it is ‘normal and respectful to speak French in Quebec’ (2002: 30), and nearly all would choose to send their children to a Francophone school, recognising the necessity of having a good mastery of the language to successfully negotiate their way in Quebec society (2002: 25). The rich linguistic repertoires of young people of immigrant background have been highlighted in other studies, for example the work of Patricia Lamarre and colleagues, who show that these young people take part in a variety of bilingual and multilingual language practices in Montreal (e.g. Lamarre et al., 2002).

12

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

La ge´ne´ration 101 is, of course, not a homogeneous group, and diverse elements in its members’ integration trajectories will inform the extent to which they feel an attachment to French and to Quebec society. Returning to Godbout’s film, Akos explains that the choice to make his life in French was the result of mixing with self-confident and successful Francophones at fencing classes
a positive integration experience. Akos, Farouk and Ruba contrast sharply with Daniel, of Latin American background, who is not interested in the language debate or the question of identity. He sees himself as a citizen of the world and appreciates the fact that Anglophones are not interested in where a person comes from (Cauchy, 2008). All four master the French language, but, for one of them at least, this has not translated into an affective attachment to the language, and by extension to the Quebec collectivity. Factors that can make a difference in the creation of such an attachment include the quality of the welcome that the host society gives; the experience of discrimination, racism or some form of exclusion; the level of French language support given; and, as Godbout explains, what happens in the period after compulsory schooling. He stresses the importance of looking beyond Bill 101, which has been successful in making people learn French, to what happens next in the integration trajectory (Cauchy, 2008). For the 101 generation, French is a unifying force in that compulsory schooling in French provides them with a common public language and set of cultural references and, for many, a shared sense of the importance of maintaining the language in the province. However, the presence of other languages, in particular English, but also heritage languages, means that French for some is just one language among many in their linguistic repertoire. A key element for the future of French in Quebec is thus ensuring that immigrants develop ‘a preference for French’ (Page´ & Lamarre, 2010: 37) by showing them that ‘using French has real advantages on several levels, such as access to work, education, culture, an attractive social life, etc’
in other words, improved economic and social integration.

Anglophone Quebec The Feˆte de la St-Jean is the national day of Quebec held on 24 June and is usually a peaceful celebration of Quebec’s continued existence. However, in 2009 a storm brewed when, with 10 days to go, two Anglophone music groups were removed from the programme of one of the events, L’Autre St-Jean.2 The event was sponsored by l’Association culturelle Louis-He´bert, and its Vice-President Mathieu Bouthillier made

Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec

13

it very clear that la Feˆte nationale had to be celebrated in French and that the association’s sponsorship would be cancelled if the two groups were allowed to perform (Croteau, 2009). This event polarised Quebec: it raised old antagonisms between Francophones and Anglophones in the province, but it also showed that even the opinions of Francophones were divided. Among those who demanded that the French language be used exclusively in the celebrations, opinions ranged from Bouthillier’s hardline stance above to that of Mario Beaulieu, President of the Comite´ de la Feˆte nationale de Montre´al, who was not against Anglophone performers taking part in the St-Jean celebrations, as long as they performed in French (Croteau, 2009). Members of the Anglophone community themselves were troubled by the turn of events. Jack Jedwab, a respected researcher on Anglophone Quebec, argued that ‘it stigmatises the Anglophone community, it gives the impression that, to be a Quebecer, you have to sing exclusively in French’ (cited in Croteau, 2009). Francophones also defended the decision to include the Anglophone artists as being representative of an inclusive, pluralist Quebec, where French is the common, the most used, but not exclusive language. They included Louise Harel, a longstanding Parti Que´be´cois activist and at the time a candidate for mayor of Montreal. Montreal’s English-language daily newspaper The Gazette, which plays a major role in representing Anglophone interests, welcomed the fact that Francophones supported the inclusion of the Anglophone musicians (The Gazette, 2009). The Feˆte nationale episode illustrates the complex set of meanings that are attached to the terms English and Anglophone in Quebec. At their base is the historical dimension of Francophone
Anglophone relations. It was, after all, les maudits Anglais (‘the damn English’) who conquered the French at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham in 1759, who imposed English rule and who went on to dominate the province politically and economically during the industrialisation of the 18th and 19th centuries. The rising up of French Canadians in Quebec in the 1960s and 1970s, culminating in the pro-independence Parti Que´be´cois taking power in the province in 1976, marked the coming of age of the Quebec nation and the key element of its identity, the French language, and the decline of the Anglophone ruling elite of previous decades
and centuries
to a minority community within the province. The underlying antagonistic relations between Francophones and Anglophones persist, flaring up from time to time. This is in part due to what is for a number of French Canadians the unfinished business of Quebec sovereignty after two provincial referenda on some form of

14

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

independence and several failed attempts nationally to recognise Quebec as a distinct society within Canada. Some argue that what can be described as the ‘identity malaise experienced by the Quebec people’ would disappear if and when the Quebec nation were recognised as such, both internationally and more particularly within Canada, enabling a more confident and widespread recognition and acceptance of pluralism
and of Anglophones
within Quebec society (Seymour, 2010; see also Oakes & Warren, 2009, on relations between Quebec and Canada). On the Anglophone side, according to the Larose Commission report, ‘English-speaking Quebec, as a whole, now regards itself as a stakeholder in the confirmation of French as the language of participation in Quebec society and its members identify themselves as citizens of Quebec’ (Gouvernement du Que´bec, 2001: 17). Whereas it is no doubt true that in the main the English-speaking community in Quebec has accepted the importance of safeguarding French in the province, it is debatable whether English-speaking Quebecers can ever really fully belong to the Quebec nation, even when conceived of in civic, inclusive terms. In its very naming, this community is categorised along strictly linguistic lines
Anglophone, English-speaking
a continual reminder that it is fundamentally different to the majority Francophone group (Oakes & Warren, 2009: 151). Moreover, as Seymour (2005: 61) argues, there are various reasons why Anglophones may have reservations about belonging to the Quebec civic nation: some do not feel that ‘their rights are sufficiently recognised’ within the province, nor that they are in fact included in the Quebec nation by those Francophones who perceive the nation in ethnocultural and not civic terms. Others think that they would have to give up their Canadian identity or that their allegiance to Quebec would have to take precedence, and yet others believe that allegiance to Quebec means favouring Quebec sovereignty. Incidents such as the St-Jean episode amplify such reservations on the part of Anglophones and illustrate the cyclical nature of Anglophone Quebecers’ sense of belonging to Quebec. In addition, the Anglophone minority is often caught up with the debate on the place of English, which has privileged status as a global, regional, national and local language, and is a force to be reckoned with in Quebec, as has already been noted. Although radical Anglophone discourse might argue for the parity of English and French in the province, the two languages are clearly not equal (Larrive´e, 2003: 182
183). Anglophones and Francophones have distinct attitudes towards the ‘other’ language. It is generally agreed that ‘Francophones have more ambivalence towards English’ than Anglophones have towards French

Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec

15

(Perreault, 2002), although this ambivalence is decreasing among younger Francophones. Young Quebecers overall consider English as ‘an advantage in society, in particular in the workplace, where English is often perceived as indispensable in order to succeed in one’s professional life’ (St-Laurent et al., 2008: 35). Some regard Francophones’ increasingly positive attitudes towards English and bilingualism as a cause for serious concern, among them political commentator Christian Dufour. He warns that bilingualism and English are becoming so widely valued that people are no longer concerned about the predominance of French in a variety of areas (Dufour, 2008). Anglophones, for their part, are generally much more open to learning ‘the other language’, with many considering knowledge of French essential. The number of Anglophone mother tongue Quebecers declaring an ability to speak both official languages continues to steadily rise from 59.4% in the 1991 Canadian census to 69.8% in the 2006 census (Office que´be´cois de la langue franc¸aise, 2008: 29). Moreover, 83.4% of those aged between 15 and 24 years at the time of the 2001 census with English as their mother tongue considered themselves to be bilingual in French. There remains a certain tension over bilingualism, in particular a concern among some young bilingual Anglophones that their French is not good enough, particularly the written language, for them to realise their full potential in the workplace and fully participate in Quebec society (Lamarre, 2005: 566). This factor, along with others such as the difficult economic climate in Montreal and the fact that in Quebec anti-Anglophone discourse remains politically acceptable, has been blamed for a ‘brain drain’ of young, well-qualified Anglophones leaving the province (Gagnon, 2008). In spite of this, according to 2006 census figures, the number of mother tongue Anglophones in Quebec has risen for the first time since 1976, mainly because overall fewer Anglophones are leaving the province. This shift is clear from census figures for 2001 and 2006: for example when measured by mother tongue (English only), the size of the English-speaking community increased from 557,040 to 575,555. Cultural and linguistic mixing between Anglophones and Francophones is also increasingly taking place (e.g. Jedwab, 2002). One consequence of this mixing and of the growing English
French bilingualism among young Anglophones is that they are more likely to see themselves ‘as much members of the Francophone community as the Anglophone community’ (Magnan et al., 2006: xii) rather than as members of the Anglophone community alone (41.3%, as opposed to 36.2%). This blurring of boundaries between the two groups among the younger

16

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

generation is an interesting development in Francophone
Anglophone relations. French
and in particular English
French bilingualism
is acting as a positive force for unity in spite of periodic tensions that serve to ‘reactivate’ the linguistic and cultural boundaries between the two groups.

The Necessities of Life for Aboriginal Nations One of Quebec’s cinematic successes in 2008 was a film called Ce qu’il faut pour vivre (‘The necessities of life’). Set in the early 1950s, the film’s lead character is Tivii, an Inuit from Quebec’s far north sent to a Quebec City sanatorium to recover from tuberculosis. The film, in French and Inuktitut, deals with Tivii’s uprooting from his native culture and the Inuktitut language, and his shock at the alien Francophone world in which he finds himself. A nurse arranges for an Inuit orphan, Kaki, who speaks both Inuktitut and French, to be transferred to the sanatorium. Kaki and Tivii support each other, Tivii transmitting Inuit traditions and myths to the boy and Kaki acting as Tivii’s interpreter. Among the necessities of life, it seems, are one’s cultural and linguistic identity and its transmission to the next generation, and the dialogue that can be established across seemingly insurmountable cultural and linguistic barriers. While the Larose Commission’s report recognises the importance of transmitting French to the next generation, it also emphasises the importance of valuing the Aboriginal cultural and linguistic heritage that exists in Quebec. Furthermore, it acknowledges the need to ‘[restructure] its cultural relations with the Aboriginal nations who are the territory’s first occupants’ (Gouvernement du Quebec, 2001: 16) in an attempt to address the legacy of racism, oppression and neglect that has characterised relations between Quebec and Aboriginal nations, part of a wider phenomenon in Canada generally and in other Western settler states (Oakes & Warren, 2009: 173). This chapter has taken as its starting point the notion of Quebec citizenship as defined by the Larose Commission, emphasising the importance of a sense of belonging to the province with French as a key, unifying element. This approach to citizenship is not necessarily of interest to, or in the interests of, Aboriginal nations, who are focused on their own political, cultural and linguistic survival. The question of citizenship is indeed a fundamental one for Aboriginal nations, not in terms of the social cohesion underlying the Larose Commission model but to do with Aboriginal political self-determination. There is a general

Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec

17

view that in order for Aboriginal nations to feel some kind of civic integration and belonging to the national political community, they need a form of ‘differentiated citizenship’, in which ‘a self-governing Aboriginal community [would be] their primary locus of political identity and participation’, alongside being national citizens (Carens, 2000: 177). In addition, against the backdrop of the last 30 or 40 years of Aboriginal politics, political collectivities such as Quebec or Canada are faced with a dilemma: they have to make gestures towards the cultural survival of Aboriginal peoples at the same time as presenting a range of citizenship benefits that do not always favour cultural survival (Oakes & Warren, 2009: 173). The current situation of the Inuits in Quebec is the focus of this section. It illustrates the pressures that are inevitably brought to bear on Aboriginal language and culture through being part of a larger political community whose dominant language is French, within a national government framework where English predominates. Their situation also highlights the importance of some kind of self-government for Aboriginal nations. As will be seen, the notion of French as a unifying force takes on a very different nature for this minority group. The Inuits are part of the Aboriginal cultural and linguistic heritage in Quebec that consists of 11 nations, officially recognised by Quebec’s National Assembly: the Abenaki, Algonquin, Attikamek, Cree, HuronWendat, Innu, Inuit, Malecite, Micmac, Mohawk and Naskapi nations. In 2007, the Inuit nation numbered 10,464 and the total Aboriginal population in Quebec was 87,251 (Secre´tariat aux affaires autochtones, 2009). A great majority of Inuits live in 15 geographically remote villages in the far north of Quebec in a region known as Nunavik, and they share their language with Inuit populations outside Quebec. They have English as their second language for historical reasons, although French is becoming more prominent. Inuktitut
the variety spoken in Quebec is known as Inuttitut
is one of two Aboriginal languages in Quebec that are considered to be ‘the only viable languages with large population bases’, the other being Cree (Norris & Jantzen, 2002: 23). The Inuits and the Crees have benefited from the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement (JBNQA) of 1975
the end result of their protests against the building of a hydroelectric project at James Bay. This agreement, signed with the Canadian and Quebec governments and Hydro-Que´bec, devolved the administration of education through the establishment of the Kativik School Board for the Inuits and the Cree School Board (for further details, see Oakes & Warren, 2009: 188
189). The JBNQA is an important milestone in Quebec
Aboriginal relations.

18

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

In the past, beginning in the mid-19th century, education in Canada generally was an area that explicitly excluded Aboriginal languages and cultures, engendering a policy of ‘linguicide’. This was followed in the 1960s by a practice of neglect in which communities were left to fend for themselves, resulting in persistent language loss, but also the establishment over time of Aboriginal language programmes (Fettes, 1998: 118
119). The Inuits have substantial freedom in deciding on the school curriculum, within the wider curriculum framework for Quebec schools. From kindergarten to grade two of primary school, Inuttitut is the sole language of instruction, and in grade three, children take either the English stream or the French stream, with 50% of classes taught in Inuttitut and 50% in English or French. In following years, Inuttitut is a subject of instruction. Up until the end of the 1970s, English was the majority second language, but nowadays about 50% of children choose the French stream (Secre´tariat aux affaires autochtones, 2009). The Inuit bilingual education model is considered to be crucial: Inuit children are better learners when at the outset they are educated in their own language rather than in French or English, and they exhibit greater gains in self-esteem (Taylor & Wright, 2003). However, there is evidence that Inuttitut ‘is under threat from English, especially among the youngest group of Inuit where the fluency in English (or French) seems to make gains at the expense of ability in Inuttitut’ (Kativik School Board, cited in Nunavik Commission, 2001: 30). English is generally used as the lingua franca among Inuits, Anglophones and Francophones (Taylor & Wright, 2003), and at the same time French is becoming more of a threat, given its prestige as a language of employment opportunities. In Nunavik, ‘the new political and economic reality [. . .] is situated within the larger French-speaking Quebec State, and [ . . .] there are forms of French dominance in government agencies and French symbolic domination in institutional practices’ (Patrick, 2003: 174). There is a useful comparison to be made here between Quebecers of immigrant background and Aboriginal nations, in that they are both minority groups who find themselves ‘in between’ the Francophone and Anglophone worlds. Part of the ‘new political and economic reality’ for the Inuit people is precisely their progress towards self-government, a version of the ‘differentiated citizenship’ mentioned above. After six years of negotiations, on 5 December 2007, the Inuits of Nunavik and the governments of Quebec and Canada signed the Agreement in Principle on the amalgamation of certain institutions and the creation of the Nunavik Regional Government.

Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec

19

Although there remains some way to go, the new government is set to come into being in May 2013. The Nunavik Commission, which was set up to work out the road to self-government, has given clear provisions on language: Inuttitut, French and English would be the official languages, but Inuttitut would be ‘the predominant language of work in the operation of the Nunavik institutions’ (Nunavik Commission, 2001: ii). French would thus have its place in this new ‘citizenship arrangement’, but not as a unifying force. It would be one element in a complex linguistic framework designed to give Inuttitut its best chance of survival and, at the same time, provide Inuits with ‘citizenship benefits’ offered through French as the dominant provincial language and through English as the dominant national language of Canada.

Concluding Remarks Quebec’s lack of independent statehood means that it has to constantly reflect on how to create a sense of allegiance to the ‘national’ language, French, and by extension to Quebec, among the diverse groups residing on its territory. Most recently, this reflection has also involved an extended, often heated, public discussion on ‘reasonable accommodation’, that is the extent to which accommodation is made to particular groups’ cultural practices within Quebec society, so that all groups are treated in a fair, evenhanded way (see, e.g. Gouvernement du Que´bec, 2008). Of those minority groups within Quebec’s borders, it is the generations of young Quebecers of immigrant background who have been schooled in French who represent the best hope for the future of the language outside the French Canadian majority. A number of these young Quebecers feel at home in French and at home in Quebec and share the majority concern about maintaining French in the province. However, others have a sense of attachment to bilingualism and multilingualism and not to French alone, and regard Montreal, rather than Quebec as a whole, as their main locus of identification. Anglophone Quebecers, however we may define them, complicate the picture still further. Again, French is a unifying force, in the sense that Anglophones’ increasing English
French bilingualism anchors them more firmly in Quebec than in wider Anglophone Canada. Nevertheless, their reservations remain about the extent to which they are fully accepted within Quebec society, partly
paradoxically
because some feel that their French language skills are not considered good enough. Finally, the notion of French as a unifying force makes little sense for the Aboriginal nations on Quebec territory, who are themselves struggling

20

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

with their own linguistic and cultural survival, a struggle that is at a much more critical and urgent stage than is Quebec’s own fight to maintain a robust French presence on North American soil. Notes 1. This chapter draws on and updates work presented in Oakes and Warren (2009). 2. Our thanks to Line Grenier for drawing our attention to this story.

References Anctil, P. (1984) Double majorite´ et multiplicite´ ethnoculturelle a` Montre´al. Recherches sociographiques 25 (3), 441
456. Carens, J.H. (2000) Culture, Citizenship and Community: A Contextual Exploration of Justice as Evenhandedness. New York: Oxford University Press. Cauchy, C. (2008) La loi 101 a` l’heure des bilans. Le cine´aste Claude Godbout donne la parole a` quatre enfants de la ge´ne´ration 101. Le Devoir, 18 September. Conseil de la langue franc¸aise (2002) Les enfants de la loi 101. Groupes de discussion exploratoires, novembre 2000. Que´bec: Conseil de la langue franc¸aise. Croteau, M. (2009) L’Autre St-Jean: des appuis et des critiques. La Presse, 14 June. Dufour, C. (2008) Les Que´be´cois et l’anglais. Le retour du mouton. Montre´al: Les E´diteurs Re´unis. Fettes, M. (1998) Life on the edge: Canada’s Aboriginal languages under official bilingualism. In T. Ricento and B. Burnaby (eds) Language and Politics in the United States and Canada (pp. 117
149). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Earlbaum Associates. Gagnon, L. (2008) « Brain drain ». La Presse, 4 March. Georgeault, P. (2006) Langue et diversite´: un de´fi a` relever. In P. Georgeault and M. Page´ (eds) Le franc¸ais, langue de la diversite´ que´be´coise. Une re´flexion pluridisciplinaire (pp. 283
325). Montre´al: Que´bec Ame´rique. Gouvernement du Que´bec (2001) Le franc¸ais, une langue pour tout le monde. (Rapport de la Commission des E´tats ge´ne´raux sur la situation et l’avenir de la langue franc¸aise au Que´bec). Que´bec: Gouvernement du Que´bec. Gouvernement du Que´bec (2008) Building the Future: A Time for Reconciliation. Report of the Consultation Commission on Accommodation Practices Related to Cultural Differences. Que´bec: Gouvernement du Que´bec. Jedwab, J. (2002) La Re´volution « tranquille » des Anglo-Que´be´cois. In D. Lemieux (ed.) Traite´ de la culture (pp. 181
199). Sainte-Foy: Les Presses de L’Universite´ Laval. Lamarre, P. (2005) L’enseignement du franc¸ais dans le re´seau scolaire anglophone: a` la recherche du bilinguisme. In A. Stefanescu and P. Georgeault (eds) Le franc¸ais au Que´bec. Les nouveaux de´fis (pp. 553
568). Montre´al: Fides. Lamarre, P., Paquette, J., Kahn, E. and Ambrosi, S. (2002) Multilingual Montreal: Listening in on the language practices of young Montrealers. Canadian Ethnic Studies/E´tudes ethniques au Canada 34 (3), 47
75. Larrive´e, P. (2003) Anglophones and allophones in Quebec. In P. Larrive´e (ed.) Linguistic Conflict and Language Laws: Understanding the Quebec Question (pp. 163
187). Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Language Policy and Citizenship in Quebec

21

Magnan, M-O., Gauthier, M. and Coˆte´, S. (2006) La migration des jeunes au Que´bec. Re´sultats d’un sondage aupre`s des anglophones de 20
34 ans. Montre´al: INRS Urbanisation, Culture et Socie´te´. Norris, M.J. and Jantzen, L. (2002) From Generation to Generation: Survival and Maintenance of Canada’s Aboriginal Languages within Families, Communities and Cities. Ottawa: Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. Nunavik Commission (2001) Amiqqaaluta
Let Us Share. Mapping the Road Toward a Government for Nunavik. On WWW at http://www.ainc-inac.gc.ca/pr/agr/ nunavik/lus_e.html. Accessed 26.1.06. Oakes, L. and Warren, J. (2009) Language, Citizenship and Identity in Quebec. Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Office que´be´cois de la langue franc¸aise (2008) Rapport sur l’e´volution de la situation linguistique au Que´bec 2002
2007. Que´bec: Gouvernement du Que´bec. Page´, M., with the collaboration of Lamarre, P. (2010) L’inte´gration linguistique des immigrants au Que´bec. E´tude IRPP, no 3, February 2010. On WWW at http:// www.irpp.org. Accessed 20.3.10. Patrick, D. (2003) Language socialisation and second language acquisition in a multilingual Arctic Quebec community. In R. Bayley and S.R. Schecter (eds) Language Socialisation in Bilingual and Multilingual Societies (pp. 165
181). Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Perreault, M. (2002) Accent’s now on communicating. The Gazette, 17 June. Secre´tariat aux affaires autochtones (2009) Ame´rindiens et Inuits. Portrait des nations autochtones du Que´bec. Que´bec: Gouvernement du Que´bec. Seymour, M. (2005) Le franc¸ais comme langue publique commune. In J. Boucher and J-Y. The´riault (eds) Petites socie´te´s et minorite´s nationales. Enjeux politiques et perspectives compare´es (pp. 49
66). Sainte-Foy: Presses de l’Universite´ du Que´bec. Seymour, M. (2010) Nationalistes ou pluralistes? Faut-il vraiment choisir? Le Devoir, 9 February. St-Laurent, N., with the collaboration of Maraillet, E., Chastenay, M-H. and Tessier, C. (2008) Le franc¸ais et les jeunes. Que´bec: Conseil supe´rieur du Que´bec. Taylor, D.M. and Wright, S.C. (2003) Do Aboriginal students benefit from education in their heritage language? Results from a ten-year program of research in Nunavik. Canadian Journal of Native Studies XXIII (1), 1
24. The Gazette (2009) A pathetic spasm of ethnic nationalism. The Gazette, 16 June.

Chapter 2

Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation? The Case of Swedish as the ‘Principal Language’ of Sweden SALLY BOYD

Introduction Over the past few decades, a number of European nation states have begun to formulate explicit national language policies after having had more or less implicit ones for centuries. Some of these nation states have begun to regard their national majority language as threatened by the continuing spread of English as a superposed language and also by other new forms of multilingualism within their borders. This chapter gives a brief critical analysis of Sweden’s formulation of a language policy in 2005 and a language act passed in 2009. My purpose is to show that in aiming the language policy at strengthening the majority language, Swedish, and giving it the status of principal language of the state, the parliament has
perhaps inadvertently
set the stage for some unfortunate consequences for speakers of many other languages used in Sweden today.

Background Prior to the 1990s, there was little discussion of national language policy or status language planning in Sweden. Swedish was taken for granted as the national language of the country, dominating communication in all spheres of public life and in most of the private sector. One major development which led up to the explicit policy and law was Sweden’s entry into the European Union (EU) in 1995, which had important consequences for language use. Interestingly, during the period 22

Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation?

23

of negotiation leading up to Sweden’s entry into the EU, there was little debate about language. It was taken for granted that Swedish would become a working language of the EU; no serious suggestion was made, for example, that Danish (closely related and to some extent mutually intelligible) could serve this purpose for both member states. Entry into the EU accelerated the process of linguistic internationalisation and globalisation, which had already influenced language use in many spheres of Swedish life during the latter half of the 20th century. One clear sign of this is the presence of English. As in other parts of Europe, English has become an important lingua franca, not only in international affairs but in many other high-status domains. This development is embraced in many areas, particularly in the private sector: multinational companies have increased their international profiles by changing their names and taking on English as the official language of the company. The Swedish population has also developed a good proficiency in English because of its importance in education,1 its ubiquity in other areas of public life and its usefulness as a lingua franca outside Sweden. In the public sphere, however, not least in certain areas of higher education, some observers have expressed concern about the increasing role of English in Swedish society and what impact this might have on the use of Swedish in these domains (Teleman, 1989, was an early example). Some even suggest that Swedish is a threatened language (Melander & Thelander, 2006). A second major development stemming from Sweden’s integration into Europe was the ratification of two Council of Europe treaties: the Charter for Regional or Minority Languages and the Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities. The inquiry which preceded ratification (SOU, 1997: 192) led to recognition of five historical minority languages and their respective minorities as part of the Swedish cultural heritage: Finnish, Mea¨nkieli, Sami, Romani chib and Yiddish. The third development began earlier, but did not lead to changes in explicit national language policy until 2005. Beginning in the post-war period, immigrants and refugees from various parts of the world have been coming to Sweden in significant numbers. The number of people born abroad currently living in Sweden is over 1.2 million, and they represent over 15% of the population even if the children of the immigrants are not included.2 The number of languages spoken by this group is currently estimated to be close to 200.3 The Swedish government has taken several steps to adjust the educational system to the needs of this group, providing both education in Swedish for adult immigrants and instruction in Swedish as a second language and mother tongue

24

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

instruction4 in the curriculum for the compulsory primary school and upper secondary school levels. Some instruction in other subjects using languages other than Swedish as the medium of instruction is also provided. There is also a relatively generous policy for starting up schools with languages other than Swedish as a medium of instruction. These three developments led to a situation at the turn of this century where Sweden had five official minority languages, close to 200 ‘mother tongues’ with no official status, an accelerating use of English as a superposed variety in various spheres of society, but no official majority language. This is the backdrop for the development of recent language policy and legislation to reinforce the role of Swedish in Sweden.

Recent Debate and Legislation about Language Starting in 1998, several steps were taken aimed at strengthening the role of Swedish in Sweden. This process finally led to language legislation in 2009, more than 10 years later. The first step in the process was an action plan elaborated by the Swedish Language Board (Svenska spra˚kna¨mnden), a language cultivation institution (Svenska spra˚kna¨mnden, 1998). The action plan contained several concrete recommendations to reinforce Swedish, including measures to guarantee its status as a working language within the EU, and various suggestions to guarantee that Swedish would ‘normally’ be the sole medium of instruction in Swedish schools. In the area of higher education, it was similarly suggested that undergraduate education be ‘normally’ carried out in Swedish and that doctoral theses in other languages include a summary in Swedish. There were also provisions suggested for the mass media, computer programmes, patent descriptions, safety regulations and other written documents produced in the private sector. These suggested measures covered a wider range of areas than the policy and legislation that was ultimately passed by the parliament. The Swedish Language Board was concerned at the time about English becoming a major language of instruction in schools: at the end of the 1990s, many schools began experimenting with CLIL (content and language integrated learning), that is, English-medium instruction in other subjects. However, this trend has been broken partly because of negative research findings; for example, one study indicated good progress in English in CLIL classrooms, but could not attribute this to the language of instruction (Sylve´n, 2004), while another found more teacher-dominated communication in CLIL classrooms than in Swedishmedium ones (Lim Falk, 2008). In any case, the question of the language of

Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation?

25

instruction in schools was dropped from later policy. Furthermore, it soon became clear that the state only had limited means to legislate about language use in the private sector. A few years later, a parliamentary committee was appointed to formulate a new action plan, again in order to promote Swedish and to address the question as to whether its status should be codified in law. Its report, Ma˚l i mun (Speech), was published in 2002 (SOU, 2002: 27) and was aimed at ensuring three things: .

.

.

Swedish shall be a complete language, serving and uniting our society. Swedish in official and public use shall be correct and shall function well. Everyone shall have a right to language: Swedish, their mother tongue and foreign languages.

The committee also suggested that a law be passed declaring Swedish to be the principal language of the country. A major problem with the 2002 action plan is that it is unclear what is meant by some of the key terms and phrases used, for example ‘a complete language’ or the individual’s ‘right to language’. Many of the ideas of the 1998 action plan were developed in this much longer and broader document, which included separate chapters discussing ‘multilingual Sweden’, Swedish as a second language, language inequality and language issues for the disabled (for a more detailed discussion, see Boyd & Huss, 2003 and Boyd, 2007).




Aims of Sweden’s Language Policy 2005 2006 Rather than pass a law, as the 2002 action plan recommended, the then Social Democratic government subsequently decided to draw up an official language policy, which was formulated and passed by Sweden’s parliament in 2005 (Prop 2005/06 Ba¨sta spra˚ket, literally ‘The best language’). In content, it closely follows the lines drawn up by the committee’s report and action plan of 2002. The objectives stated in the language policy are similar, albeit reordered, to those of the 2002 action plan listed above, while the provision that ‘[t]he Swedish language shall be the principal language of Sweden’ was now an objective of the policy rather than a provision of legislation as the 2002 plan had proposed. This first objective of the language policy thus suggests that Swedish be declared to be what it already is, the principal language of the country. The vast majority of commentators were positive about the suggestion; only

26

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

a few educational institutions suggested that the measures taken to strengthen Swedish might negatively affect other languages and Sweden’s role internationally. Several authorities with responsibility in the area, as well as the Liberal
Conservative opposition, expressed dissatisfaction with the fact that the policy backed away from legislation declaring Swedish to be the country’s principal language (Kulturutskottet, 2005: 43; Norrby, 2008: 66). The reason the government suggested a policy, rather than a law, was the difficulty it saw in a law having any normative effect, as sanctions against violations of it would be lacking (Kulturutskottet, 2005: 11). The second objective, that ‘Swedish is to be a complete language, serving and uniting society’, is an attempt to hold back the spread of English in high-status domains of the public sector, particularly education. By aiming to guarantee that Swedish is a ‘complete’ language, the policy-makers wanted to stop or slow down the development toward a future scenario, where English is used in many or all high-status domains, while Swedish becomes a language of hearth and home. The text prescribes the use of English and Swedish in parallel in certain areas, for example higher education, but the policy attempts to guarantee that Swedish also be used, at least alongside English, in all areas of society. The third objective, that ‘public Swedish is to be cultivated, simple and comprehensible’, is a reformulation of the aim of the previously mentioned action plan from the Swedish Language Board in 1998
that public language should be simple and transparent
in the interest of democracy. It is a reformulation of aims already legislated in the mid1980s and instituted by the government’s Plain Swedish Group in 1993 to increase citizens’ access to official documents and institutions. The final objective concerns language rights, but they are formulated differently for speakers of different languages, thus establishing an explicit hierarchy among languages in Sweden (see below). A concrete result of the passing of the policy was a reorganisation of Swedish language cultivation authorities under the auspices of the Institute of Language and Folklore (Institutet fo¨r spra˚k och folkminnen) in 2007. This authority also received a broader mandate than previously, as its predecessors primarily dealt with corpus planning only, and not with status planning.

The Language Act of 2009 Both the suggestions made in the action plan of 2002 and the language policy of 2005 were criticised in many quarters for not going far enough in seeking to legislate Swedish as the official or principal language of the country (Kommitte´n fo¨r svenska spra˚ket, n.d.). The Liberal
Conservative

Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation?

27

government who took office in 2006 decided to remedy this situation and regulate the position of the Swedish language by law. A new official investigation commissioned in early 2007 released its report in the spring of 2008 (SOU, 2008: 26). After the report was circulated for public comment, the language law was drafted [Final draft law (lagra˚dsremiss), 2009] and presented to the parliament in the spring of 2009 (SFS, 2009: 600) when the law was passed. Sweden’s language act aims to regulate by law the position of the Swedish language and other languages in the country in order to safeguard both Swedish and language diversity in Sweden. It also aims to regulate the use of Swedish in public administration and in international contexts. Swedish is thus confirmed by law as the principal language in Sweden. By this the lawmakers mean that Swedish is the common language, which all people living in the country should have access to and which can be used in all sectors of society. The law also specifies that public authorities have a responsibility to ensure that Swedish is used and developed. The language act also confirms the status of the five national minority languages, with special responsibility given to public authorities to protect and promote them. Furthermore, the law imposes the same responsibility to protect and promote Swedish sign language, a language which already had a strong position in the country, but which was not legally regulated previously. As a result, Swedish sign language is now placed at a similar level in the legal hierarchy to that of the national minority languages. The language of courts, administrative agencies and other public bodies is now required by law to be Swedish. This does not change the right for national minorities to use their languages in certain circumstances, nor for those who wish to use other Nordic languages in certain contexts; neither does the law change the requirement for courts and other authorities to provide interpreters or to translate documents into other languages. This part of the act implies that most official documents that are subject to the Swedish right of public access should be written in or translated into Swedish. The accompanying text gives other examples, however, of instances in which this general rule may not apply, for example in Swedish authorities’ communications with foreign counterparts. The higher education area is also considered to be a partial exception to the general rule. The law also codifies the earlier policy requirement that the language used in official contexts be ‘cultivated, simple and understandable’. In

28

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

addition, the law gives Swedish authorities the responsibility to develop Swedish terminology in areas where new terms and concepts are needed. The language act furthermore provides that Swedish is the official language of Sweden and its representatives in international contexts. It was suggested in the official investigation that preceded the law that Swedish representatives be required to use Swedish in international communication when interpretation is available
a measure explicitly rejected in the report of the Kulturutskott (2005: 17
19), but this requirement is made somewhat flexible in the law, stating that ‘special grounds’ can make it more appropriate to use another language. Finally, the law gives public authorities the responsibility for individuals’ ‘access to language’. As above, this right is formulated somewhat differently for different groups of speakers. All residents of Sweden are to be provided with the opportunity to learn, develop and use Swedish. Members of national minorities and people who need sign language are to be provided with better access to their languages than those with ‘other mother tongues’. The former groups are given the right to learn, develop and use their languages, while, as in previous documents, ‘people with a mother tongue other than’ Swedish or those specially protected languages are only given the right to develop and use (not learn) their respective languages. No mention is made in the law of the individual’s right to learn a foreign language, a measure included in the language policy of 2005
2006.




Criticism of the Language Policy (2005 2006) and Language Act (2009) The language policy and language act have certain virtues. The law, like the policy, explicitly aims to protect language diversity in Sweden (SFS, 2009: 600, §2), as provisions are made not only for reinforcing the majority language but also for other languages spoken in Sweden. In fact, the provisions for some languages
the official minority languages and Swedish sign language
are reminiscent of the provisions for Swedish. Nevertheless, the three-level hierarchy (Swedish, official minority languages, and all other languages) of the previous action plans and policies is still in place. For example, people who do not belong to the historical minority groups are not mentioned as having any ‘rights’ to these languages. Thus, the law indirectly indicates that they are not considered as much a part of the common Swedish cultural heritage as the Swedish language, which everyone living in Sweden must be given the opportunity to learn. The minority languages and the approximately

Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation?

29

200 other languages are considered important for their speakers, but not for everyone. The law explicitly lets the responsibility for providing access to languages rest on public authorities. These presumably include not only the state, the municipalities and educational institutions but other public authorities as well, both those that have language as their main remit (e.g. the language cultivation institutions) and those that do not (e.g. the courts). Higher education, firmly part of the public sector in Sweden, is also seen as a specific case where use of languages other than Swedish may be beneficial. It should also be pointed out that the law is a ‘law of obligations’ (skyldighetslag), not a ‘law of rights’ (ra¨ttighetslag). This means that the law does not make it possible for individuals to appeal to the state for their ‘right to language’. Rather, a responsibility is placed on public authorities to provide individuals with the possibility of learning or using a language. For example, individuals cannot demand that a university course prescribe course literature in Swedish, rather than English. Instead, the universities are given the responsibility of protecting Swedish and the historical minority languages, including providing instruction in them. Despite the improvements and clarifications, there are still certain features of the law (SFS, 2009: 600) and the text accompanying the final draft law which reveal that both the point of departure and the goal that the lawmakers had in mind is a nation of predominantly Swedishspeaking people. Swedish is clearly placed in a category of its own, the goal being to maintain the language as a ‘complete language serving and uniting society’, a goal we recognise from documents emanating from the previous inquiries (e.g. SOU, 2002: 27). The act, like the previous documents, seems to be based on the assumption that language and speaker are closely tied together
one-to-one. Furthermore, the legislation and its accompanying documents play down the role of multilingualism and language learning as means to facilitate communication in a multilingual society and instead tend to regard the multiple use of languages in a particular context as a threat to at least one of the languages. There is an either
or thinking to much of the legislation and policies and an idea that monolingualism is the only stable condition for states, if not for individuals. The explicit major aim of the legislation seems to be to reinforce Swedish, but when the text is examined more closely, an implicit aim clearly seems to be to limit the use of English in high-status contexts and hinder or stop its spread at least in the public sector. However, in contrast

30

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

to the policy and previous reports, the legislation and accompanying documents point out more clearly than before the benefits of using English for private business and for higher education and research. The law lessens in some ways the previous message that Swedish is a threatened language in general (e.g. Melander & Thelander, 2006). Rather, the goal is to regulate its development and use in order to guarantee that it remains the dominant language in public life. Nevertheless, there are a number of inconsistencies and examples of weak argumentation in the measures taken in the legislation.

Unsubstantiated Argumentation One phrase that is used in several documents to motivate measures to reinforce Swedish is domain loss, a term which might be assumed to originate from Fishman’s theory of language maintenance and shift (e.g. Fishman, 1972, 1991), as Fishman discusses language maintenance and shift in terms of domains. In the discussions and motivations of the policy and legislation, the lawmakers argue that when ‘highly qualified work’ is carried out in a language other than one’s mother tongue, this ‘gives rise to certain consequences in the long run for the status of the national language’ (Final draft law, 2009: 8). In other words, it is assumed that as soon as some qualified work is carried out in another language
the extent in terms of time, persons, different activities, ‘domains’ and so on is unclear
there is a risk that the domain in which such work is carried out can be ‘lost’ to the national language. The example that is given is higher education and research within technology and natural science. There is also a vague claim that ‘parts of working life’ could lose domains to English during the 2000s (Final draft law, 2009: 8). There seem to be two assumptions behind the concept of domain loss. First, if a domain is shared between two languages, ultimately only one language will be used in that domain. This assumption is contradicted by Fishman’s own research (1972, 1991): in his model for language maintenance and loss, domains can be bilingual and still be maintained if the conditions under which the languages are used are separated. This is the case, for example, when a society has stable diglossia. The second assumption is that of some sort of domino effect of domains
once one (high-status) domain is ‘lost’ to a superposed language, other domains are sure to follow. In this view, the less dominant language is on a sloping plane towards language shift or even language death (Melander & Thelander, 2006). Again, according to research on language shift, no such general domino theory of domains can be found; rather, stable societal

Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation?

31

bilingualism is possible if the areas in which the different languages are used are clearly separated. Furthermore, for Fishman the crucial domain for language maintenance is the home, not peripheral highstatus domains such as higher education, which
together with other domains which require a written language
do not even exist for the majority of languages in the world whose existence truly is threatened (Dahl & Boyd, 2006). Another concept on which the policy and legislation rest is capacity loss. By this is meant the relative difficulty that speakers and writers have in expressing themselves in as clear and nuanced a manner in a language other than their ‘mother tongue’ (Final draft law, 2009: 8). According to the government, this presents a problem for democratic influence: if people are ‘forced’ to express themselves in a language they are less proficient in, their ability to make their voices heard, to participate in public debates and to exert an influence on decision-making will be reduced. This is one of the main reasons given for declaring Swedish to be the official language of Sweden in international contexts. In one sense this reasoning cannot be argued with. It goes without saying that if people communicate in languages they feel less proficient in, they will experience difficulty expressing themselves as precisely and effortlessly as they can in languages they are more proficient in. It is not, however, always the case that bi- or multilingual people are most proficient in all contexts in their mother tongues/first languages. Furthermore, capacity loss is an inaccurate term, as there is no ‘loss’ of previous ‘capacity’; a better one might be capacity inequality. The lawmakers state that people who use their stronger language in a communication situation are at an advantage compared with people who have to use a weaker language. The example provided suggests people in the second category will be less able to participate in the democratic process than those in the first category. Legislating Swedish as the official language of Sweden in international contexts implies the need for comprehensive interpretation and translation services to and from Swedish in these contexts in order for communication to be on equal footing. However, it is not clear that the best remedy for ‘capacity loss’ or ‘inequality’ in international contexts is interpretation and translation as the policy document suggests. Besides being costly, communication via even very skilled interpreters (or translators) loses some of its meaning and precision during the interpretation process (Ingo, 1991). Even if the spoken message in the speaker’s ‘stronger’ language is well-formulated and nuanced, it is not certain that the interpreter can in all situations

32

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

replicate these qualities in their interpretation. This means that in many cases what the listener perceives may be less nuanced than what was originally produced. Since the interlocutors’ contributions also require interpretation, meaning is lost here also. Improving language skills through language learning is probably a more productive avenue for solving this problem
an avenue already prevalently used in Sweden as regards English
at least for people who are often active in international contexts. In fact, in many European contexts, Swedes have an advantage in that they are more proficient in English than others whose education systems provide less instruction in English (Hyltenstam, 2004: 53
55). In addition to the political field, the final draft law asks, ‘[W]hat effect does [capacity loss] have on the quality of higher education, when a teacher teaches in a language other than her/his mother tongue?’ (Final draft law, 2009: 8). This question, and the concept of capacity loss as a whole, suggests that people who wish to carry out ‘highly qualified work’ in a language other than their first language will be at a distinct disadvantage in comparison with those who can work in their first language. Taken to its logical conclusion, the text supporting the law can be used as grounds for discrimination against people with first languages other than Swedish wishing to work in jobs that require high proficiency in the Swedish language, for example education, journalism and law.5

Different Arguments Underlie Policy on Different Levels The 2005
2006 policy and 2009 legislation can also be found to rest on arguments which are different, depending on whether the lawmakers are looking at the level of the nation state or at the level of the EU. At the national level, Swedish is promoted as a ‘complete’ language ‘serving and uniting society’ according to both the policy and the legislation. In the accompanying discussion, it is argued that democracy is guaranteed if everyone uses a common language. Everyone living in Sweden has the right to learn Swedish, which in turn gives them the right to participate in national debates, to read official documents and to make their voices heard in local and national debates and fora. As long as official discourse takes place in Swedish, they argue, the common language guarantees everyone equal access. However, at the European level, the policy recommends that persons representing Sweden use Swedish. While the lawmakers dropped the obligatory nature of this requirement, the language act still declares that the Swedish language is Sweden’s official language in international

Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation?

33

contexts (SFS, 2009: 600, §13). This provision is also claimed to be democratic, as it puts all the participants in the communication on the same level (avoiding ‘capacity loss’). Nobody has the advantage of using their first language while others use a second language. The final draft law also emphasises in many passages the importance of language diversity in Europe and the importance of high-quality interpretation and translation services. Clearly, when put next to each other, the inconsistency in these two arguments becomes obvious. The argument of ‘capacity loss’ is not applicable to persons with other first languages at the national level. They are expected to learn Swedish and use it to exercise their democratic rights, even though the concept of capacity loss suggests they will not communicate on equal terms with speakers of Swedish as a first language. No special provisions are made to ensure that they have equal access to the national debate. On the European level, it is not considered democratic by the EU to choose one lingua franca to ‘serve and unite’ Europe. Rather, it is considered more democratic if everyone be given access to European documents in their national languages and also use these languages in communication in European institutions. For the Swedish lawmakers, uniformity promotes democracy at home while diversity promotes it at the European level. The lawmakers can see that using a language one is less proficient in (English) in a European context puts Swedes at a disadvantage compared with those who tend to be more proficient (e.g. Britons and Irish). At the same time, they do not address the parallel problem for persons living and working in Sweden in a second language. This problem is something the language act could have addressed more directly.

Conclusions




Toward Increased Uniformity or Diversity?

The process of providing Sweden with an explicit language policy has taken over 10 years. Over the years, similar arguments have been used in the various policy documents and there has been a broad consensus both among the political parties and other interested bodies that a policy to promote Swedish is needed. The expanding role of English in public life, the recognition of the historical minority languages and the large number of immigrant languages spoken in the country have definitely contributed to growing language diversity in the country. Both the legislation and the preceding policy have had as their primary aims to both reinforce the position of Swedish domestically and

34

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

support its continued use in international contexts. The policy and legislation acknowledge and indeed explicitly aim to protect language diversity in Sweden by advocating the parallel use of Swedish and English in high-status contexts such as research and education. The protection already enjoyed by the historical minority languages and Swedish sign language is repeated in the policy and legislation. The text accompanying the law also mentions the importance of improved proficiency in foreign languages. But the diversity represented by the over 200 languages spoken by immigrants and their children does not enjoy greater protection under the policy or the law. The monolingual bias underlying the policy and legislation confirm that Swedish is and should be the obvious language of choice in public interaction not only in Sweden but also abroad, unless there is good reason to do otherwise. In this respect, the objective of both the policy and the law has been to encourage diversity with regard to high-status languages rather than to protect language diversity represented by most of the other languages spoken in the country. A better course of action would have been to pass legislation or, more appropriately, a policy encouraging all forms of language diversity and recognising the resource it constitutes in modern Swedish society. The responsibilities of the newly organised language board could be broadened regarding languages other than Swedish and the official minority languages. Of course, it is unrealistic to imagine that speakers of all languages would be given equal rights. However, the law could have shown a greater recognition of the potential benefits for all provided by L1 speakers of a large number of languages and made provisions to facilitate their speakers’ participation in public life. The Swedish Language Board could also assist public authorities at the state and municipal levels to develop their own explicit language policies or guidelines. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the parliament and the University of Gothenburg have their own guidelines, but other authorities at different levels would benefit from examining their practices regarding the use of Swedish, English and other languages in order to formulate explicit policies or guidelines for their employees and clients. Different bodies and contexts require different policies. Practical and specific policies and guidelines for public authorities (including educational institutions) may potentially be more even-handed and effective at managing linguistic diversity than general legislation at the national level.

Do National Languages Need Support and Protection in Legislation?

35

Notes 1. See http://epp.eurostat.ec.europa.eu, e.g. Table tps 00057 Pupils learning English 100519. Accessed 22.1.10. 2. For more information, see http://www.scb.se. Accessed 22.1.10. 3. See http://www.sprakradet.se. Accessed 22.1.10. 4. In the context of Swedish schools, ‘mother tongue’ refers to first languages other than Swedish. 5. Discrimination due to perceived insufficient language skills or foreign accents has been a problem leading to several complaints to the Ombudsman for discrimination since the late 1990s. Several of the complainants have won their cases in court or been awarded damages when settling out of court. See http://www.do. se/ sv/Press/ Pressmeddelanden/ Dalig- svenska-svepskalsom-drabbar-utlandsfodda/. Accessed 22.1.10.

References Ba¨sta spra˚ket
en samlad svensk spra˚kpolitik [The best language
An integrated Swedish policy on language] (2005) Prop 2005/06: 2. Stockholm: Swedish Ministry of Culture. On WWW at http://www.sweden.gov.se/sb/d/5359/a/ 50761. Accessed 22.1.10. Boyd, S. (2007) Communication and community: Perspectives on language policy in Sweden and Australia since the mid-1970s. In A. Pauwels, J. Winter and J. Lo Bianco (eds) Maintaining Languages in Transnational Contexts (pp. 141
179). Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Boyd, S. and Huss, L. (1999) Det beho¨vs en helhetssyn pa˚ spra˚ken i Sverige! Spra˚kva˚rd 3, 5
9. Boyd, S. and Huss, L. (2003) Ma˚l i mun och spra˚klig ma˚ngfald. Spra˚kva˚rd 1, 28
34. ¨ . and Boyd, S. (2006) Grundlo¨st om spra˚kdo¨d. Spra˚kva˚rd 4, 36
40. Dahl, O Final draft law [Comment of Board for Judicial Preview] (2009) Spra˚klag. [Language law.] Stockholm: Swedish Ministry of Culture. On WWW at http://www. sweden.gov.se/sb/d/108/a/120872. Accessed 22.1.10. Fishman, J. (1972) The Sociology of Language: An Interdisciplinary Social Science Approach to Language in Society. Rowley, MA: Newbury House. Fishman, J. (1991) Reversing Language Shift. Theoretical and Empirical Foundations of Assistance to Threatened Languages. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Hyltenstam, K. (2004) Engelskan, skolans spra˚kundervisning och svensk spra˚kpolitik. In Engelskan i Sverige. Spra˚kval i utbildning, arbete och kulturliv. Sma˚skrift utgiven av Svenska spra˚kna¨mnden 2004 (pp. 36
110). Stockholm: Norstedts Ordbok. Ingo, R. (1991) Fra˚n ka¨llspra˚k till ma˚lspra˚k: introduktion i o¨versa¨ttningsvetenskap. Lund: Studentlitteratur. Kommitte´n fo¨r svenska spra˚ket [Committee for the Swedish Language] (n.d.) Remissvar pa˚ Ma˚l i mun. [Official comments on Speech.] Beta¨nkande av Kommitte´n fo¨r svenska spra˚ket. On WWW at http://www.regeringen.se/ content/1/c4/14/43/9a80cbac.pdf. Accessed 22.1.10. Kulturutskottet [Parliamentary Standing Committee for Cultural Affairs] (2005) Beta¨nkande 2005/06: KrU4 Ba¨sta spra˚ket
en samlad svensk spra˚kpolitik. Stockholm: Swedish Parliament. On WWW at http://www.riksdagen.se/

36

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

webbnav/index.aspx?nid  3322&dok_id GT01KrU4 &rm 2005/06&bet KrU4. Accessed 22.1.10. Lim Falk, M. (2008) Svenska i engelskspra˚kig skolmiljo¨. A¨mnesrelaterat spra˚kbruk i tva˚ gymnasieklasser. Stockholm Studies in Scandinavian Philology, New Series 46. Stockholm: Stockholm University. Melander, B. and Thelander, M. (2006) Sa˚ tar man livet av ett spra˚k. Spra˚kva˚rd 2, 39
42. Norrby, C. (2008) Swedish language policy: Multilingual paradise or utopian dream? In J. Warren and H.M. Benbow (eds) Multilingual Europe: Reflections on Language and Identity (pp. 63
76). Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. SFS (Svensk fo¨rfattningssamling [The Swedish Code of Statutes]) (2009: 600) Spra˚klag [Language law]. Stockholm: Swedish Parliament. On WWW at http://www.riksdagen.se/webbnav/index.aspx?nid3911&bet2009%3A600. Accessed 22.1.10. SOU (Statens offentliga utredningar [Swedish Government Official Reports]) (1997: 192) Steg mot en minoritetspolitik. Europara˚dets konvention om historiska minoritetsspra˚k. [Steps toward a policy for minorities. The Council of Europe’s convention on historical minority languages.] Stockholm: Swedish Ministry of Enterprise, Energy and Communications. On WWW at http://www. regeringen.se/sb/d/108/a/2476. Accessed 22.1.10. SOU (2002: 27) Ma˚l i mun. [Speech.] Stockholm: Swedish Ministry of Culture. On WWW at http://www.sweden.gov.se/sb/d/108/a/1443. Accessed 22.1.10. SOU (2008: 26) Va¨rna spra˚ken
fo¨rslag till spra˚klag. [Protect languages
proposal for a language law.] Stockholm: Swedish Ministry of Culture. On WWW at http://www.regeringen.se/sb/d/108/a/100959. Accessed 22.1.10. Svenska spra˚kna¨mnden [Swedish Language Board] (1998) Fo¨rslag till handlingsprogram fo¨r att fra¨mja svenska spra˚ket [reprinted]. Spra˚kva˚rd 2, 7
23. Sylve´n, L.K. (2004) Teaching in English or English teaching? On the effects of content and language integrated learning on Swedish learners’ incidental vocabulary acquisition. PhD thesis in English, University of Gothenburg. Teleman, U. (1989) Det nordiska spra˚ksamarbetet. Ide´er och framtidsuppgifter. Spra˚k i Norden 1989. Nordiska spra˚ksekretariatets skrifter 10 (pp. 14
32). Oslo: Nordisk Spra˚ksekretariat.

Chapter 3

Language Policy and Smaller National Languages: The Baltic States in the New Millennium ULDIS OZOLINS

Introduction Language policy in the post-independent Baltic States Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania has attracted considerable political and academic interest. Regaining their independence in 1991 after half a century of Soviet rule, the Baltic States have insisted on making their languages the sole official state language and have pursued a range of language policy initiatives to ensure this status, even though at the time of renewed independence the countries had sizeable portions of their population who did not know the national languages in each case
Estonian, Latvian, Lithuanian. Responses to this situation have varied widely. From the very beginning of independence, the language policies of the Baltic States have attracted strong criticism politically, especially from Moscow and from numerous commentators claiming discrimination and deviation from internationally accepted principles of language policy (de Varennes, 1995/1996; Dobson, 2001). More recently, the three states have also been accepted into the European Union (EU), NATO and other international organisations, where during their candidature, language polices and other related polices (on minority relations in particular) were often carefully scrutinised and put under considerable pressure to be changed in some instances (Hogan-Brun et al., 2007; Ja¨rve, 2003; Ozolins, 2003). This chapter investigates these competing responses to Baltic language policy politically and institutionally, tempering this with a historical and sociolinguistic analysis that shows that the complex language practices and attitudes of Baltic residents often differ sharply from the political rhetoric. 37

38

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

The present language situation in the Baltic States came about during this prolonged period of Soviet occupation (1940
1991, with the briefer interlude of Nazi occupation in the Second World War), which saw a fundamental change in language hierarchy from the previous period of Baltic independence (1918
1940), when their own national languages had been the official languages. While Russian had been spoken for centuries in this region as a lingua franca and as the language of relatively small resident groups, the Soviet period saw a massive influx of mainly Russian-speaking settlers into the Baltic States, particularly Estonia and Latvia, changing their demography and bringing about the oftenidentified phenomenon of asymmetrical bilingualism
where local nationals (Estonians, Latvians, Lithuanians) needed to be bilingual in their language and Russian to function in society, as Russian took over more and more social domains in administration, industry, higher education and language in public space. By contrast, the increasingly large and usually monolingual Russian-speaking population was entirely self-sufficient in its Russian language. Despite this, throughout the Soviet period the three nationalities retained an overt loyalty to their own languages, with little language shift (Hogan-Brun et al., 2007). The post-independence Baltic linguistic situation is strikingly characterised in Skutnabb-Kangas’ description of the ironic status of languages there, each of which can claim to be a majority and minority language: Russian is thus a majorized minority language (a minority language in terms of numbers, but with the power of a majority language), whereas the Baltic languages are minorized majority languages (majority languages, in need of protection usually necessary for the threatened minority languages). (cited in Hogan-Brun et al., 2007: 594) In this situation, each side can claim to be a disadvantaged minority. Those who were previously advantaged and subsequently threatened by change will feel the most disadvantaged and protest the loudest. As we shall see, however, viewing this as a two-sided contest overlooks the complexity of actual linguistic practices and the very large area of current social agreement (including among most Russian speakers) over the desirable language situation in the Baltic States. The present orientation of Baltic language policy thus needs to be seen in its wider context of political change, as an explicit post-Soviet desire to reorient to the West, as realised by the Baltic States in joining the EU and NATO. And this entails a radical departure from Soviet language policy by pursuing the following goals:

Language Policy and Smaller National Languages .

.

.

39

Insistence that Soviet-period language relations and hierarchy must not continue, as it threatened the status and functions of the national languages. The regaining by the national languages of their full status in all official and social domains. An ambitious goal of ensuring that those residents who were not fluent in the national languages can add each respective national language to their repertoire.

While language policy is a problematic and sometimes contentious issue in many countries, exact analogies elsewhere of small national languages under threat in the public sphere, as we see in the Baltic, are rare. The Baltic situation is partly reflected in Quebec and Catalonia, but in neither case are they independent states. Elsewhere, partial analogies may be drawn with (a) the recent anxiety in Sweden regarding a perceived threat to Swedish from English (Boyd, Chapter 2, this volume; Milani & Johnson, 2008), (b) post-colonial worries over local Indigenous languages under pressure from colonial languages (Obeng & Hartford, 2002) or (c) concerns over immigration and attendant language issues (Lasagabaster, Chapter 7, this volume; Mar-Molinero & Stevenson, 2006). The Baltic States regard themselves as being in a post-colonial situation (Racevskis, 2002; Verschik, 2005): the situations more closely comparable to the Baltic may indeed be situations of small nations and small languages being squeezed not only by forces of globalisation and immigration but also by a colonial heritage with strong linguistic carryover from the past. However, European institutional perspectives define the Baltic situation differently, as needing to foster policies as for traditional minorities and language accommodation, with less regard for historical antecedents. The result is a critical divergence in perspectives. A brief sketch will be given of the historical background to the present-day Baltic language situation before analysing post-Soviet events and the complexities of contemporary Baltic language policy.

Baltic Language Background The Finno-Ugric Estonian language and the Baltic languages proper of Lithuanian and Latvian are geographically surrounded and dominated by Germanic and Slavic languages. Lithuania, as part of a joint empire with Poland until its dismemberment in the 18th century, was dominated by the Polish language. By contrast, Estonia and Latvia were dominated by a German-speaking elite from the 13th century, who maintained their influence through various changes of regime
Sweden

40

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

in the 17th century and then the Russian Empire from the beginning of the 18th century. The late 19th century brought about two distinctly new linguistic movements. Firstly, from the 1880s the Russian Empire began a more aggressive russification, diminishing the status of German and Polish. Secondly, a classic Gellnerian national awakening in all three Baltic nations brought a high level of literacy in their respective mother tongues and began to challenge both German and Russian hegemony (Gellner, 1983). In the confusion of the end of the First World War, the Baltic States declared their independence and established each language as the dominant language in government, public life and the education system in a context of what remained very multilingual societies. Russian and German (in Estonia and Latvia) and Russian and Polish (in Lithuania) were widely used and mastered by all educated Balts. A prime focus of language policy was to ensure that all public officials (many from the previous Czarist and German regimes) and all pupils, including those in minority schools, were fluent in the national languages (Latvia State Language Commission, 2008: 13). At the same time, the Baltic States were subject to the requirements of the Versailles peace treaty and League of Nations to ensure adequate minority policies. A wide cultural autonomy was respected, with many minority schools, press and other language maintenance mechanisms in place (Loeber, 1993). This independence ended with the secret Molotov
Ribbentrop pact of August 1939, which carved up Eastern Europe between Germany and the Soviet Union, leaving the Baltics in the Soviet sphere of influence. The Soviets invaded the Baltic States in June 1940, leading to their forced incorporation into the Soviet Union, an act never recognised by Western powers. The first Soviet occupation with its mass killings and deportations was succeeded by a German occupation and the Holocaust. The Soviets returned in 1944, continuing Stalin’s mass deportations and imprisonments and a relentless suppression of any nationalist tendencies or dissident activity through to the 1980s.

The Soviet Language Regime Examining threats to national languages in Europe, Rannut (2009) argues that during the Soviet period, and indeed in most other language situations worldwide, legislation was not the prime means of bringing about a particular language regime: ‘The absence of language legislation has never constrained different activities of

Language Policy and Smaller National Languages

41

language management’ (p. 42). The significant shifts in language hierarchy in the Baltic Soviet republics were brought about by population shifts, by giving privileges to speakers of one language over another, promoting a particular language in specific domains and ruthlessly suppressing any protest at such moves. A significant policy factor, for example, was providing education and public information in the various Soviet republics in only two languages
Russian and the respective republican language. Although many who moved into the non-Russian republics had other mother tongues, these received no support, thereby facilitating a continual russification of speakers of other languages in the non-Russian Soviet republics. The radical demographic shift in the Baltic States is shown in Table 3.1. Lithuania, with a less industrially based economy and somewhat different politics within the Communist Party, was able to shield itself from the Soviet settler pattern of Estonia and Latvia. Yet, the outcome in linguistic terms in all three republics was a poor command of the local national languages on the part of most Soviet period settlers, as demonstrated in the census figures in Table 3.2. Here we also see the quite rapid rise in competence levels in the post-Soviet period, a direct result of the language polices adopted by the Baltic States. Table 3.1 Changing ethnic composition in the Baltic States from pre-Second World War to 2000/2001 Pre-Second World War census

1989

2000/2001

Estonia Estonians Russians Others

92.4% 3.9% 3.7%

61.5% 30.3% 8.2%

67.9% 25.6% 6.5%

Latvia Latvians Russians Others

73.4% 10.6% 16%

52% 34% 14%

57.7% 29.6% 12.7%

Lithuania Lithuanians Russians Polish Others

84.2% 2.5% 3.2% 10.1%

79.6% 9.4% 7% 4%

83.4% 6.3% 6.7% 3.5%

Source: Census in various years, summarised in Hogan-Brun et al. (2007: 505)

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

42

Table 3.2 Non-national residents in the Baltic States knowing the respective Baltic language, 1989 2000/2001




1989

2000/2001

Estonia

15%

39.7%

Latvia

22.3%

58.5%

35%

66.9%

Lithuania

Source: Census in various years, adapted from Druviete (1997: 166)

This demographic and linguistic situation was a major inspiration for the widespread protest movements that characterised the Baltic States, among other republics, during the period of glasnost and perestroika from the mid-1980s. Although these movements were never intended by Soviet President Gorbachev to unleash national sentiments, the Baltic Soviet republics used the comparative liberalism of this period to push for greater sovereignty from Moscow control and a reversal of the unfavourable language situation. In 1989, while still in the Soviet Union, all three Baltic Supreme Soviets (‘parliaments’) passed legislation explicitly declaring the official status of the local national language and the necessity for all personnel in public contact positions to be competent in those languages. Immediately attacked by Moscow, this initiative from bodies still within the Soviet system showed the strength of the national movements, which, despite violent attempts by the Soviet Union to keep them within the fold, were able to declare renewed independence for their countries during the August 1991 putsch that attempted to unseat Gorbachev (Hogan-Brun et al., 2007: 515ff).

The Baltic Approach to Language Policy Language policy in the post-independence Baltic States has featured legislation as its crucial underpinning, building on the 1989 Supreme Soviet Language Laws and introducing more regulations in areas such as public signage, use of language in media and education, orthography and related matters. The central feature of this legislation was the demand for proficiency in the national language of all those who in their occupations were in contact with the public. Estonia and Latvia required proficiency for all those in public contact whether in the private or public sphere; Lithuania stipulated this for public officials only. This requirement led to large programmes of language certification or attestation to demonstrate

Language Policy and Smaller National Languages

43

language competence at various levels according to one’s profession. All those who had not attended schools that taught in the national language were required to certify their competence; failure to complete this certification requirement could be grounds for later dismissal from their place of work. This certification exercise was undertaken by over 500,000 employees in Latvia, over 200,000 in Estonia and nearly 100,000 in Lithuania. Together with the language requirement for naturalisation in Estonia and Latvia (see below), this certification was a major incentive for non-nationals to improve their level of proficiency (Hogan-Brun et al., 2007: 523). The dissolution of the Soviet Union also raised the question of citizenship. Of all former Soviet republics, only Estonia and Latvia failed to grant automatic citizenship to all permanent residents on their territory. Faced with the already mentioned demographic influx and the settlers’ low level of proficiency in the national languages, Estonia and Latvia granted automatic citizenship only to those who were, or who were descendants of, citizens in June 1940 when the Baltic States were occupied. After much wrangling, it was agreed that a process of naturalisation would take place, which included tests on the history and constitution of the respective countries and a language test at an everyday conversational and correspondence level. The process of naturalisation has been pursued from the mid-1990s, leading to a steady decline in the proportion of non-citizens. In education, the Russian stream school systems introduced by the Soviets, which traditionally taught the local national languages either minimally or not at all, immediately introduced the teaching of the national languages into all grade levels, with a requirement to pass examinations in a subject in the national languages at the completion of primary and later secondary school. Furthermore, in all three Baltic States, schools were established for other mother-tongue groups (e.g. Ukrainian, Polish) to diversify the school system and overcome the hitherto russification effects of the Russian school stream. Lithuania has virtually left the Russian school system to wither on the vine, with few Russian schools now remaining outside the south-east of the country. Meanwhile, Estonia and Latvia had long wanted to move to a nationallanguage-only secondary school system, but persistent negotiations through the early 2000s led to a compromise solution. In Latvia in September 2004, the non-national secondary schools introduced a new curriculum where 60% of the subjects would be taught in Latvian and 40% in Russian or other relevant language. Despite strong protests from defenders of Russian schools in the lead-up to this new introduction, an

44

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

attempted boycott fizzled out and the 60/40 split has now been adopted throughout Latvia (Hogan-Brun, 2006). In 2007, Estonia started a slower process with a similar objective of having 60% of subjects taught in Estonian by 2011. In all three Baltic States, there has been a steady decline in the proportion of students attending the Russian system, as a result of emigration, a low birth rate and the desire of many non-nationals to have their children educated in national language schools.1 Meanwhile, publicly funded university education was changed to a nationallanguage-only system, abolishing the previous Russian streams in higher education by the mid- to late 1990s in all three Baltic States. An immediate visual effect of the language laws was the changing streetscape and public display of languages: the traditional political slogans familiar in all Soviet cities (and which in the Baltic republics had increasingly come to be in Russian) were swiftly dismantled; signage for consumers also changed in shops and markets; public transport and traffic signs changed to the national language, as did public announcements on transport and other facilities.

International Responses: Language Rights and Wrongs The Baltic language and citizenship policies brought immediate and continuing criticism from Moscow (e.g. Alksnis, 1991; Ramishvili, 1998). Both through Russian pressure and European concerns about potential conflict in the region, an almost never-ending series of international interventions have taken place from 1992 to the present, concerned with examining how language policy can lessen perceived ethnic tensions, among other things. This was also a period when international organisations began to elaborate recommendations on the relationship between human rights language policy, as represented in such instruments as the Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities and European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages of the Council of Europe, or the Oslo Recommendations Regarding the Linguistic Rights of National Minorities, of the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE). However, the problem faced by international organisations was to define what kind of language and human rights situation they faced in the Baltic. Skutnabb-Kangas’ identification of minoritised and majoritised languages overturns what are often unexamined assumptions about the status of national languages. Druviete (1997) argues that the view of national languages in the various conventions such as those mentioned above assumes a strong national language, well entrenched

Language Policy and Smaller National Languages

45

and operating as the default language of transactions in a country, as against minority languages that are taken to be weaker and in many cases vulnerable. Yet in the Baltic States the situation was entirely different, as can be demonstrated by just one example from the Oslo Recommendations section on judicial proceedings, which quotes the following Council of Europe recommendation: 19) [ . . .] In regions in which substantial numbers of a national minority are settled, the persons belonging to a national minority shall have the right to use their mother tongue in their contacts with the administrative authorities and in proceedings before the courts and legal authorities. (OSCE, 1998) In the Baltic States there were no officials
in the prison service, the police, the judiciary or elsewhere
who did not have a command of Russian, nor has anyone in these institutions ever been refused the right to speak in Russian. On the contrary, the problem was that many officials appointed during the Soviet period had no command of the national language, and Estonians, Latvians or Lithuanians before the court or other institutions would often be addressed in Russian by officials not knowing their languages. Druviete summed up this situation as follows: The Baltic countries represent a unique case, probably not taken into consideration when universal declarations on linguistic human rights are written. Their situation shows that the linguistic human rights of state language speakers can also be infringed and that the official state language in an independent country may be an endangered language at the same time. (Druviete, 1997: 13) Moreover, the Baltic States
and other Eastern European countries
felt that rules applied by bodies such as the EU were slanted against them, for the EU ‘did not make the distinction between local and immigrant minorities that it allowed to its original member-states, and [. . .] did not grant to candidates for membership the privilege of determining which linguistic minorities to recognise’ (Spolsky, 2009: 163). As a result of these diverging perspectives, the Baltic States engaged in continuous discussions over a series of issues as they applied for membership of European organisations. Most of all, the Baltic States clearly refused to see themselves as dual-language communities. The insistence on having only one official language was maintained based on what they viewed as the illegitimate Soviet occupation and its demographic consequences and the threat that Soviet language policies had

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

46

posed to the national languages and cultures (Budryte, 2005). In the case of Lithuania, its more inclusive citizenship policy, its restricting the operation of the language laws to the public sphere only and its smaller minority population overall meant it escaped much of the conflict and attention that were focused on Estonia and Latvia, where the following issues sparked particularly intense negotiations with European bodies: .

.

.

Language requirements in the private economic sphere. When European organisations pressed the issue that language use in the private economic sector should not be regulated except for clear public interest issues of safety or consumer rights, Estonia and Latvia wrote into their language laws a string of public interest issues including consumer and worker rights and required a large number of professionals and occupations to demonstrate proficiency in the national language (Ozolins, 2003). Language requirements for publicly elected deputies. A series of European court decisions that found language certification regimes heavy-handed, as well as intense lobbying by NATO, finally convinced Estonia and Latvia to remove language proficiency requirements for candidates for public office (Ja¨rve, 2003: 98) while introducing other regulations to ensure use of the national language in all public representative bodies. Easing of language requirements in citizenship tests. Estonia and Latvia reduced the written requirements in citizenship tests for older applicants and enlisted the expertise of such bodies as the Association of Language Testers in Europe in constructing their tests.

Foremost among the criticisms of the Baltic States were accusations that they did not recognise language rights. There is an extensive literature on language rights that can only be briefly referred to here. Advocates of liberal readings of rights conventions (e.g. de Varennes, 1995/1996, 2009) are highly critical of Baltic and other examples that favour a national language; other studies such as Dunbar (2001) are more circumspect on what international conventions prescribe. Aspects of linguistic human rights have also been the subject of substantial critique, for example Deets (2002), who argues that international organisations often create too high an expectation by emphasising rights of particular language groups and that more multilingual and international approaches to conflict situations may be preferable. In contrast, Bruthiaux (2009) contends that many claims for language rights should not be ideologically or legally

Language Policy and Smaller National Languages

47

privileged, but rather be assessed as are other claims on government for additional resources by specific interest groups. Another more theoretical critique of language rights proposals comes from Wee (2007), who argues that most expressions of language rights are firmly grounded in a monolingual discourse, assuming that minority language speakers need to be able to be self-sufficient in their language and maintain themselves as monolinguals. Most language rights conventions only mention in passing encouraging minorities to learn the national language and focus on arguing for increasing the number of domains in which minority monolingualism may hold sway. Baltic scholars have long seen this as the nub of the issue with the Russianspeaking minority or at least those who insist on remaining monolingual, expecting all services of the host society and all social interaction to continue to be in Russian (Rannut, 1994). Wee argues that such an assumption of monolingualism not only creates problems for prospects of integration of minority groups into societies but also places a heavy burden on the majority state to support minority language maintenance. More fundamentally, it is also out of step with a world of mobility (both geographical and social) and heightened communication and interchange where multilingualism must become a norm of all minorities. Such a ‘multilingualisation’ of minorities brings us to considerations not only of formal language policy but also of the evolving sociolinguistics in the Baltic States. In what follows, we will pay particular attention to Estonia and Latvia, whose language policies have drawn the most scrutiny and criticism.

From Conflict to Sociolinguistic Reality In a recent article on Russian in Latvia and the outlook for bilingualism, Dilans (2009) warns that many analyses of the Baltic situation had overly focused on specific political and ethnic conflicts and language policy initiatives, without considering the wider sociolinguistic aspect of growing bilingualism and often contradictory tendencies in actual social use and responsiveness to a variety of languages in society. Detailed work on Estonia was carried out by Laitin in the late 1990s (Laitin, 1998, 2003), who observed generally positive attitudes on the part of Russians towards learning Estonian, but their great difficulty in interacting regularly with Estonian speakers at work and in daily life. Many Russians lived in areas where they came into contact with very few Estonians speakers, Russians being concentrated in the east of the country around Narva or in outer urban housing estates of Tallinn.

48

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

This backs Grenoble’s more general findings among Russians in former Soviet republics that ‘the majority of Russians supported bilingualism, even though they themselves did not know the titular language’ (Grenoble, 2003: 200). Estonia has made concessions to this situation, agreeing to allow non-citizens to vote in local government elections and informally using Russian in local administration and taking a slower, more measured approach to secondary school reform than in Latvia. Rouillard’s (2006) work on Estonia meanwhile looked at another aspect, the feelings of Russian artists and intellectuals in Tallinn, an elite within the Russian community working out a modus vivendi between their Russian cultural roots and their Estonian environment. While most of these artists had little proficiency in Estonian, they had very positive attitudes towards Estonia and the Estonian mindset and towards the country and its way of life. At the same time, they were able to source inspiration for their work from Russian culture and recognised a growing difference between Russians in Estonia and those in Russia. Rouillard sensed great loyalty towards Estonia despite the linguistic hurdle, leading him to suggest that the Estonian state could well find other ways of determining loyalty for citizenship apart from a command of Estonian. The Latvian sociolinguistic situation has been studied systematically through the Baltic Institute of Social Science (BISS), which has undertaken regular sample surveys since 1996. Its 2008 survey reports that a series of positive changes, which indicate that the status of the Latvian language is firming up among minority populations, should be noted: the skills of state language have improved, the public environment in which Latvian is spoken has expanded, and attitudes towards the speaking of Latvian have improved. (BISS, 2008: 8) The evidence for such a view includes overwhelming support from both Latvians and Russians that ‘it is important for each and every resident of Latvia to speak the Latvian language’ (BISS, 2008: 15). The proportion of Russians who speak Russian only at work has declined from 60% to 28% over the past decade, while the percentage speaking Russian only in shops and on the street declined from 40% in 1996 to 31% in 2008. BISS comments that ‘[t]he decline of self-sufficiency of minority language can be regarded as a significant proof of consolidation of the status of the majority language’ (p. 10). There is also considerable consensus from both Latvians and Russians on the importance of Russian, and nearly 80% of both Latvians and Russians also agree on the high value of knowing English (BISS, 2008: 15).

Language Policy and Smaller National Languages

49

The 2008 survey gives detailed statistics on the proficiency in Latvian of those with another mother tongue, in this instance breaking it down into the three proficiency levels used in the Latvian context as the basis of language certification, outlined in Table 3.3. The table clearly shows the dramatic decline in the number of individuals who do not know Latvian at all, from the 77% of the 1989 census to only 7% in 2008, remarkable given the short time frame of only two decades. Despite the often-fraught international rhetoric, as we have seen, the 2008 survey emphasises what it sees as the marked linguistic tolerance of the population in Latvia. It finds that there are positive attitudes towards and acceptance of the status of Latvian among non-Latvians
something previous surveys have noted, even on politically hot issues such as the secondary school reform mentioned above, which was supported by a large majority of non-Latvians, despite a vocal protest campaign. The survey captures the very divided view of the Russian community on this and similar issues, divisions also reported by other authors (e.g. Romanov, 2000). On the Latvian side, while official policy no longer requires all Latvian nationals to learn Russian in school, Latvians overwhelmingly support the importance of knowing Russian and, in their daily practice, will often respond in Russian to Russian interlocutors
even when such interlocutors also speak Latvian. According to the survey: On the one hand, these data indicate competition among languages, because people feel that it is important to speak both languages. On the other hand, data suggest that there are [sic] now greater tolerance towards languages, as in both ethno-linguistic groups people are more likely to recognise the importance of the other language. (BISS, 2008: 15)

Table 3.3 Changing proficiency in Latvian of individuals who have a mother tongue other than Latvian Level of proficiency claimed Highest

Intermediate

Lowest

Do not know Latvian

June 1996

9%

27%

44%

22%

April 2008

26%

31%

36%

7%

Source: BISS (2008: 22)

50

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

The Latvian situation also gives insight into a theoretical approach that is among the most useful in analysing the situation of certain minorities in Europe
Bratt Paulston et al.’s (2007) analysis of extrinsic minorities. Taking as their examples Russians in Latvia and Hungarians in Romania, they argue that these are minorities outside their real or putative ‘homeland’, who are unlike other historic minorities that undergo relentless assimilation: ‘the norm amongst extrinsic minorities is language maintenance with very slow shift, if at all’ (p. 385). Such situations can arise from various factors but are often tied to feelings of historic, cultural or even political or military superiority, as well as now constant cross-border communication. One can say, however, that in the Baltic, the issue is not that of shift. Significant language shift is neither evidenced nor expected, nor is it the object of policy; rather there has been considerable success in adding a national language to the repertoire of most minority language speakers. While some will remain monolingual and ‘extrinsic’, the degree of acceptance of the three national languages and identification with their respective territories are indicators of the changing language hierarchy in the Baltic States.

Conclusion As small national languages, Latvian, Estonian and Lithuanian illustrate the pressures, both local and international, that need to be carefully negotiated in attempting to change a previous linguistic hierarchy. As the battles with international organisations and sometimes hostile neighbouring governments show, no attempt to strengthen national languages can
under anything like reasonably democratic circumstances
fail to respect other languages on their territory. The Baltic States have taken the particular path of fostering strong L2 learning and bilingualism among their minorities to strengthen the status of the national languages
not only through education, but by legislating their use and requiring proficiency in them. At the same time, the sociolinguistic environment, despite the political debate it sometimes sparks, shows a degree of linguistic tolerance on all sides, lessening conflicts and ensuring a continued
and growing
multilingualism. Note 1. In Estonia, the proportion of pupils attending Estonian-medium schools rose from 72% in 1999/2000 to 78% in 2006/2007, while the proportion in Russianmedium schools dropped from 28% to 20% (http://www.hm.ee/index. php?148727). In Latvia, 64.95% of pupils attended Latvian-medium schools

Language Policy and Smaller National Languages

51

in 1998/1999 and this rose to 73.54% in 2008/2009, with the proportion attending Russian-medium schools dropping from 34.71% to 25.83% (http:// izm.izm.gov.lv/registri-statistika/statistika-vispareja/3334.html). A small proportion of pupils attend other language-medium schools (e.g. Ukrainian and Polish).

References Alksnis, V. (1991) Suffering from self-determination. Foreign Policy 84, 61
71. BISS (Baltic Institute of Social Sciences) (2008) Language. Report March
April 2008. On WWW at http://www.bszi.lv/downloads/resources/valoda/ valoda2008_en.pdf. Accessed 21.6.10. Bratt Paulston, C., Haragos, S., Lifrieri, V. and Martelle, W. (2007) Some thoughts on extrinsic linguistic minorities. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 28 (5), 385
399. Bruthiaux, P. (2009) Language rights in historical and contemporary perspective. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 30 (1), 73
85. Budryte, D. (2005) Taming Nationalism? Political Community Building in the PostSoviet Baltic States. Aldershot: Ashgate. Deets, T. (2002) Reconsidering East European minority policy: Liberal theory and European norms. East European Politics and Societies 16 (1), 30
54. de Varennes, F. (1995/1996) The protection of linguistic minorities in Europe and human rights: Possible solutions to ethnic conflicts? Columbia Journal of European Law 2 (1), 107
143. de Varennes, F. (2009) Language rights standards in Europe: The impact of the Council of Europe’s human rights and treaty obligations. In S. Pertot, T.M.S. Priestly and C.H. Williams (eds) Rights, Promotion and Integration Issues for Minority Languages in Europe (pp. 23
31). Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Dilans, G (2009) Russian in Latvia: An outlook for bilingualism in a post-Soviet transitional society. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism 12 (1), 1
13. Dobson, J. (2001) Ethnic discrimination in Latvia. In C.C. O’Reilly (ed.) Language, Ethnicity and the State, Vol. 2: Minority Languages in Eastern Europe Post-1989 (pp. 155
188). Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Druviete, I. (1997) Linguistic human rights in the Baltic States. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 127, 161
186. Dunbar, R. (2001) Minority language rights in international law. International and Comparative Law Quarterly 50, 90
120. Gellner, E. (1983) Nations and Nationalism. Oxford: Blackwell. Grenoble, L.A. (2003) Language Policy in the Soviet Union. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Hogan-Brun, G. (2006) At the interface of language ideology and practice: The public discourse surrounding the 2004 education reform in Latvia. Language Policy 5 (2), 313
333. Hogan-Brun, G., Ozolins, U., Ramoniene, M. and Rannut, M. (2007) Language politics and practices in the Baltic States. Current Issues in Language Planning 8 (4), 469
631. Ja¨rve, P. (2003) Language battles in the Baltic States 1989 to 2002. In F. Daftay and F. Grin (eds) Nation Building, Ethnicity and Language Politics in Transition

52

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

Countries (pp. 73
105). Budapest: Local Government and Public Service Reference Institute. Laitin, D. (1998) Identity in Formation: The Russian Speaking Populations in the Near Abroad. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Laitin, D. (2003) Three models of integration and the Estonian/Russian reality. Journal of Baltic Studies 34 (2), 197
222. Latvia State Language Commission (2008) Break-out of Latvian. Riga: Zinatne. Loeber, D.A. (1993) Language rights in independent Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, 1918
1940. In S. Vilfan (ed.) Ethnic Groups and Language Rights (pp. 221
249). Aldershot: Dartmouth. Mar-Molinero, C. and Stevenson, P. (eds) (2006) Language, Ideologies, Policies and Practices: Language and the Future of Europe. Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Milani, T.M. and Johnson, S. (2008) Language politics and legitimation crisis in Sweden: A Habermasian approach. Language Problems and Language Planning 32 (1), 1
22. Obeng, S.G. and Hartford, B. (2002) Political Independence with Linguistic Servitude. New York: Nova Science. OSCE (1998) The Oslo Recommendations Regarding the Linguistic Rights of National Minorities and Explanatory Note. The Hague: Foundation on Inter-ethnic Relations. Ozolins, U. (2003) The impact of European accession upon language policy in the Baltic States. Language Policy 2, 217
238. Racevskis, K. (2002) Towards a postcolonial perspective on the Baltic States. Journal of Baltic Studies 33 (1), 37
56. Ramishvili, T. (1998) Latvia and Estonia: Human rights violations in the center of Europe. International Affairs 44 (4), 116
127. Rannut, M. (1994) Beyond linguistic policy: The Soviet Union versus Estonia. In T. Skutnabb-Kangas and R. Phillipson (eds) Linguistic Human Rights: Overcoming Linguistic Discrimination (pp. 179
208). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Rannut, M. (2009) Threats to national languages in Europe. In G. Stickel (ed.) National and European Language Policies (pp. 35
51). Frankfurt: Peter Lang. Romanov, A. (2000) The Russian diaspora in Latvia and Estonia: Predicting language outcomes. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 21 (1), 58
71. Rouillard, R. (2006) Language loyalty in the Baltic: Russian artists and linguistic nationalism in Estonia. In C. Mar-Molinero and P. Stevenson (eds) Language, Ideologies, Policies and Practices: Language and the Future of Europe. (pp. 133
146). Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Spolsky, B. (2009) Language Management. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Verschik, A. (2005) The language situation in Estonia. Journal of Baltic Studies 36 (3), 283
316. Wee, L. (2007) Linguistic human rights and mobility. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 28 (4), 325
338.

Chapter 4

Language Policy in Australia: What Goes Up Must Come Down? PAULIN G. DJITE´

Introduction In his answer to the question ‘What will the Australian of the year 2000 be like?’ the then Australian Minister for Immigration, Al Grassby, boldly declared:1 He will be outward looking, and will have a keen awareness of Australia’s place in the world and, in particular, its place in the region of the world in which we live. He will be at least bilingual and possibly multilingual and thereby heir to the fullness of mankind’s past [ . . .] confident both of his identity and Australia’s. This may sound very utopian. But it is certainly the case that the ‘true Australian’ is no longer (necessarily) a monolingual English speaker
and globalisation should give Australia increasing possibilities of utilising its language resources and its grassroots experience in intercultural communication. This could make it an important link between Asia and Europe and also guarantee the continuing complementarity between English and Australia’s other languages. (Grassby, 1974, cited in Clyne, 1997: 70; emphasis added) When Al Grassby was making this pronouncement in the 1970s, Australia was moving way from a monolingual ethos and a long-held intransigence towards any formal recognition of cultural and linguistic diversity. Faced with an increasingly multilingual population and language needs and growing prominence of ethnic communities pushing for services, Australian institutions were responding with great ingenuity and inventiveness (Romaine, 1991) and were on the verge of achieving remarkable advances in national policy-making (Fishman, 1988). This was a time characterised by language policy successes driven by civil society, language professionals and ethnic communities. Since then, language policy-making in Australia has functioned as a surrogate of 53

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

54

national sentiment and ideologies, as recent policy shifts and reversals have been engineered by politicians and bureaucrats in the main, with each shift in language policy, or apparent shift, marked by its own ‘champion’ (Lo Bianco, 2001; Lo Bianco & Wickert, 2001: 15).2 This chapter charts the shifts in language policy in Australia in order to gain an understanding of the inherent contradictions that have characterised it. It begins with an overview of the different phases of language policy-making in Australia and then discusses major national language policy initiatives from 1987 to the present. The chapter ends by asking whether the time has come for Australia to embark on a new, more comprehensive national languages policy, reflecting the realities of the 21st century.

Language Policy Phases: Australia in Search of a Linguistic Identity The history of language policy in Australia has been one of constant shifts and realignments, and its evolution has been complex. Clyne (1991) and Lo Bianco (2004) have described this evolution as sociocultural (i.e. language and identity) and sociopolitical (i.e. ideologically driven, social engineering) and can be described in five phases as set out in Table 4.1. The first of these phases, the ‘laissez-faire’ phase (Clyne, 1991: 13
20), was characterised by a yearning for the motherland when cultural policy framed Australian identity firmly within the Empire and English. Australia actively pursued a policy of monolingualism and embarked on linguistic and cultural homogenisation, with English as the language of authority. Assimilation was Australia’s official policy towards immigrants, and immigration policy itself was determined on national origins Table 4.1 Australia’s language policy phases (1)

The ‘accepting but laissez-faire’ phase, up to the mid-1870s

(2)

The ‘tolerant but restrictive’ phase, from the 1870s to the early 1900s

(3)

The ‘rejecting’ phase, circa 1914 to circa 1970

(4)

The ‘accepting
even fostering’ phase, from the early 1970s, or the ‘multicultural’ phase

(5)

the ‘Asianist’, ‘economic rationalism’ or ‘English as literacy’ phase, from the late 1980s and early 1990s

Source: Adapted from Djite´ (1994: 8)

Language Policy in Australia

55

and regulations to exclude non-Whites (Asian, African and even Mediterranean) while assimilating the Aborigines and completely homogenising the non-British others. New arrivals were expected to accommodate to the Anglo-Australian mainstream by discarding, or being ‘stripped of’, their cultural backgrounds and linguistic practices. Fears about all other immigrants reinforced the defensive attachment to the language and culture of those who viewed themselves as subjects of the Crown, leading to exclusionary practices towards all those who were not. The second phase, the ‘tolerant but restrictive phase’ (Clyne, 1991: 13
20), was a top-down policy with an overt hostility towards foreign languages and their speakers. In 1917
1918, it came to be expressed in the form of anti-bilingual schooling provisions incorporated into the education acts in most states, especially targeting German-speaking communities. Broadcasting in languages other than English was completely forbidden at first and then liberalised later only when accompanied by English translations. Legislation was passed forbidding the use of other languages as the medium of instruction in private schools, a feature that remained in force in some states (e.g. Victoria) until 2007. This was a period when language shift was strongly encouraged, especially during World War I, when languages other than English were viewed with suspicion (Selleck, 1980). This phase was followed by an even more restricting phase, the ‘rejecting’ phase (Clyne, 1991: 13
20), when hostility towards foreign languages intensified with the economic depression of the 1930s and World War II. The anxieties of this period, both internal and external, led to the marginalisation of non-Anglo and non-Celtic background immigrants. Despite the growing prominence of so-called ethnic (i.e. immigrant) communities in Australia from the late 1960s and the different policy options selected by different states to deal with this reality, assimilation of immigrants remained Australia’s official policy. The first languages of immigrants had no place in society, and their so-called community languages were relegated to the private sphere (Clyne, 2005; Lo Bianco, 2004). Post-war emphasis on assimilation progressively gave way to multiculturalism from the early 1970s to the late 1980s, leading to a fourth phase, the ‘accepting
even fostering’ phase (Clyne, 1991: 13
20) or the ‘multicultural’ phase (Lo Bianco, 2004: 20). The first document spelling out this approach was a Statement on Immigrant Education, Cultures and Languages (1973) demanding, among other things, the teaching of migrant languages and cultures in Australian schools and universities. Multiculturalism was a paradigm shift to an acceptance of difference and

56

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

a response to a need for a new national identity. The key drivers behind multiculturalism were the result of three interacting interests: (1) the mobilisation of language professionals, who produced an intellectual rationalisation of the intrinsic value of languages; (2) Indigenous and migrant community groups, who argued for a right to their respective languages; and (3) commercial/trade imperatives. This change of perspective, of which Al Grassby was an active participant, was already in train and had gathered momentum by the time the Whitlam Labor government was elected in 1972. Also driven by genuine political bipartisanship, the multicultural policy was embraced by the Fraser Liberal-National coalition government (1975
1983) and continued under the Hawke Labor government (1983
1993). This fourth phase attenuated connections to Britain and promoted the idea of a nation of many cultures, advocating the legitimacy of languages and cultures other than English. Multiculturalism was proclaimed to be for everyone and conveyed the ideals of egalitarianism, inclusiveness and cultural open-mindedness. It is during this phase that a national infrastructure was created in the 1970s to respond to linguistic pluralism: for example (1) the world’s first multilingual Telephone Interpreting Service (1973), (2) the National Accreditation Authority for Translators and Interpreters in 1977 and (3) the Special Broadcasting Service, with its radio broadcasting arm established in 1978 and its television arm set up in 1980. In 1986, the Hawke Labor government, which had adopted multiculturalism as a guiding principle, as indicated above, appointed Joseph Lo Bianco to draft a National Policy on Languages. The fifth phase has been described as the ‘Asianist’, ‘economic rationalism’ or ‘English as literacy’ phase, from the late 1980s and early 1990s (Lo Bianco, 2004: 15
27). From the late 1980s, but very strongly during the 1990s, this phase began with the advocacy for the teaching of key Asian languages, in part to de-emphasise Europe-only knowledge and stress Asia literacy for regional integration. This focus was embraced by the Keating Labor government of the early 1990s and was continued by the Howard LiberalNational government from 1996 with an emphasis on ‘English as literacy’ and was retained by the subsequent Rudd Labor government, with a renewed focus on Asia literacy.

The National Policy on Languages: A Promising Start The National Policy on Languages (NPL) was adopted as a bipartisan policy on 4 June 1987 on the grounds that Australia needed a coherent national approach to languages for reasons of educational and cultural

Language Policy in Australia

57

enrichment, economic imperatives and equity. The NPL sought to address a wide range of social contexts and interests as well as languages (Lo Bianco, 2004: 9) through the federal government’s funding of staterun education (Djite´, 1994; see Slaughter, Chapter 10, this volume), with a view to increasing the overall language capacity of Australia. It supported the continued learning of community languages by members of ethnic communities and placed special emphasis on the learning of additional languages by monolingual speakers of English. In 1989, the NPL identified nine languages as ‘languages of wider teaching’ (Arabic, Chinese, French, German, Greek, Indonesian, Italian, Japanese and Spanish), which received additional support and resources through to matriculation level and tertiary study. Language education was funded through three programmes under the NPL: (1) the Australian Second Language Learning Program (ASLLP), (2) the Asian Studies Program (ASP) and (3) the National Aboriginal Language Project (NALP), with the ASP and the NALP having a wider focus than language education alone. Most importantly, the NPL included a research and development dimension: the Languages Institute of Australia (which later became Language Australia) and four research and development centres to carry out research and development projects in languages.3 The strength of the NPL lay in its comprehensiveness, federalism and broad representation of all Australians, as well as its research arm. However, it was in this area of broad representation that the policy contained a fatal flaw, as various interests sought to assert themselves vis-a`-vis broader language policy goals. The Asian Studies component and the Adult Literacy component later took on a life of their own and caused the overall national policy on languages to unravel. Hence, even though the initial review of the NPL recommended its continuation into a second phase of funding, as did a subsequent review involving experts from five professional associations coordinated by the Australian Academy of the Humanities in 1993
1994, the NPL was revised and a new policy focus emerged (see DEET, 1990).

The Australian Literacy and Language Policy: Fixing Something That Is Not Broken Periodic opposition to multiculturalism argued that it was divisive and only for migrants, ‘a state-directed strategy to ‘‘manage’’ and absorb migrant communities’ (Jayasuriya, 1998: 4), and the policy context began to change. By the early 1990s, advocacy for the maintenance of minority (Indigenous and migrant) languages started to lose momentum. The view

58

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

that public institutions could not be expected to support all different languages and cultures coincided with new thinking that language was more a resource than a right, especially in view of Australia’s trade and geopolitical imperatives. Strong government ideologies of economic rationalism, coupled with an ingrained conservative monolingual ethos, despite official multiculturalist policy, made it difficult to retain the original broad language focus of the NPL. The Policy was redefined and narrowed in scope, leading to the fifth phase, variously referred to as ‘Asianist’, ‘economic rationalism’ or ‘English as literacy’ phase (Lo Bianco, 2004; Slaughter, Chapter 10, this volume). ‘Asianist’ refers to a trend within the fifth language policy phase of the early 1990s that resulted in vast public investments in the teaching of Asian languages and cultures. Stemming from the idea that Australia should be deeply linked to the Asia-Pacific region, both commercially and strategically, it reflected the powerful mix of economic interests and national security concerns. ‘Economic rationalism’, on the other hand, referred to a wider policy discourse that emphasised international economic competitiveness and the role (some) languages can play in enhancing economic advantage in the marketplace. Another overlapping trend was brought to the fore when the then Minister of Education, John Dawkins, released a Green Paper (discussion paper) titled The Languages of Australia, which suggested that languages other than English complicated Australia’s participation in the global economy (Lo Bianco, 2000) and that ‘English literacy’ was more important than proficiency in other languages. The Green Paper reduced the scope and focus of the NPL to three goals, leaving out ‘language services’ and recommending that the Commonwealth no longer set any priority languages since the states and territories had already established their own priorities in this area. It also dropped its support for the socalled ethnic schools which provided after-hours language tuition for children of Australia’s large immigrant population. This reprioritisation started a fragmentation of language policy, fanned by competition and conflicts. However, in the face of a chorus of criticism, the ensuing White Paper (an authoritative government report), titled Australia’s Language: Australian Language and Literacy Policy (DEET, 1991), retreated from a number of positions put forward in the Green Paper. Yet, the issue of ‘English literacy’ remained at the heart of the ALLP, undermining the importance of languages other than English in general and European languages in particular and forcing the National Languages Institute of Australia to be renamed the National Languages and Literacy Institute of

Language Policy in Australia

59

Australia. The priorities of the ALLP were outlined in the foreword of the policy document as follows: Australian English, of course, is our national language [. . .]. Proficiency in our national language, Australian English, is obviously necessary for an individual to participate as fully as possible in Australian society. (DEET, 1991: iii) The policy was guided by a strong instrumental focus on child and adult English literacy, including early intervention strategies, proficiency levels and literacy in the workplace. Economically driven, it strongly articulated a central place for Asian languages in language education in Australia. English as a second language was subsumed under literacy, while languages other than English were promoted through a financial prioritisation system on a per capita basis for students studying the designated languages at Year 12 level. States and territories selected eight priority languages out of a national list of 14 languages.4 Importantly, the ALLP reinstated the fourth goal of the NPL relating to language services. Flagging language maintenance as an individual and personal responsibility, it funded community languages through the Ethnic Schools Program, thereby moving the provision of community languages away from greater integration in schools on the pretext that it was necessary to focus on ‘languages of broader national interest’ (DEET, 1991: 15). Along the same lines, Aboriginal languages were only to be maintained and developed ‘where they are still transmitted’, suggesting that maintenance and development of these languages could not be undertaken anywhere else. Although Aboriginal languages were disappearing at an alarming rate, even their ‘recording’ for posterity could only ‘occur where speakers so desire and in consultation with their community’ (DEET, 1991: 31). The ALLP was condemned for its emphasis on ‘English literacy’ and on languages of immediate importance for Australia’s external trade and tourism to the exclusion of other languages. English was tied to education and jobs (i.e. improving workplace skills) and Asian languages to trade, while literacy was mythologised as a solution to unemployment, prompting some critics to label it ‘economic assimilationism’ (Moore, 1995: 1). Although it claimed to be a continuation of the NPL, the openly pluralistic approach of the latter had been reduced to Asian languages found to be commercially relevant to Australia’s trade prospects (Moore, 1996: 480).

60

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

The irony and contradiction of the ALLP lay in the fact that it had been brought in by the same Labor government that wanted to take credit for multiculturalism and the promotion of linguistic and cultural pluralism. The ‘Asianist’ or ‘economic rationalism’ phase was again confirmed and reinforced under the following Keating Labor government (1993
1996).

The National Asian Languages and Studies in Australian Schools Strategy: Focusing on Asia Literacy and Trade Prime Minister Keating championed productive diversity and regional integration. Recognising languages as national resources, he made language education a key component of his sociopolitical project. However, his government continued to reinforce the de-emphasising of European languages and Europe knowledge in education in favour of key Asian trading languages and Asia literacy. This new focus took shape in the form of the National Asian Languages and Studies in Australian Schools (NALSAS) strategy. The NALSAS strategy was based on a report, Asian Languages and Australia’s Economic Future, compiled by a committee chaired by Kevin Rudd (later to become Australian Prime Minister). Using research carried out by the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade about nations of strategic and trade importance to Australia and arguing that Australia’s national imperatives in trade, strategic policy and diplomacy were inextricably tied to Asia, the NALSAS gave priority to four Asian languages: Chinese, Japanese, Indonesian and Korean (see Slaughter, Chapter 10, this volume). In doing so, the NALSAS overlooked other language groups and weakened the intellectual and cultural claims of language policy. European languages again came under severe pressure and lost generations of students, while major languages of regional countries were not taught at all in Australian universities. Other languages, such as Burmese/Myanma, were taught only in one or two places and in some cases only at the elementary level. As the NALSAS strategy was originally funded on the basis that it would be selfsustaining in schools by the end of 2002, it was terminated in that year by the Howard Liberal-National government. By then, Australia was being introduced to yet another trend of the same ‘economic rationalism’ and ‘English as literacy’ phase.

The Commonwealth Literacy Policy: When What Goes Up Comes Down Language policy-making under the Howard Liberal-National coalition (from 1996 to 2007) was marked by a continuation of the policy of

Language Policy in Australia

61

increased focus on ‘Asianism’, ‘economic rationalism’ or ‘English as literacy’. The language priorities of the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade under the Howard Liberal-National government expressed this hierarchy by placing three Asian languages (i.e. Indonesian, Japanese and Mandarin) in what it called the top tier of languages representing ‘Australia’s major priorities’, while all other languages, including European languages, were placed in the second and third tiers. Given the political climate at the time, language issues aroused little interest and, in the face of a lack of direction, disparities in language policy emerged among different interest groups and even among the states, as partisan allegiances within the language profession and language communities were exacerbated by the politics of cooption, fragmentation and divisive prioritisation (Moore, 1996). Furthermore, fears of a slide in English literacy were reintroduced by the Howard Liberal-National coalition government through the Commonwealth Literacy Policy (CLP) in 2004. The CLP aimed to bring together all previous policy texts since the 1980s. It was the culmination of the Commonwealth’s response to a document titled Mapping Literacy Achievement (Masters & Forster, 1997b) that provided statistics on the performance of Year three and Year five students against expected performance descriptions. The authors concluded that a large number of students in these years were underperforming and provided evidence of persistently high levels of adult literacy performance difficulties. The then Federal Minister for Employment, Education and Training, Dr David Kemp, outlined the Commonwealth’s position on these matters (see Masters & Forster, 1997a), proposing early intervention at the primary school level, with a special focus on English spelling and sentences. The CLP was based on a number of assumptions: (1) that Australia is a single-language context and that there are native speakers of English in all Australian communities, (2) that literacy or the lack thereof is tied to English only and (3) that illiteracy in adults is prevalent in immigrant communities alone and is to be blamed on individuals. Like the post-multicultural policy shifts before it, the CLP again narrowed the scope of national policy, putting forward the sensitive issue of ‘traditional Australian values’ and promoting the notion of Fortress Australia. As a result, other language groups were marginalised and the comprehensive approach to language policy-making was further weakened, while English literacy was variously described as ‘the single most important achievement of education’, ‘the fundamental skill’ or ‘the critical objective of schooling’ (Lo Bianco, 2000, 2004). The NALSAS and the CLP can be viewed as points on a continuum, along the lines of the ALLP, as they shared a common approach to

62

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

language policy-making: a top-down process that excluded other languages and replaced cultural pluralism with an ideology of trade and commerce imperatives. If English literacy as ‘the critical objective of schooling’ was set to fade away with a change of government in 2007, the push for Asian languages and Asia literacy over the last decade and a half continued, however, with the election of the Chinese-speaking Kevin Rudd as Prime Minister.

Back to Asia: Rudd’s Asia Literacy ‘Asia literacy’, or ‘Asianism’ (Lo Bianco, 2004), was brought back to the fore of the language policy debate under the Rudd Labor government. This was in large part because the new Prime Minister, a fluent speaker of Chinese, was one of the architects of the national Asian languages strategy, but also for trade and economic reasons, especially in view of the continuing rise of China as an economic force. Indeed, in his 2007 campaign, Kevin Rudd promised to reinvigorate the Asia-literacy programme in order to provide more Asian language classes and bolster the number of (Asian?) language teachers in schools. Along the same lines, in February 2009, Kevin Rudd acknowledged that Australia, whose largest and most populous neighbour is Indonesia, needed to do ‘a lot better’ in its level of Indonesian language study and the development of Indonesian studies at Australian universities, while his Foreign Minister Stephen Smith expressed concerns that Indonesian specialists had become an ‘endangered species’ (Perkins, 2009). It was no surprise therefore when, in early 2009, the present Prime Minister Julia Gillard launched the current phase of language policy known as the National Asian Languages and Studies in Schools Program (NALSSP), with the objective of doubling the number of students studying an Asian language by 2015. It may be too early to evaluate this latest new initiative in language policy, but if the history of the last three decades is anything to go by, then the policy trends and reversals we have discussed herein still have some distance to run (see also Slaughter, Chapter 10, this volume). The shifting pendulum of language policy-making in Australia underscores the fact that language policy always carries sociopolitical overtones. The decades since the early 1990s have been in sharp contrast with the enthusiasm generated in the late 1970s and 1980s, an enthusiasm that probably motivated Al Grassby’s optimism in his response quoted at the beginning of this chapter. But what has Australia accomplished through its long search for a national policy on languages?

Language Policy in Australia

63

The Current State of Affairs: A Problem with English? Al Grassby’s pronouncement on the language proficiency of Australians may have fallen short of the reality. Indeed, the current state of affairs of language education and general proficiency in languages other than English presents a mixed picture. Some 2.5 million Australians, or 16% of the total Australian population five years and over, regularly used a total of hundreds of languages other than English in the home in 1996, and this figure remained unchanged in the 2006 census (see, e.g. Go8, 2007; Pauwels, 2007). Australians still claim more than 250 ancestries and speak 400 languages at home, of which more than 100 derive from recent immigration (2006 census). Some 47 languages are represented in mainstream education; over 30 of these can be studied as school subjects, up to and including final secondary school examinations, in most states. Among the top languages spoken at home, four are the result of fairly recent arrivals (e.g. Arabic, Vietnamese, Spanish and Hindi).5 These figures are not only indicative of tolerance of diversity, they are evidence of the diversity of the Australian population. Australia also boasts a treasure trove of innovative language services that are considered progressive by international standards, such as the Special Broadcasting Service. As the ideological and political contexts have shifted back and forth in recent years, many have seen in these shifts a tendency for Australians to be complacent in the assumption that English is the only language the nation needs, that languages other than English are useful, but not necessary, and that Australians can get by without them. This assumption was best articulated by Alexander Downer, monolingual foreign minister in the Howard Liberal-National coalition (1996
2007), when he said that ‘learning foreign languages is a good thing, but English is the language of the world. Foreign political and business leaders increasingly speak our language and we’re privileged because of that’ (cited in Hyland, 2008). This view may still be held in some sectors of Australian society. However, if English is widely and unquestionably accepted as the shared language for all Australians, few people appear to be opposed to the notion that teaching languages other than English has a legitimate place in the Australian school curriculum. Of concern, however, is the number of alarming reports suggesting that the study of languages other than English in Australian schools has not been as successful as anticipated (Go8, 2007; Go8 & AAH, 2007; Orton, 2008). These reports point to the fact that more than 85% of students who graduate from high school today do so without a language

64

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

other than English (Tomazin, 2008) and the numbers of students taking up the study of a language other than English peaked in the mid-1990s and has since been on the decline. This situation is more alarming for the Asian languages that attracted considerable funding over a period of eight years under the Asian languages programme. With the axing of the Asian languages programme in 2002, the Asian Studies Association of Australia documented a decline in depth, extent and general commitment to Asia knowledge and languages and concluded that Australia’s language capability was in jeopardy. Most language study occurs in primary school, with participation rates decreasing steadily from Year seven to a very low level in Years 11 and 12. Indeed, Australian students spend less time learning a second language than students in any other Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development country (Lindsey, 2007), and more than 90% of undergraduates do no language study at all. The languages offered at universities have declined from 66 in 1997 to 29 in 2007; and of these 29 languages, nine are offered at one university and only seven across the sector (Go8, 2007: 1, 4). Several university interpreting and translating programmes have had to close, while virtually all programmes in low candidature languages have been abolished. Important community languages, such as Arabic (offered only at five universities) and Spanish, have very little presence in schools, while the languages of more recent arrivals (e.g. Sudanese languages) are not given any support. These alarming figures have prompted some to ask whether ‘[It is] time for a new National Languages Policy’ (Erebus Consulting Partners, 2002) and to plead for ‘a consistent approach’ in national language policy-making (Go8, 2007). For his part, Joseph Lo Bianco, author of the first explicit national policy on languages, concludes that ‘[w]e have a problem that we share with other Englishspeaking countries, and this is English. English is a problem because unquestionably it is the global lingua franca’ (quoted by Hyland, 2008). Hence, for all its impressive achievements in national language policymaking over the last 30 years, Australia finds itself at a critical fork in the road, as a number of its successes in this area have already been weakened or reversed. Recognising that a capability in languages other than English is directly relevant to the nation’s competitiveness and security in a global environment and seeking to advance the policy agenda on language competency in Australia, national academic organisations have taken a leading role in promoting language study. For example, the Group of Eight6 and the Australian Academy of Humanities convened a National ‘Languages in Crisis’ Summit in 2007, bringing together sectors with an interest in Australia’s language capacity and in

Language Policy in Australia

65

language education (i.e. ethnic community groups, the diplomatic corps, the media, schools, universities, tourism and trade) (Go8 & AAH, 2007), with a view to mapping out a long-term and efficient process of national language policy-making.

Conclusion National sentiment and ideologies have indeed dictated language policy in Australia over the last 30 years. From a monolingual ethos that sought to assimilate all other languages and cultures since the time of federation, Australia moved to the principled advocacy for languages on the basis of intellectual and cultural enrichment in the 1970s and 1980s. Then, in the face of challenging economic times, some languages came to be seen as economic assets that could be used to boost the nation’s regional trade potential (i.e. Asian languages) in the mid-1990s before English literacy was again rediscovered as the best way of guaranteeing and improving employment opportunities at the national level while maintaining global trade links. Furthermore, while overt national language policy-making started out as a bottom-up process in the late 1980s, it has since been hijacked by partisan and politically motivated ideologies imposed from the top by both sides of politics. As a consequence, language policy in Australia continues to be a site for negotiation between the monolingual ethos and the urge for linguistic pluralism. However, if Australia wishes to remain a guiding light of progressive language policy-making, future language policy formulations will have to be based on solid and enduring commitments to lifelong learning and social harmony, in order to enhance the ability of its citizens to communicate effectively with people from all over the world and further develop its trade and national security imperatives. Notes 1. This was part of an address titled ‘Credo for a Nation’ and delivered in June 1974. 2. These were Senator Susan Ryan and Prime Minister Bob Hawke for the National Policy on Languages in 1987; John Dawkins for the Australian Language and Literacy Policy in 1991; Queensland Premier Wayne Goss and Prime Ministers Paul Keating and Kevin Rudd for the National Asian Languages and Studies in Australian Schools in 1994; and Dr David Kemp for the Commonwealth Literacy Policy in 2004. 3. The four research centres were the Language Acquisition Research Centre at the University of Sydney, the Language Testing Research Centre at the University of Melbourne and Griffith University, the Language and Technology Research Centre at the University of Queensland and the Language and

66

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

Society Centre at Monash University. Funding to Language Australia was reduced in 1996 and then completely removed by about 1998 (Lo Bianco, personal communication). 4. These were Arabic, Aboriginal languages, Chinese, French, German, Indonesian, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Modern Greek, Russian, Spanish, Thai and Vietnamese. 5. The top languages other than English spoken at home are Italian (316,900), Greek (252,200), Cantonese (244,600), Arabic (243,700), Mandarin (220,600), Vietnamese (194,900), Spanish (98,000), German (75,600) and Hindi (70,000) (2006 census). 6. The Group of Eight (Go8) brings together Australia’s leading universities.

References Clyne, M. (1991) Australia’s language policies: Are we going backwards? Current Affairs Bulletin 68, 13
20. Clyne, M. (1997) Language policy in Australia
Achievements, disappointments, prospects. Journal of Intercultural Studies 18 (1), 63
71. Clyne, M. (2005) Australia’s Language Potential. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press. DEET (Department of Employment Education and Training) (1990) The Language of Australia: Discussion Paper on Australian Literacy and Language Policy in the 1990s. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. DEET (1991) Australia’s Language: The Australian Language and Literacy Policy. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Djite´, P. (1994) From Language Policy to Language Planning. Canberra: National Languages and Literacy Institute of Australia. Erebus Consulting Partners (2002) Review of the Commonwealth Languages Other Than English Program. Report to the Department of Education, Science and Training. Fishman, J. (1988) ‘English only’
Its ghosts, myths and dangers. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 74, 125
140. Grassby, A. (1974) Credo for a Nation. An address to the Family of the Nation Rally, Sydney, 9 June. Go8 (Group of Eight) (2007) Languages in Crisis: A Rescue Plan for Australia. Manuka: Canberra Group of Eight, Australia’s leading universities. Go8 (Group of Eight) and AAH (Australian Academy of the Humanities) (2007) Languages in crisis. National Languages Summit, 7 June 2007. Canberra: National Press Club. Hyland, T. (2008) Minding our language. The Age, 12 October. On WWW at http: //www.theage.com.au/national/minding-our-language-20081011-4ysu. html?page-1. Accessed 15.10.08. Jayasuriya, L. (1998) The NMAC and multiculturalism. Plus c¸a change, plus c’est la meˆme chose. Australian Language Matters 6, 1. Lindsey, T. (2007) Relaxed, complacent and risible. The Australian Literary Review 2 (2), 7 March, 18
19. Lo Bianco, J. (1987) National Policy on Languages. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service.

Language Policy in Australia

67

Lo Bianco, J. (2000) One Literacy. . . Or Double Power? Language Australia Research Policy and Practice Papers. Melbourne: Language Australia. Lo Bianco, J. (2001) From policy to anti-policy: How fear of language rights took policy-making out of community hands. In J. Lo Bianco and R. Wickert (eds) Australian Policy Activism in Language and Literacy (pp. 13
44). Melbourne: Language Australia. Lo Bianco, J. (2004) A Site for Debate, Negotiation and Contest of National Identity: Language Policy in Australia. Strasbourg: Council of Europe. Lo Bianco, J. and Wickert, R. (eds) (2001) Australian Policy Activism in Language and Literacy. Melbourne: Language Australia. Masters, G. and Forster, M. (1997a) Literacy Standards in Australia. Canberra: Department of Employment, Education, Training and Youth Affairs. Masters, G. and Forster, M. (1997b) Mapping Literacy Achievement: Results of the 1996 National School English Literacy Survey/Management Committee for the National School English Literacy Survey. Camberwell, Victoria: Department of Employment, Education, Training and Youth Affairs. Moore, H. (1995) Blurred vision: Linguistic pluralism or economic assimilationism? Education Australia 31, 14
16. Moore, H. (1996) Language policies as virtual realities: Two Australian examples. TESOL Quarterly 30 (1), 473
497. Orton, J. (2008) Chinese Language Education in Australian Schools. Melbourne: Melbourne Graduate School of Education, University of Melbourne. Pauwels, A. (2007) Maintaining a language other than English through higher education in Australia. In A. Pauwels, J. Winter and J. Lo Bianco (eds) Maintaining Minority Languages in Transnational Contexts (pp. 107
123). Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Perkins, M. (2009) When fortune fades. The Age, 6 May. On WWW at http:// www. theage.com.au/national/education/when-fortune-fades-20090505-au0ahtml. Accessed 19.12.09. Romaine, S. (ed.) (1991) Language in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rudd, K. (1994) Asian Languages and Australia’s Economic Development. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Selleck, R. (1980) The trouble with my looking glass: A study of the attitude of Australians to Germans during the Great War. Journal of Australian Studies 6, 1
25. Tomazin, F. (2008) Language skills push for schools. The Age, 24 March. On WWW at http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/language-skills-push/ 2008/03/23/120620692. Accessed 15.10.08.

Chapter 5

Regional Languages, the European Charter and Republican Values in France Today LEIGH OAKES

Introduction In his famous 1882 lecture, ‘What is a nation?’ the French philosopher Ernest Renan proclaimed that ‘[a]n honourable fact about France is that she has never sought to win unity of language by coercive measures’ (Renan, 1990: 16). One can only assume that Renan was denying the obvious. France already had a long history of repressing regional languages, as witnessed during the French Revolution when under Robespierre’s Reign of Terror they were considered as real threats to the new Republic (Balibar & Laporte, 1974; Certeau et al., 1975). Moreover, Renan’s contemporaries of the Third Republic were at that very moment engaged in a campaign to strengthen national identity especially by means of a centralised language policy to the detriment of all other idioms (Jacob & Gordon, 1985: 114
118). While the assault eased with the Fourth Republic as national identity became more secure, the plight of regional languages did not improve greatly. The Deixonne Law of 1951 paved the way for the teaching of regional languages in the school system, and the arrival of Mitterrand to the presidency in 1981 was accompanied by great expectations for their further development. Yet the improvements proved to be limited to education and culture; promises of administrative reform providing the necessary political power at regional and departmental levels to ensure progress were not met, leading some to describe the 1980s as ‘the decade of dashed hopes’ (Giordan, 1992: 137
140). More recently, France’s uneasy relationship with its regional languages has been symbolised by reactions to the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages. Adopted by the Council of Europe in 1992, the Charter aims to promote regional and minority languages as a 68

Regional Languages, the European Charter

69

threatened aspect of Europe’s cultural heritage by encouraging their use in private and especially public life. The preamble situates the Charter within the broader context of efforts to promote linguistic rights and diversity, while Part I deals with general provisions and provides the following definition of regional and minority languages: ‘languages that are i. traditionally used within a given territory of a State by nationals of that State who form a group numerically smaller than the rest of the State’s population; and ii. different from the official language(s) of that State; it does not include either dialects of the official language(s) of the State or the languages of migrants’ (Article 1). Part II sets out the objectives and principles upon which signatory states should base policies and legislation concerning all regional and minority languages; Part III offers a series of concrete measures that they can sign up to with regard to specific languages in seven areas of public life: education, judicial authorities, administrative authorities and public services, the media, cultural activities and facilities, economic and social life, and transfrontier exchanges. A number of studies have examined the debate surrounding France’s signature and subsequent non-ratification of the Charter following the 1999 adverse ruling of the Constitutional Council, the ultimate authority in constitutional matters (e.g. Judge, 2002; Ma¨a¨tta¨, 2005; Oakes, 2001; Wright, 2000). The aim of the present chapter is to review developments since then. What has been the effect on official policy concerning regional languages of a decade that has seen a new interest in linguistic diversity? Following a recapitulation of the main points of the 1999 debate, the chapter considers the efforts that were made to promote regional languages despite the constitutional impasse and without the help of the Charter. It then examines the official position on regional languages in the new Sarkozy era and the debate leading up to their being included in the Constitution following an amendment in 2008. The two final sections consider how regional languages are helping France to rethink traditional understandings of republican values, so as to make them better suited to the realities of the 21st century.

Debating the Charter On a visit to Brittany in 1996, President Chirac stated that he was ‘a priori in favour’ of France signing the Charter, adding that ‘regional languages and cultures no longer constitute a threat to national identity’ (cited in Abalain, 2007: 140). Prime Minister Alain Juppe´ subsequently sought the advice of the Council of State, the public institution

70

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

that advises the government on draft legislation and acts as the administrative court of last resort. In its opinion of 24 September 1996 (No. 359461), the Council deemed that France was not in a position to sign and ratify the Charter, since the latter required signatory states to subscribe to a minimum number of obligations related to the judicial authorities (Article 9) and the administrative authorities and public services (Article 10). Unlike the private sphere, where the choice of language is optional, these were areas of public life where, according to Article 2 of the Constitution, ‘[t]he language of the Republic is French’. The change of government in 1997 saw the arrival to the Prime Minister’s office of socialist Lionel Jospin, who had long been a defender of regional languages. In October 1997, he appointed MP Nicole Pe´ry (Socialist Party, Pyre´ne´es-Atlantiques) to investigate France’s regional languages and cultures, a task later taken over by Bernard Poignant, Mayor of Quimper (Brittany) and Member of the European Parliament. In his report presented in July 1998, Poignant (1998) advocated the development of regional languages in the fields of education and the media and that France sign and ratify the Charter. Although he suggested that the regions be recognised as responsible for matters of language and culture, he nonetheless rejected any link with ethnicity: ‘There are no people of Breton, Catalan, Corsican ‘‘stock’’. Blood right should not exist in our regions any more than it does in the nation. Otherwise, culture becomes ethnic’ (Poignant, 1998: 24). The next stage was to ensure the constitutionality of ratifying the Charter, a task Jospin gave to a professor of public law, Guy Carcassonne. The resulting report claimed that the Charter was in itself not contrary to the constitution, ‘since, on the one hand, the aim of the Charter is to protect languages, and not necessarily to grant imprescriptible rights to their speakers, and, on the other hand, that these languages belong to the undivided cultural heritage of France’ (Carcassonne, 1998: 128). Carcassone also demonstrated that France could subscribe without difficulty to 52 of the 96 clauses in Part III (Articles 8
14), even though only 35 were required. As the Charter also required signatory states to identify the languages to which these would apply, Bernard Cerquiglini, the then Director of the National Institute for the French Language, was given the responsibility of drawing up a list. Cerquiglini’s report, published in April 1999, shattered the monolingual myth of France with its list of 75 languages. While 51 of these were spoken in France’s overseas departments and territories, the list also included eight Gallo-Romance languages of northern France (langues d’oı¨l), five varieties of Occitan, and even five non-territorial languages: Romani Chib, Yiddish, Western Armenian, Maghrebi Arabic

Regional Languages, the European Charter

71

and Berber. Greatly surpassing the eight or so regional languages of Metropolitan France traditionally cited (i.e. Alsatian/Moselle Franconian, Basque, Breton, Catalan, Corsican, Flemish, Franco-Provenc¸al and Occitan), the list was denounced by many as a plot to sabotage the ratification of the Charter (Wright, 2000: 416). How could the state ever afford to support so many languages? As a linguist, Cerquiglini was perhaps correct to identify the number of languages he did, but as a well-known Jacobin supporting a strong, centralised state, he was also championing republican values. In his view, the Charter’s exclusion of more recent immigrant languages was ‘sensitive for a Republic which rightfully recognises jus soli (soil right): as of the second generation, children resulting from immigration are French citizens’, while the territorialisation of languages it promoted was contrary ‘to French republican principles, which hold that language, as an element of culture, belongs to the national heritage; Corsican is not the property of the Corsican region, but of the nation’ (Cerquiglini, 1999: 3, 4). On 7 May 1999, the Jospin government signed the Charter. The accompanying declaration indicated the 39 measures France wished to subscribe to in Part III (without at this stage identifying the languages to which they would apply) and clarified the government’s acceptance of the Charter with regard to four points of principle. The Charter was not considered incompatible with the Constitution ‘[i]n so far as it does not aim to recognise and protect minorities, but to promote Europe’s linguistic heritage, and that use of the term ‘‘groups’’ of speakers does not accord collective rights for speakers of regional or minority languages’ (Council of Europe, 2009). Nor, according to the government, did the Charter oppose the mandatory use of French in the civil service, the optional nature of regional language teaching, or the fact that only the official French version of legislative texts could be used by or in dealings with public bodies. Called upon by President Chirac, the Constitutional Council did not consider the 39 paragraphs problematic, but did not agree with the government’s interpretation regarding the four points of principle (Decision No. 99-412 DC of 15 June 1999). In its view, by making reference to linguistic rights in the public sphere for specific groups within the territories where the languages in question were spoken, the preamble and certain provisions of Part II of the Charter were considered contrary to key constitutional principles: France is an ‘indivisible Republic’, ensuring the ‘equality of all citizens before the law, without distinction of origin, race or religion’ with French as its official language. Jospin’s call for a revision of the Constitution which would enable the country to move beyond the constitutional impasse was rejected by Chirac, who nonetheless claimed that ‘the place of regional

72

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

languages in [France’s] cultural heritage can be recognised perfectly well without having to modify our Constitution and calling into question the unity of the nation’ (Le Monde, 25 June 1999).

Promoting Regional Languages Despite the Constitutional Impasse In 2001, the De´le´gation ge´ne´rale a` la langue franc¸aise (General Delegation for the French language) changed its name to the De´le´gation ge´ne´rale a` la langue franc¸aise et aux langues de France (DGLFLF) (General Delegation for the French language and the languages of France) to reflect the new official interest in regional languages. In the words of Bernard Cerquiglini, who had now become de´le´gue´ general (executive officer) of the DGLFLF, ‘for the first time since the state began to concern itself with language, an agency is attempting to pursue simultaneously a policy in favour of the national language and in favour of [France’s] other languages’ (Cerquiglini, 2002). However, when summing up the challenges facing regional languages that had emerged from the two-day gathering of interested parties held in October 2003 known as Assises nationales des langues de France (National round table on the languages of France), Cerquiglini pointed to the importance of exactly the type of infrastructure that a constitutional amendment and ratification of the Charter would provide for. He mentioned the need for regional languages to benefit from a positive form of status, rather than existing by default; and in addition to arguing for better treatment of regional languages by the media and more corpus work, such as codification and elaboration, he highlighted the need to ‘reflect on a means of efficiently teaching the languages of France within the republican school system. On this subject, could the regions not be granted authority in this area as an experiment?’ (Cerquiglini, in Ministe`re de la Culture et de la Communication, 2004: 63). Indeed, Cerquiglini’s point regarding the teaching of regional languages is exemplified by the cases of Corsican and Breton. In 1999, Prime Minister Jospin began a series of negotiations with representatives from the Corsican Assembly regarding increased autonomy for the island. In addition to a transfer of power to the Corsican Assembly in certain matters, the so-called Matignon Accords also proposed the teaching of Corsican as part of the normal nursery and primary school curriculum with an opt-out provision for parents (Blackwood, 2008: 92). The accords met with criticism from staunch republicans on both sides of the political spectrum. Jean-Pierre Cheve`nement resigned as Interior Minister over the proposed measures deemed by many, including the

Regional Languages, the European Charter

73

well-known intellectual Pierre-Andre´ Taguieff, as ‘a fatal danger for the Republic’ (Libe´ration, 20 September 2000).1 Others, such as politician, journalist and founder of the left-wing weekly Marianne Jean-Franc¸ois Kahn, attacked the language proposal in particular: ‘[T]he teaching of Corsican at school, in effect mandatory even to the son of a Breton civil servant or a Moroccan agricultural worker (because no family would dare request an exemption), risks sparking a wave of republican resistance’ (Kahn, 2000). Despite the opposition, Law No. 2002-92 of 22 January 2002 relative to Corsica came into force. Although the reworded Article 7 (‘Corsican is a subject taught as part of the normal timetable in kindergarten and primary schools in Corsica’) was deemed to comply with the Constitution, the Constitutional Council nonetheless issued a reservation to avoid any possible ambiguity: this teaching could not be considered compulsory for students or teachers (Decision No. 2001-454 DC of 17 January 2002). The relative success of measures to promote the teaching of Corsican owes much to the greater autonomy granted to the special-status territorial collectivity of Corsica.2 Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of Breton, the teaching of which relies to a great extent on the complete immersion classes offered by the Diwan school network.3 Diwan schools, like all associative schools, are often in a precarious financial position and rely on subsidies (Judge, 2007: 134). But in 1999, the financial aid offered by the Bretagne Regional Council was contested on the grounds that it exceeded the 10% of public funding that private schools are allowed to receive by law (Le Monde, 17 April 1999). The then Education Minister, Jack Lang, and Diwan President Andrew Lincoln tried to rectify the financial problem by signing an agreement on 28 May 2001 with the aim of integrating Diwan schools into the public system. However, the agreement and associated decree and circular were subsequently suspended by the Council of State (30 October 2001, No. 238654) on the grounds that they were incompatible with legislation defining language of instruction in France and with Article 2 of the Constitution (‘The language of the Republic is French’). This latter article was also referred to by the Constitutional Council in their ruling on the proposed Finance Law for 2002, which made provision for a number of state-funded teaching posts in Diwan schools (Decision No. 2001-456 DC of 27 December 2001). The Council declared that the relevant section of the proposed bill was not in itself unconstitutional, since the principle of integrating such institutions into the public education system would need to be established elsewhere. It nonetheless issued a reminder for such legislation in the future: ‘[T]he use of a language other than French

74

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

may not be imposed on pupils in establishments of public education either in the life of the establishment or in the teaching of subjects other than the relevant language’. Lang tried again with another proposal in April 2002, but this too was suspended by the Council of State (15 July 2002, No. 248203) on the grounds that it was possibly incompatible with Article 1 of the so-called Toubon Law (Law No. 94-665 of 4 August 1994 relative to the use of the French language), also incorporated into the Education Code, according to which ‘French is the language of instruction’. Finally, on 29 November, the Council of State (Decision no. 238653) annulled the May 2001 agreement between the Ministry of Education and the Diwan network, and likewise the associated decree and circular regarding immersion education and bilingual education in French and a regional language on the grounds that they ‘go beyond the necessities of learning a regional language and thus surpass the possibilities of exemption from the obligation to use French as a language of instruction’.4 While bilingual classes could be accepted if strict parity between the languages could be ensured, complete immersion education, such as that offered by Diwan schools, would not be allowed in the state education system. As this example shows, the same constitutional hindrances that blocked France’s ratification of the Charter severely limit the amount of support the state can give to regional languages. As such, it comes as no surprise that the debate about a constitutional amendment and the ratification of the Charter was soon to regain a prominent place on the political agenda.

Amending the Constitution Considering the debacle of the Diwan affair, it could be expected that key figures from Brittany would be involved in reopening the debate about the Constitution and the Charter. Together with well-known politician and defender of regional languages Franc¸ois Bayrou (Union pour la De´mocratie Franc¸aise, Pyre´ne´es-Atlantiques), Breton MPs Marylise Lebranchu (Socialist Party, Finiste`re), Jean-Yves Le Drian (Socialist Party, Morbihan) and Marc Le Fur (Union for a Popular Movement, Coˆtes-d’Armor) led proposed amendments to complement the first paragraph of Article 2 of the Constitution (‘The language of the Republic is French’), with a phase such as ‘while respecting the regional languages which are part of our heritage’ and to add a new article specifically stating that France could ratify the Charter.5 The proposals were rejected, but the same issues were to resurface in the lead-up to the presidential elections of 2007.

Regional Languages, the European Charter

75

Socialist candidate Se´gole`ne Royal declared that she was in favour of ratifying the Charter so as to ‘give more rights’ to France’s regional languages, but said nothing about amending the Constitution (Agresi et al., 2007: 109). While appreciating the importance of regional languages to France’s linguistic heritage, Nicolas Sarkozy was, on the other hand, clearly not a supporter of the Council of Europe convention. If I am elected, I will not be in favour of the European Charter for regional languages. I do not want in the future a European judge, with a different historical experience of the question of minorities from our own, to decide that a regional language should be considered as a language of the Republic in the same way as French. (Sarkozy, 2007a) Instead, Sarkozy favoured recognising the legal status of France’s regional languages by means of a law, which he deemed ‘much more reasonable and above all more efficient’ (Sarkozy, 2007b). This was also the position defended by the government on 7 May 2008 in the very first National Assembly debate that a government had initiated on the topic of regional languages since the beginning of the Fifth Republic.6 In a lively discussion that even saw one MP being reprimanded by Bernard Accoyer, President of the National Assembly, for speaking in Catalan
‘Mr Mach, I remind you that it is forbidden to express oneself in the chamber in a language other than French’
MPs argued how best to promote regional languages. On the issue of a possible amendment to the Constitution, Franc¸ois de Rugy (The Greens, Loire-Atlantique) claimed that ‘this debate will have served nothing if it does not lead to concrete constitutional and legislative reform. [It] will have merely perpetuated the idea that regional languages are nothing more than folklore’. Breton Marylise Lebranchu (Socialist Party, Finiste`re) reminded the Assembly of the constitutional obstacles that the Diwan school network had encountered: ‘[I]f we do not amend the Constitution, the intervention of the Constitutional Council will be enough to kill off any law relating to regional languages. It’s frustrating and humiliating and, as I have always said, humiliation leads to violence’. While many were in favour of a constitutional amendment and ratification of the Charter, Christine Albanel, Minister of Culture and Communication, disagreed, reiterating in her closing speech the position of the government and the President alike: The Government does not wish to engage in the process of revising the Constitution in order to ratify the European Charter for regional and minority languages, above all for reasons of principle. [. . .] What

76

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

we need at this stage, to my mind, is a reference framework. The Government will propose a law, like the President suggested during the electoral campaign. This law will be an opportunity to sum up what already exists and to move towards more concrete measures [ . . .] It’s about enabling and not obligating, inciting and developing, not imposing [. . .] while respecting the principles of our main laws and the central role of French, notably with regard to education. Following a similar debate in the Senate on 13 May, the government softened its resolve if not on the Charter at least on the question of a constitutional amendment. In a National Assembly debate on 22 May about the draft constitutional law to modernise the institutions of the Fifth Republic (No. 820), Jean-Luc Warsmann, President of the Commission of laws, proposed to add the phrase ‘Regional languages belong to [France’s] heritage’ to Article 1 of the Constitution, concerned inter alia with the indivisibility of the Republic.7 He justified the use of Article 1 in terms of a desire to avoid any potential conflict with the status of French, as defined in Article 2: ‘[W]e want to stress in this way France’s attachment to this heritage without necessarily creating a right for individuals to demand the use of a language other than French from public bodies or specific rights for groups’. The government was in agreement with the proposal: ‘[W]e are in favour. It seems logical to me to do it in article 1, which provides that France is a decentralised Republic, rather than setting French against regional languages in article 2’ (Rachida Dati, parliamentary Keeper of the Seals). The amendment was eventually adopted, despite the fears of some that reference to regional languages in Article 1 would do little to solve the constitutional impasse: ‘We need instead to sort out a technical problem, brought about by a poor interpretation of the first line of article 2 [. . .] which has given rise to Council of State and Constitutional Council case law which is opposed to regional languages’ (Franc¸ois Bayrou, Democratic Movement, Pyre´ne´es-Atlantiques). In a statement issued on 12 June, the Acade´mie franc¸aise (2008) opposed the proposed amendment, which in its view undermined national identity: ‘[T]o place regional languages before the language of the Republic is a defiance of mere logic, a denial of the Republic’. Taking on board the Acade´mie’s reservations, the Senate voted on 18 June to delete the amendment from the bill. Yet in an opinion poll carried out that very same day and the next (CSA, 2008), 68% of the 960 people representing the French population said they were in favour of granting regional languages a place in the Constitution, with 70% claiming that

Regional Languages, the European Charter

77

their inclusion in Article 1 ‘is rather a good thing since it demonstrates that they belong to French heritage’. Faced with obvious support for regional languages, the National Assembly voted on 9 July to create a new Article 75-1 (‘Regional languages belong to the heritage of France’) within the section of the Constitution concerned with the country’s territorial collectivities,8 a compromise which proved acceptable to the Senate on 16 July. On 21 July 2008, the Congress of the French Parliament, the body made up of both the National Assembly and the Senate, voted in favour of what was to become constitutional law of 23 July 2008 on the Modernisation of the Institutions of the Fifth Republic. For the very first time in France’s history, regional languages have their place in the Constitution. While the government insists that ‘[t]here will be no ratification of the Charter!’ (Rachida Dati, National Assembly, 9 July 2008),9 this is not to say that the Charter has not already had a significant effect on France. In particular, the long and protracted discussions on the topic have contributed to the broader debate of how to modernise traditional understandings of France’s republican values, as represented by the national motto ‘liberty, equality and fraternity’.

Rethinking Republican Values with the Help of Regional Languages In his report Sur les idiomes e´trangers et l’enseignement de la langue franc¸aise presented on behalf of the Committee of Public Safety on 27 January 1794, Bare`re de Vieuzac demonstrated the link between language and liberty or freedom that existed during the Terror: ‘The language of a free people must be one and the same for all’ (cited in Certeau et al., 1975: 297). The nature of this link has certainly developed over time, and arguments such as Bare`re’s are highly problematic considering contemporary understandings of freedom of expression which do not refer merely to ideas and opinions but also to the actual language used (Bertile, 2008: 391
393). How can Article 2 of the Constitution (‘The language of the Republic is French’) be used both to defend freedom of language for French speakers in a word dominated by English and to deny this same freedom to others? To a certain extent, the inconsistency has been acknowledged, although ironically with regard to English. In its ruling on Law No. 94-665 of 4 August 1994 relative to the use of the French language, known more commonly as the Toubon Law, the Constitutional Council annulled two provisions deemed contrary to the principles of free thought and expression as defined in Article 11 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen (Decision No. 94-345

78

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

of 29 July 1994). The law could thus not require, as originally intended, that private persons or radio and TV broadcasters use official French terminology; this could only be imposed on the civil service. The Council’s decision rested on the separation between the private and public spheres. However, the relegation of other languages to the former can in fact be considered as a denial of the freedom to language in the case of regional languages, whose use in the public sphere is generally deemed by language policy experts to be integral to their revitalisation and continued existence. The difficulty is in ensuring the freedom of all simultaneously, and in this respect the Charter actually offers a convenient way forward. As noted by legal expert Jose´-Marie Woehrling, ‘of itself, the Charter does not confer any rights on specified persons. What it does is create legal obligations on states’ (Council of Europe, 2004: 62). As such, it opens the way for an acceptable ‘middle way’ solution, ‘with states having a duty to provide the education, and parents being free to opt for it or not’ (Council of Europe, 2004: 63). As seen above, such a compromise was rejected in France concerning the teaching of Corsican on the grounds that this should remain completely optional for both students and teachers. The question of individual teachers aside, there is no reason, however, why the state should be treated the same as people with regard to freedom of language. Instead, France could choose to follow the example of Italy, where the teaching of minority languages is ‘optional for pupils, not for school authorities, which are obliged to organise such teaching if requested by parents’ (Bertile, 2008: 396
397). The debate about the teaching of Corsican highlighted the clash between two republican principles: on the one hand, liberty or freedom (in this case of language), and on the other, equality, which means that all citizens are equal before the law ‘without distinction of origin, race or religion’ (French Constitution, Article 1). Although not specifically mentioned, language can be considered as forming part of ‘origin’; indeed, many consider language to be the symbol of ethnicity par excellence. France has thus traditionally sought to justify its centralised language policy on the putative grounds that it places all citizens, irrespective of ethnic origin, on a level playing field. However, to imply that such a policy is ethnoculturally neutral is patently false. While it may be possible for a state to be neutral with regard to some elements of culture (e.g. by forbidding all religions, including that of the majority, from the public sphere), this is not possible with language where choices are inevitable. Faced with the impossibility of complete neutrality in matters of language, emphasis is now placed not so much on formal

Regional Languages, the European Charter

79

equality as on real equality (Bertile, 2008: 339). In other words, what is required is a conception of ‘justice as evenhandedness’ that ‘emphasizes contextually sensitive judgements more than general principles’ and that consequently ‘opens the door to the idea that we may sometimes come closer to equality by adopting practices of differentiated citizenship than by insisting on identical formal rights’ (Carens, 2000: 8). This is precisely the aim of the Charter which states that [t]he adoption of special measures in favour of regional or minority languages aimed at promoting equality between the users of these languages and the rest of the population or which take due account of their specific conditions is not considered to be an act of discrimination against the users of more widely-used languages. [Article 7(2)] While now broadly accepted in many countries, this more nuanced interpretation of equality has not yet been embraced fully in France, as evidenced by a Constitutional Council ruling from 2004: ‘[I]f, as a general rule, the principle of equality insists that people in the same situation be treated in the same way, it does not follow that it requires that people in different situations be treated differently’ (Decision No. 2003-489 DC of 29 December 2003).10 Indeed, President Sarkozy was recently forced to abandon his plan of many years to introduce discrimination positive (affirmative action) for ethnic minorities in France (Le Monde, 24 June 2009). He nonetheless intends to continue the push for a new conception of equality in the French context. Regional languages can offer important insight in this respect by introducing a dimension to the debate that goes beyond the question of immigration. France’s reluctance to accept differential forms of treatment for languages and their users also stems from the republican principle of fraternity, as conveyed by the notion that the Republic is ‘one and indivisible’. As seen above, even supporters of the Charter have insisted that regional languages belong to the ‘undivided cultural heritage of France’ (Carcassonne, 1998: 128), detached both from their speakers and from the regions in which they are spoken. While the indivisibility of the French territory remains uncontested, the debates of recent years reveal some softening of resolve on this front. Despite their insistence that regional languages do not belong to the regions but rather the nation as a whole
hence reference to the ‘languages of France’ as part of the ‘national heritage’
even Jacobins, defenders of the traditionally centralist republican ideal, are now beginning to think that the regions might be best placed to promote the teaching of regional languages

80

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

(e.g. Cerquiglini above). Although it does not directly address the obstacle posed by Article 2, the decision to recognise regional languages in the section of the Constitution devoted to territorial collectivities provides real potential in this respect. As for a more nuanced conception of the indivisibility of the French people, which would allow for the recognition of the groups of people who use regional languages, progress has been much slower. Nonetheless, France has come some way since it finally agreed in 1980 to ratify the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights of 1966 on the condition that Article 27, which guaranteed the right of minorities to practise their own language, religion and so on, would not apply to France (Grau, 1992: 110). As evidenced by Sarkozy’s remarks in the runup to the presidential elections of 2007, the existence of minorities in France is now acknowledged, if not in a legal sense, at least in a sociological one. Nonetheless there remains the taboo of ethnicity, which still tends to be defined very narrowly in France, making it synonymous with anachronistic understandings of race (Eriksen, 1993: 161). Since the Constitution forbids differential treatment in these terms, the state is left powerless to deal with the de facto ethnic discrimination that exists (Haut Conseil a` l’inte´gration, 1998). However, for the vast majority of people, ethnicity is not conceived in such a limited way, but rather in a broader sense and involving a significant amount of overlap with culture (Oakes & Warren, 2007: 11). Nor does ethnicity need to be linked inevitably with communitarianism or the much-criticised Anglo-Saxon model of multiculturalism, which many claim simply reinforces social inequalities and leads to the formation of ethnic ghettos (see Jennings, 2000). Indeed, there exist other models for managing ethnic diversity, such as the interculturalist model adopted in Que´bec (for details, see Oakes & Warren, 2007). Since it places greater emphasis on the common civic culture and actively encourages interaction between the component groups of a certain society, the Que´bec model is perfectly suited to the French tradition, not only with regard to regional languages but also other forms of cultural diversity such as that pertaining to religion (Baube´rot, 2008). Once again, the regional languages debate offers further opportunity to rethink France’s model of nation and integration in a constructive rather than destructive fashion. Despite the claims of scaremongers that ratification of the Charter will lead to the ‘Balkanisation of France’ (e.g. Jean-Pierre Cheve`nement, Le Figaro, 24 June 1999), the reality is that ‘the great majority of cultural minority movements make their claims in a spirit of loyalty towards the nation’ (Giordan, 1982: 46).

Regional Languages, the European Charter

81

Looking Ahead to the Next Decade It remains to be seen whether the newfound constitutional status of regional languages will lead to any major change in official policy in the future. Indeed, following the delay of the ‘reference framework’ for regional languages much criticised by Breton MPs such as Jean-Jacques Urvoas (Socialist Party, Finiste`re)11 and Marc Le Fur (Union for a Popular Movement, Coˆtes-d’Armor),12 it appears that the bill has now been abandoned by the government. With the new Minister of Culture and Communication Fre´de´ric Mitterrand accused of not taking an interest in the matter, it was left to the Minister of Immigration, Integration, National Identity and Development Solidarity E´ric Besson to explain to the National Assembly that by favouring speakers of specific languages, the ‘purely declarative and redundant law [. . .] would clash with the constitutional principles of indivisibility of the Republic and equality before the law’ (8 December 2009).13 The reversal comes perhaps as no surprise considering that republicanism is currently making a comeback. Speaking on the day after the publication of his report on the importance of imparting republican values (Haut Conseil a` l’inte´gration, 2009), Patrick Gaubert, President of the Haut Conseil a` l’inte´gration (High Council for Integration), declared that despite pressure to respect ethnic differences, ‘these values are non-negotiable’ (Le Monde, 22 April 2009). The defensive and at times xenophobic sentiment uncovered by Sarkozy’s ‘great national identity debate’ would seem to confirm this position (The Times, 13 December 2009). Instrumental as they are to the very definition of French national identity, republican values cannot simply be cast aside. To do so would risk having the effect of causing a major identity crisis. Yet it is not the republican principles per se that are outdated, but rather traditional interpretations of these principles. While many argue rightly for the need to rethink these interpretations as a particular result of immigration (e.g. Baube´rot, 2006; Weil, 2005), regional languages are well placed to push for reform too. Unlike immigration, which is often seen as a problem external to French identity (see Noiriel, 2006), regional languages and cultures are now very much accepted as part of French heritage. Indeed, this was the argument used in the recent debates examined in this chapter. It also perhaps explains why the ‘great debate’ found itself with a specific website devoted to national identity in Corsica, when a similar site to exchange views among Maghrebi immigrants, for example, even if in French, would surely not have been tolerated.14 Regional languages also have the weight of Europe behind them in a way that immigrant issues do not. The land of the Rights of Man and of the

82

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

Citizen is now an anomaly in the European Union, which requires that all new member states ratify the Charter for Regional or Minority Languages and embrace its European values, now at odds with traditional interpretations of republican principles. It is becoming evermore apparent too that non-ratification of the Charter severely undermines the global linguistic and cultural diversity agenda to which France has now committed itself as a means of protecting its identity in a world increasingly dominated by English and ‘Anglo-Saxon’ interests. In short, whereas France’s regional languages were once a largely isolated cause, they are now inextricably part of much greater movements. Not only are they set to benefit in the decades to come from the momentum of these broader causes, they also have the potential to make an important contribution in return by helping France to reinterpret its republican values to better meet the challenges of the 21st century. Notes 1. See http://www.liberation.fr/tribune/0101347196-la-republique-c-est-tousensemble. Accessed 26.1.10. 2. France’s territorial collectivities fall into one of five categories: communes, departments, regions, special-status collectivities and overseas territorial collectivities (French Constitution, Article 72). 3. Diwan, meaning ‘young shoot’, is a federation of Breton-medium schools in Brittany. Following the model of the Basque-medium Ikastolak, an initial Diwan nursery school was set up in 1977. Today, the network comprises educational institutions at nursery, primary, lower secondary and upper ´ hIfearna´in, Chapter 6, this volume, for a more secondary levels. (See O detailed discussion of language education policy in Brittany.) 4. See http://www.conseil-etat.fr/cde/node.php?articleid864. Accessed 19.1.10. 5. See http ://www.assemblee-nationale.fr/12/cri/2004-2005/20050126.asp. Accessed 26.1.10. 6. Introduced in 1958, the Fifth Republic is the current republican constitution of France. All citations from the 7 May 2008 debate can be viewed at http://www.assemblee-nationale.fr/13/cri/2007-2008/20080153.asp. Accessed 19.1.10. 7. All citations from the 22 May 2008 debate can be viewed at http://www. assemblee-nationale.fr/13/cri/2007-2008/20080165.asp. Accessed 19.1.10. 8. See http://www.assemblee-nationale.fr/13/cri/2007-2008-extra/20081013.asp. Accessed 19.1.10. 9. See http://www.assemblee-nationale.fr/13/cri/2007-2008-extra/20081013.asp. Accessed 19.1.10. 10. See http://www. conseil - constitutionnel. fr/ conseil-constitutionnel /francais/ les-decisions / acces - par - date / decisions-depuis-1959 / 2003/2003-489oo -dc/ decision-n-2003-489-dc-du-29-decembre-2003.877.html. Accessed 19.1.10. 11. See http://ouiaubreton.com/spip.php?article5890. Accessed 5.8.09.

Regional Languages, the European Charter

83

12. See http://www.letelegramme.com/ig/generales/regions/finistere/languesregionales - marc - le-fur-irrite-par-l-inaction-de- mitterrand- 25-11- 2009- 669584. php. Accessed 22.1.10. 13. See http://www.assemblee-nationale.fr/13/cri/2009-2010/20100078.asp#P340_ 86622. Accessed 22.1.10. 14. See http://www.debatidentitenationale-corse.fr. Accessed 22.1.10.

References Abalain, H. (2007) Le franc¸ais et les langues historiques de la France. Paris: Jean-Paul Gisserot. Acade´mie franc¸aise (2008) Actualite´s 2008. On WWW at http://www.academiefrancaise.fr/actualites/actu_2008.asp. Accessed 13.8.09. Agresi, G., de Varennes, F., Lafont, R. and Ortutay, K. (2007) De la crispation a` la conciliation? Contributions pour la ratification de la Charte europe´enne des langues re´gionales ou minoritaires par la France. Rome: Aracne. Balibar, R. and Laporte, D. (1974) Le franc¸ais national: politique et pratiques de la langue nationale sous la Re´volution franc¸aise. Paris: Hachette. Baube´rot, J. (2006) L’inte´grisme re´publicain contre la laı¨cite´. La Tour d’Aigues: L’Aube. Baube´rot, J. (2008) Une laı¨cite´ interculturelle. Le Que´bec, avenir de la France? La Tour d’Aigues: L’Aube. Bertile, V. (2008) Les langues re´gionales ou minoritaires et Constitution: France Espagne, Italie. Brussels: Bruyant. Blackwood, R.J. (2008) The State, the Activists and the Islanders. Dordrecht: Springer. Carcassonne, G. (1998) E´tude sur la compatibilite´ entre la Charte europe´enne des langues re´gionales ou minoritaires et la Constitution. Paris: La documentation franc¸aise. On WWW at http://lesrapports.ladocumentationfrancaise.fr/BRP/ 984001697/0000.pdf. Accessed 13.8.09. Carens, J.H. (2000) Culture, Citizenship and Community: A Contextual Exploration of Justice as Evenhandedness. New York: Oxford University Press. Cerquiglini, B. (1999) Les langues de France. Rapport au Ministre de l’Education Nationale, de la Recherche et de la Technologie, et a` la Ministre de la Culture et de la Communication. Paris: La documentation franc¸aise. On WWW at http://lesrapports.ladocumentationfrancaise.fr/BRP/994000719/0000.pdf. Accessed 13.8.09. Cerquiglini, B. (2002) Bien dans nos langues. Entretien avec Bernard Cerquiglini. On WWW at http://www.culture.gouv.fr/culture/dglf/entretien-BC.htm. Accessed 13.8.09. Certeau, M. de, Julia, D. and Revel, J. (1975) Une politique de la langue. La Re´volution franc¸aise et les patois: l’enqueˆte de Gre´goire. Paris: Gallimard. Council of Europe (2004) The European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages and the French Dilemma: Diversity v. Unicity
Which Language(s) for the Republic? Strasbourg: Council of Europe. Council of Europe (2009) Liste des de´clarations formule´es au titre du traite´ no. 148. On WWW at http://conventions.coe.int/Treaty/Commun/ ListeDeclarations.asp?NT148&CM1&DF2/27/2008 &CLFRE&VL0. Accessed 1.7.09.

84

Part 1: Language Policy at the Official Level

CSA (2008) L’opinion des Franc¸ais a` l’e´gard de l’inscription de la reconnaissance des langues re´gionales dans la Constitution. (Sondage exclusif CSA/OuestFrance, No 0800793B). On WWW at http://www.csa.eu/dataset/data2008/ opi20080619-l-opinion-des-francais-a-l-egard-de-l-inscription-de-la-reconnaissance-des-langues-regionales-dans-la-constitution.pdf. Accessed 1.7.09. Eriksen, T.H. (1993) Ethnicity and Nationalism. London: Pluto Press. Giordan, H. (1982) De´mocratie culturelle et droit a` la difference. Rapport au Ministre de la Culture. Paris: La documentation franc¸aise. Giordan, H. (1992) Les langues de France: de l’he´ge´monie re´publicaine a` la de´mission de l’E´tat. In H. Giordan (ed.) Les minorite´s en Europe: droits linguistiques et droits de l’homme (pp. 129
144). Paris: E´ditions Kime´. Grau, R. (1992) Le statut juridique des droits linguistiques en France. In H. Giordan (ed.) Les minorite´s en Europe: droits linguistiques et droits de l’homme (pp. 93
112). Paris: E´ditions Kime´. Haut Conseil a` l’inte´gration (1998) Lutte contre les discriminations: faire respecter le principe d’e´galite´: rapport au Premier ministre. Paris: La documentation franc¸aise. On WWW at http://lesrapports.ladocumentationfrancaise.fr/BRP/ 994000073/0000.pdf. Accessed 26.1.10. Haut Conseil a` l’inte´gration (2009) E´tudes et inte´gration: faire connaıˆtre les valeurs de la Re´publique. Paris: La documentation franc¸aise. On WWW at http:// lesrapports.ladocumentationfrancaise.fr/BRP/094000180/0000.pdf. Accessed 22.1.10. Jacob, J.E. and Gordon, D.C. (1985) Language policy in France. In J.E. Jacob and W.R. Beer (eds) Language Policy and National Unity (pp. 106
133). Totowa: Rowman and Allanheld. Jennings, J. (2000) Citizenship, republicanism and multiculturalism in contemporary France. British Journal of Political Science 30 (4), 575
598. Judge, A. (2002) Contemporary issues in French linguistic policies. In K. Salhi (ed.) French in and out of France: Language Policies, Intercultural Antagonisms and Dialogue (pp. 35
72). Bern: Peter Lang. Judge, A. (2007) Linguistic Policies and the Survival of Regional Languages in France and Britain. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Kahn, J.-F. (2000) L’infaˆme magouille du 12 juillet. Marianne, 24 July. Ma¨a¨tta¨, S.K. (2005) The European charter for regional or minority languages, French language laws, and national identity. Language Policy 4, 167
186. Ministe`re de la Culture et de la Communication (2004) Actes des 1e`res Assises nationales des langues de France, 4 octobre 2003. Paris: Ministe`re de la Culture et de la Communication. On WWW at http://www.culture.gouv.fr:80/culture/ dglf/politique-langue/assises/actes_assises.pdf. Accessed 13.8.09. Noiriel, G. (2006) Le creuset franc¸ais: histoire de l’immigration XIXe-XXe sie`cle. New edition (Points histoire). Paris: Seuil. Oakes, L. (2001) Language and National Identity: Comparing France and Sweden. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Oakes, L. and Warren, J. (2007) Language, Citizenship and Identity in Quebec. Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Poignant, B. (1998) Langues et cultures re´gionales. Rapport de Monsieur Bernard Poignant, Maire de Quimper, a` Monsieur Lionel Jospin, Premier ministre. Paris: La documentation franc¸aise. On WWW at http://lesrapports.ladocumentationfrancaise.fr/BRP/984001448/0000.pdf. Accessed 13.8.09.

Regional Languages, the European Charter

85

Renan, E. (1990) What is a nation? In H.K. Bhabha (ed.) Nation and Narration (Translated and annotated by M. Thom) (pp. 8
22). London: Routledge. Sarkozy, N. (2007a) Discours de Nicolas Sarkozy
Besanc¸on
13 mars 2007. On WWW at http://www.sarkozy.fr/download/?modepress&filename DiscoursNS_13mars2007_Besancon.pdf. Accessed 13.8.09. Sarkozy, N. (2007b) Letter addressed to Christian Me´nard, MP for Finiste`re. On WWW at http://cmenard.com/article.php?art369. Accessed 19.1.10. Weil, P. (2005) La Re´publique et sa diversite´: immigration, inte´gration, discrimination. Paris: Seuil. Wright, S. (2000) Jacobins, Regionalists and the Council of Europe’s Charter for regional and minority languages. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 21 (5), 414
424.

Part 2

Language Policy in Practice: Indigenous and Migrant Languages in Education

Introduction to Part 2 This part examines the implementation of language policy in education, which is crucial in the transmission and acquisition of minority languages within a multilingual setting. The countries and languages represented help to expand two of the portraits presented in Part 1
we return to France and Australia. Two of the contributions take us to countries where Spanish has contrasting roles and functions
Spain, where Spanish is the national majority language, and the United States, where New Mexican Spanish is a minority language and under threat. The notion of Indigenous language is explored in a European setting
regional languages in France and Spain
and in an Australian context
Aboriginal languages. In all three cases, Indigenous languages have been suppressed and marginalised during their contact with the majority language and shifting national ideologies, with different outcomes. Overall, it is clear that the transmission of minority languages to the next generation is fundamental to their survival, and the contributions underline the importance of bilingual education in this regard. The final contribution examines Asian languages in education in Australia, and their importance in affirming Australia’s place in the Asia-Pacific region. ´ hIfearna´in’s analysis of the current Part 2 opens with Tadhg O situation of the Breton language in France. As Leigh Oakes set out in Chapter 5, France has a long history of suppressing regional languages. In spite of this, Breton was still a majority language in western Brittany into the 20th century, but declined sharply in the period after the Second World War. The dramatic drop in intergenerational transmission has been attributed to the ambivalence of native speakers to maintaining and reviving the language and their integration into mainstream French society. There has been a major change in attitudes among older Breton speakers, the public and institutions in the last 10 years, reflected in the current language policy from the Breton Regional Council, which emphasises the importance of bilingual schooling. At the forefront of Breton language revival is a group of committed language activists, who navigate between two varieties of Breton, the traditional variety spoken 89

90

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

by older native speakers and that taught in schools. The impact of Breton language policy, with its focus on bilingual education, has helped to reverse Breton language loss among the younger generation. The challenge ahead is to ensure the relevance and use of Breton in domains outside education, and the participation of other groups such as older native speakers and those with passive knowledge of the language. In Chapter 7, David Lasagabaster continues the theme of regional languages, this time in Spain. Regional languages were suppressed in Spain during Franco’s dictatorship, but once democracy returned in the late 1970s, regional languages such as Basque, Catalan and Galician underwent a revitalisation and normalisation process. These three languages have been recognised as co-official languages by their respective regional Statutes, with Castilian the official language of the state. Their official status and the spread of compulsory bilingual education, among other things, have helped to place these regional languages in a far stronger position than those in France, with speakers of Basque, Catalan and Galician steadily on the rise. As is the case in other countries under study in this volume, the linguistic landscape of Spain is complex, and increasing immigration has added to the number of minority languages spoken there. English has also taken on greater importance in the school system and is the most studied foreign language. These are challenges even for well-established regional languages, and the chapter concludes that multilingualism needs to be a clear priority in schools if Spain’s regional languages are to continue to prosper. In Chapter 8, Catherine E. Travis and Daniel J. Villa take up the Spanish theme, but this time in New Mexico, in the United States. The chapter outlines the history of Spanish in the region, from the arrival of the first Spanish-speaking colonisers in 1598. Several varieties of Spanish coexist in present-day New Mexico
‘Traditional’ New Mexican Spanish, ‘Border Spanish’ and varieties of northern Modern Mexican Spanish. New Mexico is not an officially bilingual state, but the State Constitution of 1912 does afford some protection to Spanish speakers, an exception among US states. There have been some positive developments recently in bilingual education programmes and changes in societal attitudes. Retention of Spanish is most evident in the border regions with Mexico because of continued migration and contact with varieties of contemporary Mexican Spanish. This contrasts with the decline in Traditional New Mexican Spanish in the north of the state. Given this situation, it is possible that Traditional New Mexican Spanish

Introduction to Part 2

91

might eventually lose out to a variety that is closer to contemporary varieties of Mexican Spanish. The final two chapters of this part take us back to Australia. In Chapter 9, Gillian Wigglesworth and David Lasagabaster examine the complex issue of Indigenous bilingual education. The situation of Indigenous languages in Australia is critical, with rapid language shift and loss, and fewer and fewer children learning them as their first language. This is typical of the fate of Indigenous languages in other settler societies such as Canada and the United States, with similar histories of the assimilation of Indigenous peoples and the suppression of their languages. At the time of the colonisation of Australia, around 300 Indigenous languages were spoken; currently, all but about 20 are seriously endangered. Indigenous children in remote Indigenous communities are faced with a complicated linguistic environment. The first language they acquire may be a traditional Indigenous language, but it could also be Aboriginal English, a creole, or a new mixed language
usually a combination of a creole and a traditional language. For many, their first encounter with Standard Australian English is at school, the language in which most education takes place. The chapter focuses on the Northern Territory where nearly 32% of the population claims Indigenous heritage; this compares with around 2.5% of the Australian population as a whole. It examines recent Northern Territory bilingual educational policy for Indigenous children and outlines the modest federal support for bilingual education in the 1980s and 1990s. However, events since then have seen the undermining of bilingual education, with a focus on the acquisition of English to the detriment of Indigenous languages, and the outlook for Indigenous languages is bleak. In the final chapter of Part 2, Yvette Slaughter examines another aspect of the linguistic landscape of Australia, Asian languages and their prioritisation in the education system. Australia’s growing recognition of the economic importance of its position in the Asia-Pacific region has been a deciding factor in the recent promotion of Chinese (Mandarin), Indonesian, Japanese and Korean. However, the narrow focus on economic imperatives for learning these four languages can have negative consequences. In the case of Korean and Indonesian, for example, recent sociopolitical events have caused a drop in the number of students studying these languages in Australian schools. What is needed is to extend the rationale for language learning beyond economic reasons and emphasise the broader cognitive, social and cultural value of languages. Other factors also have a role to play in the success of Asian languages in

92

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

the Australian context, including support for language learning generally, resolving what are sometimes conflicting policy priorities at federal and at state level, and taking into account the language abilities of different types of language learners.

Chapter 6

Breton Language Maintenance and Regeneration in Regional Education Policy ´ hIFEARNA ´ IN TADHG O

Introduction While the number of Breton speakers continues to decline, there are at last incipient signs that loss is now showing signs of reversal and a new dynamic in favour of the language is becoming established. This chapter focuses on aspects of the intergenerational transmission of Breton and the production of new speakers in the context of Brittany’s Regional Council Language Policy. It considers specific complexities of Breton language revival, particularly the critical impact of the division between traditional and revivalist Breton, and the experiences of a generation of Breton language activists who are at the forefront of attitude shift and language regeneration in Brittany in mediating between the two varieties. Breton is an Insular Celtic language, spoken in France, closely related to Cornish and Welsh, though not intercomprehensible with them in the modern period. Breton was probably never spoken as a community language in the east of Brittany. Gallo is spoken there, a language derived from Low Latin in parallel to the other langue d’oı¨ l varieties from which modern French emerged. Both Breton and Gallo are now minority languages spoken by bilinguals. Despite centuries of marginalisation and official suppression, particularly since the French Revolution (Broudic, 1995; Lachuer, 1998), Breton was still a majority language in western Brittany in the first half of the 20th century but went into rapid decline after the end of World War II. Particularly since the 1980s, France has gradually become more tolerant of its linguistic minorities in the educational and cultural spheres (see Oakes, Chapter 5, this volume) but has taken few concrete steps to redevelop the languages. The work of language activists during the periods of intolerance and minoritisation 93

94

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

has, however, recently been supplemented by language promotion policies by local and regional administrations, particularly in Brittany. The chapter is also illustrated by data from semi-structured interviews carried out individually and in small groups in autumn 2009, with 17 informants whose primary professional work is with the Breton language.1 All those interviewed are in the age group 2945 and work as primary or secondary school teachers, in language development agencies, in the media or in music and entertainment. All live in the historically Breton-speaking part of the Department of the Coˆtes d’Armor. Interviewees were specifically chosen because they were brought up speaking Breton themselves in an area where Breton was spoken traditionally or had learnt Breton from their immediate family and neighbours in childhood. The one exception had learnt Breton at a later stage but was well integrated with people of that profile, and their partner also had such a background. Breton language professionals with such a personal history offer particularly valuable insights into the nature and potential of language policy as many of them are employed by public agencies (or those in receipt of public money) but have themselves come from a language activist background which has often positioned itself as a form of resistance to the dynamics of the state. As all also had higher education in Breton, entailing the learning of reading, writing and speaking of a ‘literary’ or ‘standardised’ form which they use, to some extent, themselves, they are also well aware of the often-posited divide between traditional Breton and that of the revival movement, the latter caricatured in academic studies as a synthetic variety (Le Duˆ, 1997) or a variety which is redundant for older traditional speakers (Jones, 1998b: 134). Our sample of Breton language professionals is particularly useful since it aligns well with the new image Breton speakers enjoy in the public mind, promoted by the media, which reflects the energy of those engaged in the promotion of the language and cultural activities. As Broudic (2009: 88) notes, most of these media-friendly people live in urban centres spread throughout Brittany, are responsible for bilingual schools and evening classes, are publishers and singers, are theatre performers, speak on the radio and appear on television and in newspapers. But he cautions that this image does not correspond to the most common profile of the Breton speaker which emerged from the major 2007 survey conducted by TMO-Re´gions (Broudic, 2009). That speaker is most likely a married woman over 60 years with no formal education, living in a small rural community. The participants in this study lie somewhere between these sociolinguistic poles and have a part in both realities, if two realities do exist.

Breton Language Maintenance

95

The Geographical and Social Demography of Breton It is usual in sociolinguistic descriptions of Brittany to refer to traditionally Breton-speaking Lower Brittany (Breizh Izel/Basse Bretagne) in the west and to Gallo and French-speaking Upper Brittany (Breizh Uhel/Haute Bretagne) in the east (see Figure 6.1). Loth (1883) considered that Breton was spoken as the community language around the 9th century west of a line which ran approximately from the border with Normandy at Mont Saint Michel southwards to the River Loire at a point near Saint Nazaire. By early modern times, the Breton-speaking area was probably further west, more or less where Se´billot (1886) identified its boundary as a line from Plouha in the north to a point on the southern coast east of the city of Vannes. Timm (1983) reinvestigated the extent to which Breton was spoken along Se´billot’s line in 1976 and described Breton surviving in islands in a widening sea of

Figure 6.1 Brittany: Modern department boundaries and historical linguistic frontier

96

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

French speakers. She suggests that this interpretation still holds but should better be conceptualised not geographically but as social networks or communities of practice (Timm, 2009: 716). While numerically strongest in the Finiste`re department, Broudic (2007, 2009) highlights concentrations of speakers, particularly in rural communes with small populations in the Tre´gor region in the Coˆtes d’Armor, in Central Brittany from around Callac in the Coˆtes d’Armor to Carhaix in Finiste`re, with some pockets of strength in Cap Sizun and the southern coastal Bigouden country in Finiste`re. Although one should now be cautious about defining a linguistic boundary, there is no doubt from the survey data available in the last 15 years that Breton is still much more present west of Se´billot’s line than in the east and that ‘traditional Breton’ has some presence in all of the territory of Lower Brittany from areas where there are considerable numbers of speakers to others where the population still has a strong identification with a language that is now hardly spoken (Le Coadic, 1998). The most comprehensive studies on the numbers, profiles and practice of Breton speakers were carried out by TMO-Re´gions in 1997 and 2007 at the behest of Fan˜ch Broudic (1999, 2009), with financial support from the Regional Council and some of the departments. The sampling technique (Broudic, 1999, 2009) has been shown to be statistically robust by independent large-scale surveying by national agencies in 1999 (Le Boe¨tte´, 2003). The total number of people who claim an ability to speak Breton ‘very well’ or ‘quite well’ in the whole of Brittany in 2007 is 206,000 (5.5% of the population). The 1997 study found 246,000 speakers for Lower Brittany, but by 2007 this figure had fallen to 182,000. Of these 172,000 are over 15 years old (13% of the population), and a further 10,000 are under 15 years and attend bilingual/immersion schools (Broudic, 2009). There are 22,500 speakers in Upper Brittany, who all say they speak it ‘very well’ (1% of the population) and 1500 in bilingual schooling. While 13% of Lower Bretons claim to speak Breton, only 5% (67,000) speak it ‘very well’. Inside Lower Brittany, the percentage of speakers is highest in the Coˆtes d’Armor (19% of the population, 7% speaking it very well), with 15% in Finiste`re (6% very well) and 8% in Morbihan (just 3% very well). Despite these low figures for ability, some 49% of the people of Lower Brittany claim to understand at least some Breton, something that reflects how recently the language was quite widely spoken and also an important fact for language policy managers to bear in mind with regard to linguistic heritage. The decline in speaker numbers from 1997 to 2007 can be almost entirely explained by cohort depletion due to natural death

Breton Language Maintenance

97

(Broudic, 2009: 7176) and by a small amount of emigration. Ageing also explains the depletion in each age cohort between 20 and 74 years, together representing a loss of almost half the proportion in each cohort in 10 years, as shown in Table 6.1. The most remarkable feature of this profile is that the number of speakers in the 15 19 age group has reversed the trend  with a quadrupling in only 10 years, albeit from a very small base. These young speakers are still small in number, but of these 9000 or so, three quarters claim to speak Breton ‘very well’, which is a higher proportion than any other age group, and 70% said that neither parent spoke Breton. This clearly demonstrates the emergence of a new group of speakers who have learnt Breton from the schooling system, which is not surprising, as all surveys have shown that intergenerational transmission of Breton has been declining very rapidly in each generation, especially in the last 50 years. One should, however, be cautious before concluding that the Breton spoken by the young is uniformly of a learner variety and that there has been a clean break with the traditional varieties. The personal histories of all the Breton professionals interviewed for this chapter illustrate this. Active Breton speakers in their age group are in a small minority. The 2007 survey suggests only 2% in the cohort 20 39 speak the language and that 58% of their parents could not speak Breton. One informant, brought up on a farm, explained that she had a strong passive knowledge of the language and knew many songs and stories from her early childhood. Tradition bearers, but not language or political activists, her parents spoke to her in French (and she adds that she was teased at school for not having very good French) but always spoke Breton among themselves and with her grandparents who lived in the adjoining house, where she Table 6.1 Breton speakers by age cohort in Lower Brittany Age group (years)

1997

2007

15* 19

1%

4%

20* 39

5%

2%

40* 59

21%

10%

60* 74

42%

25%

75

45%

46%

Source: Broudic (2009: 66)

98

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

had her own bedroom. She only became an active Breton speaker in later childhood when she took up traditional singing on stage and started to learn ‘literary’ Breton at school before studying Breton at university. Another interviewee was the son of activists in the Breton cultural and political movement of the late 1960s and 1970s. Remarkably, given their political views, although both Breton speakers from childhood (another interviewee commented that they both had ‘beautiful’ Breton), they did not speak it to their children. Despite this, the participant spent two months each summer with his grandparents, where only Breton was spoken around him. He believes he only became conscious that he could actually speak Breton when about 10 or 11 years old during a large family meal after the harvest at his grandparents’ house when some Parisian cousins who did not know any Breton kept asking him to translate what everybody was saying. He took a correspondence course in Breton while at secondary school to learn to read and write it. Although he spoke Breton with his grandparents, his parents only recently started to do so. A third example illustrates a slightly different scenario. The interviewee’s mother had two older brothers who started school in the 1950s with no French and had a very hard time academically and socially. She was some years younger and when still a baby the teacher came to the house to tell her parents to speak to her in French to help her at school, which they did. However, she rebelled against being the only person to whom French was spoken in the house and became a Breton speaker. This early character forming played its part in her becoming one of the founders of the Breton immersion school system known as Diwan (see also below). The informant’s father was not brought up speaking Breton, but got a job working outdoors in a fairly strongly Bretonspeaking community and took up speaking the language like all the men of his age in that area. She was among the first cohort in Brittany to have experienced Breton-medium schooling from preschool through to the end of secondary education. Her grandparents found it difficult to accept that her parents spoke Breton to their children and often reproached them for doing so. Only in the last few years have they come to accept that it was a good decision, that she makes a living in and from the language, and that she can speak French well too. She acknowledged that she became aware very early that she used what she describes as two varieties of Breton  ‘that spoken around me’ (at home and among the neighbours) and ‘that spoken by those who grew up with me’ (at school and in her peer group). She sees big advantages to both varieties, the first being idiomatic and ‘authentic’ in accentuation and syntax and the school variety being better adapted to

Breton Language Maintenance

99

modern living. She tries to find a middle course between them in her professional and non-professional life and feels that she has an advantage in being able to move easily among revival speakers and older rural people, with whom she also works as a folklore collector.

The Divide between Revived and Traditional Breton Jones (1998a: 302304) sketches an account of the linguistic differences between ‘ne´o-breton’ and traditional varieties, the language of revivalists being influenced by French syntax and prosody and the pronunciation of certain consonants and clusters, the absence of native interrogation patterns and a range of defective grammatical features in verbal phrases, prepositional pronouns and initial mutations (both grammatical and by elision). One of Timm’s (2001) informants suggests that many learners have a tendency to resort to French lexemes rather than established loanwords when they do not know the ‘ne´o-breton’ word, making their speech seem inauthentic, while Jones (1998a: 316) notes that revivalists see the acquisition of some local features as a goal, self-consciously cramming their speech with regionalisms from the four corners of the country and ending up with a mix that baffles traditional native speakers. Le Ruyet (2009a, 2009b) is the first to have studied a spoken corpus of bilingual secondary school pupils’ Breton. Drawing on this, he identifies four problem areas for teaching spoken Breton, highlighting especially the lack of attention paid to pronunciation (particularly in the question of suffix elision, so important to native speakers) in textbooks and the way that the standard orthography does not properly represent it. These observations do not reflect the nature of a standardised variety designed as a target language per se, but are similar to those in all revived language situations, where learner and native varieties coexist and interact, both showing signs of language contact and obsolescence. The prominence of the controversy in Breton has its roots in stances related to the perceived ideology of language revival. The early 20th century language movement was bound up with Breton nationalist/separatist sentiment. Roparz Hemon, one of the movement’s foremost leaders, and his colleagues wanted to create a ‘brand new’ Breton to unite the country and forge into modernity, but in so doing may have actually created two languages, one dialectal, spoken by the people, and the other literary, attached to the movement (Le Coadic, 1998: 248249). In their career of contributing to this issue, Jean Le Duˆ and Yves Le Berre (cf. 1996) propose that for generations native Breton speakers have perceived their language in terms of ‘badumes’ (from ba du-man˜  ‘around home’)

100

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

with a local function, have acknowledged the existence of a standard, mainly that used historically by the church, but have attributed outside functions, including education, to French. In such a scenario, a revived Breton ‘national’ standard has had little place. Researchers in the 1990s and earlier found native speakers to be ambivalent about promoting Breton and unsympathetic to revivalists. Older, traditional speakers’ ambivalence is born out in their non-transmission of the language to younger generations. To some extent, this might be attributed to speakers’ internalising of the national authorities’ discursive construction of Breton as being of the traditional, rural past and as a hindrance to modernity and improvement. However, by 2007 a complete shift in attitudes had occurred (Broudic, 2009: 149152). Support for maintaining Breton increased to 89% in Lower Brittany, while actual policies to promote Breton were backed by 76% of Breton speakers and 56% of non-speakers. The shift in majority opinion corresponds to the decoupling of the Breton language school movement from overtly engaged political and cultural activism. It parallels the mainstreaming of Breton language policy and is echoed in many other parts of Europe in the early 21st century where marginalised languages have become the object of positive planning by public authorities. Moal (2009) points to the diversification of the social and professional profiles of bilingual school pupils’ parents since the mid-1990s. The ideologically driven quarrels between supporters of the three orthographic systems for Breton have also subsided. Of these, the ‘completely unified’ peurunvan system, developed by the nationalist movement and codified in its final version in 1941, is by far the most widely used, regardless of ideological stance. The contemporary schooling situation has nevertheless inherited many aspects of its radical roots in its language choices. Although it is not the case in all schools, Favereau (2009: 128) laments the fact that whereas Basque children use the local dialect in earlier schooling and learn the Batua (unified standard) later, Bretons are still obsessed with the ideological aspect of the orthography and standardisation question and have chosen to use the peurunvan in early schooling, only learning variation from that norm towards the end of primary and in secondary education to the detriment of young children being able to converse with their elders and neighbours. Bringing native speakers and learners closer is one of the policy challenges identified by Ofis ar Brezhoneg (2003: 24) and has led to language schemes such as Klaskerien ha Treizherien son˜jou` [‘collectors and transmitters of memories’], which gets school children to collect stories from community elders in an effort to bolster learnernative contact.

Breton Language Maintenance

101

While recognising a divide between the two varieties, the 2009 informants’ experience does not lead them to believe that there are now two separate speech communities within Lower Brittany, as portrayed in much of the scholarly literature. They see their own position as somewhere on a spectrum between the traditional variety and the revived standard version, with the need to position themselves towards one end or the other depending on the setting and their interlocutor(s). Several participants questioned whether learners who only acquire a ‘school variety’ could actually function as Breton speakers once they leave education and pointed out that however many people come through the schooling system, for the moment at least, there are many more native speakers than second language speakers in Brittany. However ‘ne´obreton’ their learning, the participants here do come from and work in their home communities, or nearby, and a characterisation of their speech as a xenolect due to their professional functions, or their membership of a revivalist speech community, is not so clear-cut.

Regional Language Policy in Brittany When considering regional language policy for Breton, it is important to note that while Brittany is made up geographically of five French departments, only four  Finiste`re, Coˆtes d’Armor, Morbihan and Ille et Vilaine  are recognised by the French state as the Brittany Region (Re´gion Bretagne) with an elected Regional Council. In the south, the fifth department  Loire Atlantique  has not been part of the Re´gion Bretagne since the region’s creation some 60 years ago, but is involved as an additional partner in nearly all aspects of the cultural and linguistic policies of the region. On 17 December 2004, Brittany’s Regional Council adopted a document entitled Une Politique Linguistique pour la Bretagne [A Language Policy for Brittany]. The policy document sets out broad objectives to develop Breton and Gallo, with emphasis on supporting Breton-medium education in the three forms in which it is currently available to Breton children: (1) bilingual classes in public schools (supported by the Div Yezh association), (2) bilingual classes in private Catholic schools (Dihun) and (3) the independent immersion schools (Diwan). As Oakes (Chapter 5, this volume) explains, the varying status of these different bilingual programmes in the eyes of the French state has often been very fractious. The inclusive attitude of the region towards them is in marked contrast to the attitude of the Ministry of Education since their emergence in the late 1970s and early 1980s (cf. Perazzi, 1998). The 2004 policy couches its

102

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

proposals cautiously in a discourse that seeks to allay any fears in the population, or in Paris, that promoting Breton would be at the expense of French but instead favours bilingualism with a view towards multilingualism. It states that policy should encourage rather than oblige the learning of Breton and that the language belongs to ‘the whole Breton population not just to a handful of enthusiasts, whatever their merits may be’ (Conseil Re´gional de Bretagne, 2004). It asserts that its objectives should be understood in the context of international practice in support of cultural diversity and protection of linguistic minorities, citing the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages and the Council of Europe’s Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms. It highlights in particular the 2004 debate on French constitutional reform, which eventually led in 2008 to Article 75-1 of the French Constitution recognising the ‘regional languages’ as part of France’s heritage. The region’s policy actions are, however, limited by its powers of implementation. It states, for example, that the Regional Council officially recognises Breton and Gallo as languages of Brittany, alongside French. This was a very strong statement from any level of French administration in 2004, but it does not, of course, mean that Breton and Gallo have become official languages in any legal sense. With cross-party support, the Regional Council has called for the transfer of powers for bilingual education to the region but has been very slow to reach an agreement on structured development of the sector with the French education authorities. This is despite the fact that precedent now exists for such practical arrangements elsewhere in France, for example the agreement on the teaching of Catalan and Occitan in the LanguedocRoussillon region which was finally signed in December 2009. In its 2004 policy aims, Brittany’s region had to content itself with ‘seeking the greatest cooperation among its partners, and especially the five Breton Departments, to perpetuate Breton language and culture’. To achieve this, it divided its action into three main areas: (1) passing on the language (concentrating on schooling, family usage, adult learners and publicity campaigns), (2) developing language usage in social and public life (with emphasis on the media and language plans at local level) and (3) encouraging cultural production (especially in publishing, theatre and song). The plan was accepted unanimously by the Regional Council at the start of Jean-Yves Le Drian’s first term as president in 2004, in a socialist-led alliance which was re-elected in 2010. Further proof of this dramatic change in Breton’s profile in the public space since the 1980s and the supporting consensus is seen in 86% popular backing among the

Breton Language Maintenance

103

Breton population for teaching Breton in schools (Broudic, 2007). In addition, the ways to productively implement language policy, rather than any opposition to it, were among the themes of the political campaigns for the March 2010 regional elections (Broudic, 2010).

Applying the Regional Council’s Language Policy in Education While a Regional Council Language Policy Committee reports each year on the implementation of the language policy, more critical, constructive analysis is carried out regularly by Ofis ar Brezhoneg/Office de la Langue Bretonne, established by the region with the support of the Ministry of Culture in 1999 to help design and implement Breton development strategies for public bodies and Councils. The Ofis’ own plan for Breton by 2015 (Ofis ar Brezhoneg, 2003) provided much of the impetus for the Regional Council’s document. A central pillar of the region’s 2004 policy aimed to have 20,000 pupils in bilingual classes by 2010, meaning an average 12% increase each year. At the start of the school year 20092010, a total of 13,035 pupils were at some stage of schooling (Ofis ar Brezhoneg, 2009): 5424 were in bilingual public school classes, 4444 in Catholic Dihun and 3167 were in the independent Diwan immersion schools. Diwan, after the difficult years of its failed attempt to integrate with the state system (see Oakes, Chapter 5, this volume), is now growing again thanks to the support of the region and departments. Dihun continues slow but steady expansion, and proportionally there are now more bilingual classes in Catholic schools than in the state sector. It is in the state sector that progress has been slowest but where the potential for expansion has always been greatest. Ofis ar Brezhoneg (2009: 2829) highlights the fact that expansion only occurs where parents have relentlessly pressed for the opening of bilingual classes in the face of resistance from the Rectorat, the local branch of the central Ministry of Education which determines school policy. The current rate of growth in the state sector remains the same as that which occurred before the Regional Council policy commitment. Despite regional support, several interviewees in October 2009 saw continued state opposition to learning Breton and petty power play in educational authority decisions. One interviewee, a secondary teacher, asked for two years running to create new Breton classes in a particular secondary school, but this request was denied despite overwhelming demand from the school, pupils and parents. Other informants related that parents in one village had been campaigning for a state sector bilingual class for more than 10 years

104

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

without success until a Diwan school opened in a neighbouring village, causing the Rectorat to rush to open a bilingual school in the same catchment area. Whether or not there is still residual resistance in the state apparatus to the extension of Breton language teaching, the lack of engagement with a structured approach to the issue thwarts the policy objectives and reinforces resistance in many quarters.

Schooling and Generating New Speakers The Regional Council policy targets bilingual schooling and adult education and has expanded to offer bursaries and support to the study of Breton and Gallo in higher education. However, remarkably, it does not mention the teaching of Breton as a subject in other schools, which are attended by over 98% of Breton children, and where provision of Breton as a subject is limited. This lacuna was mentioned in the major analysis of the first year of policy implementation by Ofis ar Brezhoneg (2004: 49) but is hardly referred to again in Ofis ar Brezhoneg’s analysis of the regional policy in subsequent years. In emphasising the development of bilingual and immersion schooling and regularly publishing maps showing the catchment areas of the schools, policy-makers and analysts have directed public opinion and debate in that direction. A participant in this study mused that if one were to believe the media, only Breton-medium classes and schools were opening in Brittany and that within the next 20 years no French-medium schooling would be available in rural areas. The concentration of language promotion policy in such a highly focused area that only currently touches a small minority of the population is not unusual in contemporary minority language management. It is possible to understand emphasis on immersion as the most effective way to produce new speakers and also as an area in which public bodies can have a defined space to act, but it is important to realise its limitations. Despite some successes internationally, it is rare for schooling to lead to revitalisation or revernacularisation. In a study of language use and attitudes among a group of past pupils of Calandretas (Occitan immersion schools), Roquette (2005: 83) reports that they did not use Occitan to any significant degree in their daily lives after leaving school. Ale´n Garabato and Boyer (2005: 75) conclude that in the absence of any institutionalised expansion of the social usage of the language, the schools may actually reinforce the language shift to French by exposing the language’s lack of social utility. In such circumstances, the role of the school in language revitalisation could be ambiguous. There have been no studies on the language habits of graduates of Breton bilingual/immersion schools.

Breton Language Maintenance

105

The two participants in this study who had attended Diwan schools thought that their situation was probably different to that of younger cohorts. In their 30s, they were among the first cohorts of Diwan graduates. Small in number, having known each other since early childhood and from activist families who were involved in founding their schools, they felt that they had a particularly strong bond that might not be shared in years to come: ‘We were born in the midst of demonstrations, but parents of the current children don’t have the same motivations’. They stated that among their ex-school friends they would always speak Breton now, but that some of these had never had the opportunity or inclination to make the adjustment to living among the wider Breton community and ‘knew their limitations in the language’. Nevertheless, most of their friends were now working in a variety of professions all over Brittany and were doubtless among those referred to by Broudic, above, as being the new faces of the language to the wider public.

Conclusion While all the interviewees recognised the value of Breton-medium education from pedagogical and identity-building perspectives, they were less unanimous about the direct connection between the schools and language maintenance  with implications for the Breton Regional Council’s current language policy emphasis on bilingual schooling. They point out that when they were young in their rural communities in the 1970s and 1980s, nearly everybody had the same linguistic background  their grandparents spoke Breton all the time, their parents were able to speak it but had mixed attitudes to it, and their peers were all able to understand the language. While a change in public attitudes has certainly swept the country, the interviewees believe there must still be a dormant yet huge passive knowledge of the language among the parents of most of the school children in rural Lower Brittany. Yet, that generation is unlikely to be touched by regional language policies unless they are among the small minority who decide or who have the opportunity to send their children to a bilingual/immersion school. Despite this, in each interview participants believed and stated independently of one another that there has never been a better or easier time to learn Breton, whatever one’s background, because of the change in attitudes among older native speakers, the general public and institutions and because of the facilities that were now available. Three informants in particular were still cautious about the future. They believed that despite public demand and support, the main work of

106

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

language promotion and teaching still fell on a very limited number of highly skilled speakers like themselves who alternate between traditional dialect, innovation and standard in a wide variety of professional domains exercised in a complex linguistic setting. One participant visualised modern language activists as a spider’s web spread across Brittany, all interconnected yet fragile. Public opinion may now make learning Breton more unremarkable and perhaps in a generation support might slide away again, but they believe that there will always be a core of Breton activists who will be given a central role by wider society, whether those individuals want that role or not. Spolsky (2008: 158) says that language education policy can be a valuable focus for mobilisation of an ethnic movement, producing useful rhetoric to support it, an appeal to human rights, and a clear set of programme steps that lead to employment opportunities for those who are closest to their heritage. It can also, at the very least, create or reinforce a passive knowledge of the language that will contribute to a sense of identity and connection to tradition, which can in turn lead to a pool of expertise that can be tapped when conditions for successful reuse can be established. He suggests that even such a modest success is a very positive development. Institutional Breton language policy has a strong focus on bilingual schooling which has clearly helped to reverse, in a historical context of accelerated decline, language loss in the youngest generations. Yet this type of education will remain a minority stream for years to come. The major challenge for language policy is not simply to expand the bilingual school sector and adult education but also to extend social usage of the language beyond schooling, integrating the participation of the far more numerous but ageing traditional speakers, younger ‘passive speakers’ who have acquired what Breton they know from the traditional speech community and children who are outside immersion education. Note 1. All translations from French and Breton, including the comments by informants, are by the author.

References Ale´n Garabato, C. and Boyer, H. (2005) Scolarisation ne vaut pas normalisation sociolinguistique. In H. Boyer (ed.) De l’e´cole occitane a` l’enseignement public: ve´cu et repre´sentations sociolinguistiques. Une enqueˆte aupre`s d’un groupe d’ex-calandrons (pp. 29 76). Paris: L’Harmattan. Broudic, F. (1995) La pratique du breton de l’Ancien Re´gime a` nos jours. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes.

Breton Language Maintenance

107

Broudic, F. (1999) Qui parle breton aujourd’hui? Qui le parlera demain? Brest: Brud Nevez. Broudic, F. (2007) Le breton. Une langue en questions. Brest: Emgleo Breiz. Broudic, F. (2009) Parler breton au XXIe sie`cle. Le nouveau sondage de TMO-Re´gions. Brest: Emgleo Breiz. Broudic, F. (2010) Re´gionales: des bretonnants sur toutes les listes? On WWW at http://languebretonne.canalblog.com/archives/2010/01/30/16726326.html. Accessed 30.1.10. Conseil Re´gional de Bretagne (2004) Une politique linguistique pour la Bretagne. Rennes: Direction de la Culture, Conseil Regional de Bretagne. Favereau, F. (2009) Variation et enseignement : le cas du breton. In P. Sauzet and F. Pic (eds) Politiques linguistiques et enseignement des ‘Langues de France’ (pp. 121 128). Paris: L’Harmattan. Jones, M.C. (1998a) Language Obsolescence and Revitalization. Linguistic Change in Two Sociolinguistically Contrasting Welsh Communities. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Jones, M.C. (1998b) Death of a language, birth of an identity: Brittany and the Bretons. Language Problems and Language Planning 22 (2), 129 142. Lachuer, V. (1998) L’E´tat face a` la langue bretonne (Klask 4). Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes. Le Boe¨tte´, I. (2003) Langue bretonne et autres langues: pratique et transmission. Octant 92, 18 22. Le Coadic, R. (1998) L’Identite´ bretonne. Rennes: Terre de Brume/Presses Universitaires de Rennes. Le Duˆ, J. (1997) Le Breton au XXe sie`cle: renaissance ou cre´ation? Zeitschrift fu¨r Celtische Philologie 49/50, 414 431. Le Duˆ, J. and Le Berre, Y. (eds) (1996) Badumes, Standards, Norme bretons. La Bretagne Linguistique 10. Brest: CRBC. Le Ruyet, J-C. (2009a) Breton et standardisation: a` propos de quatre caracte´ristiques du breton. In P. Sauzet and F. Pic (eds) Politiques linguistiques et enseignement des ‘Langues de France’ (pp. 129 140). Paris: L’Harmattan. Le Ruyet, J-C. (2009b) Enseignement du Breton. Parole, liaison et norme. E´tude pre´sente´e dans le cadre de quatre re`gles de prononciation pour le breton des e´coles. Unpublished doctoral thesis, Universite´ Rennes 2. Loth, J. (1883) L’e´migration bretonne en Armorique du Ve au VIIe sie`cle de notre e`re. Rennes: Baraise. (Slatkine Reprints: Paris and Geneva, 1980.) Moal, S. (2009) Enseignement bilingue franc¸ais-breton: quelles sont les motivations des parents? In P. Sauzet and F. Pic (eds) Politiques linguistiques et enseignement des ‘Langues de France’ (pp. 149 163). Paris: L’Harmattan. Ofis ar Brezhoneg/Office de la Langue Bretonne (2003) Plan 2015. Rennes: Office de la Langue Bretonne. Ofis ar Brezhoneg/Office de la Langue Bretonne (2004) Politique linguistique de la Re´gion Bretagne: Rapport d’e´valuation. Rennes: Office de la Langue Bretonne. Ofis ar Brezhoneg/Office de la Langue Bretonne (2009) Situation de l’enseignement bilingue en Bretagne en 2009. Rennes: Office de la Langue Bretonne. Perazzi, J-C. (1998) Diwan. Vingt ans d’enthousiasme, de doute et d’espoir. Spe´zet: Coop Breizh. Roquette, M-L. (2005) Repre´sentations sociales, pratiques et implication personnelle: un regard psychosocial sur l’expe´rience des Calandretas. In H. Boyer (ed.) De l’e´cole occitane a` l’enseignement public: ve´cu et repre´sentations

108

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

sociolinguistiques. Une enqueˆte aupre`s d’un groupe d’ex-calandrons (pp. 81 88). Paris: L’Harmattan. Se´billot, P. (1886) La langue bretonne, limites et statistques. Revue d’ethnographie 15, 1 29. Spolsky, B. (2008) Riding the tiger. In N.H. Hornberger (ed.) Can Schools Save Indigenous Languages? Policy and Practice on Four Continents (pp. 152 160). Houndmills; New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Timm, L. (1983) The shifting linguistic frontier in Brittany. In F.B. Agard, G. Kelly, A. Makkai and V.B. Makkai (eds) Essays in Honor of Charles F. Hockett (pp. 443 457). Leiden: Brill. Timm, L. (2001) Transforming Breton: A case in multiply conflicting language ideologies. Texas Linguistic Forum 44, 447 461. Timm, L. (2009) Language, culture and identity in Brittany: The sociolinguistics of Breton. In M.J. Ball and N. Mu¨ller (eds) The Celtic Languages (2nd edn, pp. 712 752). London: Routledge.

Chapter 7

Language Policy in Spain: The Coexistence of Small and Big Languages DAVID LASAGABASTER

Cuanto ma´s local es algo, ma´s universal resulta. [The more local something is, the more universal it turns out.] Joan Miro´

Introduction Although Spanish is the only official language of Spain as a whole, the Constitution enacted in 1978 acknowledges that regional languages can become co-official languages if they are recognised as such by their specific regional Statutes. This is the case of Basque, Catalan and Galician.1 The Constitution recognises the right to self-government of the different nationalities and regions and, as far as language is concerned, it establishes the following: (1) (2) (3)

Castilian is the official Spanish language of the State. All Spaniards should be able to communicate in it and are entitled to use it. The other Spanish languages shall also be official in the respective self-governing communities in accordance with their Statutes. The wealth of the different linguistic forms of Spain is a cultural heritage which shall be especially respected and protected.

Spain is divided into 17 autonomous communities and these regional governments are responsible for health, culture, justice, transportation, social services and education, among other areas. There are currently six Spanish autonomous communities with two official languages (their own language and Spanish): the Catalan-speaking Balearic Islands, Catalonia and the Valencian Community; the Galician-speaking Galicia; and the Basque-speaking Basque Autonomous Community (BAC henceforth) 109

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

110

and Navarre. Moreover, two other autonomous communities have their own languages, but with limited legal status: Aragon, where both Catalan and Aragonese are spoken, and Asturias, where Asturian is used. According to the last population census2 undertaken in November 2001, the Spanish population amounted to 40,847,371 (see Table 7.1). A little known fact
even among those with an interest in the plurilingual character of Spain
is that more than 40% of the Spanish population live in officially bilingual autonomous communities. Spain’s makeup is determined to a great extent by its cultural and linguistic diversity. Many efforts have been devoted to normalising regional language use, and
thanks to the loyalty of the Basque-, Catalan- and GalicianTable 7.1 Population in officially bilingual and monolingual Spanish autonomous communities Bilingual autonomous Population communities

Monolingual autonomous communities

Balearic Islands

Andalusia

7,357,558

841,669

Population

Catalonia

6,343,110

Aragon*

1,204,215

Valencian Community

4,162,776

Asturias*

1,062,998

Galicia

2,695,880

Canary Islands

1,694,477

Navarre BAC

555,829 2,082,587

Cantabria Castile-Leon

2,456,474

Castile-La Mancha

1,760,516

Extremadura

1,058,503

Madrid

5,423,384

Murcia

1,197,646

La Rioja Total (Percentage)

16,681,850 (40.83%)

535,131

Total (Percentage)

276,702 24,165,521** (59.16%)

Source: Spanish National Institute of Statistics *As pointed out above, Aragon’s and Asturias’s own languages have no co-official status, although they have some regional support (Turell, 2001) **The total population for officially monolingual autonomous communities also includes the northern African autonomous cities of Ceuta (71,505) and Melilla (66,411)

Language Policy in Spain

111

speaking communities
these endeavours have been quite successful. The process has, however, been fraught with innumerable tensions. In addition to the desire to maintain and foster the co-official languages, there is today widespread recognition of the need to learn foreign languages. English has overwhelmingly become the main foreign language and its presence is increasing through the burgeoning of CLIL (Content and Language Integrated Learning) programmes. As Johnstone puts it: Spain is rapidly becoming a leading country in the world of early bilingual education (EBE)
well-known for several years for its firstlanguage maintenance and second-language immersion programs in Basque and Catalan, but in recent years accompanied by an increase in EBE for English that is breathtaking in its scope and its speed of implementation, and laudably intended for ordinary children in state schools rather than restricted to privileged elites. (Johnstone, 2009: v) This chapter focuses on education in Spain, and how the language policy of multilingualism is affecting the curriculum, the presence of different languages, language attitudes and language competence. The emphasis here on the education system is justified by the fact that education is recognised in Spain to be the most important sector of language planning, not only with regard to the number of people involved and government funding but also in terms of gains in language maintenance and learning (Gardner & Zalbide, 2005). Because of space constraints, the chapter concentrates on the Basque education system, where the coexistence of small and big languages raises specific linguistic tensions.

Regional Language Maintenance and Learning The repression against regional languages exerted during Franco’s dictatorship (1939
1975), a time when their use was severely proscribed, provoked just the opposite reaction to what national policy intended. Thus, the Spanish-only language policy triggered great linguistic and cultural awareness and a popular desire to recoup these languages and their cultures. With the return of democracy in the late 1970s, the coofficial languages were acknowledged and their revitalisation process began. The statutes of autonomy, giving the autonomous communities varying degrees of self-governing legislative powers, together with the subsequent passing of Language Normalisation Laws in the 1980s,

112

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

proved the stimulus for the spread of bilingual education in Spain in the last two decades. The Language Normalisation Laws passed in different regions decreed that the education system had to guarantee students’ competence in the two official languages of bilingual autonomous communities, which resulted in the establishment of different bilingual models (see Lasagabaster & Huguet, 2007). Needless to say, official status and compulsory presence in the education system have been very beneficial in safeguarding and developing the co-official languages. As far as regional language competence is concerned, two different pictures can be drawn. The first encompasses the Catalan-speaking communities (Catalonia, the Balearic Islands and the Valencian Community) and Galicia, where 90% or more of the population can understand the regional language and between 60% (the Valencian Community) and 90% (Galicia) can speak it (Etxeberria, 2004a). The second comprises those regional communities in which Basque is spoken. These display much lower percentages: 48.4% in the BAC and 18.7% in Navarre can understand Basque, whereas only 30.1% and 11.1%, respectively, can speak it (Basque Government, 2008). These differences can be explained on various historical, cultural and political grounds, but it is also important to underline the typological factor. While Catalan, Galician and Spanish are Romance languages, Basque is a pre-Indo-European language with no known linguistic relatives, which obviously has an impact on learning it (especially for adult learners). The education system, as noted above, has played a key role in breathing new life into regional languages in Spain and, in fact, the highest proportion of their speakers are now in the 15
24 age range. Moreover, research studies [Cenoz, 2009; see also PISA (Programme for International Student Assessment) reports, mentioned below] carried out nationally and internationally demonstrate that those who learn in bilingual programmes do not lag behind either in Spanish or in other subjects, whereas their command of the regional language is much higher than that obtained through traditional second language teaching programmes. The three co-official regional languages (Basque, Catalan and Galician) currently embody not only national identity but increasingly also accord access to influential networks and prestigious jobs (Gardner & Zalbide, 2005; Pujolar, 2007). However, attitudes towards these regional languages are not always positive and several factors account for the observed differences, the most notable being the sociolinguistic context, the mother tongue and the degree of competence (Lasagabaster, 2003).

Language Policy in Spain

113

Foreign Language Learning in Spain: Between Castilocentric Tradition and the New Multilingualism In 1995, the European Commission recommended that all European citizens should know their language(s) plus two additional ones (known as the 12 formula) in an attempt to foster multilingualism in the European Union (EU), as linguistic diversity is regarded as an asset to be preserved and fostered. This led to a deliberate EU language policy in favour of multilingualism, the long-term objective being minimally trilingualism (see Hajek, 2008). In this context, however, surveys show that Spain is located on the lower rung of the multilingualism ladder in the EU. In fact, 56% of Spanish citizens admit to not being able to hold a conversation in a language other than their mother tongue, a percentage that skyrockets to 83% when they are asked about two other languages (European Commission, 2006). This lack of a foreign language learning tradition is not a recent phenomenon in Spain, since as early as the 16th century efforts were made to preclude any language other than Spanish from developing. At that time, the Spanish king Philip II controlled a multilingual and multicultural empire but was only fluent in Spanish (his inability to speak foreign languages made him unpopular with the German and Flemish nobility) and lived in Castile throughout his reign. He was the Champion of Catholicism, which led him, together with Diego de Espinosa3, in 1567 to enact The Pragmatic, an edict aimed at making the Moriscos (converted Muslims) adapt to the Christian lifestyle. Their use of the Arabic language and their customs were forbidden and they were given three years to learn Spanish, a period after which the use of Arabic would become a crime. This edict also forbade the entry of books edited abroad into Spain and prevented Spaniards from studying in a foreign country (Pe´rez Iglesias & Gon˜i, 2008). More recently, during Franco’s dictatorship (1939
1975), as mentioned above, all regional languages were systematically repressed for the sake of a strong and united Spain, and interest in learning foreign languages was once again deliberately discouraged as external influences were regarded as dangerous (and even evil) while Spaniards lived in an artificially monolingual and undemocratic bubble. This disinterest in foreign languages and the mistrust towards any foreign culture is captured in a sonorous but derogative Spanish adjective, carpetoveto´nico, used to refer to those who feel so misguidedly Spanish that they act as a shield against any foreign influence. For centuries in Spain, as was the case in most Western countries, the dominant language ideology

114

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

viewed national identity as inextricably linked to the only language that could be considered ‘an indicator of loyalty, patriotism, belonging, inclusion, and membership’ (Shohamy, 2006: 174). This ideology exerted a detrimental effect not only on regional but also on foreign languages, as adherence to any other language was interpreted as a lack of loyalty to the national identity. Fortunately, as part of a vigorous process of national modernisation, the general attitude towards foreign languages swung completely in the late 1970s and nowadays Spanish citizens fully support foreign language learning. In fact, it is interesting to note that according to the European Commission (2006), Spanish citizens strongly support (63%) the learning of two languages apart from the mother tongue, well above the EU average (50%). Spain thus shows a remarkable mismatch between the foreign language knowledge and the foreign language learning support spheres: it ranks 22nd in foreign language ability among the EU 27 States, but 8th when it comes to supporting the learning of two other languages. The dismal foreign language proficiency usually obtained through conventional teaching of languages as school subjects has led many primary, secondary and tertiary Spanish institutions to put CLIL programmes in a foreign language into practice (see Lasagabaster & Ruiz de Zarobe, 2010). The inexistence of a foreign language policy emanating from the Spanish government
thanks to the aforementioned regional autonomy
has led to very diverse implementations of CLIL. Tensions have arisen, especially in bilingual regions, as the increasing presence of English (plus the presence of Spanish) puts additional pressure on the regional languages.

The Rise of Immigration: A New Challenge for Education in Spain Spain has experienced a remarkable increase in immigrants in the last decade as a result of exceptional economic growth, which came to a standstill with the global economic downturn in 2008. Although Spain had traditionally acted as a bridge for immigrants on their way towards other European States such as France, Germany, Great Britain or the Netherlands, from the late 1990s onwards many of them decided to stay in Spain. According to the National Institute of Statistics, in the 1996
1997 academic year the number of students of immigrant origin in Spanish schools amounted to 60,000, but this figure had rocketed to 600,000 in 2006
2007. In the BAC the percentage of immigrant students has gone up steadily from 0.9% in 2000
2001 to 6.5% in 2008
2009, a percentage that

Language Policy in Spain

115

has not receded even during the economic downturn. Nonetheless, it is worth mentioning that this percentage is below the national average in Spain (around 10%) and far below those of other Spanish autonomous communities such as Catalonia or Madrid (above 12%). The different bilingual autonomous administrations are striving to cater for the increasing immigrant population’s linguistic needs and are adopting specific measures to help immigrants learn both the regional language and Spanish, so that they can use both languages in their everyday life. However, Spain lacks the immigration-related experience of countries such as Australia, Canada or the United States, and uncertainties about how to manage this new situation prevail (Lasagabaster, 2009b). Although some European countries (Estonia, France, Slovenia and Great Britain) have introduced measures to encourage schools to include the languages of origin of immigrant populations in the foreign language options they offer (European Commission, 2009), this is still not the case in Spain (Martı´n Rojo & Mijares, 2007). This is a challenge that sooner or later the increasing migration flow into Spain will bring to the forefront of debate. In what follows, we examine local linguistic tensions in the BAC, including the impact of immigration.

The Basque Autonomous Community The BAC’s present system of government has its own Parliament, a result of the Statute of Autonomy approved by referendum on 25 October 1979. The transfer of powers conferred in the Statute began in the early 1980s, giving the community extensive autonomy to plan and legislate in the field of education. The bilingual programmes established in 1983 are responsible for the large increase in the number of fluent Basque speakers among the youngest generations, who have learned the language at school, not from their parents. However, extending Basque usage beyond the confines of education and into other social spheres is an ongoing challenge (Gardner & Zalbide, 2005). As for the two co-official languages, everybody speaks Spanish, whereas 30.1% speak Basque fluently, an increase of 5.4% in the decade 1996
2006 (Lasagabaster & Hajek, 2010). The autonomous government’s efforts to normalise the situation of the regional language are supported or strongly supported by 64.7% (a rise of 18.7% from 1996), whereas those who oppose or strongly oppose the language policy measures undertaken represent only 11.2% of the population. However, almost a quarter of Basque citizens (24%) show neutral attitudes towards the revitalisation efforts (Basque Government, 2008). Therefore, although

116

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

Basque language support is widespread, the measures undertaken to boost its normalisation are not backed by all. The different sensibilities towards the use of Basque as means of instruction are reflected in the existence of three linguistic models: (1) Model A: Spanish is the language of instruction, and Basque is like any other subject (approximately four hours per week); (2) Model B: both Spanish and Basque are used as languages of instruction, although the percentage of the curriculum taught in each of the languages varies from school to school; (3) Model D:4 Basque is the language of instruction and Spanish is a compulsory subject (around four hours per week). The linguistic model in school has a bearing on students’ language attitudes, as Model D students have more favourable attitudes towards Basque than either Model B or Model A students. In the case of attitudes towards Spanish, the trend is just the reverse: Model A students are more positive towards the majority language than their Model B and Model D counterparts (Lasagabaster, 2003). These attitudinal differences are palpable from primary through secondary to tertiary education. In the 2008
2009 academic year, 18.9% of the total pre-university school age population studied in Model A, 21.4% in Model B and 57.3% in Model D. These figures indicate a clear preference for the bilingual B and D models. These two models are considered to be bilingual because they enable students to become reasonably proficient in both Basque and Spanish, especially Model D, the linguistic model through which balanced bilingualism is most often achieved. Regarding content learning, research repeatedly shows that students enrolled in bilingual programmes do just as well as others in school subjects and are more adept at learning English as a foreign language (EFL) (see Cenoz, 2009). Studies of results obtained by students in many different parts of the world show that balanced bilingual students achieve significantly better scores in EFL tests, a more developed metalinguistic awareness being mainly responsible for these favourable results (Jessner, 2006). The well-known PISA report is an international evaluation which included Basque cohorts in both 2003 and 2006 within its triennial worldwide test of 15-year-olds. The participants in the 2006 tests were evaluated in science, mathematics and reading with a view to comparing students’ performance across the world. This comparison will ideally lead to the improvement of educational methods and outcomes, as it is believed that peer pressure will act as a powerful incentive to consolidate education policies. The study is coordinated by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). The mean scores

Language Policy in Spain

117

Table 7.2 Mean scores obtained in PISA 2006 Science

Mathematics

Reading

OECD

500

498

492

BAC

495

501

487

Spain

488

480

461

Source: Basque Government (2007)

obtained by the students from the OECD, the BAC and Spain in the three tests included in the 2006 PISA report are set out in Table 7.2. Almost 4000 students made up the Basque sample and their results revealed no statistically significant difference when compared with the OECD means. The Basque participants did, however, outstrip their Spanish counterparts in the three tests, the differences being statistically significant in mathematics and reading. Other autonomous communities scored higher than the BAC in the three tests, but the Spanish mean score was below the Basque one, which draws us to the conclusion that despite the majority of Basque participants being taught to a greater or lesser degree in Basque (in bilingual Models B and D), their content learning was as good or even better than that of their monolingual counterparts elsewhere in Spain. The same can be said with respect to the Catalan and Galician samples (Basque Government, 2007). In the BAC, the early teaching of English has become an all-too-real issue, as Basque society supports and demands constant improvement in the teaching of the current world lingua franca, and early teaching is believed to be the correct way forward. In fact, the age at which Basque students start learning English has been gradually lowered, and since 2000 it has been taught to children as young as four. Therefore, all pupils have contact with three languages (Basque, Spanish and English) from a very early age, irrespective of their linguistic background, as the Basque education system attaches growing importance to trilingualism and multilingual education. However, some voices have claimed that the early presence of English can become a hurdle for the normalisation of Basque. Osa (2003) states that this early foreign language learning can negatively affect both command of and attitudes towards Basque, as it entails less space for the co-official language. Osa therefore concludes that this increased focus on English needs to be halted. Etxeberria (2004b) agrees and considers that there is not enough evidence to prove the success of this early trilingual

118

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

learning. In his opinion, this is the result of uncritically assuming that what is valid for bilingual education is also good for trilingual learning. Despite these misgivings, early teaching of English has spread to the vast majority of Basque schools. In addition, French
or, very occasionally, German
is taught in some secondary schools as an optional subject. But the role of English is not limited to early teaching, as its use as a means of instruction is spreading in Spain in general and in the BAC in particular (Lasagabaster & Ruiz de Zarobe, 2010). The ample evidence underpinning successful immersion programmes in Spanish bilingual communities has helped to lay the foundations and pave the way for the implementation of CLIL programmes in which a foreign language (overwhelmingly English) is the means of instruction. However, this increasing presence of English requires studies focused on analysing its possible negative impact on Basque competence and attitudes towards the regional language. Evidence gathered recently seems to dispel these fears. Foreign language skills as a whole seem to significantly improve through CLIL, and the studies available do not show any negative impact on the development of Basque or content learning (see Lasagabaster & Ruiz de Zarobe, 2010). However, the current CLIL programmes are experimental and have enjoyed not only special support but also highly motivated teaching staff. Longitudinal studies will therefore be welcome, as the burgeoning number of schools involved in CLIL means that not all will be as well supported as the first wave of pioneering experiences. At the tertiary level, tensions also arise. In an attempt to foster internationalisation, the University of the Basque Country put into practice the Multilingual Programme in the 2005
2006 academic year. The main objective was to foster the use of foreign languages as the means of instruction in as many degrees as possible. Despite the initial bid to include diverse foreign languages, English reigns supreme. The results of a survey (Lasagabaster, 2009a) carried out among students who could have joined the programme but decided not to brought to light two main linguistic tensions. The first resulted from the cognitive demands posed by the need to study through EFL. The second arose when Basque-speaking students moved from Basque to English discursive practices, which caused regional-versus-international-language strains. Moreover, some students also demanded the inclusion of languages other than English (mainly French) in the programme. The immigrant student population adds further complexity to the linguistic puzzle in the BAC. In a study aimed at analysing the language attitudes of students of immigrant origin towards the three compulsory

Language Policy in Spain

119

languages in the Basque curriculum (see Lasagabaster, 2009b), participants expressed very negative attitudes towards Basque, were neutral towards English, positive towards Spanish and very positive towards their own languages. Although immigrant languages are not recognised by the Basque school system, many students called for the presence of their languages at school. These results concur with those of other studies undertaken in Catalonia, where immigrant students’ attitudes towards Catalan are not as positive (Bernaus et al., 2004). Huguet and Jane´s (2008) observed that students of Latin American origin (and therefore mothertongue Spanish speakers) showed the most positive attitudes towards Spanish and the least positive towards Catalan, possibly because of their lack of awareness of Catalonia’s bilingual status. This unexpected bilingualism leads to a situation in which ‘any action geared towards boosting the use of Catalan may be experienced (by Latin American students) as an imposition against the mother tongue’ (Huguet & Jane´s, 2008: 257). Neither over-optimistic nor scaremongers’ viewpoints should be accepted when examining the multilingual Basque education system, as language policy and its implementation in the education system should be guided by and based on empirical evidence. However, the many linguistic tensions displayed in this section and tentatively summarised in Figure 7.1 make this task a challenging one.

Final Considerations Although the one-nation
one-language ideology has long been deeply entrenched in Spain, reality shows that the typical mindset of Spanish students is no longer a monolingual one, in no small part because of the ever-increasing and earlier presence of regional and/or foreign languages in the curriculum. In the Basque, Catalan and Galician education systems, the co-official regional languages are spoken and used alongside Spanish and English, both in the top three ranking of the most widely spoken languages in the world. However, it is also worth remembering that the Spanish co-official languages have larger number of speakers than ever before and Catalan would rank before 11 European official state languages in terms of size. Conversely, in the Spanish context, English is not a big language from a local perspective (it is hardly present outside the education system and most Spaniards cannot speak it), although it is unquestionably big from an international perspective. Therefore, when applied to languages the labels small and big are relative concepts, although they are useful and serve their purpose here.

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

120

Age Language presence /absence at school

Mother tongue

Immigrant languages

Number of speakers

Arabic

Romanian

Attitudes & motivation

Foreign language(s)

Official languages Linguistic model

Basque

Spanish

CLIL

English (French & German)

Sociolinguistic context

Chinese

(etc.)

Portuguese

Language competence

Desire to learn other languages

Figure 7.1 Factors producing linguistic tensions in the Basque multilingual school context

Language constitutes one of the defining attributes of an individual’s identity and therefore all efforts made to promote all European languages should be welcomed, to avoid running the risk of being flooded by the English tide (Coleman, 2006). As Hajek (2008: 168) points out, multilingualism is unevenly established in Europe ‘and is always at risk of being undermined by the spread of English as Europe’s preferred lingua franca’. However, anachronistic views of linguistic imperialism should probably be eschewed and the new functional role of the English language acknowledged, a role ‘no longer associated with the political authority it once held’ (Crystal, 2003: 25). Regional language speakers are able to resist the threat of linguistic homogenisation by emphatically insisting on the proper place for their mother tongue(s) in their respective school systems. At the same time, this should not put them off showing interest in foreign languages. The EU’s language policy of mother tongue  2 should be clearly enforced in bilingual contexts. In the case of Spain, it is clearly

Language Policy in Spain

121

consistent with the learning of a regional language (e.g. Basque), the national language (Spanish) as well an additional language such as English. The European Commission considers that there is a dire need to boost and facilitate learning other languages and every effort made in this direction will undoubtedly be worthwhile. If multilingualism becomes a reality by including neighbouring and minority languages, resistance from those who are more sceptical will be overcome. As Extra and Yagmur (2004: 403) point out, the learning of foreign languages is always related ‘to neighbouring countries, never to next-door neighbours’ (nextdoor neighbours being represented by regional and immigrant languages) and this bias needs to be changed. In the case of Spain not even the neighbouring-country language policy is considered, as French and Portuguese are hardly present in most of the many Spanish autonomous communities bordering France and Portugal. Although the supremacy of English over other foreign languages may not threaten the Spanish regional languages directly, its presence may be enough to upset ‘an ecology of languages’ (Pennycook, 2004: 214). The European Commission recommends starting to teach foreign languages at the preschool level so that the second foreign language can be introduced in secondary school and this recommendation is, as we have seen, increasingly followed in Spain. Similarly, the available data seem to indicate that the popular CLIL approach may represent a very effective way of achieving higher foreign language proficiency, but these programmes need to be carefully assessed. In the BAC, CLIL is encouraging greater cooperation between Basque, Spanish and foreign language teachers at the secondary level, which results in a more coordinated language curriculum (see Lasagabaster & Ruiz de Zarobe, 2010). Ideally, this coordination will end up having a positive impact on language learning, but multilingualism has to become a discussion topic in schools. Students are rarely asked about their own multilingualism and what understanding different languages and cultures and their coexistence entails (Pedrosa & Lasagabaster, 2010). This verbalisation is much needed and will help students be more aware of their own language reality. When many different languages coexist in the same class, the incorporation of explicit and structured teaching on multilingualism and multiculturalism appears essential. Some of the linguistic tensions in Spanish bilingual communities (mainly Catalonia, the BAC and Galicia) do not exist in the monolingual communities. These tensions form part of a more complicated picture when immigration and integration matters are also added to the linguistic

122

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

cocktail focused on regional language promotion. Although support for measures undertaken in favour of normalising co-official languages varies, in general terms attitudes are fairly positive. Similarly, the policies applied over the last 25 years by public institutions to strengthen coofficial language use and to increase the number of speakers have also been quite successful, although there is still much to do, especially concerning the use of regional languages in everyday life.5 The number of Basque, Catalan and Galician speakers is steadily rising and the presence of these regional languages in schools is, for the first time in history, taken for granted. Nevertheless, there is recurrent debate on whether these co-official languages will eventually be severely threatened as a result of immigration (Huguet & Jane´s, 2008) and the increasing presence of foreign languages (Osa, 2003). Despite such perceived hindrances, the globalisation process that migration and foreign language learning are part of should be taken advantage of, as ‘[t]he current globalising movements, contrary to what was initially expected, may end up providing a new boost to minority, peripheral languages, since it is precisely within this global context that its localist ´ lvarez & character acquires an enormous symbolic capital’ (Iglesias-A Ramallo, 2003: 280). While some regional language speakers may view the spread of multilingualism as undesirable, threatening to further erode linguistic and cultural identity, such excessive introspection and self-absorption may in fact jeopardise the survival of regional languages in the long run, although such misgivings can be easily understood, since regional languages have existed in a diglossic situation for many centuries. This negative conclusion is an unfortunate one to reach, since multilingualism combined with local language maintenance is as feasible in Spain as it already is in other parts of the EU (see Hajek, 2008). Although it may sound contradictory, if regional languages are to survive and prosper, then multilingualism needs to become a clear objective in schools. The desire of a linguistic community to maintain its own identity and to foster a cultural and linguistic identity of resistance within the context of globalisation does not, and should not, entail a negative attitude towards other languages, irrespective of their size. Similarly, those who join the education system in Spanish bilingual regions should respect the two co-official languages. It is not unreasonable to expect a school system to teach our youth to get along with and show consideration for all cultures and languages as well as the people who speak those languages, wherever they come from. Language is our main means of communication (even among the screen-enslaved youth),

Language Policy in Spain

123

and if different tools of communication are not respected, it is hard to imagine how intercultural dialogue can be fostered. There is no doubt that the multilingual educational scenario in Spain is worth tracking and scrutinising, as the conclusions to be drawn from this context will be of interest to all those concerned about multilingualism at a time when the (more or less tense) coexistence of big and small languages is becoming the norm in schools and universities the world over. Acknowledgements This paper is part of ongoing research supported by grants awarded by the Department of Education, University and Research of the Basque Government (MV-2008-2-26 and IT-202-07) and the Spanish Ministry of Education and Science (HUM2006-09775-C02-01/FILO). The author would like to thank the editors for their thoughtful comments; however, any inconsistencies remain the author’s own responsibility. Notes 1. In this chapter, Basque, Catalan and Galician are referred to as the co-official or regional languages. 2. The 2001 census can be consulted online at http://www.ine.es/en/censo2001/ infotec_en.htm. Accessed 10.1.10. The census is undertaken every 10 years. 3. Diego de Espinosa was General Inquisitor of the Spanish Inquisition, an infamous ecclesiastical tribunal aimed at ensuring Catholic orthodoxy in the Spanish kingdoms. 4. There is no Model C, because this letter does not exist in the modern Basque alphabet (it is only used for foreign/loan words). 5. The international readership should be warned that there are important differences both at the macro (between the different autonomous communities) and at the micro (between provinces or sociolinguistic contexts within the same autonomous community) levels (see Lasagabaster & Huguet, 2007; Turell, 2001).

References Basque Government (2007) Primer informe evaluacio´n PISA 2006. Proyecto para la evaluacio´n internacional de los estudiantes de 15 an˜os en ciencias, matema´ticas y lectura. Resultados en Euskadi. Vitoria-Gasteiz: Basque Government. Basque Government (2008) Fourth Sociolinguistic Survey 2006. Vitoria-Gasteiz: Basque Government. Bernaus, M., Masgoret, A-M., Gardner, R.C. and Reyes, E. (2004) Motivation and attitudes toward learning languages in multicultural classrooms. International Journal of Multilingualism 1, 75
89. Cenoz, J. (2009) Towards Multilingual Education: Basque Educational Research from an International Perspective. Bristol: Multilingual Matters.

124

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

Coleman, J.A. (2006) English-medium teaching in European higher education. Language Teaching 39, 1
14. Crystal, D. (2003) English as a Global Language (2nd edn). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Etxeberria, F. (2004a) 40 an˜os de educacio´n bilingu¨e en el paı´s del Euskara. Revista de Educacio´n 334, 281
313. Etxeberria, F. (2004b) Trilinguals at four? Early trilingual education in the Basque Country. In C. Hoffmann and J. Ytsma (eds) Trilingualism in Family, School and Community (pp. 185
201). Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. European Commission (2006) Europeans and Their Languages. Special Eurobarometer 243. Brussels: European Commission. European Commission (2009) Integrating Immigrant Children into Schools in Europe. Brussels: European Commission. Extra, G. and Yagmur, K. (eds) (2004) Urban Multilingualism in Europe: Immigrant Minority Languages at Home and School. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Gardner, N. and Zalbide, M. (2005) Basque acquisition planning. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 174, 55
72. Hajek, J. (2008) Multilingual knowledge, practices and attitudes in the European Union. In J. Warren and H.M. Benbow (eds) Multilingual Europe: Reflections on Language and Identity (pp. 167
183). Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. ´ . and Jane´s, J. (2008) Mother tongue as a determining variable in Huguet, A language attitudes: The case of immigrant Latin American students in Spain. Language and Intercultural Communication 8, 246
260. ´ lvarez, A. and Ramallo, F. (2003) Language as a diacritical in terms of Iglesias-A cultural and resistance identities in Galicia. Estudios de Sociolingu¨ı´stica 4, 255
287. Jessner, U. (2006) Linguistic Awareness in Multilinguals: English as a Third Language. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Johnstone, R. (2009) Foreword. In J. Lo Bianco (ed.) Second Languages and Australian Schooling (pp. iii
vi). Camberwell, Victoria: Australian Council for Educational Research. Lasagabaster, D. (2003) Trilingu¨ismo en la ensen˜anza. Actitudes hacia la lengua minoritaria, la mayoritaria y la extranjera. Lleida: Milenio Educacio´n. Lasagabaster, D. (2009a) English as a language of instruction in a bilingual university. In C. Nickenig and D. Veronesi (eds) Bi- and Multilingual Universities: European Perspectives and Beyond (pp. 77
87). Bolzano: BozenBolzano University Press. Lasagabaster, D. (2009b) Multilingual educational systems: An added challenge for immigrant students. In J. Miller, A. Kostogriz and M. Gearon (eds) Linguistically and Culturally Diverse Classrooms: New Dilemmas for Teachers (pp. 18
35). Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Lasagabaster, D. and Hajek, J. (2010) Saving Basque? An analysis of the evolution of Basque knowledge, transmission and use from 1996 to 2006. In Y. Treis and R. de Busser (eds) Advances in Linguistic Typology. Melbourne: Australian Linguistic Society. ´ (eds) (2007) Multilingualism in European Lasagabaster, D. and Huguet, A Bilingual Contexts: Language Use and Attitudes. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters.

Language Policy in Spain

125

Lasagabaster, D. and Ruiz de Zarobe, Y. (eds) (2010) CLIL in Spain: Implementation, Results and Teacher Training. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Martı´n Rojo, L. and Mijares, L. (2007) ‘So´lo en espan˜ol.’ Una reflexio´n sobre la norma monolingu¨e y la realidad multilingu¨e de los centros escolares. Revista de Educacio´n 343, 93
112. Osa, E. (2003) Ikastola eta eskoletan euskararen erabilera indartzeaz gogoeta. Bat Soziolinguistika Aldizkaria 49, 129
145. Pedrosa, B. and Lasagabaster, D. (2010) Exploring beliefs, multilingual language awareness raising, and the Pygmalion effect. In S. Breidbach, D. Elsner and A. Young (eds) Language Awareness in Teacher Education. New York: Peter Lang. Pennycook, A. (2004) Language policy and the ecological turn. Language Policy 3, 213
239. Pe´rez Iglesias, J.A. and Gon˜i, F. (2008) Las actitudes anticientı´ficas y las sociedades abiertas. In L.A. Ga´mez (ed.) Misterios a la luz de la ciencia (pp. 163
221). Zarautz, Gipuzkoa: EHU Press. Pujolar, J. (2007) The future of Catalan: Language endangerment and nationalist discourses in Catalonia. In A. Ducheˆne and M. Heller (eds) Discourses of Endangerment. Ideology and Interest in the Defence of Languages (pp. 121
148). London: Continuum. Shohamy, E. (2006) Imagined multilingual schools: How come we don’t believe? In O. Garcia, T. Skutnabb-Kangas and M.E. Torres-Guzma´n (eds) Imagining Multilingual Schools: Languages in Education and Globalization (pp. 171
184). Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Turell, M.T. (2001) Multilingualism in Spain. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters.

Chapter 8

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico: The Case of Spanish CATHERINE E. TRAVIS and DANIEL J. VILLA

Introduction New Mexico is home to not only the oldest surviving Spanish dialect in the Americas (Lipski, 2010) but also the oldest variety of a European language spoken in the United States (Bills, 1997). Spanish has been spoken in the region since 1598 when Spanish-speaking colonisers first arrived. The incorporation of New Mexico into the United States 250 years later in 1848 brought large numbers of English-speaking settlers into the region, and for over 150 years, New Mexican Spanish has been in intense contact with English, existing as the socially subordinate language. More recently, it has come into contact with varieties of contemporary Mexican Spanish because of increasing Mexican immigration. Based on US census projection figures for 2008,1 New Mexico is the state with the largest proportion of Hispanics in the United States. While Hispanics represent approximately 15% of the US population overall, they represent 45% of the nearly two million residents of New Mexico, a proportion that is higher than that of people who identify as nonHispanic white, at 42%. Furthermore, according to these same census projections, 28% of the population over five years old speak Spanish and 8.5% speak English ‘less than very well’. Thus, New Mexico presents a fascinating and complex situation of language and dialect contact that has been widely studied. In spite of this extensive research, there continue to exist certain firmly entrenched myths about New Mexican Spanish (cf. Bills & Vigil, 2008: 12
20). One is that it represents a fossilised version of 16th century Spanish, the language of Cervantes (akin to claiming that a modern-day English dialect of the southern United States is that of Shakespeare). This perception derives from the so-called archaisms in New Mexican Spanish, such as vide ‘I saw’ 126

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico

127

(vs. general Spanish vi), trujo ‘he brought’ (vs. trajo), asina ‘like this’ (vs. ası´) and mesmo ‘same’ (vs. mismo). However, despite some lexical retentions from older varieties of Spanish (which are also found in other rural varieties around the world; cf. Bills & Vigil, 2008), New Mexican Spanish has developed and changed over time, as all language varieties do. Another widely held myth is that Spanish is an official language of the state, and thus its maintenance is ensured. Neither is the case, and what retention we do see of Spanish in New Mexico is attributable more to continued immigration from Mexico than to any official policy (Bills et al., 1995; Bills & Vigil, 2008). Here we present an overview of the history of Spanish in New Mexico, the policy toward the language over the centuries and its current status in order to work toward a better understanding of the Spanish linguistic landscape in the ‘Land of Enchantment’, as the state proudly calls itself.

New Mexican Spanish: History and Policy We divide our discussion of the history into three periods, each of which places New Mexico in a significantly different linguistic and political climate. In what is known as the Colonial Period (1598
1848), Spanish-speaking colonisers arrived in New Mexico and settled in this arid and mountainous terrain in relative isolation from the rest of the Spanish-speaking world. The Territorial Period (1848
1912) is that following the Mexican
American war, in which New Mexico became a territory of the United States, bringing New Mexican Spanish into close contact with English. The Modern Period (1912
present) begins with New Mexico being officially declared a state of the United States, and the writing of the Constitution in which Spanish is afforded only minimal protection.




The Colonial Period: 1598 1848 The first settlement of Spanish speakers in what is now northern New Mexico was established in 1598 at San Juan Pueblo (now known by its original name, Ohkay Owingeh), making it the earliest permanent European settlement in what would become the United States of America. The settlers were led by Juan de On˜ate under the title of captain-general and governor of New Mexico. Precise figures are not available for that initial group, but approximately 500 people participated in the expedition, including 130 soldiers (according to the official count; Hammond, 1927: 187) and their families, priests (conversion to Catholicism being one of the main aims of the mission), as well as civilian workers such as

128

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

personal servants, drivers, packers and herders for the 7000 head of livestock (Hammond, 1927: 90; Kessel, 2002: 74; Simmons, 1993: 96). The language variety of this group was most certainly a koine´ that had developed in the New World in a context of great dialect and language contact (Lipski, 1994: 45). This is evidenced in part in the large number of loan words derived from Indigenous languages, such as tecolote ‘owl’, zacate ‘grass’ and guajolote ‘turkey’ from Na´huatl (for a detailed treatment of such borrowings, see Bills & Vigil, 2008: 80
120). This variety of Spanish was spoken across what is now the northern region of Mexico and is that which was carried into the current Southwest region of the United States (including Texas, Arizona, Colorado and California) as the Spanish Empire continued its expansion (Moyna, 2010; Trujillo, 2010). There are two further important events during this period of colonisation. One is Mexico’s war with Spain, terminating in independence in 1821, which changed New Mexico’s status from a colony of Spain to a region of Mexico, but as a ‘loose appendage rather than an integral component’ (Simmons, 1977: 109). One of the greatest advantages of this for New Mexicans was a freeing up of trade routes with the United States (Bills & Vigil, 2008: 24), leading to the second key event, the opening of the Santa Fe Trail in 1821, ending centuries of marked isolation from the rest of the world. This was a major trade route from Missouri to New Mexico, which brought New Mexicans into contact with English speakers and the first significant influx of English words into the New Mexican Spanish vocabulary, for example, for cooking products such as salarata from salaeratus, a term formerly used in the United States for ‘baking soda’, and US coinage such as nicle ‘nickel’ and daime ‘dime’ that traders brought into Santa Fe (cf. Bills & Vigil, 2008: 318). These items were then shipped south to Chihuahua in what is now northern Mexico, furthering the contact with varieties of Spanish (Kessel, 2002: 377). Language policy during the Colonial Period was relatively straightforward: as a part of Spain, and later of Mexico, Spanish was the institutionalised language of conquest and empire (cf. Klee & RamosGarcı´a, 1991). All legal documents, official communications and church records were written in Spanish (see Trujillo, 2010, for examples of such texts). In some instances, clergy did learn Indigenous languages for proselytising, but the tendency was to impose Spanish as the lingua franca (see Train, 2010, for a discussion of colonialism and the language policy and ideology of this era). This status was established in 1492, with the publication of Nebrija’s pioneering grammar, the Gramatica Espan˜ola. In that year he wrote:

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico

129

[ . . .] cuando en Salamanca di la muestra de aquesta obra a Vuestra Real Majestad, i me pregunto que para que podia aprovechar, el mui reverendo padre Obispo de Avila me arrebato la respuesta, i respondiente por mi dixo: que, despues que Vuestra Alteza metiesse debaxo de su iugo muchos pueblos barbaros i naciones de peregrinas lenguas, i conel vencimiento aquellos ternian necesidad de recebir las leies quel vencedor pone al vencido i con ellas nuestra lengua. (Nebrija, 1946 [1492]: 10
11) [[ . . .] when in Salamanca I gave a draft of that work [the Grammar] to Your Royal Majesty, and you asked me for what it might be used, the Very Reverend Father Bishop of Avila stepped in and speaking for me said: that, after Your Majesty had subjugated many barbarian peoples and nations speaking strange languages, with that conquest those peoples would need to receive the laws that the conqueror imposes on the conquered, and with those laws our language.]




The Territorial Period: 1848 1912 In 1845, the United States annexed the Mexican territory that is now Texas, leading in part to the outbreak of the Mexican
American war the following year. The war ended in 1848 with Mexico’s defeat and the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, in which over one half of the former Mexican territory was transferred to the United States, including all of what is today California, Nevada and Utah as well as areas of modern-day Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico and Wyoming (Kessel, 2002: 377). In 1850, New Mexico was officially declared a US territory, fundamentally changing the status of Spanish: English became the de facto official language and Spanish the subordinate language (despite the fact that for much of this period, Spanish was the language most widely spoken, as we describe below). The Treaty principally determined questions of land ownership and citizenship, establishing that former Mexican citizens who remained in what had been Mexican territories would automatically be granted full US citizenship, with all rights and privileges enjoyed by citizens under the US Constitution (Simmons, 1977: 132). Despite the common assumption that the Treaty afforded protection to the Spanish language, it did this only in the sense that it placed no strictures on speaking Spanish, as the Constitution did not (nor does now) impose any language as official. Anglophone settlers poured into the greater Southwest during this period, though far less into New Mexico than neighboring regions. New Mexico possessed no hugely significant mineral wealth as did Arizona with its copper mines and California with its gold deposits. Consisting

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

130

principally of desert regions in the south and mountainous terrains in the north, New Mexico was not particularly well suited for large-scale agricultural production, unlike Texas which was important as a cottongrowing area. As a result, New Mexico is the only former Mexican territory in which the Anglo population remained a minority up till the mid20th century (Simmons, 1977: 163). Indeed, English-speaking in-migrants learned Spanish in the early years of the Territorial Period (Moyna, 2010). In northern New Mexico, a Spanish language press flowered, growing hand in hand with increased literacy in Spanish (Ferna´ndez-Gibert, 2010). However, as the 19th century waned and statehood neared, English increasingly became the dominant language. Based on the census figures reported in Ferna´ndez-Gibert (2010), 70% of the population of New Mexico could not speak English in 1890, a figure which dropped to 50% in 1900 and 33% in 1910. The introduction of the public school system in 1891 played a major role in the loss of Spanish. Until this time, instruction in Spanish was widespread across New Mexico, and according to Milk (1980: 215), one of the rationales for the establishment of a public school system was precisely to teach English to Spanish-speaking children in preparation for admittance into statehood (cf. Gonzales-Berry, 2000). The effects of this education policy will be described in more detail below. While the presence of English in New Mexico greatly rose during this period, Spanish was also reinvigorated toward the end of the period. The Mexican Revolution (1910
1920) gave rise to a flood of Mexican nationals escaping to flee the carnage, many settling in the southern regions of New Mexico, near the Mexican border. This was just the first of many waves of Mexican immigration that continue to the present day.




Statehood: 1912 present After intense debate during the last decades of the 19th century and the first of the 20th, in 1912 New Mexico was admitted into the Union, changing its status from a territory to a state.2 As noted by Bills and Vigil (2008: 37), with the establishment of US authority, several Anglicisms came to be the standard terms in various official and technical domains, such as politics (e.g. cherife ‘sheriff’, mayor ‘mayor’), education (e.g. escuela alta ‘high school’, principal ‘principal’), law (e.g. casa de corte ‘court house’) and technology [e.g. brecas ‘brakes (on a car)’, troca ‘truck’, telefo´n ‘telephone’] (cf. Espinosa, 1914
1915). Contrary to popular belief, New Mexico was not declared at this time and is not today an officially (in the sense of constitutionally mandated) bilingual state. However, there do exist certain constitutional protections

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico

131

for Spanish speakers, including that ‘the right of any citizen of the state to vote, hold office or sit upon juries, shall never be restricted, abridged or impaired on account of religion, race, language or colour, or inability to speak, read or write the English or Spanish languages except as may be otherwise provided in this constitution’ (Article VII, Section 3, New Mexico State Constitution, 1912; emphasis added). This remains rigorously enforced, and New Mexico is the only state in the United States that allows non-English-speaking jurors to serve on a jury, providing an interpreter for any juror who needs one.3 In a recent court case (State v. Pacheco, 138 N.M, APP 737, 738
2005), the presence of an interpreter during jury deliberations led to the declaration of a mistrial, a decision which was then reversed by the New Mexico Supreme Court (State v. Pacheco, 141 N.M. 340 N.M.S.Ct.
2007).4 The use of interpreters with jury members, including during jury deliberations, is a significant departure from the convention at both state and federal levels in the United States that no one may communicate with jurors or be present during deliberations due to the ‘sanctity’ of this process.5 On the other hand, there is no law ensuring access to legal issues for Spanish speakers. While it was specified in the 1912 Constitution that laws should be published in at least one newspaper in every county of the state in English and Spanish where newspapers in both languages are published (Article XIX
Amendments, Section 1), this was a temporary ruling and was renewed only until 1943. From this date to the present, there has been no requirement that legal or other official documents be produced in Spanish (cf. Bills & Vigil, 2008: 17, for discussion), and this is now done on an intermittent basis, apparently depending on who the perceived audience is. Thus, the 1912 Constitution does afford some protection to the rights of Spanish speakers. It does not, however, provide anything in the way of protection of the maintenance of the Spanish language, as can be seen by the way in which Spanish has been dealt with in the education system.

Spanish in the Education System The 1912 Constitution established universal education in English, and while it provided teachers of Spanish-speaking children with the right to learn Spanish and Spanish-speaking children the right of access to public education (Article XII, Sections 8 and 10, respectively), it included no obligation regarding the teaching of Spanish. Conversely, in the period preceding and following World War II, informal (non-constitutional)

132

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

public education policy was to eradicate Spanish, and children were punished for speaking their native tongue at school (Espinosa, 1975 [1917]: 101; Gonzales, 1999: 21). This is a recurring theme in the interviews collected as part of the New Mexico-Colorado Spanish Survey (cf. Bills & Vigil, 2008). The following excerpt from one participant provides an example. (1) [Speaker 117; Female; born 1930;  8 yrs education; cook] En esos an˜os, cuando ya entraba uno a la escuela, y que estaba uno ya en la escuela, podı´amos hablar mexicano cuando anda´bamos jugando alla´. Ah, que no nos oı´an. Pero m-, ya y afuera de la escuela. Pero, en la escuela, en la escuela y nos dicı´an claro, que querı´an que habla´ramos en ingle´s. Querı´an que lo aprendie´ramos ma´s. Y no nos dejaban hablar en ingle´-, an, en, en mexicano. [In those years, when you started school, and when you were already in school, we could speak Mexican [Spanish] when we were playing there. Oh, as long as they didn’t hear us. But
and outside of the school. But in the school, in the school, and they would say to us, of course, that they wanted us to speak in English. They wanted us to learn more. And they wouldn’t let us speak in Eng-, in Mexican [Spanish]]. After the end of World War II in 1945, movements began to emerge on a national level to protect Hispanics’ rights. For example, in 1962 a young farm worker in California, Ce´sar Cha´vez, formed a farm labourers’ union for Hispanic workers. Such organisational efforts fed into what would become known as the Movimiento Chicano, the ‘Chicano Movement’. In 1964 the Civil Rights Acts was passed by Congress: it explicitly prohibited discrimination based on ‘race, color, religion, or national origin’ (Title II, Section 201 a).6 Fuelled in part by Cha´vez’ work and the Civil Rights Act, the Movimiento Chicano gathered momentum in the latter part of the 1960s and early 1970s (see Rosales, 1996, for a description of this era). Spanish and its maintenance in the community were not a central aim of the Movimiento, but they did come to be recognised as a significant element of it, as scholars and activists such as Ernesto Galarza advocated for institutionalised bilingual education (see Galarza, 1972). Nor did the Civil Rights Act specifically protect language rights, but language did emerge as an important issue in US courts in relation to the topic of segregation. It had been the case in many parts of the United States that students who did not speak English were removed from mainstream classrooms. In New Mexico, segregation was not mandated (as it was in

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico

133

some states), but it was permitted by law,7 and did occur, though on the basis of racial rather than linguistics vectors, affecting both Hispanics and African Americans. The segregation of students based on race was halted in the United States in 1954 with the Brown v. the Board of Education (347 US 483) ruling. In 1974, in the case of Lau v. Nichols (414 US 563), segregation based on language was found to be illegal. This reinforced the Bilingual Education Act, which had been passed in 1968 and which federally mandated official policy regarding education specifically for students with limited ability in English, including the provision of funding for such educational programmes (King, 2009; Moran, 2009). The result in New Mexico was the implementation of bilingual programmes throughout the state. However, continued immigration into the United States of Spanish speakers resulted in a new wave of xenophobic reactions, as evinced in moves to eliminate bilingual education, which were ultimately successful in California in 1998 and in Arizona in 2000. New Mexico passed no such legislation, no doubt due in part to the long history of Spanish in the state as well as the constitutional protections mentioned above. However, this type of bilingual education has waned over time, in particular since the expiration of the Bilingual Education Act in 2002. Paradoxically, during this same period a new form of language education in public primary and middle schools (for children aged 5
12 years) emerged in the nation in general and in New Mexico in particular, often labelled ‘dual language education’. In this system, all students, regardless of their ethnic or linguistic backgrounds, are educated in both Spanish and English, in all content areas. The manner in which this system is implemented varies from school to school, but a common feature is that students not only speak Spanish, but also use it to develop their academic skills. A further positive step in language maintenance can be seen in the fact that the value of New Mexican Spanish as a variety of Spanish has come to be better recognised. As Lipski (2008) notes, Spanish teachers for much of the 20th century typically came from outside of the state or the country (Latin America or Spain) or were Anglo-Americans who had been taught ‘standard Spanish’ at school. These teachers followed a strong prescriptivist tradition and ‘often belittled nonstandard lexical and grammatical variants’, such as those widespread in the varieties of Spanish spoken in New Mexico (2008: 202). In the 1980s, researchers began to advocate the preservation of New Mexican Spanish and its use in the educational system. Spanish as a Heritage Language programmes, founded on the value of using local linguistic norms for language instruction, were

134

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

initiated at the university level, providing heritage Spanish speakers with a supportive environment in which to advance their skills.

The State of Spanish in New Mexico in the 21st Century Given this complex history, what is the state of Spanish in New Mexico today? National census figures reveal that the proportion of Hispanics is increasing from 37% in 1990 (Bills, 1997) to 42% in 2000 to a projected 45% for 2008.8 Figure 8.1 illustrates the distribution of Hispanics across the different counties in New Mexico based on the 2000 census data.9 As can be seen, the highest proportion of Hispanics exists in counties in the north (ranging from 44.9% to 81.6% of the population of the respective counties) and the south of the state (from 44.9% to 63.4%). Spanish is heard throughout these regions, where it is very much the language of the community. This distribution reflects the demographics of the state: the Hispanic population in the north is made up primarily of descendants of the early settlers, while in the south, near the Mexican border, there is a larger population of more recent Mexican origin (cf. Lipski, 2008: 192). Hispanics in both the north and the south identify as mexicano (see Example one above); however, as Bills and Vigil note (2008: 12), they perceive

Figure 8.1 Percentage of persons who are Hispanic or Latino for New Mexico, by county

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico

135

themselves to be ethnically distinct. The terms used for self-identification in English, for example, differ, with those in the north preferring ‘Hispanic’, ‘Spanish American’ or ‘Spanish’ and those in the south ‘Mexican’ or ‘Mexican American’. Aside from the shared mexicano in Spanish, there are several terms used to differentiate the groups, such as mexicano de Me´xico ‘Mexican Mexican’ or ‘Mexican from Mexico’, as well as terms with a slight derogatory tone, such as manito/manita (abbreviated forms of hermanito ‘little brother’/hermanita ‘little sister’) used by the southerners for the northerners and Surumato (possibly from a Mexican place name) used by the northerners for the southerners (Bills & Vigil, 2008: 13).10 The different ethnic identities of speakers in the north and south are also reflected linguistically: although the boundary is far from absolute, clear lexical differences emerge between speakers of the northern ‘Traditional’ Spanish and southern ‘Border’ Spanish (cf. Bills & Vigil, 2008; Vigil & Bills, 2004). Traditional Spanish maintains many archaisms, as mentioned above. At the same time it has undergone several unique innovations, such as rato´n volador ‘bat’ (lit. ‘flying mouse’) and gallina de la tierra ‘turkey’ (lit. ‘chicken of the land’), as opposed to the ‘general Spanish’ terms used in the south, murcie´lago and pavo, respectively (Bills & Vigil, 1999: 53). The way Spanish in the north and south of the state has been influenced by English also differs. For example, although English lexical borrowings and calques are common across the state, many of these are found in Traditional but not in Border Spanish (Bills & Vigil, 2008: 173
180). Examples include cuilta for ‘quilt’ (vs. cobija or colcha in ‘general’ and ‘Border’ Spanish), globo for ‘light globe’ (vs. foco) and pinate for ‘peanut’ (vs. cacahuate). While both varieties have extensive contact with English, Border Spanish has greater contact with contemporary varieties of Mexican Spanish, which thus serve as a source for new concepts to be named. Note that the same native Spanish forms are seen in other parts of the state where there has been extensive immigration from Mexico during the 20th century (Bills & Vigil, 2008: 176). On the other hand, we see more recent influence of English on Border Spanish in that several Anglicisms found across the state are more phonologically integrated into Spanish in Traditional than in Border Spanish. This is the case for the terms for ‘cookie’ (cuque in the north and cuqui in the south) and ‘cake’ (queque vs. quequi), for example (Bills & Vigil, 2008: 183
187). Although the effect of the contact with English on the New Mexican Spanish lexicon has been widely documented (see Bills & Vigil, 2008, and references therein), the effect on the grammar has received very little

136

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

attention. The one feature for which this has been studied
variable first-person singular subject (yo) expression
reveals identical patterning for both bilingual and Spanish-dominant New Mexican Spanish speakers, patterning which corresponds to that found in other varieties of Spanish (Torres Cacoullos & Travis, 2010, 2011; Travis, 2007). Thus, this area of grammar at least has not been affected by the extensive and long-lasting contact that has existed with English. Future studies will determine whether grammatical convergence has taken place in other areas. While the proportion of Hispanics in the state is growing, there is evidence of language shift nevertheless: the proportion of Spanish speakers has not undergone a similar increase but instead remained stable at approximately 28% for 1990 (Bills, 1997), 2000 and the 2008 projection.11 There is, thus, an increasing group of non-Spanish speakers who identify as Hispanic. At the same time, we see a change in the regions where Spanish is being retained across the state. Data from the 1980 census (cf. Hudson et al., 1995: 174) indicated that the highest rate of intergenerational retention of Spanish in New Mexico occurred equally along the border and in the north of the state (precisely those areas that show the highest proportion of Hispanics in Figure 8.1), at a rate ranging from 77% to 88% of the population per county. Data from the 2000 census (Jenkins, 2009: 16) indicate a higher rate of retention than in 1980 along the border
ranging from 88% to 204%. The latter figure in particular reflects the impact of Mexican immigration and the resultant growth in Spanish spoken by younger generations. Retention in the north, on the other hand, dropped over this 20-year period, and in 2000 ranged from 57% to 70%. Language attitudes, accompanied by immigration, may be playing a role in this higher rate of retention in the south of New Mexico. Mora et al. (2005: 141), for example, report that in the border region ‘immigrant parents from Mexico feel comfortable in speaking Spanish with their children, and in having their children learn the language’. These same census studies also show evidence that Spanish speakers across the state have slightly improved their social standing in this 20-year period. In their analysis of the 1980 census data, Hudson et al. (1995) found a negative correlation between level of education, income and Spanish language maintenance
the higher the level of education and income, the less likely a person is to maintain their Spanish, and conversely, the more a person retains their Spanish, the less likely they are to achieve a higher level of education and income. In his analysis based on 2000 census data, Jenkins (2009) found these correlations to have weakened. While he also reported a negative correlation between education level and Spanish language maintenance, this was evident to a lesser degree than in the

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico

137

earlier study, and he found no significant correlation between income and Spanish language maintenance, leading him to propose that the ‘socioeconomic gap [. . .] may be closing’ (2009: 21).

Conclusion In the opening decade of the 21st century, the Spanish spoken in New Mexico is in a tremendous state of flux. It has a centuries-long presence in the state, evident today in the Spanish place names found throughout the state and the Hispanic cultural presence which vibrantly celebrates New Mexicans’ Spanish-speaking origins. The historic presence and the limited constitutional protection of the Spanish language do not seem, however, to have contributed to its maintenance, while ongoing immigration from Mexico has. The question of what the future will be for Spanish in New Mexico is a complex one, which has no single answer. Rather, it appears that the two largest Spanish-speaking communities in New Mexico are on different trajectories. The greater contact with varieties of contemporary Mexican Spanish and ongoing migration in the border regions are facilitating maintenance, or even an increase in Spanish usage in that region. The lower rate of immigration to the north, coupled with repressive education policies in existence up to the 1970s, on the other hand, facilitates loss of Traditional Spanish, and indeed Bills (1997) predicts the demise of Traditional Spanish in New Mexico in the near future. Recent changes in societal attitudes, the improved social standing of Spanish speakers as well as the emergence of heritage programmes at the tertiary level and Spanish/English dual language programmes in primary and middle schools are certainly positive steps towards language retention. Nevertheless, the variety that will be retained is likely to be closer to that spoken along the border, that is to contemporary varieties of Mexican Spanish, than to that which has been traditionally spoken in the region. Notes 1. See http://factfinder.census.gov. The census was conducted every 10 years; the most recent census figures available are for 2000, and a census was being conducted at the time of writing. Accessed 10.1.10. 2. New Mexico was the 47th state admitted of the 50 states in the Union; it was followed by Arizona one month later, and then by Alaska and Hawaii in 1959. 3. If their language (other than English) is one for which there is no certified interpreter in New Mexico, the juror is not disqualified but postponed until an interpreter can be found (Pam Sa´nchez, Statewide Program Manager, Court Interpreter & Jury Services, personal communication, 20 February 2010).

138

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

4. Our thanks to Ernesto A. Longa of the University of New Mexico, School of Law Library, for his assistance in locating these references. Any misinterpretations remain entirely our own. 5. Virginia Villa, Assistant Federal Public Defender, personal communication, 7 February 2010. 6. See http://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash true&doc 97&page transcript. Accessed 10.1.10. 7. See http://www.nytimes.com/learning/general/onthisday/big/0517.html# article. Accessed 10.1.10. 8. See http://factfinder.census.gov. Accessed 10.1.10. 9. We are grateful to Jessi Elana Aaron for permission to use this map, based on data from the US Census Bureau. 10. See Gonzales (2010) and Villa and Villa (1998) on the complexities of identity in New Mexico and surrounding regions. 11. See http://factfinder.census.gov. Accessed 10.1.10.

References Bills, G.D. (1997) New Mexican Spanish: Demise of the earliest European variety in the United States. American Speech 72, 154
171. Bills, G.D., Herna´ndez Cha´vez, E. and Hudson, A. (1995) The geography of language shift: Distance from the Mexican border and Spanish language claiming in the Southwestern US. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 114, 9
27. Bills, G.D. and Vigil, N.A. (1999) Ashes to ashes: The historical basis for dialect variation in New Mexican Spanish. Romance Philology 53 (1), 43
66. Bills, G.D. and Vigil, N.A. (2008) The Spanish language of New Mexico and Southern Colorado: A Linguistic Atlas. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press. Espinosa, A.M. (1914
1915) Studies in New Mexican Spanish, Part 3: The English elements. Revue de Dialectologie Romane 6, 241
317. Espinosa, A.M. (1975 [1917]) Speech mixture in New Mexico: The influence of the English language on New Mexican Spanish. In E. Herna´ndez Cha´vez, A.D. Cohen and A.F. Beltramo (eds) El lenguaje de los chicanos: Regional and Social Characteristics used by Mexican Americans (pp. 99
114). Arlington, VA: Center for Applied Linguistics. Ferna´ndez-Gibert, A. (2010) From voice to print: Language and social change in New Mexico, 1880
1912. In S. Rivera-Mills and D.J. Villa (eds) Spanish of the U.S. Southwest: A Language in Transition (pp. 45
62). Madrid: Iberoamericana. Galarza, E. (1972) Bilingual
Bicultural Education in the San Jose Unified School District. San Jose, CA: Department of Urban Education. Gonzales, M.D. (1999) Crossing social and cultural borders: The road to language hybridity. In L. Galindo and M.D. Gonzales (eds) Speaking Chicana: Voice, Power and Identity (pp. 13
38). Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Gonzales, M.D. (2010) Todavı´a decimos ‘nosotros [los] mexicanos’: Construction of identity labels among Nuevo Mexicanos. In S. Rivera-Mills and D.J. Villa (eds) Spanish of the U.S. Southwest: A Language in Transition (pp. 281
294). Madrid: Iberoamericana.

Language Policy and Language Contact in New Mexico

139

Gonzales-Berry, E. (2000) Which language will our children speak? The Spanish language and public education policy in New Mexico, 1890
1930. In E. Gonzales Berry and D.R. Maciel (eds) The Contested Homeland: A Chicano History of New Mexico (pp. 169
189). Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press. Hammond, G.P. (1927) Don Juan de On˜ate and the Founding of New Mexico. Santa Fe, NM: El Palacio Press. Hudson, A., Herna´ndez Cha´vez, E. and Bills, G.D. (1995) The many faces of language maintenance: Spanish language claiming in five southwestern states. In C. Silva-Corvala´n (ed.) Spanish in Four Continents: Studies in Language Contact and Bilingualism (pp. 165
183). Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press. Jenkins, D. (2009) The cost of linguistic loyalty: Socioeconomic factors in the face of shifting demographic trends among Spanish speakers in the Southwest. Spanish in Context 6, 7
25. Kessel, J.L. (2002) Spain in the Southwest: A Narrative History of Colonial New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and California. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. King, K.A. (2009) Spanish language education policy in the U.S.: Paradoxes, pitfalls and promises. In M. Lacorte and J. Leeman (eds) Espan˜ol en Estados Unidos y otros contextos de contacto (pp. 303
321). Madrid: Iberoamericana. Klee, C.A. and Ramos-Garcı´a, L.A. (1991) Introduction. In C.A. Klee and L.A. Ramos-Garcı´a (eds) Sociolinguistics of the Spanish Speaking World: Iberia, Latin America, United States (pp. 1
12). Tempe, AZ: Bilingual Press/Editorial Bilingu¨e. Lipski, J.M. (1994) Latin American Spanish. London: Longman. Lipski, J.M. (2008) Varieties of Spanish in the United States. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press. Lipski, J.M. (2010) Description and beyond: The Southwest at the center. In S. Rivera-Mills and D.J. Villa (eds) Spanish of the U.S. Southwest: A Language in Transition (pp. 181
188). Madrid: Iberoamericana. Milk, R. (1980) The issue of language in education in territorial New Mexico. Bilingual Review/Revista Bilingu¨e 7 (3), 212
222. Mora, M.T., Villa, D.J. and Da´vila, A. (2005) Language maintenance among the children of immigrants: A comparison of Border States with other regions of the U.S. Southwest Journal of Linguistics 24, 127
144. Moran, R.F. (2009) The untold story of Lau v. Nichols. In M. Lacorte and J. Leeman (eds) Espan˜ol en Estados Unidos y otros contextos de contacto (pp. 277
302). Madrid: Iberoamericana. Moyna, M.I. (2010) Varieties of Spanish in post-annexation California (1848
1900). In S. Rivera-Mills and D.J. Villa (eds) Spanish of the U.S. Southwest: A Language in Transition (pp. 27
44). Madrid: Iberoamericana. Nebrija, A.D. (1946 [1492]) Gramatica Castellana. Madrid: Talleres de D. Silverio Aguirre y de Gra´ficas Reunidas. Rosales, F.A. (1996) Chicano!: The History of the Mexican American Civil Rights Movement. Houston, TX: Arte Pu´blico Press. Simmons, M. (1977) New Mexico: An Interpretive History. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press.

140

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

Simmons, M. (1993) The Last Conquistador: Juan de On˜ate and the Settling of the Far Southwest. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. Torres Cacoullos, R. and Travis, C.E. (2010) Variable yo expression in New Mexico: English influence? In S. Rivera-Mills and D.J. Villa (eds) Spanish of the U.S. Southwest: A Language in Transition (pp. 189
210). Madrid: Iberoamericana. Torres Cacoullos, R. and Travis, C.E. (2011) Using structural variability to evaluate convergence via code-switching. International Journal of Bilingualism 15 (3), 241
267. Train, R. (2010) Reducing Spanish on the margins of empire: A historical perspective on ideologies and ecologies of language education in Sonoma County, California. In S. Rivera-Mills and D.J. Villa (eds) Spanish of the U.S. Southwest: A Language in Transition (pp. 357
376). Madrid: Iberoamericana. Travis, C.E. (2007) Genre effects on subject expression in Spanish: Priming in narrative and conversation. Language Variation and Change 19 (2), 101
135. Trujillo, J.A. (2010) A historical perspective on contemporary New Mexico Spanish archaisms. In S. Rivera-Mills and D.J. Villa (eds) Spanish of the U.S. Southwest: A Language in Transition (pp. 63
86). Madrid: Iberoamericana. Vigil, N.A. and Bills, G.D. (2004) Dialect shift in New Mexican Spanish: A turkey by any other name. Romance Philology 57, 323
343. Villa, D.J. and Villa, J.R. (1998) Identity labels and self-reported language use: Implications for Spanish language programs. Foreign Language Annals 31, 505
516.

Chapter 9

Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia GILLIAN WIGGLESWORTH and DAVID LASAGABASTER

Introduction In this chapter we focus on Indigenous bilingual language education in the Australian context. The Indigenous (or Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander) population is relatively small in Australia, constituting approximately 2.5% of the total population in 2006 (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2007). However, this varies enormously across the country with the Northern Territory (NT) having by far the highest proportion of Indigenous residents, with almost 32% of its population claiming Indigenous heritage. By comparison, Queensland and Western Australia, which have the next highest proportion of Indigenous residents, both have less than 4%. Indigenous languages across the world are undergoing rapid language shift and it is increasingly the case that children no longer learn them as their first language. In Australia, many of the Indigenous languages spoken at the time of colonisation have now been permanently lost and very few are still being learned as a first language by children. McConvell and Thieberger (2001) argue that at the current rate of loss, there will be no Aboriginal languages spoken in Australia by the year 2050 unless the current trend is in some way reversed. At a social level, language loss is devastating for Indigenous communities in terms of both individual identity and group identity and this impacts severely on Indigenous well-being. It is also harmful for all Australians more generally because knowledge of tradition and culture regarding the land, environment and people is represented through Indigenous languages and this knowledge is typically inaccessible elsewhere. The role of bilingual education in maintaining and encouraging Indigenous languages and cultures is crucial to halting the rapid rate of language loss. But despite a relatively positive, and all too brief, period of national engagement that built slowly from the 1970s, bilingual education in the 141

142

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

Australian Indigenous community has, since the late 1990s, been a source of frequent controversy. In this chapter, we refer to two key moments, 1998 and 2008, which have contributed to discrediting and undermining the work done over previous decades in favour of bilingual programmes in Indigenous communities. However, there are substantial differences between these two points in time. In 1998, the desire to respect the wishes and rights of Indigenous communities, as well as to maintain their languages as a way to national reconciliation with the non-Indigenous majority, held greater sway, while in 2008 educational outcomes in standard English took precedence over any other consideration. Our focus is on recent developments in the NT, which has the largest proportion of mothertongue speakers of Indigenous languages in Australia, and where the provision of bilingual education has recently been most contentious. The language situation in Australia has a complex history, with many Indigenous languages only ever having been spoken by a few hundred people. Currently, Australia’s Indigenous population may live in the same community without necessarily sharing the same traditional language background. Historically, many Indigenous people were forcibly relocated to missions, cattle stations and towns away from their traditional homelands. More recently, people have moved voluntarily for a variety of reasons, including employment, medical treatment or marriage outside their communities. This has resulted in a situation where, of the 300 or so languages spoken at the time of colonisation, all but about 20 are today seriously endangered. Children in remote Indigenous communities may speak a variety of English known as Aboriginal English, or a creole (the best known is ‘Kriol’), or a new mixed language, which results where elements of two languages
usually a creole and a traditional language
are combined (e.g. Gurindji Kriol; see Meakins, 2007, 2008), or a traditional language. Consequently, many Indigenous children entering the formal school system in remote areas come to school with only very limited knowledge of Standard Australian English, if any. Bilingual education plays a triple role in this situation: (1) it provides children with early education and literacy development in the language in which they are fluent; (2) it may contribute to reversing the increasing loss of Indigenous languages in the communities where children still learn and speak them and (3) the children also learn Standard Australian English. Schools that promote bilingual education in Indigenous languages have been few in Australia, and policy with respect to bilingual schooling has tended to change rapidly over short periods. Bilingual education, as

Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia

143

already noted, has been controversial, and policy-makers have tended to see bilingual education itself as the problem. In the NT in particular, much of the Indigenous population lives in remote or very remote locations, and in the majority of remote Indigenous communities that have schools, they are only at a primary level. Most of the education in these schools is in Standard Australian English. While the presence of Indigenous languages and cultures in the curriculum varies from school to school, in general the time spent on Indigenous language and culture is either very limited or zero. In addition, very few communities have the luxury of a secondary school, and so even where Indigenous languages are taught, many children have to leave their communities and go to larger centres for secondary education. While nearly all Indigenous children in remote communities are educated in English, the vast majority of these children come to school with either no or very limited knowledge of the language. Unlike the situation with most non-Indigenous students who enter the Australian education system with a language other than English, Indigenous children in these settings have little or no support in learning English outside the classroom since they are in effect living in a foreign language rather than a second language environment. In some schools in the NT and South Australia and Western Australia, Indigenous teachers or teaching assistants are employed to assist the children, but this is certainly not universal. Unfortunately, as we shall see below, bilingual education in the NT has been abandoned by the educational authorities. The code change between school and home is demotivating for many Indigenous children, with the result that they have little appreciation for school (Hoogenraad, 2001; Simpson & Wigglesworth, 2008).

Bilingual Education The term ‘bilingual education’ encompasses many different models, which Baker (2006) has usefully divided into three main types: (1) (2) (3)

Models of monolingual education for bilingual speakers. Weak models of bilingual education for bilingual speakers. Strong or intensive models of bilingual education for bilingual speakers.

The development of students’ mother tongues is not the main goal of the first two models, and parents thus need to be involved in ensuring the maintenance of their children’s first language. In monolingual models of bilingual education (the label itself is a marked paradox),

144

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

pupils enter classes in the majority language either full time or part-time, and they may receive greater or lesser support in this language. In weak models of bilingual education, children start school with some support in their first language, usually by means of content material in which the minority language is used as the language of instruction. Such programmes vary in relation to the amount of curriculum that is taught through the students’ mother tongue, and changes over time, moving at some point to a curriculum that is entirely in the dominant language. Both these models seek integration and assimilation of the minority population into the language and culture of the majority (Lasagabaster, 2001; Ng & Wigglesworth, 2008). In strong or intensive bilingual models, the two languages are used for teaching different subjects. The big difference between this type of programme and the previous two is that intensive programmes promote bilingualism and are strongly additive, fostering the maintenance and development of both the L1 and the L2. However, in the case of Australian Indigenous languages, where there have been bilingual programmes, the weak model has been the most prominent. Nicholls (2005) argues that Indigenous communities have three compelling reasons for wishing to maintain their own language, related to identity, education and human rights. Identity in Indigenous communities is deeply rooted in the idea that language plays a crucial role in the process of identity formation in children and, more broadly, their socialisation. The linguistic repression that had historically occurred in many schools and other social areas controlled by English speakers (including physical punishment for using Indigenous languages in public), far from achieving the objective of assimilation, in fact served to raise awareness about the importance of safeguarding their languages. In terms of education, broad Indigenous agreement gradually developed on the importance of Indigenous children beginning their education in their own language, with English learned as a second language, reinforced by a solid language base in the children’s own languages. It was recognised that the lack of appreciation of their languages and use of an unknown language without the methodology and appropriate teacher education could only lead to poor school results. Finally, the obligation to study in English was considered to be a violation of the rights of Indigenous children, and the inability to implement bilingual programmes was recognised as a huge setback in relations between Indigenous and nonIndigenous people during the period of assimilationist policies (see Djite´, Chapter 4, and Slaughter, Chapter 10, this volume). Bearing these points in

Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia

145

mind, we now examine the rise and fall of bilingual education with particular reference to the NT.

Bilingual Education in Indigenous Australia: Rise and Fall In 1972, after two centuries of determined assimilationism, Australia’s federal government finally declared the need to develop Indigenous bilingual programmes with the goal of preserving Aboriginal languages and cultures (Rhydwen, 2007). Previously, a small number of bilingual schools had been established, such as the Hermannsburg Lutheran Mission in the NT, where instruction was conducted in both English and Western Arrernte (Black, 2007), and the successful programme in English and Pitjantjatjara (1940
1992) at Ernabella, South Australia (Nicholls, 2005). However, these were the result of isolated initiatives with specific individuals, generally missionaries, as key players. Matters were further complicated by the complex division of responsibilities for education and for Indigenous affairs between Australia’s federal (national), state and territorial governments. The modest initial federal government support for bilingual education increased during the 1980s and 1990s, a period of optimism for Indigenous languages resulting from both Australian and international initiatives. At this time, a very modest number of bilingual schools were established. There was also a heightened awareness of Indigenous issues throughout the country, reflected not only in extensive media coverage but also in more specific areas such as the increased presence of Indigenous history in the school curriculum, which until then had been very limited. Furthermore, Indigenous communities were encouraged from the highest levels to participate in their children’s education, although the support of local authorities occasionally left something to be desired. This support for bilingual education was reflected in an increasing number of research projects (at various institutions, but mainly in the universities) designed to deal in greater depth with the situation of Indigenous languages. Programmes were launched to support these languages through Regional Indigenous Language Centres, which were managed by Indigenous people themselves. It was this social context during the 1990s which allowed the number of bilingual programmes in English and Indigenous languages in northern and central Australia to grow to 33 (see Table 9.1).

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

146

Table 9.1 Indigenous bilingual programmes in place during the 1990s State/ territory

Number of schools

School system*

Languages

Northern Territory

21

South Australia

8

8 Government

Pitjantjatjara/Yankunytjatjara

Western Australia

4

2 Independent 2 Catholic

Nyangumarta, Manjiljarra, Djaru, Kukatja

3 Catholic Burarra, Ndje´bbana, Tiwi, Murrinh18 Government Patha, Maung, Djambarrpuyngu, Gupapuyngu, Dhuwaya, Kriol, Warlpiri, Pitjantjatjara, Arrernte, Luritja, Pintupi

Source: Black (2007) *The Australian school system consists of state/territory-managed government schools, the Catholic school system and independent (private) schools at primary and secondary levels

In most of these programmes, instruction began in the students’ Indigenous language, with the presence of English gradually increasing as the children advanced. Although some of these programmes achieved results superior to those obtained through schooling programmes only in English (Devlin, 2009: 8), the period of building and promoting Indigenous languages and culture was threatened toward the end of the 1990s, when bilingual education in Indigenous languages developed in various states, especially in the NT, began to be dismantled.

1998: A Bad Year for Bilingual Education in Australia On 1 December 1998, the government of the NT, where the largest number of bilingual programmes was concentrated, decided to close them after the publication of a report commissioned by the administration to examine the effects of bilingual education. The reason given for these closures was that in the bilingual programmes in schools the standard of Australian English reached by Indigenous students was very low compared with that of Indigenous students studying in schools where English was the only language of instruction (Nicholls, 2005). This conclusion was not, however, supported by any evidence that would allow comparisons, but appeared intended to be accepted as an act of faith. At no time did the administration make public any statistics or studies that supported the assertions regarding performance in English

Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia

147

of the students enrolled in bilingual schools, so that when the NT Education Minister was called upon to release the data that confirmed the assumptions, he declined to make any additional comments, much less provide the report for publication. This lack of transparency helped increase the discomfort, anxiety, boredom and distrust of those who for years had been involved in bilingual schools. Christine Nicholls (2005) was principal of the bilingual school in Lajamanu in the NT in the late 1980s and points out that there were no overt results underlying this decision, referring to her own experience. In 1985 she sought the support of the Australian Educational Research Commission to fund a 10-year independent evaluation of student results from her school. To her surprise, when the school sought official permission for the project from the NT Department of Education, the response was negative and the opportunity was lost to conduct a longitudinal study that would have clarified the results of this type of bilingual programme. Nicholls also notes that no bilingual programmes had the opportunity to embark on a long-term independent evaluation. Indeed, the only evaluations in the period 1972
1998 were conducted by the NT Department of Education, and these have never seen the light of day, and the tests used were developed (and continue to be developed) only in English (Nicholls, 2005: 162). Fortunately, this anti-bilingual education wave was thwarted by the Collins Report (Collins, 1999) commissioned by the NT government, which halted attacks on these programmes in Indigenous communities and guaranteed the continuation of bilingual educational practice. The report called for quality research that focused on encouraging the development of a suitable education model for this particular context, focusing on academic outcomes. It further recognised the many gaps in Indigenous and non-Indigenous teacher education (see below).

2008: Another Bad Year for Indigenous Bilingual Education in Australia In 2003, Australia’s Council of the Ministry of Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs decided to create a series of tests to compare the performance of Australian school students at Grades 3 (8
9 years), 5 (10
11 years), 7 (12
13 years) and 9 (14
15 years), regardless of the state where they were studying. This national assessment (later known as NAPLAN) was administered to more than one million students for the first time in 2008. This was a milestone because it was the first time that reading comprehension, writing, language conventions

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

148

(spelling, grammar and punctuation) and numeracy were assessed using the same test across all states. Until then, the various states and territories had used a variety of tests which made comparative studies impossible. Uniform testing across Australia was intended to resolve this problem and meant that all students could notionally be compared with the national average. The tests were conducted exclusively in English. The results of the NAPLAN testing were published in summary form in September 2008 (MCEETYA, 2008a), followed by a more detailed report in December (MCEETYA, 2008b). Table 9.2 shows the results of Table 9.2 Achievement in each of the NAPLAN tests 2008 across Australia Reading Writing Spelling

Grammar/ punctuation

Numeracy

Grade 3 (8
9 years) Indigenous students

313.7

339.3

319.6

305.5

327.6

Non-Indigenous students

405.0

418.2

403.8

408.4

400.5

Grade 5 (10
11 years) Indigenous students

403.4

411.2

417.1

402.4

408.0

Non-Indigenous students

488.7

490.6

487.4

501.2

479.5

Grade 7 (12
13 years) Indigenous students

466.5

455.9

474.0

446.3

476.2

Non-Indigenous students

540.2

537.9

542.2

533.4

548.6

Grade 9 (14
15 years) Indigenous students

513.8

491.3

514.6

494.7

515.1

Non-Indigenous students

581.3

573.6

580.2

573.0

585.7

Source: MCEETYA (2008b)

Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia

149

Indigenous and non-Indigenous students in the four school years examined. The test results leave no doubt as to the substantial differences between Indigenous and non-Indigenous students, always in favour of the latter. Taking, for example, the writing test, the third- and fifth-year Indigenous students were 79 points below the mean for non-Indigenous students and at least 82 points below at Grades 7 and 9. These differences were manifest across all states and territories but were particularly striking in the NT, which has the highest percentage of Indigenous people. Thus, in the reading test, for Grade 7 NT students the difference between Indigenous and non-Indigenous was a dramatic 145 points. Indigenous students in the NT received the lowest scores at all year levels across the country compared with all other states and territories. The results of the NAPLAN testing, widely reported in the media, suggested (1) that Indigenous children do not reach an acceptable standard in literacy and numeracy, (2) that these differences were increased in the NT and (c) that Indigenous children living in remote communities performed worse. In a panic reaction, the then NT Education Minister, Marion Scrymgour, herself an Indigenous Australian, decided to change the overall educational policy and effectively abolish bilingual programmes through the implementation of a model in which English was to be the only language of instruction for first four hours of each school day.1 This meant that bilingual education, in which half the content is taught in both languages, was no longer viable. The plan was rushed and designed without consulting the affected schools and also lacked detail and clear proposals on how to overcome what it saw as the problem. Nor was any attempt made to examine the results from the bilingual programmes in existence or to identify issues that might prevent their successful operation. The plan was introduced despite the fact that social and environmental factors all had a significant impact on results across the nation. Thus children from families with higher sociocultural and socioeconomic status, who lived in cities or towns, had consistently better results. A much higher proportion of the Indigenous population lives in remote or very remote areas, and their sociocultural and socioeconomic status tends to be substantially lower. In addition, the NT results were not disaggregated for the type of school (i.e. bilingual or not). Another issue raised by the NAPLAN testing was the nature of the tasks used. Wigglesworth and Simpson (2009) analysed the tasks in the pilot tests (the final test was not available at the time) and concluded there was serious cultural bias against children living in remote communities. They argue that the cultural knowledge of children in

150

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

remote areas may be different from the majority of the school population. For example, the sample Year three reading test asked children to respond to a series of multiple choice questions on a text about a film to be premiered at a local cinema. Yet for most Indigenous students in remote areas, this situation would be completely unfamiliar: There are no cinemas and this type of promotional material and related language are unknown to them. As a result of the wave of discontent and criticism over her decision, the Minister reconsidered, and in December 2008 announced a transition period of one year before launching the plan. However, by January 2009, the web page on bilingual education on the NT Department of Education website had already disappeared. On 9 February 2009, Minister Marion Scrymgour resigned, but the dismantling of the bilingual programmes continued (Simpson et al., 2009). On 1 June 2009, Scrymgour publicly acknowledged her error and reneged on her stance against bilingual education. Two days later she retired from her political party. NAPLAN was thus a double-edged sword
the advantages inherent in using an assessment tool across the country were associated with the side effects of discrediting bilingual education in Indigenous languages. As McNamara and Roever (2006) point out, it is essential to be aware of the social dimensions of tests, and not to lose sight of the possible biases that may be inherent in the test (see also Ryan & McNamara, Chapter 11, this volume).

The Pernicious Effect of Education Only in English (English-Only) Recent research suggests that the replacement of bilingual programmes with English-only programmes will not achieve the higher literacy results anticipated. On the contrary, there is evidence that the latter only contribute to increased school failure. Moses and Wigglesworth (2008) studied the discursive practices that characterised a class in an Indigenous school in central Australia where the traditional language of the area was considered to be strong. However, English was the only language of instruction despite the fact that the only speakers of English in the community were the school teacher and the owners of a pastoral lease. In this situation, as is often the case, the teacher was inexperienced, and not trained in teaching English to speakers of other languages. Often the teacher has the support of an Indigenous teaching assistant (although this was not the case here), competent in the vernacular, whose main task is to assist Indigenous students to understand the speech of their

Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia

151

non-Indigenous teacher. However, in many cases their knowledge of Standard English is not much higher than that of their students, and they often lack sufficient training in ESL methods so that the actual support they can provide is often limited. The interactions in the classroom involved both a different form of linguistic code (English) and different conventions in the situational context. The children were expected to respond to formal display questions asked by the teacher and to respond in front of the whole class; thus the children were torn between doing what the teacher wanted and doing what was expected of them culturally
not talking too much so as not to draw attention to themselves. As a result, the class was continually focused on the teacher, which contributed to her own dismay at the children feeling out of place and unmotivated. Teachers need to be aware that there are significant differences in language, culture and behavioural patterns in Indigenous communities. As Moses and Wigglesworth argue, it is through providing a bridge between the Indigenous and nonIndigenous discursive worlds that Indigenous support teachers contribute greatly to the smooth operation of the class. Simpson et al. (2009) give an account of another case which confirms the negative impact of the implementation of an English-only programme in Indigenous communities. In South Australia, Pitjantjatjara communities had had bilingual education programmes since 1937. However, in the early years of the 1990s, the community decided to abandon bilingual education and start teaching in English only. The reason given was that Indigenous children needed to spend more time learning English. However, in 2006 the Director of the Educational Committee of the Pitjantjatjara community, who was an Indigenous teacher, argued for re-establishing bilingual education programmes because she believed that the results in literacy and numeracy had been better during the earlier period of bilingual teaching. This was also the perception of the Indigenous parents who had enjoyed the bilingual programmes when they were at school and who complained that their children’s academic skills were lower than their own.

Conclusion On 12 February 2008, the then Australian Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, in a landmark speech, apologised to the so-called stolen generation
Indigenous children who had been separated from their parents during childhood to be educated and assimilated into white Australian society. This strategy of white assimilation is one of the most infamous in the

152

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

country’s history. The statement first recognised formally past wrongs and injustices that over the years had been inflicted on Indigenous people. It also called for waging a determined campaign to eliminate the differences between Indigenous and non-Indigenous life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity. Interestingly, while the current federal government is promoting the learning of Asian languages, supported by 62 million Australian dollars in national funding over four years (Gordon, 2009), Indigenous languages in Australia do not receive anything like the same attention. Since colonisation, the linguistic diversity of Indigenous languages has been seen as an impediment to the imposition of English as the primary language (Clyne, 2007) with policy-makers too often ignoring the widespread empirical evidence which demonstrates the benefits that can be attributed to well-run bilingual education programmes (see, e.g. Christian & Genesee, 2001; Cummins, 2000; Garcı´a, 2009). In the light of events in 1998 and 2008 when the NT government led the push to close down bilingual education, it is nothing short of an irony that its own Department of Education recognised the benefits of bilingual education for Indigenous students, without ever releasing its own apparently positive data (see above): There have been a number of studies, both in the NT and internationally, that provide evidence for the premise that bilingual education programs achieve higher levels of outcomes, including literacy outcomes in the mainstream language, than non-bilingual programs in similar settings. The review is able to provide preliminary and provisional data to confirm that outcomes for students participating in bilingual education programs in the NT are marginally better than for students in ‘like’ non-bilingual schools. (Northern Territory Department of Education, 2005: xii) The maintenance of Indigenous languages can be viewed as equivalent to backwardness which maintains this portion of the population at a social disadvantage compared with those who are educated in English. Added to this is the fact that until the 1980s, the Australian education system was characterised historically by the desire for all participants to be monolingual in English (Lo Bianco, 2008). Cummins (2000) suggests that not to educate students in their own first language as well as English is a major stumbling block that makes it very difficult for the students to reach the threshold levels of knowledge that result in the cognitive benefits inherent in a situation of additive bilingualism. The results of the current system in Australia are that many

Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia

153

Indigenous students fail in the school system. Many do not develop skills beyond the academic equivalent of Year three or four of primary education, and their competence in English is well below the national average. The reasons for these results are numerous and diverse and include issues such as high rates of absenteeism, low socioeconomic and sociocultural status, poverty and all the problems inherent in these conditions (health problems, housing, social discrimination, etc.). The change from the home language and culture to those of the school, the lack of adequately trained teachers in Indigenous schools, high mobility of the teachers and a curriculum which does not take account of the children’s cultural background are some of the most prominent issues. The media are also ‘perpetuating the monolingual myth’ (Simpson et al., 2009: 36), which sees bilingual education as an obstacle to the acquisition of appropriate English. Part of the solution must also lie in the adequate preparation and experience of the teachers whose role is to educate these young Indigenous Australians. Many of the teachers who teach in Indigenous communities are new graduates looking for jobs that will enhance their prospects in the future and facilitate the access to more desirable positions in the large urban centres. These are often teachers with little experience, who have never before had contact with Indigenous children and have not received any training in teaching English to speakers of other languages. Indigenous language knowledge is currently closely related to age, with younger people less likely to speak Indigenous languages (Robinson et al., 2008; Simpson & Wigglesworth, 2008). This means that many languages are in danger of extinction. The absence of bilingual programmes that have strong support from the administration and the lack of adequate, stable and well-trained teachers to meet the needs of this educational model mean that not only the outlook for the future of Australian Indigenous languages is simply devastating but also the likelihood of enhancing the educational and life experiences of Indigenous children is also much more limited than it need be. Examples of schools such as the Ngukurr School at Ngukurr/Roper River (Rhydwen, 2007), where the incorporation of Indigenous teachers helped to reduce the high rates of truancy, indicate the importance of integrating the local community into the life of the school. Stimulating the involvement of the local community encourages the wider participation of the community in the school and student results improve significantly. Today, the maintenance of Indigenous languages is closely tied to improving school performance. Empirical evidence obtained in very

154

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

different contexts, some of which is discussed above, makes it clear that where children learn only in the dominant language and education is available only in that language, they are often at a disadvantage. This is exacerbated in the case of remote communities such as those of many Indigenous Australians, who have little chance of maintaining significant contact with English, the dominant national language. In many parts of the world, the decision has been taken to implement bilingual programmes to help mitigate the pernicious effects of education in the dominant language and results have demonstrated both their feasibility and their beneficial effects (Baker, 2006; Cummins, 2000; Lasagabaster, 1997; Simpson et al., 2009). Bilingual education requires the conditions and means necessary for its proper implementation. It involves not only the maintenance and promotion of minority or Indigenous languages; in additive contexts there is also ample evidence that learning contributes to improved school performance and linguistic competence in both the L1 and the L2. The empirical evidence in this regard is overwhelming. In the much-vaunted knowledge society, decisions taken by the highest spheres of government without reference to scientific rigour should be mere memories of the past. Unfortunately, reality shows that we are far from this ideal. Note 1. Education policy in the NT requires 5 hours and 20 minutes of face-to-face teaching per day, thus leaving potentially only 1 hour 20 minutes for teaching in the children’s first language
and that in the afternoon when students are most tired. There is, however, no requirement that any language other than English be used at this time.

References Australian Bureau of Statistics (2007) Population Distribution, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians, 2006. On WWW at http://www.abs.gov. au/AUSSTATS/[email protected]/Lookup/4705.0Main Features12006?penDocument. Accessed 5.4.10. Baker, C. (2006) Foundations of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism. Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters. Black, P. (2007) New uses for old languages. In M. Walsh and C. Yallop (eds) Language and Culture in Indigenous Australia (pp. 207
223). Canberra: Indigenous Studies Press. Christian, D. and Genesee, F. (eds) (2001) Bilingual Education. Alexandria, VA: Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages, Inc. Clyne, M. (2007) Are we making a difference? On the social responsibility and the impact of the linguist/applied linguist in Australia. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 30, 1
14.

Indigenous Languages, Bilingual Education and English in Australia

155

Collins, B. (1999) Learning Lessons: An Independent Review of Indigenous Education in the Northern Territory. Darwin: Northern Territory Department of Education. Cummins, J. (2000). Language, Power and Pedagogy: Bilingual Children in the Crossfire. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Devlin, B. (2009) Bilingual education in the Northern Territory and the continuing debate over its effectiveness and value. Paper presented at the AIATSIS Research Symposium, ‘Bilingual Education in the Northern Territory: Principles, policy and practice’, Canberra, 26 June. Garcı´a, O. (2009) Bilingual Education in the 21st Century: A Global Perspective. Hong Kong: Wiley-Blackwell. Gordon, J. (2009) 62 million plan for Asian languages. The Age, 15 February. Hoogenraad, R. (2001) Critical reflections on the history of bilingual education in Central Australia. In J. Simpson, D. Nash, M. Laughren, P. Austin and B. Alpher (eds) Forty Years On: Ken Hale and Australian Languages (pp. 123
150). Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Lasagabaster, D. (1997) Creatividad y conciencia metalingu¨ı´stica: incidencia en el aprendizaje del ingle´s como L3. Bilbao: University of the Basque Country. Lasagabaster, D. (2001) Bilingualism, immersion programmes and language learning in the Basque Country. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 22, 401
425. Lo Bianco, J. (2008) Language policy and education in Australia. In S. May and N.H. Hornberger (eds) Encyclopedia of Language and Education, Vol. 1: Language Policy and Political Issues in Education (2nd edn, pp. 343
353). London: Springer Science/Business Media LLC. McConvell, P. and Thieberger, N. (2001) State of Indigenous Languages in Australia
2001. Canberra: Department of the Environment and Heritage. On WWW at http://www.environment.gov.au/soe/2001/publications/technical/pubs/ indigenous-languages.pdf. Accessed 5.4.10. MCEETYA: Ministerial Council on Education Employment, Training and Youth Affairs (2008a) National Assessment Programme: Literacy and Numeracy, Summary Report: Achievement in Reading, Writing, Language Conventions and Numeracy. Canberra: Government of Australia. MCEETYA: Ministerial Council on Education Employment, Training and Youth Affairs (2008b) National Assessment Programme: Literacy and Numeracy: Achievement in Reading, Writing, Language Conventions and Numeracy. Canberra: Government of Australia. McNamara, T.F. and Roever, C. (2006) Language Testing: The Social Dimension. Oxford: Blackwell. Meakins, F. (2007) Case-marking in contact: The development and function of case morphology in Gurindji Kriol, an Australian mixed language. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Melbourne. Meakins, F. (2008) Unravelling languages: Multilingualism and language contact in Kalkaringi. In J. Simpson and G. Wigglesworth (eds) Children’s Language and Multilingualism: Indigenous Language Use at Home and School (pp. 283
302). London: Continuum. Moses, K. and Wigglesworth, G. (2008) The silence of the frogs: Dysfunctional discourse in the ‘English-only’ Indigenous classroom. In J. Simpson and G. Wigglesworth (eds) Children’s Language and Multilingualism: Indigenous Language Use at Home and School (pp. 129
153). London: Continuum.

156

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

Ng, B.C. and Wigglesworth, G. (2007) Bilingualism: An Advanced Resource Book. London: Routledge. Nicholls, C. (2005) Death by a thousand cuts: Indigenous language bilingual education programmes in the Northern Territory of Australia, 1972
1988. The International Journal of Applied Linguistics 8, 160
177. Northern Territory Department of Education (2005) Indigenous Languages and Culture in Northern Territory Schools Report 2004
5. Darwin: Northern Territory Department of Employment, Education and Training, NT Government. Rhydwen, M. (2007) Kriol: The creation of a written language and a tool of colonisation. In M. Walsh and C. Yallop (eds) Language and Culture in Indigenous Australia (pp. 155
168). Canberra: Indigenous Studies Press. Robinson, G., Goodnow, J., Katz, I. and Eickelkamp, U. (eds) (2008) Contexts of Child Development: Culture, Policy and Intervention. Alice Springs: Charles Darwin University Press. Simpson, J., Caffery, J. and McConvell, P. (2009) Gaps in Australia’s Indigenous Language Policy: Dismantling Bilingual Education in the Northern Territory. AIATSIS Research Discussion No. 24. Canberra: AIATSIS Research Publications. Simpson, J. and Wigglesworth, G. (eds) (2008) Children’s Language and Multilingualism: Indigenous Language Use at Home and School. London: Continuum. Wigglesworth, G. and Simpson, J. (2009) NAPLAN language assessments for Indigenous children in remote communities: Issues and problems. Paper presented at the ‘National Symposium on Assessing English as a Second/Other Language in the Australian Context’, 20
21 February 2009. On WWW at http://education.arts.unsw.edu.au/news/nationalsymposium/presentations. html. Accessed 5.4.10.

Chapter 10

Bringing Asia to the Home Front: The Australian Experience of Asian Language Education through National Policy YVETTE SLAUGHTER

Introduction The history of the study of Asian languages in Australia has been about a struggle for recognition. Australia’s long-standing identification with the British Empire led to the legitimisation of xenophobia and racism, as embodied in the White Australia policy (see below) and ensured that few Asians were allowed to migrate to Australia for much of the 20th century (see also Djite´, Chapter 4, this volume; Ryan & McNamara, Chapter 11, this volume). Substantial waves of European migration to Australia following the Second World War eventually led to the integration of numerous European languages into school curricula, but because of the White Australia policy, Asian languages were not afforded the same opportunity. However, in recent decades, Australia’s realisation of the economic and strategic importance of Asia has dramatically changed its relationship with the region. Within this evolving context, Asian languages and studies have also taken a greater role in the Australian education system. In 1994, the Australian federal government introduced the National Asian Languages and Studies in Australian Schools (NALSAS) programme. NALSAS, which ceased in 2002, aimed to increase knowledge of Asian cultures and languages among Australian students in the hope that an increase in ‘Asia literacy’ would contribute towards greater economic interaction between Australia and its Asian neighbours. Chinese (Mandarin), Indonesian, Japanese and Korean were prioritised within the education system based on the prediction that these would be the languages spoken by Australia’s largest trading partners in 2014. 157

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

158

Building linguistic resources is considered key, by many Australian policy-makers and others, to greater economic and cultural engagement. As the Asian region continues to grow from strength to strength and plays a more important economic role globally, there are important lessons to be gleaned from the Australian experience of Asian language prioritisation. To begin, this chapter explores the historical role of languages and language study in Australian society and its education systems as well as the circumstances which led to the federal government prioritising Asian languages. The argument then turns to three factors which have strongly influenced outcomes for the study of the four Asian languages: (1)

(2) (3)

The differential effect of top-down federal policy and bottom-up state and territory level language policies [focusing on the states of Victoria and New South Wales (NSW)]. The strengths and weaknesses of a narrow economic rationale for language study, including the effect of sociopolitical events. The influence of background speakers of these languages in the classroom.

The Australian Experience Although Australia is a predominantly English-speaking country, a significant minority of people have always been multilingual. Since Australia was colonised in 1788, it has moved through a wide range of language ideologies, closely connected with broader societal and political changes. Clyne (2005) argues that Australian society was initially tolerant and accepting of its linguistic and cultural diversity. By the second half of the 19th century, having been established as a colony, and on the verge of becoming a federation, Australian society consisted of a gathering of diverse cultural and linguistic communities
Indigenous communities, and convicts and settlers, who came not only from Great Britain but Africa, Asia, Europe and the Americas (Clyne, 1991). However, with the birth of the Australian federation in 1901 and the worsening situation between Germany and Great Britain in the lead up to the First World War, the tolerance experienced in Australia to this point quickly dissipated (Clyne, 1991). Racism against Asians in particular led to ‘Asia’ and ‘Asians’ serving as a negative influence for Australian immigration policy. Asian migration was initially stemmed through prohibitive entry taxes for Asians and eventually barred outright through the Immigration Restriction Act of 1901, known popularly as the White

Bringing Asia to the Home Front

159

Australia policy (Markey, 1982). Citizenship tests designed to restrict access for certain migrants were also introduced in 1897 in Western Australia and nationally in 1901 (see Ryan & McNamara, Chapter 11, this volume). Increasing xenophobia and British patriotism during the First and Second World Wars led to an exclusionary agenda which saw the closure of bilingual schools (over 100 were established by the early 1900s) and a shift to English-only education (Clyne, 1991). Following the Second World War, the Australian government encouraged mass migration of unskilled European migrants to Australia, primarily to develop secondary industry in Australia and to populate Australia as protection against an invasion from Asia. European migrants were encouraged to forgo their own cultures and languages and assimilate into Australian society as quickly as possible (Clyne, 1991). Admission to Australia was linked to English instruction through the establishment of the Adult Migrant Education Program, which was eventually extended to children and which continues to the present (Lo Bianco, 2009). Nevertheless, such a significant population change brought with it major social upheaval and a struggle began for the construction of a new Australian identity. One of the most important struggles was against the homogenisation of the migrant experience, with proponents fighting for the growth of a more tolerant and culturally varied society. Lobbying for the development of multiculturalism was influenced by the sheer number of new arrivals, and ‘their hard won accession to positions of some authority in the community and perhaps a realisation that they might be a political constituency’ (Herriman, 1996: 41). As a result, in the late 1960s and 1970s, Australia started to slowly emerge from its history of assimilation and monolingualism.

Language Education Policy As well as fundamentally changing the shape of Australian society, migration also impacted upon the study of languages in the Australian education system. In the 1960s, language study in schools and universities was ‘conceptualised and actualised strictly as ‘‘foreign language’’ teaching’ which limited language study mainly to French (Clyne et al., 1997: 1). In 1964, 75% of language students were studying French, followed by German and Latin, with less than 2% of enrolments in Asian languages (Bonyhady, 1965). By the end of the 1970s, after persistent lobbying by community groups and language teachers, several European languages, including Italian, Modern Greek and Turkish, gained a more

160

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

permanent position in the education system when they were introduced as matriculation subjects in the state of Victoria. Other states and territories slowly followed suit (Ozolins, 1993: 132). However, this progression created a problematic dichotomy between ‘foreign’ and ‘community’ languages; community languages refer to those spoken by migrants in Australia. This dichotomy separates language learners into (1) beginners who are seeking cultural enrichment and the development of linguistic skills in the ‘foreign’ language and (2) those with a background in a language other than English who wish to develop proficiency in the language while also developing proficiency in English. This dichotomy is too simplistic to address the needs of all language learners but persists to this day, and its restrictive consequences will be explored shortly.

Policy Directions and the Rise of Asian Languages While community demand led to the greater inclusion of European languages in the education system, it was persistent lobbying by government and academic personnel which led to prioritisation of Asian languages (see, e.g. Mackenzie, 2004; Slaughter, 2008). In the 1960s and 1970s, concern grew within diplomatic and government circles about the lack of Asian language skills in the Department of External Affairs, a concern amplified by the increasing instability in the Asia Pacific region, including the Vietnam War and political upheaval in Indonesia (Mackenzie, 2001). In 1970, an influential report, Teaching of Asian Languages and Cultures in Australia (Auchmuty, 1970), expressed concern with the disparity between the teaching, study and resourcing of Asian and European languages, although Kamada (1994) argues that in reality, few Australians were interested in studying about Asia and Asian languages at the time. In 1987, Australia produced a pioneering language policy, the National Policy on Languages (NPL) (Lo Bianco, 1987), which reflected the influence of both social and economic interests and provided broad support for the social and educational use and development of languages and language-related services. However, even before the NPL was introduced, government rhetoric was already pointing towards the economic importance of ‘foreign’
especially Asian
languages (Lo Bianco, 1990) and the sophisticated rationale of the NPL changed drastically with the introduction of its successor, Australia’s Language and Literacy Policy (Dawkins, 1991). This policy was primarily focused on English literacy and was followed by several other English language-focused policies

Bringing Asia to the Home Front

161

(see, e.g. Moore, 2001; Wickert, 1997). Dawkins was also concerned with the lack of regional language competency, stating that ‘Australia’s location in the Asia-Pacific region and our patterns of trade should continue to be a factor in this selection of priorities’ (Dawkins, 1991: 15). The persistence of lobbying for Asian languages by influential groups such as the Asian Studies Association of Australia, often presented in opposition to European language study, had also continued at the governmental level for several decades. Their strategic and economic rationalist arguments eventually won favour and in 1994, the report Asian Languages and Australia’s Economic Future (Rudd, 1994) was released. The report, written by Australia’s future Prime Minister Kevin Rudd (2007
2010) during his time as a senior government bureaucrat, supported the belief that Australia’s economic success was dependent on greater economic interaction with the Asian region. In accordance with the report findings, the Australian government spent over 200 million dollars on the NALSAS programme between 1994 and 2002.

The Australian Political System and Language Education Policy In order to understand language policy in Australian education, it is essential to understand the federal system of governance. Australia consists of six states and two territories, which are supported nationally by the federal government. (The differentiation between a state and a territory lies in its constitutional standing. The term ‘state’ will be used to refer to both here). Currently, preschool, primary and secondary education is the responsibility of the state governments, while the federal government has assumed primary responsibility for tertiary education. In actuality, most powers are concurrent: state governments can legislate in regard to education as long as they do not contradict any existing federal legislation (Mackenzie, 2001: 79
80). As a result, each state has introduced its own language education policies. There are eight different policies (or lack thereof) across Australia, each with differing levels of commitment to the study of languages (see Table 10.1) and to the financing of programmes. Policies range from the expectation that students will study a language throughout compulsory schooling (Pre-Year 1 to Year 10) to the mandate that students study a language for only 100 hours during secondary schooling. No state requires language study up to Year 12, the final year of secondary education. Policy and guidelines from the federal government include national goals (nonbinding) for language study (e.g. MCEETYA, 2005), as well as targeted

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

162

Table 10.1 Language requirements in Australian states and territories, 2010 State/territory

Status of language education

Extent of study

Comment

Australian Capital Not mandated Territory

n/a

n/a

New South Wales

100 hours at secondary level only

Preferably in Years 7
8

Northern Territory Not mandated

n/a

n/a

Queensland

Previously Years 6
8

New policy awaiting cabinet approval

Mandated

Mandate being

revised South Australia

Implied mandate

Pre-Year 1 to Year levels not Year 10 explicitly stated

Tasmania

Not mandated

n/a

Victoria

Implied mandate

Pre-Year 1 to Government schools Year 10 are expected to report student achievement in language learning against the Victorian Essential Learning Standards from Level 4 onwards

Western Australia

Implied mandate

Years 3
10

n/a

Students expected to reach Level 3 by Year 9

Source: Based on Liddicoat et al. (2007: 15)

financial programmes for languages such as the NALSAS programme. There are three education providers in Australia
the government, Catholic and independent school systems. The policies referred to in Table 10.1 have been developed by the government education systems, which account for two thirds of students. Catholic systems in each state decide whether to follow the state policies or to develop their own guidelines, while the independent schools sector does not possess an overarching language education policy. As well as differing language education policies, each state education system supports a different number of languages, based on local

Bringing Asia to the Home Front

163

demographic, regional, global, educational, vocational and historical considerations. Languages are also taught in some states through government-run language schools (after hours), distance education and ethnic schools. For example, over 30 languages are taught during the school day in South Australia (SA), Victoria, New South Wales (NSW) and Northern Territory (NT). These languages reflect the rich migration histories of each state, as well as the languages of the local Australian Indigenous populations. In other states, fewer languages are taught. For example, in Tasmania, only eight languages are available in schools.

Outcomes of the NALSAS Programme There is no doubt that the NALSAS programme, during its lifetime (1994
2002), greatly boosted the study of the four Asian languages. However, it is difficult to ascertain the exact impact of the programme on enrolment numbers, as comprehensive data collection on language study has been sporadic and incomplete. Nevertheless, a 2002 report evaluating the NALSAS programme indicates that enrolments in Chinese, Indonesian and Japanese roughly doubled from the start of the programme in 1994 to 2000, from approximately 350,000 enrolments to just over 760,000 (Wyatt et al., 2002). Korean never gained a strong foothold in Australian schools. Comparative enrolment figures are not available for the language. While the short-term outcomes for the programme were remarkable, enrolments in Indonesian and Japanese began declining as soon as the programme ceased, falling 20.9% and 20.6%, respectively, between 2000 and 2006. Given that a significant amount of funding and support for the four Asian languages was withdrawn when NALSAS ended, it is not surprising that enrolments in some languages decreased. An important question to ask is whether these changes are consistent with changes across all language enrolments and whether they fell at the same rate across all states. This is difficult to answer because of the lack of comprehensive data. However, a comparison of enrolments in government-run schools across Australia suggests that enrolments in all languages declined around 7.5% between 2001 and 2005 (Liddicoat et al., 2007: 33), significantly less than for Indonesian and Japanese. Further analysis shows that there were remarkable differences at the state level. Slaughter (2009) compared outcomes for the four Asian languages in the two most populous states, NSW and Victoria, and found that the underlying support for language study provided by the state level governments impacted dramatically on the longer-term success of

164

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

Indonesian and Japanese study. The aims of NSW language policy are modest at best, with students expected to study a language for 100 hours during secondary schooling. Minimal financial and structural support has been provided to encourage the study of languages in schools outside these parameters. Although the NSW government supports over 50 languages in the education system, including community languages for select groups of students at the primary level and access to the study of community languages (after hours) for background speakers at the secondary level, language study overall remains very limited. The NALSAS programme did lead to an upsurge in enrolments in Asian languages in NSW, particularly at the primary level, indicating that school communities are interested in studying language when the appropriate support structures are in place. Unfortunately, the NSW state government refused to assume financial responsibility for the increased interest in language study generated by the supplementary NALSAS funding. Once the federal NALSAS funding was withdrawn, primary level enrolments in Indonesian and Japanese fell dramatically (77.1% and 78%, respectively) between 1999 and 2009, essentially decimating widespread primary level language study in the state. This experience has left a very negative impression of language study in many school communities (Slaughter, 2008). Indonesian and Japanese language programmes at the secondary level proved to be more robust, experiencing a more limited decline in enrolments (16.1% and 10.7%, respectively), but still notably higher than the general decline of 8.1% for the study of all languages at the secondary level in NSW (NSW
DE&T, 1999, 2006). In Victorian primary schools, enrolments also dropped, but to a lesser extent, down by 17.6% for Indonesian and 4.1% for Japanese. Programmes were partly cushioned by pre-existing policy and financial support for primary level language study, which had been phased in since the early 1980s (Slaughter & Hajek, 2007). At the secondary level, Indonesian enrolments fell by 16.3%, while Japanese enrolments fell by 9.9%, higher than the general decline of 2.9% for all languages at the secondary level in Victoria. While there was certainly some decline in enrolments in Japanese and Indonesian, the robust condition of language education in Victoria prior to NALSAS ensured that language education remained largely intact once the supplementary funding ended. Overall, language enrolments in Victoria were nearly triple those in NSW in 2005. The comparison between the two states highlights that both the short-term and longer-term effectiveness of a funding initiative such as NALSAS is significantly limited by the strength of state level support

Bringing Asia to the Home Front

165

structures. It is clear that a programme such as NALSAS can only build on what is already firmly established in each state.

The Rationale for Language Study The success of a school language programme is dependent on a broad range of factors, including policy initiatives, such as NALSAS, financial and structural variables and the uptake and continuation of language study by students. However, in exploring the fallout of the NALSAS programme, Slaughter (2008) found that sociopolitical events have also had an enormous impact on the valuing of different languages within school communities and on the willingness of students to continue studying particular languages. This is clearly illustrated by the study of Korean. South Korea has been and remains an important economic partner for Australia; it was Australia’s fourth-ranked trade partner in 2008
2009 (DFAT, 2008). However, despite considerable federal funding and promotion, the language has not gained in popularity in the education system. The most recently available data, from 2000, shows that only 3672 students studied the language nationally. If we focus on the study of Korean at the Year 12 level, in 2003 only 259 students studied Korean, decreasing to approximately 150 students in 2008 (Slaughter, 2008). Only a very small number of schools offer Korean in Australia (less than 0.3%). In a study of three schools that do teach Korean, school staff argued that negative media presentations in the years since the NALSAS programme began had had a detrimental effect on the image of South Korea and in turn on Korean programmes (Slaughter, 2008). These events included the disruptive political situation on the Korean peninsula, the continued division of the country, an ongoing US military presence, a build-up of nuclear power in North Korea, and militant unionism. The economic imperative has held little sway for the study of Korean. The impact of sociopolitical events has also seriously impacted on the study of Indonesian. While Indonesian remains very strong in Australian schools
it is the third most-studied language
enrolments fell 20.9% nationally between 2000 and 2006. In Victoria, over 80% of the decline in language enrolments between 2000 and 2005 can be ascribed to Indonesian. In a study looking at 19 secondary schools which had substantial language programmes (the schools were able to offer languages from Year 7 to 12), Slaughter (2007) found that enrolment levels dropped in all schools after a series of negative events, including financial crises, terrorist attacks involving Australians in Indonesia and surges in the number of

166

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

refugees reaching Australia via Indonesia. Travel advisories issued by Australian government officials, which prevented Australian students and teachers from travelling to Indonesia (and still remain in place), were also identified as problematic. Because of the prolonged sequence of these events, some schools found that enrolments fell repeatedly over a number of years, forcing them to eventually close their Indonesian programmes, while still maintaining other language programmes. Given the prominence of the federal government’s economic rationale for studying Indonesian, it was also argued that Indonesia’s lack of economic success led many students and parents to question why the language was being offered at all. Other factors that aid and impede schools in offering languages, such as differences in student motivation and the social issues that drive language policies at a state level, are complex and cannot be adequately addressed here. What is clear from the Indonesian and Korean examples is that isolating a language and promoting it on the basis of its economic importance does not guarantee success. The Australian experience shows that the rationale for the study of these and other languages needs to be broadened beyond the economic imperative in order for them to be sustainable and to create a buffer against the capricious nature of world events and world economics. This is not to say that certain languages should not be provided with greater support than other languages, but that a narrow economic or strategic rationale is insufficient. Arguments in support of language education need to clearly outline the numerous benefits of language education and of supporting a wide range of languages, both as community languages and as languages to be studied by the wider community (Lo Bianco, 2009; Slaughter, 2009).

Asian Languages as Australian Languages: Background Speakers in the Language Classroom One of the most pertinent critiques of the NALSAS policy was the promotion of the four Asian languages as ‘foreign’ languages in Australia when in fact there were already sizeable and growing communities of Asian language speakers around Australia in 1994 (Lo Bianco, 2000, 2002). This situation has caused particular problems for the study of Chinese. While there were already large numbers of Cantonese-speaking migrants in Australia in 1994, the promotion of Chinese study through NALSAS coincided with a significant upsurge in the migration of Mandarin speakers to Australia: The number of Australians who speak primarily

Bringing Asia to the Home Front

167

Mandarin at home increased 304.5% between 1991 and 2006 (Clyne et al., 2008). This does not include the numerous earlier-generation Chinese
Australians who also have varying degrees of Chinese linguistic and cultural understanding (including speakers of a wide range of fang yan or Chinese languages and dialects spoken not only in Mainland China but also throughout Asia). Nor does it include the large number of international students from China who enter the Australian education system at the senior secondary level to assist in their endeavours to study in Australian universities. Consequently, the Chinese (Mandarin) language-learning classroom consists of a mix of students, ranging from those without a background in Chinese to those with a background in Chinese but with widely varying degrees of Chinese linguistic and cultural competencies (Orton, 2008; Slaughter, 2008). This has created ongoing tensions surrounding the study of Chinese, particularly in relation to the high-stakes language examination at Year 12 (final secondary matriculation), critical for university entry. The tensions are based on the perception that background speakers have an unfair advantage over non-background speakers in a single language examination. From the early 1990s, in an initial attempt to separate more proficient speakers of Asian languages from beginners students, separate curricula were developed in most states for the study of Chinese, Indonesian, Japanese and Korean, dividing students into those with and without a background in these languages. The selection criteria for background speaker courses differ among states and remain controversial. For example, in NT, SA and Tasmania, students who have had more than one year of education where Chinese was the medium of instruction (predominantly in overseas countries) must take the Chinese background speaker course. However, in other states, home use and other experiences within Australia figure prominently. In NSW, if students have more than one year of education in Chinese or if they speak or write the language ‘in a sustained manner with a person or persons who have a background in using the language’ (NSW
Board of Studies, 2005: 85), they must take the background speaker course (see Lo Bianco, 2009: 51 for detailed criteria). The most obvious problem is the inconsistent definition of background speaker across jurisdictions. Based on the preceding examples, the same student would be in the background speaker course in NSW, but the Chinese as a second language course in NT, SA and Tasmania. At the Year 12 level, Australian-born students in NSW who must take the background speaker course compete in examinations against recently arrived Chinese

168

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

international students. Clyne (2005) has argued that the approach utilised by NSW (as well as Western Australia) penalises parents and students who work hard to develop bilingualism and potentially discourages the transmission of bilingualism across generations. Conversely, in other states, Australian-born background speakers will take the same examination as beginner learners of Chinese. This can prove to be highly demotivating for beginner students who feel incapable of achieving high scores in Chinese, regardless of the effort they put into the endeavour, because of the number of background speakers in their classes (Liddicoat et al., 2007; Slaughter, 2008: 187
216). The fundamental problem is the rudimentary dichotomy between background and non-background speaker, which oversimplifies a very complex issue. This has translated into curricula and examinations which do not seek to extend all language learners, but which seemingly attempt to move advantages between groups of students. This approach has undoubtedly contributed to limiting the uptake of Chinese in Australian schools. If a student can see unresolved issues with the study of Chinese at the Year 12 level, they will avoid studying the language altogether. In fact, many secondary schools, particularly in the independent sector, will not introduce Chinese because they believe the current system does not provide a fair opportunity for non-background speakers to achieve in the higher score bands necessary for university entry (Slaughter, 2008). For the study of Chinese to grow in Australia, curricula which aim to develop the linguistic competence of all learners, regardless of their starting point, need to be developed and implemented. A number of alternatives have been suggested, for example, certificates of achievement, such as those utilised for music. Students take an examination when they feel they have achieved the required level of proficiency and then continue at their own pace. This encourages students by recognising their skill development as they progress. The system utilised by the International Baccalaureate (IB) provides another model. All students completing the IB diploma must develop proficiency in two languages to graduate at the secondary level. Such an approach in Australia would ensure that students gain competency in English and another language, regardless of their home language. Bilingualism may seem a modest aim to many European countries, where multilingualism is an unquestioned expectation, but in Australia, where only around 14% of students study a language other than English at Year 12, it is an enormous challenge. Another alternative would be the development of three streams for Chinese, for (1) beginners, (2) background speakers and (3) international

Bringing Asia to the Home Front

169

students/highly proficient students of Chinese. While avenues already exist at the senior secondary level for gifted students to undertake university level first-year language subjects, this is not necessarily an appropriate pathway for background speakers whose oral and aural skills are often stronger than those in reading and writing (Elder, 2003). A Year 7 to 12 school curriculum that expressly addresses the needs of background speakers and includes an incentive for students to move into this stream is urgently required. To this end, the new Year 11 and 12 background speaker course should be university accredited. This incentive may encourage background speakers to move voluntarily into a background speaker stream, decreasing the pressure on second language learners within the Chinese as a second language stream. Alternatively, as Orton (2008) has suggested for Chinese, background speaker or higher level courses could be developed, where students receive bonus points towards tertiary entrance scores. If the ultimate aim of language policies and initiatives such as NALSAS is to increase the study of Chinese in Australian schools, this can only be achieved by encouraging rather than constraining the linguistic potential of both background and non-background speakers, an essential endeavour given that ‘public institutions alone will never be able to generate the numbers, range and experiences in languages that are already inherent in the wider population’ (Lo Bianco, 2009: 59).

Concluding Comments: Back to the Future? In 2007, Kevin Rudd, the architect of the original NALSAS programme, was elected Prime Minister of Australia’s federal government. A fluent speaker of Chinese and former bureaucrat and diplomat, he has remained a keen advocate of Asian language education. In 2009, his government introduced a replacement of the NALSAS programme
the National Asian Languages and Studies in Schools Program (NALSSP). While its predecessor aimed to increase the study of Asian languages and studies at both primary and secondary levels, NALSSP is focused on secondary education. Around 62 million dollars have been allocated for a four-year period (2009
2012), aimed at increasing opportunities for students to study the languages and cultures of ‘Australia’s key regional neighbours, namely China, Indonesia, Japan and Korea’ (DEEWR, 2009). While NALSSP is designed to reinvigorate the learning of the same four Asian languages, it does not take into account the most pertinent problems of its predecessor. Firstly, the withdrawal of NALSAS funding

170

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

and the subsequent decreases in enrolments highlights the need for congruence between the aims of federal and state level policies. The rapid rise and fall of language programmes, such as was seen at the primary level in NSW, risks devaluing the study of all languages, not just the four prioritised languages, and harming the broader and stable provision of language education. Appropriate levels of structural and financial support need to be provided on an ongoing basis by both levels of governance. As each state government is committed to varying levels of secondary language education, the NALSSP focus on the secondary level will avoid the same fallout that occurred in primary language education under its predecessor. However, the lack of engagement with lower levels of learning is arguably short-sighted and the ongoing promotion of four Asian languages continues to constrain language education in Australia. Secondly, the effect of sociopolitical events on the study of Korean and Indonesian underlines the negative impact of a narrow economic imperative. Regardless of politically based linguistic needs of a government, a rationale for language education needs to be situated within a broad, humanistic valuing of languages, which outlines the cognitive, social, cultural, as well as economic and strategic benefits of language education. The NALSSP initiative does not articulate the broad benefits of language education but remains tightly framed within an economic paradigm, vaguely arguing that the study of the four Asian languages ‘is beneficial for our economy, community and individuals, creating more jobs and higher wages and overall better opportunities for all Australians’ (DEEWR, 2009). Finally, local demographics must be a fundamental consideration in effectively prioritising any languages in the education system. At present, the expansion of Chinese study in Australia is crippled by a curriculum and examination system that does not encourage a broad range of students to continue with the language through to Year 12. By failing to take into consideration the linguistic diversity in Australia, the NALSAS policy and the subsequent NALSSP policy are critically undermining the expansive aims of the programme itself. Appropriate streams of study for Chinese, designed to support and extend the language abilities of all students, are urgently needed to ensure the establishment of a rich source of linguistic capital. It is difficult, given the nature of the Australian political system, for a federal initiative to address many of the jurisdictional, structural and attitudinal challenges to furthering language education across Australia. It

Bringing Asia to the Home Front

171

is also improbable that 62 million dollars over four years will act as the desired catalyst for Asian language education, particularly as it does not address the most pertinent problems arising from the NALSAS programme. However, only time will tell: it will not be possible to determine the full impact of the NALSSP programme until its completion.

References Auchmuty, J.J. (1970) Report by the Commonwealth Advisory Committee on the Teaching of Asian Languages and Cultures in Australia. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Bonyhady, A. (1965) Languages taught to matriculation level in Australia. Babel 1 (3), 32
33. Clyne, M. (1991) Community Languages: The Australian Experience. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clyne, M. (2005) Australia’s Language Potential. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press. Clyne, M., Fernandez, S., Chen, I. and Summo-O’Connell, R. (1997) Background Speakers: Diversity and Its Management in LOTE Programs. Belconnen, ACT: Language Australia. Clyne, M., Hajek, J. and Kipp, S. (2008) Tale of two multilingual cities in a multilingual continent. People and Place 16 (3), 1
9. Dawkins, J. (1991) Australia’s Language: The Australian Language and Literacy Policy. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Services. Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations (DEEWR) (2009) NALSSP. On WWW at http://www.deewr.gov.au/Schooling/NALSSP/Pages/ default.aspx. Accessed 6.11.09. Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT) (2008) Republic of Korea. On WWW at http://www.dfat.gov.au/geo/fs/rkor.pdf. Accessed 19.1.10. Elder, C. (2003) The effect of language background on ‘foreign’ language test performance: The case of Chinese, Italian and Modern Greek. Language Learning 46 (2), 233
282. Herriman, M. (1996) Language policy in Australia. In M. Herriman and B. Burnaby (eds) Language Policies in English Dominant Countries (pp. 35
61). Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Kamada, M. (1994) Asian studies in Australia: Approaches to Asia through education. Australian Journal of International Affairs 48 (1), 1
23. Liddicoat, A.J., Scarino, A., Curnow, T.J., Kohler, M., Scrimgeour, A. and Morgan, A-M. (2007) An Investigation of the State and Nature of Languages in Australian Schools. Canberra: Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations, Australia. Lo Bianco, J. (1987) National Policy on Languages. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Lo Bianco, J. (1990) Making language policy: Australia’s experience. In R.B. Baldauf and L. Allen (eds) Language Planning and Education in Australasia and the South Pacific (pp. 47
79). Clevedon: Multilingual Matters.

172

Part 2: Language Policy in Practice

Lo Bianco, J. (2000) Making languages an object of public policy. Agenda 7 (1), 47
61. Lo Bianco, J. (2002) After NALSAS . . . ? Australian Language Matters 10 (2), 1, 7, 9. Lo Bianco, J. (2003) Making language education policies: A needed response to globalization. The Modern Language Journal 87, 286
288. Lo Bianco, J. and Slaughter, Y. (2009) Second Languages and Australian Schooling. Melbourne: Australian Council for Educational Research. Mackenzie, C.J. (2001) The entrepreneurial bureaucrat. Doctoral thesis, Victoria University of Technology. Mackenzie, C.J. (2004) Policy entrepreneurship in Australia: A conceptual review and application. Australian Journal of Political Science 39 (2), 367
386. Markey, R. (1982) The ALP and the emergence of a national social policy, 1880
1910. In R. Kenney (ed.) Australian Welfare History: Critical Essays (pp. 103
137). South Melbourne: Macmillan Company of Australia. Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs (MCEETYA) (2005) National statement for languages education in Australian schools: National plan for languages education in Australian schools 2005
2008. On WWW at http://www.mceetya.edu.au/verve/_resources/languageeducation_file.pdf. Accessed 7.8.06. Moore, H. (2001) Who will guard the guardians themselves? In J.W. Tollefson (ed.) Languages Policies in Education: Critical Issues (pp. 111
135). Mahwah: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. NSW
Board of Studies (2005) Assessment Certification and Examination Manual: NSW. Board of Studies. On WWW at http://www.boardofstudies. nsw.edu.au/manuals/pdf_doc/ace_manual_withlinks.pdf. Accessed 26.8.08. NSW
DE&T (Department of Education and Training) (1999) Statistical bulletin: Schools and students in New South Wales, 1999. On WWW at https://www. det.nsw.edu.au /media /downloads/reports_stats/stats/statsbulletin/stat1999. pdf. Accessed 24.4.07. NSW
DE&T (Department of Education and Training) (2006) Statistical bulletin: Schools and students in New South Wales, 2005. On WWW at https://www. det.nsw.edu.au/media/downloads/reports_stats/stats /statsbulletin /stat2005. pdf. Accessed 6.11.06. Orton, J. (2008) Chinese Language Education in Australian Schools. Melbourne: Confucius Institute. Ozolins, U. (1993) The Politics of Language in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rudd, K.M. (1994) Asian Languages and Australia’s Economic Future: A Report Prepared for the Council of Australian Governments on a Proposed National Asian Languages/Studies Strategy for Australian Schools. Brisbane: Queensland Government Printer. Slaughter, Y. (2007) The rise and fall of Indonesian in Australian schools: Implications for language policy and planning. Asian Studies Review 31 (3), 301
322. Slaughter, Y. (2008) The study of Asian languages in two Australian States: Considerations for language-in-education policy and planning. Doctoral Thesis, University of Melbourne. Slaughter, Y. (2009) Money and policy make languages go round: Language programs in Australia after NALSAS. Babel 43 (2), 4
11.

Bringing Asia to the Home Front

173

Slaughter, Y. and Hajek, J. (2007) Community languages and LOTE provision in Victorian primary schools: Mix or match? Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 30 (1), 7.1
7.22. Wickert, R. (1997) What does it mean to ‘have a policy’? The case of adult literacy in Australia. Australian Educational Researcher 24 (2), 23
41. Wyatt, T., Manefield, J., Carbines, B. and Robb, L. (2002) Evaluation of the National Asian Languages and Studies in Australian Schools Strategy. Canberra: Department of Education, Science and Training.

Part 3

Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

Introduction to Part 3 This part explores how language policy, taken in its broadest sense, can affect and regulate people’s day-to-day lives. Some chapters in previous parts have presented aspects of official language policy in Australia, and here we take a new direction by also examining the relationship between language testing and Australian citizenship. Other chapters add to the range of countries examined in this volume, with investigations of sociopolitical conflict in Northern Ireland, linguistic tensions in a German-speaking area of Italy and language policing in German internet forums. The final two contributions move the discussion beyond issues linked to individual countries. They examine how, through the internet and service provision, transnational companies and institutions can shape policies and practices in other countries, in some cases imposing linguistic norms generated in the home country. Part 3 opens with an analysis by Kerry Ryan and Tim McNamara of the recently introduced Australian citizenship test, an assessment of knowledge of Australian society that also functions as a covert language test. The introduction of the test mirrors what is happening in other countries around the world, where citizenship tests, including a language requirement, are increasingly being seen as part of immigration policy. Underlying these developments is government rhetoric which views migrants’ lack of knowledge of the language, values and customs of the country as a potential danger to social cohesion. The chapter charts the history of language tests in Australia and their use as part of Australia’s immigration policy to identify and exclude particular ethnic groups. It considers that the current citizenship test requires a high level of English literacy at a standard that many native-born Australians would not be able to meet and thus acts as a mechanism for exclusion. In Chapter 12, Diarmait Mac Giolla Chrı´ost addresses the relationship between language and political conflict in Northern Ireland. The political settlement known as the Good Friday Agreement was signed in 1998, resolving the main elements of the armed conflict in Northern Ireland. Since then, language has increasingly been a contested arena, with the Irish language and Ulster Scots acting as lightning rods for unresolved 177

178

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

tensions. The chapter explores this politicisation of language in Northern Ireland. It charts the revival of the Irish language, and the relationship of Irish to the struggle of Irish republicans against British rule. The source of the revival lies in an Irish-speaking community created in the late 1960s in Belfast, and the linguistic community which developed in Her Majesty’s Prison the Maze, which saw Irish republican prisoners develop an argot form of Irish to exclude non-Irish republicans and prison officers. As the Irish language has become a central element of the Irish republican political agenda, so too has Ulster Scots taken on a growing importance for unionists, acting as a political counterweight to Irish. In Chapter 13, Claudia Maria Riehl and John Hajek take us to South Tyrol in Northern Italy, where there are two major language groups, an Italian-speaking community and a larger German-speaking community. The German-speaking community has achieved full language rights and protection and is considered by many as a model for other linguistic minorities in Europe. The two groups are in fact simultaneously minority and majority, as the chapter shows. There is a basic governing framework that ensures full language parity in all official contexts, coupled with proportional representation in public institutions. The chapter considers how this framework is realised in day-to-day life in South Tyrol. It examines how the two groups coexist, the extent to which they have contact, language attitudes, the role of history in language-related issues and the level of individual bilingualism, areas which can give rise to linguistic tensions. An additional complication in the last decade has been the rise in foreign immigrants to South Tyrol. They tend to prefer Italian rather than German and have the potential to bolster what is a declining Italian-speaking community, a development that could have consequences for the current state of relative equilibrium between the German- and Italian-speaking communities. Chapter 14, by Heinz L. Kretzenbacher, continues the theme of German but marks the shift to a discussion of virtual realities and language policing on the internet. It examines how language policies of appropriate linguistic behaviour are developing in German internet forums, focusing on address practices. The choice of address term is a crucial one in interpersonal contact and marks individuals’ affiliation with and role within a particular community and how they negotiate their relative social position. In the real world, there is a degree of insecurity and fluctuation among German speakers about the choice of address terms, and in particular the pronoun choice between formal Sie and informal du. This is reflected in the discussion threads on address in internet forums. Although du is the default address pronoun in many

Introduction to Part 3

179

forums, there is still uncertainty over what is the appropriate address pronoun. Language policy can be generated by the forum moderator or developed by the participants themselves. The discussion of what constitutes the appropriate form to use can also generate debate on the social coherence of the particular forum. In Chapter 15, Catrin Norrby and John Hajek also show that language policy is not the sole domain of governments and official institutions. The chapter considers how two multinational companies of Swedish origin
furniture retailer IKEA and clothing company H&M
try to regulate language practices among their employees and with customers outside Sweden. It takes up the topic of the previous chapter
address pronoun usage
and examines how the two companies’ endorsement of Swedish informal du and related address practices are used as a means of promoting their corporate ideology and by extension a particular lifestyle in what is a globalised economy. Both companies, to varying degrees, dictate address behaviour in countries where Swedish-style informality is not the norm. The chapter explores use of the informal address pronoun among the workforce and reactions from the public to company policy in a range of contexts and countries, and it shows the importance of the power relationship in determining address choice. Part 3 and the volume close with a chapter by Deborah Cameron, which looks into the policies and practices regulating language use in the global service industry in both commercial and non-commercial contexts. Language management practices in these settings are typically aimed at ensuring that each interaction is delivered efficiently and consistently by every employee, as well as reinforcing corporate branding. Routinising interactions in this way makes them impersonal, with potentially negative consequences for customer satisfaction. To counteract this effect, routines tend to be ‘personalised’ through the use of various strategies such as small talk and personal names. The chapter focuses on examples from the United Kingdom but also gives illustrations from offshore locations that are key providers to the service industry. It ends by exploring the effects of corporate language management in service provision. It raises the possibility that in non-English-speaking countries certain discourse norms and linguistic features from English, and particularly North American English, that are learned in the workplace could spread outside of work settings, potentially affecting local norms.

Chapter 11

Testing Identity: Language Tests and Australian Citizenship KERRY RYAN and TIM MCNAMARA

Introduction An increasing number of countries throughout the world are introducing citizenship tests, usually administered in the main national language, as part of immigration and settlement policy. A common thread in the rhetoric of governments that have introduced such tests is the widely held (but seldom investigated) assumption that the failure or unwillingness by migrants to learn the language of the country of prospective citizenship is a major threat to social cohesion (for an example, see Warren & Oakes, Chapter 1, this volume). Governments speak of problems with the integration and/or assimilation of migrant communities and point to a lack of knowledge of the local language or of the customs and values of the host country and its citizens as the most significant contributors to many societal ills (Blackledge, 2009a, 2009b, 2009c). This has led to many countries introducing (or strengthening) language requirements for citizenship. For example, the Association of Language Testers in Europe reported in 2002 that four out of 14 countries surveyed had language requirements for citizenship, while in 2007, this had increased to 11 out of 18 countries surveyed: Bulgaria, Denmark, Estonia, Germany, Latvia, Lithuania, The Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Slovenia and the United Kingdom (Van Avermaet, 2009), with discussion taking place about the introduction of such requirements in several others (Belgium, France, Italy, Sweden). The means of establishing that one has met the requirement differs in different national contexts. In nine of the 11 countries listed above, candidates for citizenship had to take a formal language test; in others, for example Norway, there is a requirement to take language courses but no formal language test. In all but Slovenia, the language requirement is supplemented by a ‘knowledge of society’ test. While on the surface the latter is primarily a knowledge test, in reality it is a potentially very 180

Testing Identity

181

demanding language test, given the nature of the material contained within it (which includes abstract topics on government and history). Governments have found it difficult to write such tests in a simple language when they have attempted to do so at all, so that the language standard of the knowledge of society test may exceed that required by the formal language test itself (for discussion of this issue in the Netherlands, see De Jong et al., 2009). Language testing researchers have been increasingly involved in questions of the validity of such tests, sometimes as developers of the tests themselves (De Jong et al., 2009; Saville, 2009) and sometimes as critics (McNamara & Shohamy, 2008). In the former case, research has focused on issues internal to the test, in other words on the psychometric qualities of the tests. The concern here is for equality of treatment and ensuring that the instrument should yield reliable measures of the relevant language abilities. We have elsewhere termed this approach one that focuses on test fairness (McNamara & Ryan, 2011). In the latter case, research has focused on the broader context in which the tests (including both knowledge of society and language tests) are used, investigating who benefits socially and politically by the introduction of such tests and the ideologies underlying them (e.g. Blackledge, 2009c; Shohamy, 2009); this approach focuses on what we have termed the justice of the tests (McNamara & Ryan, 2011). Collections of papers (Extra et al., 2009; Hogan-Brun et al., 2009; Shohamy & McNamara, 2009) have presented research on various aspects of the recent developments in a variety of national contexts, illustrating each of these approaches, with several papers combining both (e.g. Extra & Spotti, 2009; Kunnan, 2009). In this chapter, we consider the recently introduced Australian citizenship test (a formal knowledge of society test which also acts as a means of establishing whether a person has satisfied the language requirement for citizenship) as an example of the issues raised by such tests. This test is seen by its critics as forming part of a sorry tradition in Australia, dating back to the 19th century, of following international examples in the use of language tests as instruments of policy in relation to immigration and race. We introduce the political context in which the test was first mooted and implemented and consider subsequent calls for reform of the test together with the current government’s response to those calls. We focus on the issue of the Australian citizenship test as a covert language test, which the recent reform of the test has failed to address.

182

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

Australia’s Tradition of Exclusion through Language Tests Any test of language in the context of immigration policy and access to rights of residency and citizenship in Australia tends inevitably to be compared to the notorious Dictation Test (1901
1958) used to implement the White Australia policy (see also Djite´, Chapter 4; this volume; Slaughter, Chapter 10, this volume). Despite its recognised beginnings in forms of racist activism in the various Australian colonies over half a century earlier, the White Australia policy was officially introduced by the newly federated government’s Immigration Restriction Act of 1901. The Act enabled the government to exclude any individual who failed to write out a 50-word passage as dictated by an immigration officer in a European language. This was taken in practice to mean a language that the intending migrant did not speak and was therefore doomed to fail in. The Act was amended in 1905 to ‘any prescribed language’ following representations from the Japanese government, which had been deceived by the fig leaf of the notion of a ‘test’, that is a reasonable, even if harsh, test of relevant knowledge, something that somebody could pass with sufficient preparation; they must have assumed that Japanese nationals would be tested in Japanese. In fact, any Japanese person who presented for immigration would not be tested in Japanese, but another language which it had been ascertained in advance they would be extremely unlikely to know and would hence fail. The Dictation Test was extremely effective. From 1902 to 1909, only 52 out of the 1359 people who were ordered to take the test passed it. Those who failed were ruled to be in breach of the Act and were deported alongside other undesirables named in the Act, including those adjudged as criminals, prostitutes, idiots, insane, those likely to become a charge upon the public or upon any public or charitable institution and any person suffering from an infectious or contagious disease ‘of a loathsome or dangerous character’ [Immigration Restriction Act 1901 (Cth): Section 3(d)]. From 1909 until its abolition in 1958, no person passed the Dictation Test, though it was used only sporadically up until the Second World War and only six times from 1942 to 1958 (Palfreeman, 1967).

Historical Antecedents for Australian Practices of Exclusion by Means of Language Tests The Dictation Test was not, of course, the first time in history that a language test had been used as a gatekeeping mechanism. In fact, language tests have a long and often violent history as instruments of power and as tools to identify and exclude. McNamara and Roever

Testing Identity

183

(2006) document an array of historical examples where simple variations in pronunciation have been used in conflicts to identify enemies for the purpose of slaughtering them. Named for a test originally documented in the Book of Judges in the Bible (Judges, 12, 4
6) where the way an individual pronounced the word shibboleth was literally a matter of life or death, shibboleth tests have been used repeatedly throughout history often with tragic, bloody consequences, with examples documented as recently as 2010 in northern Nigeria. The Australian practice of using a literacy test to exclude undesirables was borrowed from American practice (Lake & Reynolds, 2008). The American states of Connecticut and Massachusetts introduced literacy requirements (the ability to read the Constitution) for voting rights in the 1850s aimed primarily at disqualifying Irish immigrants from the ballot (Jackson, 2000; Wiley, 2005). In 1890, to avoid discriminating on the basis of colour or race as per the 14th and 15th Amendments to the American Constitution and in what Lake and Reynolds describe as the ‘precedent for using a literacy test specifically to effect racial exclusion’ (p. 130), the southern state of Mississippi introduced a literacy test in order to exclude African Americans from the vote. Potential voters were expected to be able to sign their name and to be able to either read or understand any section of the Constitution. In areas where the black population often outnumbered the white, the action spread (South Carolina 1895, Louisiana 1898, North Carolina 1900, Alabama and Virginia 1901, Georgia 1908) and was extraordinarily successful, disenfranchising 90% of AfricanAmerican voters throughout the deep south by 1912 (Jackson, 2000). In 1892, J.X. Merriman, the last Prime Minister of the Cape Colony before it joined the Union of South Africa in 1910, wrote to James Bryce, the American political theorist, enquiring about the ‘remedy’ used in the southern states for the ‘difficulties’ of race (Lake & Reynolds, 2008: 63). The correspondence between Merriman and Bryce led to the so-called Natal Formula, introduced in the Cape Colony’s Franchise and Ballot Act of 1892, which used an education test designed to restrict the non-white vote. Like its American predecessor, Natal’s idea caught on elsewhere. In 1897, in response to growing discord among labour union members regarding ‘coloured labour’, Western Australia became the first of the Australian colonies to introduce an education test. On the basis of the Natal model, immigrants were denied entry for failing a dictation test of 50 words
in this case, a passage from a British author. New South Wales followed suit in 1898, as did Tasmania in 1899 and the Commonwealth followed in 1901 with the Immigration Restriction Act. The state of Queensland was perhaps the most ardent advocate, however; the

184

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

Margarine Act of 1910 prohibited the employment in margarine factories of non-Europeans unless they had passed a dictation test in English. The Sugar Cultivation Act of 1913 (targeting in particular Pacific Islanders) and the Banana Industry Preservation Act of 1921 (targeting Chinese) had similar restrictions on employment in those industries that prescribed the test in any language. Ownership of land used in connection with the sugar and banana industries was also prohibited for those who had not passed a test within six months of the relevant Act’s introduction. This effectively gave those who were already landowners six months to sell their land or pull up their crops.1 In the years following the Second World War, in which Australia had found its borders vulnerable because of Australian soldiers’ involvement in conflicts in European and South Pacific theatres, Australia adopted a plan to ‘populate or perish’, an edict delivered by its immigration minister at the time, Arthur Calwell. While European migrants were targeted, and in fact assisted by the government in coming to Australia, the country’s restrictive immigration policies were becoming increasingly untenable, particularly in the light of opposition from a growing local ethnic voice as well as from international diplomatic pressure. The Dictation Test was officially abolished in 1958, although it had fallen into disuse. It is generally considered that the White Australia policy, however, did not officially breathe its last until the passing of the Racial Discrimination Act of 1975, which made exclusion based on ‘race, colour, descent or national or ethnic origin’ unlawful.

More Recent Examples of the Use of Language Tests as Part of Australian Immigration Policy Despite the abandonment of the White Australia policy and the subsequent change in direction that came with a purposeful and public embrace of multiculturalism in the 1970s and beyond, language tests it seems have never been far from the Australian government’s thoughts. While in 1979 Australia became an early adopter of Canada’s points system for skilled migration,2 perhaps the clearest recent uses of language tests for political purposes occurred with the access: test (Australian Assessment of Communicative English Skills) and the step test (Special Test of English Proficiency). The access: and step tests were both commissioned by the Australian government in the early 1990s in response to urgent political needs. The skilled migration programme, which had reached unprecedented levels in the 1980s, was under increasing scrutiny from industry in the recession-hit 1990s for both the professional qualities (including English proficiency)

Testing Identity

185

of non-English-speaking background migrants and the sheer numbers of them (Hawthorne, 1997). The government’s response came in the form of the access: test, a language test designed and implemented by two of Australia’s leading language testing organisations at the time: Macquarie University’s National Centre for English Language Teaching and Research (NCELTR) and the University of Melbourne’s Language Testing Research Centre (LTRC). The involvement of these two centres was motivated by a concern to make the test fairer (McNamara & Ryan, 2011)
points were already being given for different levels of language proficiency under the points system, although very subjectively, and the technical expertise was harnessed to make the allocation of these points more rational. The test was administered overseas to skilled migrants in ‘key professional fields’, to independent applicants to determine their awarded points under the points system and to other applicants such as family members of principal applicants to assess their level of English for decisions on whether they were eligible for English language tuition in Australia (Brindley & Wigglesworth, 1997; Hawthorne, 1997). The policy context of the test, which frames the issue of its justice (McNamara & Ryan, 2011), was not felt to be an issue by many of those involved in the development of the test, although this was a somewhat naive view, as the level of proficiency required for the allocation of points was in the hands of government policy-makers, and in a time of high unemployment the bar was set higher to reduce the migrant intake overall. While the net effect of the access: test is difficult to define, Hawthorne (1997) reports dramatic drops (60%
70%) in skilled migrant numbers from 1991
1992 (pretest) to 1993
1994 after its inception. The fact remains, she says, that a precedent had been set and that the government had used the test as a ‘drawbridge’ for skilled migration by controlling cut-off levels to suit its needs, that is, passing standards were very high initially and were eased as the economy recovered and the migration programme re-expanded. The step test was perhaps a more benevolent use of a language test for political ends. Faced with a backlog of refugee applications in 1993 mostly because of large numbers of Chinese students who were in Australia at the time of the events in Tiananmen Square in Beijing in June 1989, the government commissioned a language test to expedite the claims process. The step test was developed and administered by NCELTR and LTRC and, as such, was, like the access: test, a carefully designed instrument (Lumley, 2002, 2005), the purpose of which was to assess the English language level of applicants with a view to re-categorising them as skilled migrants, as opposed to exposing both them and the government to the extended and costly process of investigating asylum seeker claims on an

186

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

individual basis. Hawthorne (1997) refers to the step test as a ‘breathtakingly simple, cheap and compassionate solution’ for the government. This test was also arguably in the best interests of the majority of those who took it, allowing them also to avoid a costly, bureaucratic process.

Australian Citizenship Law and Language Requirements Australian citizenship as a category did not exist until 1949, the year in which the Australian Citizenship Act 1948 was enacted by parliament. Prior to the Act, Australians were considered to be British subjects, a situation which continued until the early 1980s when amendments to the Act meant that the law no longer recognised Australians concomitantly as British. With regard to language requirements for Australian citizenship, the Act of 1948 adopted its provision from the Naturalisation Act of 1920, which required ‘an adequate knowledge of the English language’. This stipulation too remained in place until 1984 when amendments to the Act changed the language requirement for Australian citizenship from ‘adequate’ to a ‘basic knowledge of the English language’. This provision, like many of the 1984 changes and indeed most of the 30 amendments made to the Act between its enactment in 1948 and its repeal in 2007, was designed to make Australian citizenship easier to acquire, a situation which was reversed by the provisions introduced by the Australian Citizenship Act 2007 (Klapdor et al., 2009).

Proposals for the Introduction of an Australian Citizenship Test The idea for an Australian citizenship test was first put forward in April 2006 during a speech by Andrew Robb, the then Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister for Immigration and Multicultural Affairs (Robb, 2006). In his address on the challenges of migrant integration, a hot political topic at the time because of a series of incidents in the latter half of 2005, beginning with the London bombings in July and ending with race-based riots in Sydney in December, Robb spoke of the need for prospective citizens to embrace Australian values and customs and to learn English in order to integrate effectively. This, he said, was ‘overwhelmingly in the interests of migrants and the broader community’. He then outlined the government’s proposed plan for ensuring the effective integration of migrants wishing to become Australian citizens: . . . people have suggested that those seeking to take out citizenship should pass a compulsory test, a test which ensures that applicants

Testing Identity

187

have a functional level of English language skill, and a general knowledge of Australian values and customs. (Robb, 2006) Six months later, Robb released a discussion paper titled Australian Citizenship: Much More Than a Ceremony (Commonwealth of Australia, 2006) in which he asked for public submissions on the government’s proposal to introduce a formal citizenship test. The paper asked for views on four key issues: (1) whether a formal test should be introduced, (2) the importance of a knowledge of Australia for citizenship, (3) the level of English required for participation as an Australian citizen and (4) the importance of a demonstrated commitment from prospective citizens to Australia, its way of life and its values. The paper provided an outline of the testing regimes in place in the United Kingdom, the United States, Canada and the Netherlands as reinforcement for its case. On 11 December 2006, in a joint press conference with the then Prime Minister, John Howard, Andrew Robb declared that in over 1600 submissions from organisations and individuals the Australian public expressed its ‘overwhelming support for the concept of a test’ (Howard & Robb, 2006). Robb announced to the media that 95% of respondents supported the need for English language skills to be an Australian citizen and that 93% supported core values as essential for the ability to fully participate in Australian society. Fozdar and Spittles (2009) point out that in quoting these figures, Robb failed to disclose that of the 1644 submissions received, only 40% of them even addressed the question of the need for the English language as an Australian citizen and that it was 95% of this 40% that supported the idea. In the case of the essential nature of Australian values, even fewer respondents addressed the question with 70% of submissions failing to mention it at all. Betts and Birrell (2007) report that those most opposed to Robb’s idea were university-based and civil-rights organisations, many of whom ‘thought it reminiscent of the White Australia policy’ (p. 55). Despite these objections, the die was cast. The test was to go ahead.

The Australian Citizenship Test, 2007 The Australian citizenship test began operation on 1 October 2007 as a computer-delivered, 20-item, multiple-choice test with questions based on material presented in the 46-page information booklet Becoming an Australian Citizen. The booklet provided information on Australian values, history, government and people. Test questions were drawn randomly from a bank of 200. The pass mark was set at 60%, with three mandatory questions on the privileges and responsibilities of Australian

188

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

citizenship, all of which had to be answered correctly (candidates could therefore score 19 out of 20 and still fail the test). A pass on the test also satisfied the language requirement for citizenship; that is, there was no separate test of language. In November 2007, the conservative Howard government which had introduced the test was defeated by the centre-left Labor party, headed by Kevin Rudd. In early 2008, there was an upsurge in criticism of the citizenship test from members of the public, from academics and from refugee advocate organisations in particular, as statistics emerged revealing the impact of the test. Pass rates on the first or subsequent attempt for the skilled migration clients3 were highest (99%), while those for the family stream clients (94%) and the humanitarian programme (84%) were lower. Also, a steep decline in the number of applications for citizenship, which did not fall below 11,000 per month in the nine months preceding the introduction of the test and did not get above 4300 in any of the four months after it began (Fozdar & Spittles, 2009), was making the test difficult to defend. In April 2008, the Immigration Minister, Senator Chris Evans, acknowledged these concerns and announced that the test would be reviewed by a committee headed by Richard Woolcott, a career diplomat. The Woolcott review’s brief was to seek out and address ‘any unintended consequences’ of the test (Commonwealth of Australia, 2008: 7) and opinions from the public were sought. The review received 179 submissions from individuals, organisations (ethnic groups, refugee advocates, church groups, charities), from the political sphere (politicians, state governments, local councils) and from academia (languages, history, politics, social research). Of the 122 published submissions fewer than 10% accepted the test in its current form, with 90% of the submissions calling for the test to be abolished or at the very least modified. Much of the criticism from academics was aimed at the resource booklet Becoming an Australian Citizen, which was criticised by historians for its sanitised, jingoistic view of Australian history. Language specialists reported on a lexical analysis of the text, which revealed that the level of language used in the booklet was far above the legislative requirement of basic English (Piller & McNamara, 2007). Others lamented the loss of funding for migrant education programmes. Human rights were high on the agenda for many of the submissions, with refugee advocates disturbed by the impact the test was having on the humanitarian visa holders. One query raised across many of the contributor groups was the need for a new test at all amid a lack of evidence that the previous test used until 2007, a face-to-face oral interview in which candidates were

Testing Identity

189

required to answer a few simple questions in English, was problematic. Perhaps the one feature of the test that united dissenters and attracted the most media attention was the much derided ‘Bradman question’. Published by the Department of Immigration and Citizenship as a practice question, prospective citizens were required to identify from a list of Australian sports figures, the person most famous for playing cricket. The answer to the question was Donald Bradman, known to be the boyhood hero of the then Prime Minister, John Howard. The Australian citizenship test was looking increasingly like John Howard’s personal project. In fact, the historian responsible for the historical section in the resource booklet, John Hirst, has been quoted on Howard’s involvement with the content, criticising the Prime Minister for not knowing when to stop intervening (Tavan, 2009).

The Woolcott Report The Woolcott review committee handed down its report Moving forward . . . Improving Pathways to Citizenship in August 2008, stating that the ‘present test is flawed, intimidating to some and discriminatory’ and in need of ‘substantial reform’ (Commonwealth of Australia, 2008: 3). Overall, the report made 34 recommendations, 26 of which were supported (some only ‘in principle’) by the government. Considerable space in the Woolcott report was afforded to recommendations regarding the language level used in the booklet. In recognising that the original booklet was, in the words of the Minister for Immigration and Citizenship, ‘written to a native-speaker standard’, the Woolcott report recommended that the legislative requirement for ‘basic English’ be understood as having ‘a sufficient knowledge of English to be able to exist independently in the wider Australian community’. It estimated that this would be approximately at level A1/A2 on the Common European Framework of Reference (Council of Europe, 2001); the vagueness of this prescription is what immediately strikes one. In terms of international practice, A2 matches the policy in a number of countries and is lower than some in which immigration issues are most hotly contested (the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (CEFR) level chosen acts as a sort of barometer of the political sensitivity of immigration in Europe: see Van Avermaet, 2009; McNamara, 2009). Even at A2, Woolcott’s definition of the meaning of the term basic English is nevertheless a dramatic increase on the level required under the procedure which predated the introduction of the new test, approximately A1 or lower on the CEFR scale. In the previous procedure, applicants for

190

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

citizenship demonstrated their ‘basic’ knowledge of the English language in a more informal process, as described in the government’s 2006 discussion paper Australian Citizenship: Much More Than a Ceremony: Policy provides that applicants may be assessed as meeting the English language requirements if they are able to speak and understand English sufficiently to respond in simple language during the citizenship interview. Applicants must be able to answer questions in simple English concerning personal particulars (such as, how long have you lived in Australia? What are your children’s names?). To meet the responsibilities and privileges requirements, applicants must be able to answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or reply in simple English to factual questions on the responsibilities and privileges of Australian citizenship. (Commonwealth of Australia, 2006: 9)

The Revised Citizenship Test As a result of the Woolcott report and recommendations, the Australian citizenship test questions were revised, as were the resource materials upon which the test was based. A new resource booklet, Australian Citizenship: Our Common Bond, was provided as the basis for the questions in the citizenship test. The now former Prime Minister John Howard’s sporting heroes were relegated to the ‘non-testable’ section in the new booklet, as was any information not deemed essential for Australian citizenship. Despite being heralded as a much improved instrument, in reality the changes to the test were superficial at best, with little or no change to the difficulty of the text and no change to the policy underlying its use. Prospective citizens are still required to know that the opal is Australia’s national gemstone, and the definition of ‘mateship’ and the concept of a ‘fair go’ are still testable. In other words, it seems that the debate about the Bradman question and its relevance seems to have been a debate about Howard, not about what kind of cultural knowledge one would possibly need to function in Australia as a citizen. The current government has not departed from the essential character of the previous government’s position, testifying to its electoral appeal among Australian voters. Significantly, in the revised citizenship booklet Our Common Bond, the problem of what constitutes ‘basic’ English remains. The government accepted the definition of basic English proposed by Woolcott in its response to his review, but then, without further clarification, declared that it would address the problem with the level of English by rewriting

Testing Identity

191

the test materials in ‘plain English’. In other words, not even Woolcott’s proposal, itself representing a substantial increase in the level of English required, has been implemented. In fact, a replication of the earlier lexical analysis of the level of English (McNamara & Ryan, 2011) revealed that the language in the booklet had not changed to any significant degree and that the contention that the earlier version of the booklet was ‘well beyond the reach of a basic user of English’ (Piller & McNamara, 2007: 1) remains true of its current successor. We would estimate that the difficulty of the text on which the test is based is somewhere between B1 and B2 on the CEFR, which places the Australian language requirement for citizenship in the highest band of levels found internationally in Van Avermaet’s (2009) survey. Meanwhile, the latest statistics available at the time of writing show that since the test’s inception in October 2007 to 30 September 2009, the overall success rate for the Skill stream has remained stable at 99% while the success rates for the Family stream (94% down to 91%) and the humanitarian programme clients (84% to 79%) have dropped. More alarmingly however, in the three-month period from 1 July 2009 to 30 September 2009, the success rate for humanitarian programme clients dropped to 70%, with under half (49.1%) passing the test on their first attempt.4 No explanations for this fall have been offered by the government, although it may be speculated that the recent composition of the refugee intake involves a greater number of applicants with low levels of formal education and literacy as well as lower proficiency in the kind of English required to pass the test.

Conclusion The Australian citizenship test in its revised version is in some ways even more problematic than its predecessor, which laid itself open to criticism because of its overt ideological basis, introduced at a time when a government whose popularity was dropping in the opinion polls was appealing to the anxieties of voters at a time of heightened concerns about security and social cohesion. The superficially more moderate approach of the current government and of the author of the review report on the test has ironically now consolidated a strong increase in the level of English required for citizenship as a matter of policy. The Woolcott committee’s recommendation that the linguistic level of the test be ‘basic English’, understood as approximately A1/A2 on the Common European Framework of Reference, was perversely interpreted as meaning

192

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

‘plain English’, with no corresponding reduction in the proficiency level required. This has meant that the actual proficiency required in the Australian citizenship test remains at a level which is equivalent to the more stringent language requirements for citizenship found in the survey of levels in European countries reported in Van Avermaet (2009). Moreover, there is a sense that because the government has appeared to address the concerns of critics, the debate is now over. Language remains a poorly understood issue in citizenship debates, its role as symbol predominating over any grasp of what the practical implications of the standard of language required may be, in terms of either what it would take to learn language to such a level or to what extent the opportunity or indeed the necessity may exist for would-be citizens to learn the language to such a level. Furthermore, many native-born Australian citizens, native speakers of Australian English, lack the literacy levels demanded of new citizens: literacy surveys conducted in the 1990s as part of the International Adult Literacy Survey showed that 17% of adult Australians (OECD, 1997) were assessed as having Level 1, the lowest level, with a further 27% having Level 2, still below the level considered a suitable minimum needed for coping with the demands of everyday life and work in a complex, advanced society. While the new test is conceivably more fair, it is ironically perhaps even less just than its predecessor. Notes 1. Details can be found at http://www.nma/gov.au/shared/libraries/attachments/ schools /classroom_resources/a_walk_through_ white _ australia /a _walk_ through_white_australia_part_5/19878/WAP_p5.pdf. Accessed 24.2.10. 2. The Canadian points system for skilled migration was introduced in 1967. Australia began using the Numerically Weighted Multi-Factor Assessment System (NUMAS) in 1979. NUMAS was replaced in 1983 by a similar system which still operates in one way or another today. 3. ‘Clients’ is the government’s term for citizenship applicants. 4. Source: Australian Citizenship Test Snapshot Report, July
September 2009 http:// www.citizenship.gov.au/_pdf/sep-2009.pdf. Accessed 25.2.10.

References Betts, K. and Birrell, B. (2007) Making Australian citizenship mean more. People and Place 15 (1), 45
61. Blackledge, A. (2009a) ‘As a country we do expect’: The further extension of language testing regimes in the United Kingdom. Language Assessment Quarterly 6 (1), 6
16. Blackledge, A. (2009b) Being English, speaking English: Extension to English language testing legislation and the future of multicultural Britain. In G. Hogan-Brun, C. Mar-Molinero and P. Stevenson (eds) Discourses on

Testing Identity

193

Language and Integration: Critical Perspectives on Language Testing Regimes in Europe (pp. 83
107). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Blackledge, A. (2009c) Inventing English as convenient fiction: Language testing regimes in the United Kingdom. In G. Extra, M. Spotti and P. Van Avermaet (eds) Language Testing, Migration and Citizenship: Cross-National Perspectives on Integration Regimes (pp. 66
86). London: Continuum. Brindley, G. and Wigglesworth, G. (eds) (1997) Access: Issues in Language Test Design and Delivery. NCELTR Research Series 9. Sydney: National Centre for English Language Teaching Research, Macquarie University. Commonwealth of Australia (2006) Australian Citizenship: Much More Than a Ceremony (Discussion paper). Canberra: Department of Immigration and Multicultural Affairs. Commonwealth of Australia (2008) Moving Forward . . . Improving Pathways to Citizenship: A Report by the Australian Citizenship Test Review Committee. Barton, ACT: Attorney-General’s Department. On WWW at http://www.citizenship. gov.au/_pdf/moving-forward-report.pdf. Accessed 25.2.10. Council of Europe (2001) Common European Framework of Reference for Languages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. De Jong, J.H.A.L., Lennig, M., Kerkhoff, A. and Poelmans, P. (2009) Development of a test of spoken Dutch for prospective immigrants. Language Assessment Quarterly 6 (1), 41
60. Extra, G. and Spotti, M. (2009) Language, migration and citizenship: A case study on testing regimes in the Netherlands. In G. Hogan-Brun, C. Mar-Molinero and P. Stevenson (eds) Discourses on Language and Integration: Critical Perspectives on Language Testing Regimes in Europe (pp. 61
81). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Extra, G., Spotti, M. and Van Avermaet, P. (eds) (2009) Language Testing, Migration and Citizenship: Cross-National Perspectives on Integration Regimes. London: Continuum. Fozdar, F. and Spittles, B. (2009) The Australian citizenship test: Process and rhetoric. Australian Journal of Politics & History 55 (4), 496
512. Hawthorne, L. (1997) The political dimension of English language testing in Australia. Language Testing 14 (3), 248
260. Hogan-Brun, G., Mar-Molinero, C. and Stevenson, P. (eds) (2009) Discourses on Language and Integration: Critical Perspectives on Language Testing Regimes in Europe. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Howard, J. and Robb, A. (2006) Joint Press Conference, 11 December 2006, Phillip Street, Sydney. Jackson, D. (2000) Don’t let Bush disenfranchise Black votes. Boston Globe, 15 November. On WWW at http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe. Accessed 25.2.10. Klapdor, M., Coombs, M. and Bohm, C. (2009) Australian citizenship: A chronology of major developments in policy and law. On WWW at http://www.aph.gov.au/Library/pubs/BN/sp/AustCitizenship.htm. Accessed 25.2.10. Kunnan, A.J. (2009) Testing for citizenship: The U.S. naturalization test. Language Assessment Quarterly 6 (1), 89
97. Lake, M. and Reynolds, H. (2008) Drawing the Global Colour Line: White Men’s Countries and the Question of Racial Equality. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press. Lumley, T. (2002) Assessment criteria in a large-scale writing test: What do they really mean to the raters? Language Testing 19 (3), 246
276.

194

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

Lumley, T. (2005) Assessing Second Language Writing: The Rater’s Perspective. Language Testing and Evaluation Series, Vol. 3. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. McNamara, T. (2009) Language tests and social policy: A commentary. In G. Hogan-Brun, C. Mar-Molinero and P. Stevenson (eds) Discourses on Language and Integration: Critical Perspectives on Language Testing Regimes in Europe (pp. 153
163). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. McNamara, T. and Roever, C. (2006) Language Testing: The Social Dimension. Oxford: Blackwell. McNamara, T. and Ryan, K. (2011) Fairness vs justice in language testing: The place of English literacy in the Australian citizenship test. Language Assessment Quarterly 8 (2), 161
178. McNamara, T. and Shohamy, E. (2008) Language tests and human rights. International Journal of Applied Linguistics 18, 89
95. OECD and Human Resources Development Canada (1997) Literacy Skills for the Knowledge Society: Further Results from the International Adult Literacy Survey. Paris: OECD. Palfreeman, A.C. (1967) The Administration of the White Australia Policy. London: Melbourne University Press. Piller, I. and McNamara, T. (2007) Assessment of the Language Level of the August 2007 Draft of the Resource Booklet Becoming an Australian Citizen. Report prepared for the Federation of Ethnic Communities’ Councils of Australia (FECCA). Curtin, ACT: FECCA. Robb, A. (2006) Australian migrant integration: Past successes, future challenges. Address to the Sydney Institute, 27 April. On WWW at http:// www.andrewrobb.com.au/Media/Speeches/tabid/73/articleType/ArticleView/ articleId /633 /Australian-Migrant-Integration-Past-Successes-Future-Challenges. aspx. Accessed 4.2.10. Saville, N. (2009) Language assessment in the management of international migration: A framework for considering the issues. Language Assessment Quarterly 6 (1), 17
29. Shohamy, E. (2009) Language tests for immigrants: Why language? Why tests? Why citizenship? In G. Hogan-Brun, C. Mar-Molinero and P. Stevenson (eds) Discourses on Language and Integration: Critical Perspectives on Language Testing Regimes in Europe (pp. 45
59). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Shohamy, E. and McNamara, T. (eds) (2009) Special issue: Language assessment for immigration, citizenship, and asylum. Language Assessment Quarterly 6 (1). Tavan, G. (2009) Testing times: The problem of history in the Howard government’s Australian citizenship test. In K. Neumann and G. Tavan (eds) Does History Matter? Making and Debating Citizenship, Immigration and Refugee Policy in Australia and New Zealand. ANZSOG Series (pp. 125
143). Canberra: ANU E Press. Van Avermaet, P. (2009) Fortress Europe? Language policy regimes for immigration and citizenship. In G. Hogan-Brun, C. Mar-Molinero and P. Stevenson (eds) Discourses on Language and Integration: Critical Perspectives on Language Testing Regimes in Europe (pp. 15
43). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Wiley, T.G. (2005) Literacy and Language Diversity in the United States (2nd edn). Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics.

Chapter 12

Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War in Northern Ireland DIARMAIT MAC GIOLLA CHRI´OST

Introduction Northern Ireland (NI) is situated in the north-eastern part of the island of Ireland. The polity comprises the counties of Armagh, Antrim, Down, Fermanagh, Londonderry and Tyrone (see Figure 12.1). These counties are six of the nine that form the traditional Irish province of Ulster. Cavan, Donegal and Monaghan remain in the Republic of Ireland. The two main urban centres in NI are Belfast, the capital city found in the east of the province, and Londonderry (or Derry) in the west. According to the 2001 census, the population of NI is just over 1.6 million. NI came into being in 1921 as the greater part of the island of Ireland separated from the British Empire. Until the early 1970s, NI, while a part of the United Kingdom, was largely self-governing. The seat of the parliament for NI was located at Stormont, on the outskirts of Belfast, and this was wholly dominated by the pro-British and largely protestant Unionist Party. Subsequent to the failure of the Unionist government to respond to an increasingly vociferous campaign for civic equality by the Catholic, and mostly Irish nationalist, minority, the British government in London imposed direct rule over NI. At the same time, the opposition of nationalists shifted towards the use of political violence and many Irish republicans, spearheaded largely by the Provisional IRA (Irish Republican Army), waged a campaign which they described as ‘the struggle’ or ‘the long war’ against the British state in NI. This remained the case until 1998 when the political parties reached an agreement, variously described as ‘The Belfast Agreement’ or ‘The Good Friday Agreement’, through which power would be shared between the largest parties. The parties to most recently share power are the Democratic Unionist Party and Sinn Fe´in, the Irish republican political party. 195

196

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

Figure 12.1 Outline map of Northern Ireland: counties

With regard to linguistic diversity, various sources of reliable demographic data on language in NI (Mac Giolla Chrı´ost, 2005) show that just over 10% (around 170,000) people in NI have some knowledge of Irish. However, the number of fluent speakers of Irish is likely to be much smaller, perhaps around 50,000 individuals. Also, while Irish-speaking communities in the Republic of Ireland can lay claim to considerable historical continuity in the form of the various Gaeltacht (i.e. traditional Irish-speaking) areas scattered along the western seaboard of the island, in NI the last such Gaeltacht expired sometime during the middle part of the 20th century (Mac Giolla Chrı´ost, 2005). It is impossible to accurately estimate the number of speakers of Ulster Scots, but the results of a 1999 survey indicated that perhaps 2% of the population of NI had some knowledge of the language (Northern Ireland Life and Times Survey, 1999). Until the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, language issues were not considered to be a significant feature of the political landscape of NI.

Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War

197

This has since changed quite dramatically. Towards the close of 2007, the leader of the moderate nationalist party, the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP), Mark H. Durkan, expressed his concern at the emergence of a new arena of conflict in NI: SDLP Councillor Mark H Durkan has described an Ulster Unionist Party [UUP] motion to stop the use of Irish in Stormont [NI legislative assembly] as ‘the opening move in a war’ against an Irish Language Act. Councillor Durkan made the claim after an UUP [member] put forward a motion attempting to stop the use of Irish in the Stormont chamber. The local SDLP Irish language spokesperson said the use of Irish was recognised in the [Good Friday’s Agreement]. ‘It comes as no surprise that there exists amongst some unionist politicians an instinctive hatred of the Irish language and culture’. (The Derry Journal, 9 October 2007) Durkan’s words in his local newspaper reflect a simple reality: despite the resolution of the main features of the armed conflict in NI, it is possible to see and hear most clearly the outbreak of a new type of conflict there
culture war. The principal character in this war appears to be the Irish language. It has, for example, been drawn into the public rhetoric of politicians in an increasingly divisive manner. Recent debates on the floor of the Northern Ireland Assembly (Stormont) regarding the use of the language in the chamber and the campaign for an Irish Language Act in NI illustrate this point very clearly: A few years ago, I had the pleasure of attending the annual conference of the INTO [Irish National Teachers’ Organisation], which was held in Newry. During that event, which, in those days would not normally have been attended by unionist politicians, I had the good fortune to sit beside the president of the union. He spoke fluent Irish in a most melodic and pleasant manner. However, for me, he highlighted the difference between the melodic intonation of the Gaeltacht and that harsh, staccato ‘jailtacht’ variant that has been instilled into certain parts of the province. A former employee of this estate, who was also a native Irish speaker from the Republic, told me how he listened to the attempts of Members of a previous Assembly to speak to him in Irish. Their pronunciation and structure were wrong, and their words were not those that a fluent speaker would naturally use. We also had the interesting spectacle of two Members on the opposite benches disagreeing in Irish until one of them quickly ran out of words. The winner of that pan-nationalist struggle

198

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

was a native of the Gaeltacht. My former colleague and Irish speaker Ian Adamson had many a chuckle as he analysed the attempts of the Members on the opposite Benches to speak in Irish. A Southern Unionist visitor to the Public Gallery explained to me that certain speeches that she heard in the Chamber were delivered in less than impressive Irish. Although that can be readily understood, for many there is a more sinister side to the desire to use Irish . . . [it is] a weapon of exclusion. (Ken Robinson, Ulster Unionist Party Member of the Legislative Assembly for East Antrim, The Northern Ireland Assembly
Official Report, 9 October 2007) The accusation laid before the Irish language as it is spoken in NI is clear
it is inauthentic (those who claim to speak it have only partial mastery of the language), it is alien (it properly belongs to the traditional Irish-speaking Gaeltacht areas of the Republic of Ireland) and it is threatening (its use is deliberately calculated to exclude). On the other hand, Gerry Adams, President of Sinn Fe´in, has since given a speech in the Northern Ireland Assembly relating how the attitudes of unionist politicians generally to the language could bring an end to the powersharing arrangement between the Democratic Unionist Party and Sinn Fe´in (Fitzpatrick, 2008). Such inimical assertions invite certain speculations. The Irish language has become the lightning rod, but how exactly? And why is it so potent in this regard? In response, this brief chapter explores the relationship between the Irish language and the ‘long war’ waged by Irish republicans against the British state in NI as an eloquent example of the symbolic element in political terror.

The Political Origins of the Revival of Irish in NI The unionist politician Ken Robinson’s reference to native speakers and the melodic intonation of Irish as spoken in the Gaeltacht is informed by the romantic vision of the language. Ironically, this vision is entirely at one with popular attitudes in Ireland towards the language and the Gaeltacht. During the 20th century, the relationship between the Irish state and the Irish language was shaped in the popular imagination by the life stories of a number of Irish speakers. These characters were of a type
the last of their kind. Their lives were defined by the proximity of death and for this reason they were regarded as being symbolic of the condition of the Irish language in society in Ireland more generally
a language poised on the edge of the grave. For example, the opening line of the life story of Peig of the Great Blasket Island, which lies in the ocean off the coast of the south-westernmost tip of Ireland, reads as

Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War

199

follows: Seanbhean is ea mise anois, a bhfuil a cos le´i san uaigh is an chos eile ar a bruach [‘I am an old woman, with one foot in the grave’] (Sayers, 1936: 13). Their stories are viewed as epic struggles
fateful tales of the lives and deaths of a people made marginal by their poverty, their geography ´ Criomhthain, also of the and their language. The life story of Toma´s O Great Blasket Island, is recounted in the classic work An tOilea´nach [‘The ´ Criomhthain, 2002 [1929]). It concludes in Homeric Islandman’] (O fashion: nı´ bheidh a´r leithe´idı´ arı´s ann [‘our likes will never be seen again’] (Welch, 1996: 440
441). These iconic life stories appear to reflect a relationship between people and a language that is no longer real. Rather, the struggle of the Irish language for life seems to have entered a dramatically new phase, which is now northern in its geography, its history, its politics and its language. The Irish language was widely believed to have expired as a first language in NI sometime during the 1960s. Heinrich Wagner, a Professor in Celtic at the Queen’s University Belfast at the time, remarked upon the ‘ruins’ of the Irish language on Rathlin Island, off County Antrim, during the 1950s (Wagner, 1958). In 1951, in the northern Irish language magazine An tUltach [the Ulsterman], a native speaker of Irish described the terminal condition of the language in County Tyrone, a place that was once, like ´ Murcada, 1951). Today, however, Rathlin Island, a linguistic heartland (O the language may be seen and heard on the streets of Belfast, on the local BBC and in the Northern Ireland Assembly. This revival has two sources. One source is the Irish-speaking community that was created on the Shaw’s Road in west Belfast during the late 1960s. This linguistic phenomenon was the initiative of a small group of families who determined to found an urban Gaeltacht1 by setting up Irish-speaking homes together in the close-knit proximity of Shaw’s Road. Despite official opprobrium, this community succeeded in establishing the first Bunscoil, or Irish-medium primary school, in the city in 1971. Today, according to Sea´n Mac Corraidh (2006), there are 65 different Irish-medium nursery units and schools throughout NI, providing education for well over 3000 children. While the influence of the traditional Ulster Irish dialect, as spoken in the Gaeltacht of Donegal in the Republic of Ireland, is strong, the NI variety is not that of standard Irish. Gabrielle Maguire (1991) provides many good examples of the speech of these young people, for example, .

. .

nı´ labhair mise instead of the Standard Irish nı´or labhair mise [‘I did not speak’]; le an instead of leis an [‘with the’]; rachann se´ instead of te´ann se´ [‘he goes’].

200

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

A second source of the revival of the Irish language in NI is Her Majesty’s Prison (HMP) the Maze. This prison, also known as ‘Long Kesh’ by Irish republicans, was the birthplace of another Irish language community. The two names actually refer to the same prison site.2 At this site, in the period between the early 1970s and the mid-1990s, Irish republican prisoners developed an argot form of the Irish language as a means of communicating among themselves to the exclusion of the prison warders and other non-Irish republican prisoners. They described the language they developed as Jailic, a play on the word Gaelic [meaning ‘Irish language’], and they coined the term Jailtacht, a portmanteau word which deliberately echoes the term Gaeltacht, to describe their peculiar linguistic community. These prisoners and their language had an impact on the development of the Irish language in NI during the 1980s and 1990s and in Belfast in particular. As we shall see, some of their formulaic phrases and peculiar idioms directly penetrated the popular culture, as exemplified below. It is this new form of expression in the Irish language
northern, urban, working class, politicised
which is so unsettling to Ken Robinson and others like him. Some individual lives capture the essence of this new mood in the language. Here, I make a brief note of one such emblematic biography, shorn of any false Homer posturing, but epic nonetheless
that of Se´anna Walsh.

The Cages: Irish Republican Prisoners and the Irish Language in HMP Long Kesh until 1976 The republican nationalist and language activist Se´anna Walsh acquired the Irish language in school in Belfast and in the Donegal Gaeltacht, like many others in NI, but his story took a dramatic turn at a very early age. He describes this in the Irish republican magazine An Phoblacht: ‘I first got an interest in Irish in primary school and developed it at secondary school. I was in Loch an Iu´ir Gaeltacht in Donegal when Internment3 erupted across the North. Within 18 months I found myself in prison, in the Cages of Long Kesh. I dived into the language with a passion. It was clear to me at a fairly early stage that the Irish language was much more than a medium of communication, that wrapped up in it was the history of conflict and dispossession, genocide and emigration’ (Interview in An Phoblacht, 8 December 2005). While in prison as a member of the IRA, Se´anna spent much of his time in Cage 11, along with Bobby Sands (who would subsequently lead the fatal hunger strike of 1981) and Gerry Adams (who would go on to lead Sinn Fe´in to government in the Northern Ireland Assembly). Cage 11 was known

Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War

201

by the Irish republican prisoners as the generals’ hut and a part of it was designated by the prisoners as an Irish-speaking Gaeltacht hut. The nature of this Gaeltacht is illustrated in the words of another unnamed prisoner at around that time: It happened in June 1973 that men with 10 years and more were sent to the new Cages with cells in them. And after a couple more weeks we were moved into one of them. In a month there were four new Cages of ‘Provos’ [shorthand for the Provisional IRA] adjacent to each other . . . After that they collected names of people who wanted to learn Irish. I took advantage of this again. It was better than in the Crumlin [HMP Belfast], we had chalk, blackboards, books and so on. After they collected the names there were 30 of them and they decided to establish a Gaeltacht. That Monday I was informed of the class that I was to be a pupil in. We weren’t working for more than six weeks until we got the Fainne Glas [sic], our first Fainne [sic] [lapel badge historically awarded by the Gaelic League to proficient speakers of Irish]. We got it and wore it on our coats. I was over the moon at getting it. (Translated from the Irish language by the author, from Prison struggle, 1977: 35)

The H-Blocks: Irish Republican Prisoners and the Irish Language in HMP the Maze between 1976 and 1981 A development such as the one described above is in itself not remarkable. Were the story to stop here, it would be of little interest to anyone outside the Irish republican movement. However, in 1976 the Irish republicans lost their status as Special Category prisoners in an attempt by the British government to ‘criminalise’ the conflict in NI. This led to the prisoners embarking on a series of protests
beginning with a refusal to wear prison uniform (the blanket protest), a refusal to slop out the cells (the dirty protest) and culminating in the infamous hunger strike of 1981. According to Se´anna Walsh, this was a turning point for the Irish language. This, along with the relocation of the prisoners in the newly built H-blocks, brought the language to the forefront of the Irish republican struggle inside prison. Se´anna Walsh was convicted in 1976 and sent to the H-blocks where Irish was now being acquired and used under very different circumstances. Because of the protests, the prisoners were confined to their cells under 24-hour lock-up and they were denied access to any Irish language material
there were no books, no chalk, no blackboard, no classrooms: ‘The key turning point was the removal of

202

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

political status. During the blanket protest the Irish language became the language of resistance. Irish was necessary for survival. At that time there were four or five who were very good at Irish and they taught the language to the others. This started with the learning of key phrases. These would be shouted through the doors of the cells or they would be scratched onto the walls with religious medals’ (Se´anna Walsh, interview with the author, 2007). The intensive use of Irish under the constraints of a prison regime designed to defeat protest gave rise to a formulaic version of the language, some of whose features were unique. For example, the universally known Irish republican slogan Tiocfaidh a´r la´ [‘Our day will come’] was devised and popularised by the prisoners and yet it is widely accepted that this particular formulation is not grammatically correct. This slogan typifies the language of the prisoners at that time, a deviant form of Irish which they themselves were the first to describe as Jailic (see above).

Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige: The Development of a Prison Gaeltacht during the 1980s and 1990s Se´anna Walsh and Bobby Sands were prime movers in the adoption of the Irish language as a means of symbolic violence during this period. However, the death of Sands during the hunger strike of 1981, along with the release from prison of Se´anna Walsh a few years afterwards, threatened to draw the relationship between the prisoners and the language to a conclusion. The disheartening end of the hunger strike was accompanied by the decline, over a period of years, of the language in the prison. The revival of the morale of the prisoners and the resurrection of the Irish language after that point coincided with the return of Se´anna Walsh to the H-blocks to serve a new sentence: People were thoroughly demoralised. The confusion and demoralisation took very firm leadership. Se´anna Walsh gave that. The first thing was to achieve segregation, to get them [loyalist prisoners and other prisoners, described by Merlyn Rees, the then secretary of State for Northern Ireland, as ‘ordinary decent criminals’]. It was a brutal time. It was them or us. It involved a lot of casual violence. The language was used to differentiate us from other prisoners. For some the language was a means of politicising the non-political prisoners. [The period] ’79
82 was very intensive, after that less so. But Irish was still there. Though we’d no access to Irish books until 1983/4, there was still a ban on Irish books until then. After Se´anna Walsh

Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War

203

came back it became a much more forward approach. (Irish republican ex-prisoner, interview with the author, 2007) Under Walsh’s leadership the Irish language was reintroduced and, moreover, it became a much more central part of the everyday lives of the prisoners. The nature of this process is recalled as follows: After the blanket protest, during the early 1980s, there was a decline in the Irish language in the prison but during the late 1980s some of us decided that we’d revive the language again. An intensive ´ Muilleor and brought six-week course was developed by Ma´irtı´n O into the prison. There was no official access to Irish language teaching material
books, tapes, etc
so the course had to be written and brought in specially. You needed to do the Dianchu´rsa [Intensive Course] to get fluent in Irish. It wasn’t enough to just do a few hours a week, here and there. You needed to do it all the time, morning and afternoon for six weeks and then you’d be fluent. The use of the Irish language in the prison at this time was different. It was used all the time, in the communal areas and in individual cells. You would even dream in Irish. It wasn’t like the old Gaeltacht huts in the Cages where you’d only use it in the communal area. Around 300 of the 400 Irish republican prisoners became fluent in the Irish language. (Se´anna Walsh, interview with the author, 2007) After the IRA ceasefire of 1994 the prison regime relaxed a little with regard to the Irish language. The prisoners were allowed access to Irish language material and teachers were brought in to hold classes. In the next 3
4 years, the prisoners created two wholly Irish-speaking wings in the H-blocks, which they initially described as the Jailtacht. They subsequently settled on the name Gaeltacht na Fuiseoige, the ‘Gaeltacht of the Lark’ (the bird identified with Bobby Sands in Irish republican mythology) to capture the spirit of this remarkable linguistic phenomenon.

´ in and Foras na Gaeilge: Ex-Irish Republican Sinn Fe Prisoners and Irish Language Public Policy after 1998 Se´anna Walsh was one of the first prisoners to be released under the terms of the Good Friday Agreement 1998, which brought peace to NI. Upon release he quickly began to play a major role in the political development of Sinn Fe´in. He currently directs the party’s Department for Culture and the Irish language features very strongly on the policy agenda. It is perhaps the ambition for the language within the party which is most striking. He puts it as follows: ‘The most interesting aspect

204

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

of our reinvigorated Roinn a’ Chultu´ir [Department of Culture] will be our project to turn Sinn Fe´in from an English speaking party, which is fairly good on the language question, to a bilingual party involved in all areas of radical language development and promotion . . . Sinn Fe´in aims to develop from being a party which campaigns on Irish language issues to a party that epitomises the struggle for the repossession of the language’ (Interview in An Phoblacht, 8 December 2005). The values that have shaped the life of Se´anna Walsh are likely to have an impact beyond the north of Ireland, given that he was recently appointed as a member of the all-Ireland Foras na Gaeilge [Institute of Irish] along with three other Sinn Fe´in nominees. It was noted in the Irish-language media that these Northern appointees bring blas laidir ultach [‘a strong Ulster flavour’] (Nuacht TG4, 18 December 2007)4 to the membership of the new board and that Se´anna Walsh was a friend and one-time cellmate of Bobby Sands (Foinse, 16 December 2007). The Irish language has been growing in NI for a number of years, beginning with the creation of an urban neo-Gaeltacht on Shaw’s Road in west Belfast in the early 1970s. There can be little doubt that the politicisation of the language, initiated in the Cages and completed in the H-blocks, added substantial momentum to this growth. This was particularly true during the second half of the 1980s and throughout the 1990s as many Irish republican prisoners left prison to become actively involved in the Irish language at a community level, in various areas of NI and the rest of Ulster. The type of language associated with the Irish-speaking community beyond the prison has, in part, been influenced by the Irish of the ex-prisoners. Thus, Belfast has by now become a confluence for different forms of Irish and, in a certain sense, has discovered its own unique expression of the language. The hip-hop poetry of Gearo´id Mac Lochlainn (2003) is wholly characteristic of this, as seen in this extract from the poem ‘Ag Siopado´ireacht [Shopping]’ from his book Sruth Teangacha. Stream of Tongues (both the Irish and English language texts are by Mac Lochlainn): Ach bhı´ fhios ag an domhan is a mha´thair go raibh se´ ro´mhall do´ sin. Yessss! A ghlaoigh Mo Chara, a dhorn san aer, ‘Tiocfaidh a´r la´!’ Is d’imigh muid linn thar Halla na Cathrach lena Union Jack cromtha, muid ag ga´ire is ag caint ar cheol is ar shiopado´ireacht. [But the world and his mother knew it was too late for that.

Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War

205

Yessss! Yelled Mo Chara, fisting the air, ‘Tiocfaidh a´r la´!’ And off we went past the City Hall where the Union Jack hung limp and forlorn and we talked about music, hip hop and freestyle. And we laughed as we did our shopping.] His language has been succinctly defined by the renowned Irish poet Nuala Nı´ Dhomhaill (n.d): ‘It is Gaeilge as she is spoken in Be´al Feirste, [Belfast] including intrusions from English
the dreaded Be´arlachas [anglicised Irish] sometimes to the point of pidgin and leavened at all times with a fair smattering of Jailtacht argot. All in all, it is sensational proof, if proof were needed, that Irish is alive and kicking and living in Belfast’. In relation to this, Maguire’s (1991) description of the Irish language of Belfast as ‘our own language’ points to a sense of ownership that is political (Irish nationalist and republican), geographical (northern and urban) and linguistic (non-standard, yet authentic) all at once.

Ulster Scots as the Zero-Sum Language? This eruption of the Irish language in the public sphere of NI makes Catholics, nationalists, republicans a visible minority for unionists such as Ken Robinson who make the connection between all of these things. Were Irish to gain official status in some sense, then public space would have to be made available to these alternative identities and, at the same time, would have the effect of legitimising the language along with some of its most vehement and articulate lobbyists
Irish republican exprisoners. Unionists, naturally, see a threat here and have responded. For example, Peter Robinson, the hardline leader of the Democratic Unionist Party, is clear on the need to respond vigorously, as illustrated by the following press excerpt: The DUP is launching a fightback against republican attempts to erode the British identity in Ulster. Party leader Peter Robinson yesterday revealed plans for a Unionist Academy, which will promote the unionist culture and the advantages of the Union; encourage unionist learning in the community and provide a forum for unionist strategising and policy-making; and a British Cultural and Equality Unit to provide legal advice to the public on fighting the removal of British emblems from Northern Ireland society. The twinpronged initiative will be officially unveiled in September. It comes

206

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

amid unionist anger at an unrelenting Sinn Fein campaign to promote the Irish culture and target British structures and symbols throughout the country. The DUP leader told a briefing for journalists at Stormont: ‘There has been something of a cultural war in Northern Ireland. We intend to fight back. Our unionist way of life will not be put in some drawer in the back of an office. We are British and intend to stay that way.’ (The Belfast Newsletter, 25 June 2008) Given the centrality of the Irish language to the Irish republican political agenda, it is not surprising, perhaps, in the specific context of conflict in NI, that the revival of the language has been countered by the emergence of renewed political interest on the part of unionists in the tongue of Ulster Scots. Whether Ulster Scots is actually a language or a dialect of English is a matter of some considerable debate (see, e.g. the various definitions posted on their websites by the Ulster Scots Language Society,5 the Department of Culture, Arts and Leisure (NI),6 along those offered by the academics such as Harris, 1985; Hickey, 2007; Macafee, 2001). Others, such as the linguist John Kirk, question its status as a language by drawing attention to the fact that much of the new vocabulary developed by the proponents of Ulster Scots is entirely spurious. For example, when the Unionist newspaper The Belfast Telegraph carried an advertisement for ‘Unner-Editor (Inglis an Ulster-Scotch) fur tha Chammer o tha Scrievit Accoont (Hansard)’ [i.e. subeditor (English and Ulster-Scots) in the Office of the Official Report (Hansard) of the New Northern Ireland Assembly] following the Good Friday Agreement, Kirk was reported to have remarked that no-one ‘speaks the language of the job advert or the Council leaflet because many of the expressions have never existed in the traditional dialect’ (Kirk quoted in Nic Craith, 2001: 23). A snapshot of the nature of Ulster Scots in contrast to English can be obtained from a small sample of divergent lexical pairs, for example abeen ‘above’, schuch ‘stream, whist ‘be quiet’ and red ‘to tidy’.7 Notwithstanding the linguistic status of Ulster Scots, it is wholly unambiguous that it has been set up as a direct political counterweight to Irish. For example, the following exchange in the House of Lords in Westminster between Lord Laird, a unionist politician, and Baroness Amos, the government minister, on the development of a Gaeltacht Quarter in west Belfast demonstrates the thoroughly competitive attitude taken with regard to the relationship between Irish and Ulster Scots: Lord Laird asked Her Majesty’s Government: Whether it is still their policy to create a Gaeltacht Quarter in West Belfast; if so, when; and what similar arrangements are to be put in place for Ulster-Scots

Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War

207

under the policy of parity of esteem. Baroness Amos: Officials are working with community representatives to take forward the recommendation of the Joint West Belfast/ Greater Shankhill Task Force that a Gaeltacht Quarter be developed. Proposals are expected early next year. Proposals for an Ulster-Scots quarter have not been submitted. (‘House of Lords’8) The question is remarkable, if not downright bizarre, given that Lord Laird was at that time Chair of the Ulster Scots Agency, a body set up following The Good Friday Agreement (1998) under The Implementation Bodies Agreement (1999), and one would have expected that he would have known of the existence of any such potential project if not being the actual driving force. Lord Laird must have known that there was no such project and one must conclude therefore that his question is a perfect function of a zero-sum mindset, whereby opposing factions invariably consider that their opponents gain is their own loss and vice versa. Hence, it can be said that Lord Laird considers that the strategic value of his political position with regard to Ulster Scots is calculated precisely in relation to any perceived gains or losses made by the Irish language. This game has real implications for both Ulster Scots and the Irish language in NI and it appears to have been played to excess by Nelson MacCausland, of the Democratic Unionist Party, as the Minister with responsibility for both languages in the Northern Ireland Assembly. It was reported in some news outlets, but especially those operating in the Irish language (e.g. Nuacht TG4, 5 July 2009), that during 2009
2010 more public money was spent on Ulster Scots (6.95 million pounds) than on Irish (4.4 million pounds), in total contrast to what would appear to be the respective and very different demographic strength of the two.

Conclusions Some commentators have pointed out the irony that elements of Ulster Scots actually derive from the Irish language. The broadly nationalist newspaper The Irish News exhorted Edwin Poots, one-time Minister in the Assembly with responsibility for both Irish and Ulster Scots (from 8 May 2007 to 9 June 2008), to Houl yer wheist! This is a very familiar turn of phrase in Ulster Scots, meaning ‘Hold on, listen up!’ or perhaps even ‘Shut up and listen!’ The correspondent wryly noted that the word wheist is related to the Irish verb e´ist meaning ‘to listen’. The implication is that these two small words capture something of the essence of the problem.

208

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

How might two people, who share a small corner of Ireland, who know each others’ geography, history and culture intimately and yet are profoundly divided by that knowledge, come to understand each other
to speak the same language, one might say, while at the same time allowing the full spate of that stream of tongues? However, there is a further and, for the time being at any rate, more potent irony. Currently, Belfast City Council (2006), erstwhile bastion of unionism, encourages visitors to the city to spend time in the Gaeltacht Quarter established in the west of the city in 2006, while The Rough Guide to Ireland informs tourists that their encounter with the Irish language there touches upon the raw material of the recent conflict: ‘In the North, the rise in the use of Irish has been both cultural and political: in the 1970s Republican prisoners began to learn Irish, though owing to the insular nature of its usage and the lack of professional teaching, it mutated into a kind of pidgin that was known as jailic’ (Greenwood et al., 2001: 741). This part of the city is Se´anna Walsh’s heartland, and the presentation of its landscape as a commodity for the gaze of both international and Irish visitors, a project in which many Irish republican ex-prisoners are directly involved, shows that the epic tale of the Irish language is being cast anew for a broad audience. Notes 1. For most people the term Gaeltacht means an area where Irish has traditionally been spoken in uninterrupted fashion. In the Irish Republic such areas are officially delineated by law, but application of the term of NI is purely notional. 2. The name was changed by the British government in 1976 to HMP the Maze from HMP Long Kesh to denote the dramatic reconstruction of the prison, in which the accommodation was changed from dormitory to cellular style. 3. Forced imprisonment without trial mostly targeting nationalists and Republicans (1971
1976). 4. Nuacht TG4, 18 December 2007 [daily news broadcast of Irish language television station TG4]. On WWW at http://www.tg4.ie/bearla/stud/nuac/ nuac.asp. Accessed 22.12.07. 5. Ulster Scots Language Society. On WWW at http://www.ulsterscotslangauge. com/en/home. Accessed 25.1.10. 6. See http://www.dcalni.gov.uk/index/language-cultural-diversity-r08/ frequently_asked_questions.htm#q3. Accessed 26.1.10. 7. For additional linguistic information on Ulster Scots, including audio material, see, e.g. East Donegal Ulster-Scots Association, http://www. eastdonegalulsterscots.com/language.html. Accessed 26.1.10. 8. See http://www.publications/parliament.uk/pa/ld200405/ldhansrd/vo041206/ text/41206w01.htm. Accessed 15.11.09.

Language as Political Emblem in the New Culture War

209

References Belfast City Council (2006) All roads lead to the Gaeltacht Quarter. Press release, 7 September. Fitzpatrick, J. (2008) New salvoes in ‘culture war’. BBC News
Northern Ireland. On WWW at http://newsvote.bbc.co.uk. Accessed 8.1.09. Greenwood, M., Connolly, M. and Wallis, G. (2001) The Rough Guide to Ireland. London: Rough Guides. Harris, J. (1985) Phonological Variation and Change: Studies in Hiberno English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hickey, R. (2007) Irish English: History and Present Day Forms. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ´ Baoill Macafee, C. (2001) Lowland sources of Ulster Scots. In J.M. Kirk and D.P. O (eds) Language Links: The Languages of Scotland and Ireland (pp. 119
132). Belfast: The Queen’s University Belfast Press. Mac Corraidh, S. (2006) Irish-medium education in Belfast. In F. de Bru´n (ed.) Belfast and the Irish Language (pp. 177
183). Dublin: Four Courts Press. Mac Giolla Chrı´ost, D. (2005) The Irish Language in Ireland from Goı´del to Globalisation. London: Routledge. Mac Lochlainn, G. (2003) Sruth Teangacha. Stream of Tongues. Indreabha´n: Clo´ IarChonnachta. Maguire, G. (1991) Our Own Language: An Irish Initiative. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Nic Craith, M. (2001) Politicised linguistic consciousness: The case of Ulster Scots. Nations and Nationalism 7 (1), 21
37. Nı´ Dhomhaill, N. (n.d.) Irish language press Clo´ Iar-Chonnachta, Republic of Ireland. On WWW at http://www.cic.ie. Accessed 24.12.07. Northern Ireland Life and Times Survey (1999) Northern Ireland Life and Times Survey. On WWWat http://www.data-archive.ac.uk/findingData/snDescription. asp?sn  4210. Accessed 25.1.10. ´ Criomhthain, T. (2002 [1929]) An tOilea´nach. Dublin: Clo´ Talbo´id. O ´ Murcada, M.S. (1951) Gaeilge dutcais Tir Eogain. An tUltach 28 (5), 1
3, 8. O Prison Struggle (1977) Prison Struggle: The Story of Continuing Resistance Behind the Wire. Belfast: Republican Press Centre. Sayers, P. (1936) Peig. Dublin: Comhlacht Oideachais na hE´ireann. Wagner, H. (1958) Linguistic Atlas and Survey of Irish Dialects. Dublin: Institute of Advanced Studies. Welch, R. (1996) The Oxford Companion to Irish Literature. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Chapter 13

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol CLAUDIA MARIA RIEHL and JOHN HAJEK

Introduction The South Tyrol (Alto Adige in Italian), officially represented today by the autonomous province of Bolzano-Alto Adige (Bozen-Su¨dtirol in German) within the Italian autonomous region of Trentino-Alto Adige, offers an unusual ethnolinguistic scenario for western Europe. Here two major language groups
Italian- and German-speaking
live side by side as simultaneously minoritised majorities and majoritised minorities in a complex political hierarchy within the Italian state, as seen in Table 13.1.1 Given the apparent dominance of Italian at most levels of the hierarchy, political and academic discourse on the language situation in South Tyrol has focused for the most part on the German-speaking community as a minority in Italy and its struggle for protection and full language rights. These rights have now been achieved with notable success, and South Tyrol has been held up as a model for other minorities and the resolution of ethnic conflict in Europe, for example Alcock (1994) and Feiler (1997). In many respects, the current situation in South Tyrol is indeed a very positive one for the protection of minorities (typically assumed to be German only in this case, but see below), as well as a case study in politicolegal resolution of ethnolinguistic problems and the management of language rights within a legal framework meant to encourage bilingualism. However, such a simple view overlooks the many complexities that continue to underpin the situation in South Tyrol, such as historical memory, the urban versus rural divide and the rigid application of protective measures that all help to reinforce ethnolinguistic separateness rather than foster a truly bilingual society. In this chapter, we provide a brief political history and ethnolinguistic profile of the South Tyrol in Italy before considering official measures and their impact on South Tyrol society, as well as some of the historical, social and linguistic issues that interact with official policy designed to resolve 210

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol

211

Table 13.1 Local and national majority versus minority status of German and Italian in the political hierarchy of Italy Political entity Bolzano (capital city)

Majority Italian

Minority German

Bolzano (province)  South Tyrol German

Italian

Trentino-Alto Adige (region)

Italian

German

Italy (nation)

Italian

German

ethnolinguistic conflict. We show that officially mandated bilingualism, while a success in many respects, is also undermined by political manipulation favouring separation, and it does not coincide with the actual language capacity of either the German-speaking majority or the Italian-speaking minority in South Tyrol. Moreover, officially mandated bilingualism has not been able to fully resolve ethnolinguistic tensions that continue to be played out in the public arena.

Historical and Ethnolinguistic Background In the aftermath of the First World War, Austria was forced in 1919 to cede control to Italy of the strategic Brenner Alpine Pass and all territory south of it. This territory, under Habsburg Austrian control from 1362, included the almost exclusively Italian-speaking Trient (Italian: Trentino), as well as the overwhelmingly German-speaking South Tyrol. The fascist takeover of Italy in 1922 triggered a policy of forced Italianisation of South Tyrol almost immediately and the concomitant repression of German in all its manifestations, including all personal and place names. Targeted assimilation of German speakers was reinforced by an official strategy involving administrative reorganisation, rapid industrialisation and the in-migration of large numbers of Italian speakers from elsewhere in Italy to urban centres, especially in Bolzano/Bozen, the traditional capital, to dominate public administration and to work in the newly established factories. In 1941, during the Second World War, Hitler and Mussolini agreed on the so-called Option, which forced Germanspeaking South Tyrolese to choose between either assimilating fully into Italian-speaking society or emigrating to Austria or Germany (75,000 people chose the latter and many returned after the Second World War). After the war, the so-called Gruber-de Gasperi Agreement granted Austria a protective role towards the South Tyrolean minority. The

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

212

reluctance of the Italian government to concede minority rights to the German-speaking population culminated in bomb attacks and other violent acts during the 1960s. Only because of enormous international pressure was the minority granted a second Autonomy Statute, the socalled Paket, which was agreed to in 1969 and came into force from 1972. By 1995, with both national parties involved (Italy and Austria) now members of the European Union, the issues of autonomy and protection for ethnic communities in South Tyrol were considered to be resolved and measures introduced to achieve this could now be maintained into the future (cf. Riehl, 2001; Voltmer, 2007). The linguistic situation in South Tyrol is further complicated by the presence of a third, very small, ethnolinguistic group, the Ladins. They speak a language closely related to Romantsch in Switzerland and live for the most part in a small geographically concentrated area in the east. They are also afforded similar legal protection and guarantees, including proportional representation in different social and political areas. Since they have hardly figured in the main ethnolinguistic conflict in South Tyrol, only passing mention to Ladin is made here (see Riehl, 2002). Census results since 1880, shown in percentage form in Table 13.2, provide a useful overview of ethnolinguistic trends in South Tyrol. While Table 13.2 Language groups in percentages, according to census results (1880
2001) for South Tyrol Year

German

Italian

Ladin

Others

1880

90.6

3.4

4.3

1.7

1890

89.0

4.5

4.3

2.3

1900

88.8

4.0

4.0

3.2

1910

89.0

2.9

3.8

4.3

1921

75.9

10.6

3.9

9.6

1961

62.2

34.3

3.4

0.1

1971

62.9

33.3

3.7

0.1

1981

64.9

28.7

4.1

2.2

1991

65.3

26.5

4.2

4.0

2001

64.0

24.5

4.0

7.4

Source: Provincial Statistics Institute (2008)

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol

213

the Ladin community has always been stable in size, Italian annexation in 1919 saw an immediate drop in the proportion of German speakers, reaching its lowest point in 1961, when the German-speaking community felt very threatened by assimilation, triggered by the evident expansion of Italian speakers. The trend has since been dramatically reversed, with an ongoing decline since 1961 in those identifying as Italian speakers, coupled with a small increase in the same period in the number of German speakers. As a result of the fascist policy decades earlier, Italian speakers remain concentrated in major urban centres
in particular in Bolzano, the provincial capital, where they continue to form an overwhelmingly stable majority (73%).

Official Language Policy The Autonomy Statute (Paket) The German-speaking minority is among the best-protected linguistic minority in the European Union (Alcock, 2000). This is due to the previously mentioned Autonomy Statute, known as the Paket (‘package of measures in favour of the population of South Tyrol’), granted in 1969 and in full effect from 1972. The Statute guarantees .

.

.

proportional representation (social welfare, public employment as well as public housing are distributed according to the numerical strength of the three ethnolinguistic groups), language parity (German is equal to Italian and Ladin) and official status of German and Italian (and Ladin) throughout the public sector and ethnic presence (all local bodies are constituted according to proportional representation) (Voltmer, 2007: 209).

It is important to note that all three language groups are protected, with the numerical strength of each rigorously determined by a census held every 10 years (see Table 13.2). The census requires respondents to identify their ethnolinguistic affiliation, determined solely by language. They can select only one language, which means that people raised in bilingual families (approximately 10%) are unable to signal their dual linguistic identification. Such rigidity comes in response to pressure from the German-speaking political hierarchy, which is anxious that the numerical strength of the German-speaking community would otherwise be diluted in favour of Italians and which continues to emphasise the importance of separateness, particularly in education and in identity

214

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

(see also below). In such circumstances, a bilingual group identified as mother-tongue speakers of German and Italian cannot be accepted, since it would jeopardise the concept of ethnic presence and proportionality. At the same time, alongside the emphasis on a single linguistic identification, bilingualism is a requirement of the public sector since German and Italian are official languages of the entire province. Public sector workers require a local certificate of bilingualism, known popularly as the patentino (literally, ‘little licence’, in German Zweisprachigkeitspru¨fung), discussed further below. South Tyrol, through its political manifestation as the autonomous province of Bolzano/Bozen, is also given extensive powers under the Statute, with significant control of education and culture as well as other wide-ranging legislative competencies, including housing, agriculture, tourism and welfare. One undoubted factor in the success of the Paket in South Tyrol has been the concomitant economic boom in the area. The last 20 years have seen significant initiatives in South Tyrol such as the establishment of a trilingual university (with German, Italian and English) in Bolzano, the expansion of Bolzano airport and the construction of several large museums and important infrastructure such as expressways. The province enjoys a high standard of living, with a very low unemployment rate under 3%. Because of its autonomy and economic status, South Tyrol can almost be considered a ‘state within a state’, a view reinforced by the recent announcement by provincial authorities of their intention to seek increased sovereignty over the distribution of tax income (FF Su¨dtiroler Illustrierte, October 2009). School system and media In general, the school system in South Tyrol follows the Italian model with three levels: five years of primary school (scuola elementare), three years of lower secondary school (scuola media) and five years of upper secondary school (liceo). According to the Autonomy Statute, South Tyrol has primary legislative power for school administration, nursery schools and vocational education, and secondary legislative power for primary and secondary school teaching. An additional autonomy reform enacted in 2000 also allows local changes in the curriculum of up to 15% from national norm (Abel, 2007: 237). As a consequence of the Autonomy Statute, South Tyrol has three separate school boards, one for each language group (German, Italian and Ladin). Instruction in the mother tongue is considered a crucial issue

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol

215

in education, which means that in the schools of the German linguistic group, German is the only language of instruction and Italian is taught as a subject from the second grade. The same holds for the Italophone group: Italian is the language of instruction and German is taught as a second language from the second grade. Only Ladin schools follow a trilingual language system with equal parts of the curriculum in Italian and German, respectively, and additional lessons in Ladin as a subject (Abel, 2007: 238).2 Although the model of the Ladin school system seems to be very effective, general implementation of similar models for Italian or German schools, where children would be taught at least some content in the other language, does not seem feasible yet. One of the main reasons is the omnipresence of the German mother-tongue debate and the concept of Italian as the national language. But since the German language is more broadly used in many domains (being the majority language at the provincial level), the need for proficiency in German is increasingly felt among the Italophone group
reinforced by the overwhelming presence of German-speaking tourists from Germany and Austria visiting South Tyrol. As a result, a number of initiatives and pilot projects for second language improvement have been launched. Unfortunately, attempts by the Italian language group to introduce immersion programmes in public schools have for the most part been blocked by German policy-makers fearful that both groups could mingle too much and that German might be weakened as a result (Riehl, 2002). Nevertheless, some programmes which had been started after the enhancement of school autonomy enjoy a conspicuous success, such as the project called Scuola Trilingue (trilingual school) using German, Italian and English as languages of tuition. This programme is
as far as we know
currently established only in private schools.3 No such similar programmes exist as yet within the German school system. The only innovation to be mentioned here is a so-called ‘tandem’ programme, a sort of exchange programme which allows Italian-speaking students to attend a parallel school of the German group for one year and vice versa, with exams and results recognised by the other system. This programme is only a pilot study restricted to the fourth year of liceo. Between 2003 and 2008, 57 students moved from a German to an Italian school and 38 students from Italian to German. The project, although very small, was quite successful: students reported that they not only significantly improved the second language at various levels (including dialect and slang) but they also came to a deeper understanding of the other language group and were able to

216

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

develop friendships and join German-speaking or mixed networks (Provenzano, 2008). In addition to control of German-medium education, the Germanspeaking community has access to a wide range of German-language media (print, television, radio). Besides the full range of press from Germany or Austria, they have their own German-language newspapers (Dolomiten, Tageszeitung) and several journals (FF
Su¨dtiroler Illustrierte, as well as women and youth magazines) at their disposal. The state broadcasting company RAI in Bolzano produces German-speaking television programmes, and in October 2009 a new private channel went to air. In addition, it is possible to receive more than 50 Germanlanguage channels from Germany, Austria and Switzerland via satellite, even in remote mountain valleys. The same holds for radio stations
RAI broadcasts German radio programmes from Bolzano, and there are also several private German-speaking stations. By the same token, the Italian-speaking community also has full access to national and local media produced in Italian.

Consequences of the Autonomy Statute Given the high level of autonomy and local power now available, as well as its evident economic success, it is no surprise that South Tyrol (and its German-speaking majority) gives the clear impression of being able to stand on its own, with return to Austria, once dreamed of, no longer desired by most. Political power at the provincial level is undoubtedly in German-speaking hands. While there are a number of political parties, the right-wing populist Su¨dtiroler Volkspartei (SVP) has single-handedly controlled South Tyrol’s provincial government for decades and, for a lengthy period (from the 1960s to the early 1990s), was also able to leverage significant national power by providing critical support to Italy’s unstable coalitions. It is the SVP that single-mindedly led the process of negotiation and implementation of the Paket. Its leadership was adamant about the type of protection needed for German speakers and the linguistic model it wanted and made it very clear through such well-known slogans as Je mehr wir trennen, desto besser verstehen wir uns [‘The more we separate, the better we understand each other’] still cited today. The consequences of this model are obvious, as discussed below. By contrast, the Italian speakers in South Tyrol show no shared political identity, and after a resurgence of support for the extreme right from the 1980s till early 2000s, they remain split across the political

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol

217

spectrum among a plethora of parties that operate across Italy. There is no doubt, however, about the general shift of power to the German-speaking majority, confirmed by the previously noted decline in ethnolinguistic identification as Italian across South Tyrol (see Table 13.2). With respect to identity, ethnolinguistic differences are telling. Over 80% of the German-speaking South Tyrolese now consider themselves ‘Su¨dtiroler’ and not Austrians (they were originally part of Austria until 1919), Italians or Germans. Only 25% of the Italian-speaking population calls itself ‘Sudtirolese’ (ASTAT, 2006). Critical to the emergence of a Su¨dtiroler identity
and something which is completely overlooked in the Paket or other legal norms
is the predominant role of the South Tyrolean German dialect for the German-speaking group
over both Standard German and Italian. The dialect has become the critical marker of regional identity for German speakers (to the frustration of many Italians) and is used in many domains almost exclusively, including among young people (see Riehl, 2002). While the Autonomy Statute has undoubtedly been successful in allaying anxieties and guaranteeing language rights, it has not resolved all problems and has had predictable (negative) consequences, given the particular policy choices it enshrines. The enforced separation of groups through sensitivities to the operation of proportional representation, obligatory mono-ethnic identification and the linguistically separated school system in particular, all foster the development of two parallel societies, or due realta` (‘two realities’), as explicitly noted by local residents (cf. Forer et al., 2008: 2), who mingle only partially. Among the German population there is a deeply rooted fear that if they were to give up the right to use German in all possible domains, they would lose not only their identity but also parts of their autonomy. The Italians in turn often insist on the idea that they live in ‘their own country’. While there is no doubt that conflicting attitudes, different historical memories (see below) and separationist policy have an important impact on language use in South Tyrol, so do geographical differences. There is a big discrepancy between the largest urban centres (such as Bolzano, Merano and, to a lesser extent, Bressanone) and rural regions, especially more isolated valleys and villages or hamlets in the mountains. Whereas in the cities the percentage of the Italian-speaking and German-speaking minorities balance one another or the percentage of Italian-speaking people is even higher (as in the case of Bolzano city), there are many communities in the northern and eastern parts that are almost completely German-speaking. In these parts, knowledge of Italian is much lower
reinforced by the German-speaking school system and the reliance on

218

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

German-language media. In addition, the vast majority of tourists come from Germany
a fact that encourages the use of the standard variety of German (in an otherwise almost dialect-speaking environment) instead of the Italian language. It is no surprise, therefore, that many traditionalist South Tyrolese believe they do not need the Italian language at all for communication. Moreover, in these conservative rural areas the idea of an autonomous state of South Tyrol (or even reunification with Austria) finds some fertile ground. However, even in the towns, where the major part of the Italian population lives, one gets the impression of ghettoisation. In Bolzano, the historical centre is settled by German-speaking merchant families, whereas most Italian-speaking inhabitants live in newer quarters, mainly in apartments. This residential separation is reflected in the linguistic landscape. While almost all commercial signs and advertisements in the centre of Bolzano are in both languages (usually with German first), in the Italian-dominated quarters and in the big Italian chain stores, signage is in Italian almost exclusively. The opposite holds in areas with a German-speaking majority beyond the historic centre where advertisements and non-official announcements are typically only in German. As a result of all of these factors, it is possible to observe a strong separation between the two language groups who may in many cases meet only in limited contexts (e.g. shops and bars). Yet at the same time we should not neglect a conspicuous number of real bilinguals, for example speakers growing up with both languages in the family, but who, as already noted, must remain invisible to census counts. They sometimes feel uneasy about interethnic antagonisms that still remain despite the Paket (see below). Nevertheless, at least in urban areas, there are many personal relations between Italians and Germans so that in the private sphere mutual prejudices are easily overcome or at least reduced. Interethnic concerns
often to do with language matters
are played out instead in the public arena, through elections and statements by officials, but especially in the local media.

Language Management Language as a secondary symbol It follows that in South Tyrol language becomes, as Nelde (1994) puts it, a secondary symbol whereby people insist on using their mother tongue in all possible situations. There are, however, different motivations for this. Many speakers of German still remember the anti-German oppression and forced Italianisation imposed by the fascist regime before

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol

219

the Second World War. For these South Tyrolese, especially those living in the valleys and in small mountain villages, these old resentments against the Italian ‘occupiers’ help to foster a negative attitude towards Italian (and its speakers), which in turns also leads, on the one hand, to limited proficiency in Italian (which is considered a foreign rather than second language) and, on the other hand, to strong purist tendencies which aim to eliminate Italian loans. However, a reverse development can also be observed, especially among young people and the elite in urban centres: They are prone to adopt Italian (alongside dialect and standard German) because they consider it a modern language of progress (Riehl, 2001: 21
28). With respect to the Italian-speaking population, in South Tyrol there is a tendency to refuse to learn German for the following reasons. Some of the Italians consider themselves a minority within their own nation because they are obliged to learn German and to document, when applying for public posts, their knowledge of German through the previously mentioned patentino/Zweisprachigkeitspru¨fung. For many Italians the idea of the Italian nation is still very strong, with adherence to the slogan Siamo in Italia, si parla Italiano (‘We are in Italy, we speak Italian’). Moreover, Italian speakers often persist with the cliche´ that the German language is difficult to learn. This attitude causes a psychological block when learning the language, so that some of them finish school with only a very basic knowledge of German.4 The main problem, however, for Italian speakers is that the German-speaking majority does not in fact normally speak standard German. Among themselves they use instead the local South Tyrolean dialect almost exclusively, even in official contexts (Lanthaler, 2007; Riehl, 2008). If Italians therefore want to communicate with their German compatriots, they have to learn the dialect as well. In general, we meet two types of speakers: (1) most Italians who speak only a little German or feel awkward when speaking it and (2) a conspicuously smaller group with a very good command of standard German and of the South Tyrolean dialect. These latter speakers are generally also well integrated into the German-speaking community. As knowledge of standard German and Italian is essential for a successful high-level career, the elite of South Tyrol is fluent in both. However, even here German-speaking members of the elite are advantaged since they are in effect trilingual and able to operate across South Tyrolean society: they have command of Standard German and Italian, as well as local Tyrolean dialect. But as already noted, such trilingualism is much rarer among Italians, who are more likely to have full proficiency

220

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

in Italian, and only a weaker command of standard German (see Eichinger, 2002). While it is easy to analyse conflict between the German-speaking and Italian-speaking groups as primarily ethnolinguistic in nature, emphasis on differences in social ideology may be more useful. In reality, for many residents the contrast between Italian and German is one between urban and rural culture, whereby Italian symbolises a modern urban lifestyle and German represents the traditional rural way of life that is essential to German-speaking South Tyrolean identity. Only in some communities in the very southern part of the province, which includes the capital, Bolzano, does there seem to be more mingling of German- and Italianspeaking cultures and languages (Egger, 1981). Language use: Management at a micro-level Notwithstanding good interpersonal relations at an individual level, it is common among residents of South Tyrol to complain about the seemingly thoughtless linguistic behaviour of each other’s language group: German speakers complain that they have to switch to Italian as soon as an Italian speaker joins the group (Riehl, 2001: 24). Italian speakers complain that German speakers always use dialect among themselves, which is very hard to understand and even harder to speak for non-native speakers. There is also a sense among many Italian speakers that dialect can be used on purpose as a secret code to limit contact with Italians (Fattor, 2008; Forer et al., 2008). Our own observation is that the situation is a little more complicated. German speakers tend to use Italian even if they do not have a very good command of it when speaking to an Italian compatriot. The Italian speaker may be demotivated by this apparently accommodating behaviour, especially if trying to use standard German, but the real reasons for it may be quite different. For many German speakers the natural preference for German dialect (or Italian) is so great that they do not feel very much at ease when using standard German or do not find it appropriate in informal discourse. Language policy and the longbow of history: Management at a macro-level As outlined above, the official language policy in South Tyrol provides for exemplary protection of the three language groups
German, Italian and Ladin, and there is no doubt that the German-speaking community has benefited greatly. German can now be used in all domains, and guaranteed proportional representation in the public sector is particularly

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol

221

helpful to the German community, especially with the decline in selfidentified Italian speakers since 1961 (see Table 13.2). It appears that the separationist approach to language policy insisted upon by the SVP, within an officially bilingual framework, has ultimately been fundamental in this, but has brought with it its own problems relating to linguistic practice and proficiency as outlined above. There is no doubt that both language competence and mutual tolerance are much better developed in South Tyrol in mixed language areas than in mono-ethnic communities. Yet despite the apparent general success in conflict resolution of the Paket, there are other issues, more directly pertinent to official language policy, that remain for the moment irresolvable or at least highly contentious. As a result, they are the source of ongoing friction between Italian- and German-speaking communities. As already noted, history continues to play a critical role in South Tyrol, especially when it comes to language-related matters. As Voltmer (2007: 212) puts it, ‘the frequent alternation in power of the two groups during the course of history [from medieval times] and the respective victimisation has had two major consequences: First, the previously dominating group is generally not prepared to admit, discuss and elaborate its own iniquity. [ . . .] Secondly, the repeated alternation in power has led to the development of in-groups with a strong collective identity.’ Against this background, symbols and myth promote group identification and become especially intertwined with contested memory
much of it to do with ongoing German sensitivities to the fascist era (1922
1943) and forced Italianisation. Fascist place names, which remain in place in parts of Bolzano built during Fascism, are a significant sore point. For Italian-speaking residents of Bolzano, they are historical links to the past, and an important reminder of Italianness, but their frequently triumphalist tone and evident link to the fascist era continue to upset German speakers. A case in point is the so-called Piazza della Vittoria affair. In 2001, an important square in Bolzano, which contained a large monument symbolising Italy’s victory over Austria in the First World War, was renamed Piazza della Pace (‘Peace Square’) by the municipal government (Italian-speaking centre-left allied with the right-wing German-speaking SVP) in an effort to accommodate the sensitivities of the Germanspeaking group and to encourage reconciliation. The change triggered a massive reaction from the Italian extreme right wing, who argued that this symbol for the Italian-speaking group had to be safeguarded. As a consequence, a municipal referendum was held, restoring by

222

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

overwhelming majority the name Piazza della Vittoria to the square (Riehl, 2001: 22; Risse, 2010; Voltmer, 2007: 212). According to the Autonomy Statute, all public signs in South Tyrol have to be bilingual (Italian and German) or even trilingual (with Ladin) in the Ladin-speaking areas. This obligation remains an everlasting bone of contention between the two major language groups. In the summer of 2009, for instance, Italian speakers complained that most signposts along Alpine footpaths which had been put up by the Alpenverein Su¨dtrirol (AVS) [‘South Tyrolean Alpine Club’], with public funding, had been labelled exclusively in German. The discussion that went on for weeks was whether the Tyrolean Alpine Club was obliged to label the signs in both languages or not. The German speakers argued that the club was not a public authority (which would have been required to label the signs in both languages) and could do as it pleased. Moreover, for many German speakers the AVS was only returning things to their natural prefascist order: Most place names in South Tyrol had no historical Italian name. For them, Italianised forms were only created by official fiat under Fascism and, as such, have no real legitimacy. Italian speakers, on the other hand, pointed to the fact that the AVS was contracted to provide all the signage by public authorities and was paid with public funds. The debate, held mostly in the daily press, soon expanded into other language-sensitive issues in letters to the editors; for example, some complained that the city guide provided with the local telephone book and containing a map with only Italian names should be translated or that medical package inserts should be available in both German and Italian (Dolomiten, 10 September 2009, p. 16). But these specific examples make it evident that people in general do not fully understand the complicated rules of the Autonomy Statute, which exclude private companies (such as the telephone company), and directives of the European Union which require the use only of national languages (in this case, Italian) for product information leaflets in packages (Voltmer, 2007: 216).

Conclusions: From Tragedy to Triumph? And the New Challenge of the 21st Century Antony Alcock, a long-time observer of ethnopolitical developments in South Tyrol, was by 2000 confident enough to use the words ‘From tragedy to triumph’ to mark the changing fortunes of German and its speakers in the South Tyrol from Fascism until the end of the millennium (Alcock, 2000). In many ways he was right: With astute leadership and

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol

223

persistence German speakers have been able to guarantee full language rights and protection for themselves within a framework that aimed to protect all three ethnolinguistic groups equally (German, Italian and Ladin). The framework (bilingual for Germans and Italians) was designed to address the issue of simultaneous minoritised/majoritised status (see Table 13.1) by ensuring full language parity (and ostensible bilingualism) in all public sector spheres, but the insistence on keeping education as a monolingual area (with only second language learning), coupled with the German-speaking community’s use of dialect in most other domains, has undoubtedly worked to protect German speakers from much feared assimilation. At the same time, these two elements combine to maintain linguistic separation and reduce useful contact and genuine bilingualism (especially on the part of Italian speakers, but also German speakers in rural areas) that could alleviate ongoing tensions, some of which have been exemplified here, and improve mutual understanding between the two main ethnic groups. One unexpected issue not foreseen by the Paket and which could have unexpected long-term consequences for language policy and equilibrium in South Tyrol in the 21st century is the accelerating rise over the last decade in foreign immigration (mainly from the former Yugoslavia, Albania, North Africa and Asia) into South Tyrol. The immigrants strongly prefer Italian over German
not surprising since they typically disembark in other parts of Italy and have immediate contact with Italian, which they also recognise as the national language. While access to the public sector is limited by citizenship requirements, the practical advantage in the private job market should make it attractive for these migrants to master the German language as well, but it is only appealing for those who intend to stay in the province and do not consider it as a mere transitional stage. For the moment, new immigrants who do not speak the German language (or do so only in a rudimentary way) already dominate the markets in the Italian quarters and much of the restaurant trade.5 Although the issue of new immigration has to this point been largely ignored by South Tyrolean politicians, the newcomers are an increasingly evident reality in the classrooms: They now form 14.5% of Italianmedium upper secondary school enrolments, but only 2.7% of their German equivalents (Alto Adige, 24 March 2010). Current trends indicate the number of Italian-speaking migrants in schools and elsewhere will only continue to rise over time. While residents of South Tyrol who are non-Italian citizens are not obliged to identify themselves as Italian or German for official language purposes, their increasing numerical

224

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

strength can be seen as useful in countering the decline in the official Italian-speaking community (see Table 13.1). With increasing potential for citizenship over time and their pre-existing preference for Italian, they have the potential to reinvigorate the Italian-speaking community, but also provide an unusual twist to traditional interethnic relations between German and Italian speakers in South Tyrol. Notes 1. See Ozolins (Chapter 3, this volume) on the better known minoritised
majoritised situation in the Baltic states. 2. The underlying principle of teaching parity is often cited as a model, and according to self-assessment surveys, Ladin speakers achieve a good command of the official languages Italian and German besides their mother tongue. Voltmer (2007: 218, f. 53) notes that Ladins have higher success rates in official bilingualism exams than both other language groups. 3. One example is the school of the Marcelline, a Catholic private school in Bolzano that offers 12 hours of schooling in Italian, 10 hours in German and four hours in English language at the primary level. 4. Another reason mentioned by Mumelter (1988) is that the major part of the Italian-speaking population in Bolzano comes from lower social strata. 5. The Chinese are especially visible in the food sector, leading to hybrid pizzerie cinesi, ‘Chinese pizzerias’.

References Abel, A. (2007) Insights into the linguistic situation of South Tyrol, Part 3: Languages in education and training. In A. Abel, M. Stuflesser and L. Voltmer (eds) Aspects of Multilingualism in European Border Regions: Insights and Views from Alsace, Eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol (pp. 236
243). Bolzano/Bozen: Europa¨ische Akademie. Abel, A., Stuflesser, M. and Voltmer, L. (eds) (2007) Aspects of Multilingualism in European Border Regions: Insights and Views from Alsace, Eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol. Bolzano/Bozen: Europa¨ische Akademie. Alcock, A. (1994) South Tyrol. In H. Miall (ed.) Minority Rights in Europe (pp. 46
55). London: Pinter. Alcock, A. (2000) From tragedy to triumph: The German language in South Tyrol 1922
2000. In G. Hogan-Brun (ed.) National Varieties of German Outside Germany
A European Perspective (pp. 161
194). Oxford: Peter Lang. ASTAT (2006) Su¨dtiroler Sprachbarometer, Sprachgebrauch und Sprachidentita¨t. Bolzano/Bozen: Landesinstitut fu¨r Statistik. Egger, K. (1981) Sprachgebrauch und Sprachkompetenz bei mehrsprachigen Kindern im Su¨dtiroler Unterland. In W. Meid and K. Heller (eds) Sprachkontakt als Ursache von Vera¨nderungen der Sprach- und Bewußtseinsstruktur. Eine Sammlung von Studien zur sprachlichen Interferenz (pp. 67
82). Innsbruck: Institut fu¨r Sprachwissenschaft.

Language Policy and Reality in South Tyrol

225

Eichinger, L.M. (2002) South Tyrol: German and Italian in a changing world. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 23, 137
149. Fattor, M. (2008) Quelle mura invisibili. Alto Adige, 9 September. Feiler, M. (1997) South Tyrol
Model for the resolution of minority conflict? Review of International Affairs 28 (1053
1054), 10
35. Forer, D., Paladino, M.P., Vettori, C. and Abel, A. (2008) Il bilinguismo in Alto Adige: percezioni, osservazioni e opinioni su una questione quanto mai aperta. Il cristallo, July, 1
16. Lanthaler, F. (2007) Insights into the linguistic situation of South Tyrol, Part 2: The German language in South Tyrol
Some sociolinguistic aspects. In A. Abel, M. Stuflesser and L. Voltmer (eds) Aspects of Multilingualism in European Border Regions: Insights and Views from Alsace, Eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol. (pp. 220
235). Bolzano/Bozen: Europa¨ische Akademie. Mumelter, R. (1988) Weiße Westen und schmutzige Wa¨sche. Perso¨nliche ¨ berlegungen zu zwei Jahren Deutschunterricht an italienischen Schulen. U Forum Schule heute 2 (1), 31
33. Nelde, P.H. (1994) Sind Sprachkonflikte vermeidbar? In U. Helfrich and C.M. Riehl (eds) Mehrsprachigkeit in Europa
Hindernis oder Chance? (pp. 115
125). Wilhelmsfeld: Egert. Provenzano, C. (2008) Ein Jahr in einer anderen Sprachgruppe. INFO, March 2008. Provincial Statistics Institute (2008) South Tyrol in Figures, Report No. 8. Bolzen: Provincial Statistics Institute. Riehl, C.M. (2001) Schreiben, Text und Mehrsprachigkeit. Zur Textproduktion in mehrsprachigen Gesellschaften am Beispiel der deutschsprachigen Minderheiten in Su¨dtirol und Ostbelgien. Tu¨bingen: Stauffenburg. Riehl, C.M. (2002) Italianita` als Problem: Minderheiten und nationale Identita¨t. In R.R. Grimm, P. Koch, T. Stehl and W. Wehle (eds) Italianita`. Ein literarisches, sprachliches und kulturelles Identita¨tsmuster (pp. 115
131). Tu¨bingen: Narr. Riehl, C.M. (2008) German-Romance language contact and language conflict in Italy, Belgium and France. In J. Warren and H.M. Benbow (eds) Multilingual Europe: Reflections on Language and Identity (pp. 129
148). Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Risse, S. (2010) Sieg und Frieden. Zum sprachlichen und politischen Handeln in Su¨dtirol/Sudtirolo/Alto Adige. Inaugural dissertation, Universita¨t Mu¨nchen. Voltmer, L. (2007) Insights into the linguistic situation of South Tyrol, Part 1: Languages in South Tyrol: Historical and legal aspects. In A. Abel, M. Stuflesser and L. Voltmer (eds) Aspects of Multilingualism in European Border Regions: Insights and Views from Alsace, Eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol (pp. 201
220). Bolzano/Bozen: Europa¨ische Akademie.

Chapter 14

Addressing Policy on the Web: Netiquettes and Emerging Policies of Language Use in German Internet Forums HEINZ L. KRETZENBACHER

Introduction Computer-mediated communication (CMC) has come a very long way in a short time. Its varieties have mushroomed from basic email and bulletin boards to a plethora of different ways of communicating via computer nets, from synchronous electronic discourse by multiple interlocutors in real time such as chatrooms to typically asynchronous communication in internet forums or interactive blogs. These different forms of communication have created different online communities and subcommunities with their own respective sets of communicative rules and conventions, explicitly or implicitly expressed and policed in various ways and degrees of intensity. While there is still some discussion about what exactly constitutes an online community (cf. Androutsopoulos, 2006: 421
423), sociolinguists are interested in how such communities define themselves in terms of in-group as well as external language use and how conventions of appropriate, acceptable and unacceptable linguistic behaviour in the group develop. In this chapter, attention is focused on how policies of appropriate linguistic behaviour, specifically addressing behaviour, are developing in German-speaking internet forums. There is a belief by many German speakers that the internet is a domain where people encounter one other’s internet personae on a completely equal footing and therefore the informal address form du naturally rules while the formal address pronoun Sie is obsolete. Empirical data, however, show that the internet is not divorced from the reality of German address and its subtleties in social interaction: it remains a source of lengthy discussion and conflict 226

Addressing Policy on the Web

227

that requires management and resolution. I will present some typical examples for such behaviour management below. The data for this study were collected from 2003 to 2006 as part of a large Australian Research Council-funded project on address in several European languages at the University of Melbourne and were elicited by online search for keywords (such as duzen [‘to use du’], siezen [‘to use Sie’], Anrede [‘address’] in German) and by participant observation in forums and surveys using a short set of questions addressed to forums that had discussion threads dealing with CMC address policy (an English version of the questions is published in Clyne et al., 2009: 116
117). Internet forums are typically established by interest groups along the lines of hobbies or political, social or cultural interests, or they are maintained by e-press media, mostly for the discussion by readers of articles published in such media. The type of forums investigated ranged from discussion forums for specific articles provided by the online editions of newspapers (such as derStandard.at) to generic forum providers (such as www.internetforen.de) where topic-specific threads can be started by any member, as well as specific interest and popular culture forums, such as for the TV series The Simpsons (www.simpsonsparadise.de).

Address in German




On and Off the Net

It is well known that individuals mark their affiliation with a particular community and their role within it by the way they address other members of that community (cf. Clyne et al., 2009: 81
114). How people address one another is important for negotiating their relative social positions in all languages, including those languages that do not offer any choice of address pronouns, such as English, which has you as its only address pronoun. In comparison with other major European languages, the German address system is unique in the combination of a wide range of grammatical resources it offers with the high degree of flexibility it has been showing since more rigid codes of address broke down in the wake of the 1960s student revolt, alongside substantial social, regional and national variation (Clyne et al., 2009). Matters are further complicated by the fact that there is also much more scope for fine-tuning German address along the scales of vertical distance (reflecting social hierarchy) and horizontal distance (reflecting social distance and level of familiarity) in combining pronominal and nominal address (Kretzenbacher, 2010: 5; 8
14). The highly complex address system in German is the source of much social angst for its speakers in the non-virtual world, although the

228

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

majority of them do not seem to wish to forgo the opportunity for subtle negotiation of relative social position between interlocutors that it offers (cf. Kretzenbacher et al., 2006). With regard to German address in the virtual world online, different group-specific forms of address in different types of CMC communities have previously been described (e.g. Androutsopoulos, 2003; Schu¨tte, 2000; Thimm & Ehmer, 2000), but without particular focus on the role of address in developing and maintaining group identity, nor on how address issues may trigger conflict and then be resolved online. Clyne et al. (2009: 116
124) analyse metalinguistic utterances of native speakers of German, French and Swedish about their address behaviour in CMC, some of whom mention different conventions in different online communities. Kretzenbacher (2005) makes some preliminary remarks on the role of address forms for CMC group identity in German. This chapter is the first to provide a detailed analysis of the management of online address forms, especially when they are perceived to breach German CMC group norms.

Address Policies on the Net In most cases, the group of participants in internet discussion forums is not restricted and only very loosely defined and connected, usually by common interest in the particular topic of the forum. This means that any conventions of group behaviour such as addressing policies must be implicitly or explicitly established. As shown by the data, this can happen by (1) tacit or expressed reference to perceived address policies valid across the web, (2) by way of an inferred address policy of the particular forum (which I term a priori policies) or else (3) by explicitly discussing the setting up of an address policy for the particular forum. Such discussions can be started by any member of a forum or by a forum administrator.

A priori policies Although it will be shown in later sections that this is not necessarily the case in practice, there is a very widespread assumption that du is the default address across the German-speaking web. Since this assumption is known to be different from that operating in offline communication in German, it is often endorsed with the argument that the internet is a different social space with its own rules altogether: Im Internet tickt die Welt tatsa¨chlich anders. Ich habe es auch schon in anderen Foren erlebt dass ‘Siezer’ als Aussenseiter betrachet werden.

Addressing Policy on the Web

229

[As a matter of fact, the Internet marches to a different beat. I have had the experience that people using Sie as an address term are considered outsiders in other forums, too.] (Herbert, 1 June 2005, 02:17; http://www.bdph.de/forum/showthread. php?t1701; accessed 2 January 2010) Wir sind hier im Internet, hier siezen sich nur verklemmte Sparkassenmitarbeiter und Lehrer. [We are on the Internet, only uptight savings bank employees and teachers use Sie as an address term here.] (MAGIER, 26 March 2004, 21:50; http://www.webstyleboard.de/ webdesign/web-grafikdesign/4126-anrede-auf-webseiten/; accessed 17 July 2011) This view of a universal and unproblematic du address on the German-speaking internet can also be found in many linguistic texts dealing with address in German CMC (cf. Bader, 2002; 52, 127; HessLu¨ttich & Wilde, 2003: 167, Schepelmann, 2004: §3.2.2.2). And even though the impression is factually wrong (see below), it is so popular that members of forums where Sie is the address convention often think their forum is unique in that respect: das standard-forum ist das einzig mir bekannte board, in welchem ‘Sie’ erwuenscht scheint. ich vermute, dies soll den eindruck der serioesitaet staerken. dass sietzen ausgerechnet in einem eher liberalen board praktiziert wird, wirkt ziemlich befremdlich auf mich. [the Standard forum is the only one I know where Sie appears to be preferred. I assume this is to strengthen the impression of seriousness. The fact that Sie address is the practice in a rather liberal board of all boards appears rather strange to me.] (LingLom, 29 September 2006, 06:42; http://derStandard.at/?id  2603338; accessed 2 January 20101) The closest thing to written language policy regulating behaviour across the internet is so-called netiquette.2 The original netiquette documents, typically dealing with topics such as avoiding flaming (insulting or hostile behaviour) or spamming, were written in English and as such contain no guidelines for the use of address forms toward online interlocutors. Several versions of netiquette in German have been published, and most of them have a section on address. In many cases, German netiquettes state that the majority of web communications in German prefer the du address form, but that there is no strict rule, and they recommend that users adapt to the address

230

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

standards of the respective online community or interlocutor. Here is a typical example: In deutschsprachigen Foren und Chats hat es sich eingebu¨rgert, andere Teilnehmer zu duzen. In der Regel werden Sie dort mit einem ‘Du’ richtig liegen. Natu¨rlich ist es nicht verboten, seine Gespra¨chspartner zu siezen. Dennoch wirkt die formelle Anrede auf Andere eher irritierend als ho¨flich. [ . . .] Noch ein kleiner Tipp, wie Sie Fettna¨pfchen umschiffen: Personen, die selber siezen, wollen normalerweise auch selbst so angesprochen werden. Respektieren Sie diesen Wunsch! [In German language forums and chats, it has become customary to address other participants with du. As a general rule, you will be fine with du in such forums. Of course it is not forbidden to use Sie in addressing one’s interlocutors. The formal address, however, is perceived as irritating rather than polite. [. . .] Another little tip on how you [Sie] can avoid embarrassment: People who address others with Sie usually expect the same address form for themselves. Respect [Sie] this wish!] (Torben Riener, Platinnetz-Redaktion, 2 February 2009; http://www.platinnetz.de/magazin/artikel/sie-oder-du-hoeflichkeits formen-im-internet; accessed 2 January 2010) Many forums formulate their own forum-specific netiquette guidelines on the main page of the forum or on a special page under an FAQ heading. While du is often presented as the default or even mandatory form of address in the forum, the guidelines themselves are inconsistent in addressing their readers. There are guidelines which, like the netiquette quoted above, prescribe or suggest du as the default address form among members while using the Sie address of administrative communication to do so. Other forum guidelines are formulated in impersonal terms, avoiding directly addressing the user at all. Finally, there are guidelines that both recommend du as default address for peer-to-peer communication in the forum and consistently use it themselves when addressing users, such as the following: In diesem Forum ist die Anrede ‘Du’ u¨blich. Das soll keine Respektlosigkeit darstellen, sondern hat sich einfach so eingebu¨rgert. Wundere dich deshalb nicht, wenn du ungefragt geduzt wirst, auch wenn du andere siezt. [In this forum, du is the usual address form. This is not intended to show any lack of respect, but it has simply come to be the norm. Therefore don’t [du] be astonished if you [du] are addressed with du

Addressing Policy on the Web

231

without being asked about it, even if you [du] use Sie with others.] (http://freibrief.net/netiquette.php; accessed 2 January 2010) Policy development by metalinguistic discussion As implied or even as explicitly stated (e.g. hat sich einfach so eingebu¨rgert ‘has simply come to be the norm’ above) in many individual address guidelines for specific forums, the respective conventions have developed within those forums. That means that at some stage, address norms in a forum become a problem that has to be solved by metalinguistic discussion, resulting in some sort of policy. This is not an exceptional process, since the complex German address system has been a hot topic for discussion since the 1970s (cf. Clyne et al., 2009: 22), with serious exchange on the matter happening online as well as off-line (cf. Kretzenbacher, 2005). Such discussions in forums can be triggered by the forum moderator or by a forum member, either without apparent immediate reason (starting a new thread on address in the forum) or as a request for clarification of conventions in the forum by a newcomer (a so-called newbie), or else as a reaction to previous address behaviour perceived as inappropriate by another forum member or an administrator. In order to show how the discussion and development of linguistic behaviour policy in online forums is entwined in the flow of contributions and the change of topics within a forum thread, two rather different threads will be presented in what follows. Discussion thread started by request for policy clarification Typically requests for clarification on address policy start new threads, initiated either by a newbie or by an experienced forum member, often with administrator privileges. The first thread to be presented3 totals 18 individual contributions posted over a few days in a philatelic forum. It is started by a newcomer’s request to be made familiar with the address conventions in the forum. The thread shows considerable preparedness of other forum members not only to help the newbie (identified as male by his first name) with his request but also to discuss the intricacies of addressing in the online and offline world of philately. The topics discussed in connection with the original request for policy clarification are certainly wide ranging: (1) different address conventions in different forums, (2) regional differences in German address conventions and (3) addressing the same persons online and offline, particularly when dealing with high-status members of the association. The thread is almost entirely a discussion among peers as members of the group. Only

232

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

at one stage (Posting #13) does a moderator contribute to the discussion, mentioning a previous discussion of the topic and reassuring the members that there is no problem with using du to address other forum members. The discussion is wrapped up by its initiator, and the general opinion is that du is the standard address form in the forum, while reciprocity should be observed with members who prefer Sie. This view emerges as an implicit norm at the end of the thread. The tone of the discussion is extremely friendly and quite polite, greetings are exchanged frequently and anything that could possibly be understood as a face-threatening act, even the spontaneous address of a fellow Saarlander with du, is hedged by linguistic or graphic means (e.g. smileys). This particular very detailed and supportive posting also gives a good insight into the general tone of the thread as well as into the problems with addressing superiors in the philatelic hierarchy online and offline (apparently a very important problem in the world of German-speaking philately; similar problems are not discussed in forums focused on other hobbies or interests): @sirona & emilianus erstens als Saarla¨nder Duze ich Dich [grinning smiley] Du hast eine sehr richtige und wichtige Frage gestellt. Ich bin in mehreren Foren, die sich nicht mit Briefmarken bescha¨figen, sondern auch andere Hobbybereiche betreffen, ta¨tig. Dort ist es u¨blich sich zu Duzen und man kennt sich weitgehenst nicht perso¨nlich und die Netikette gebietet das. Gleichzeitig gibt es in meinen anderen Hobbys keine so hohen gesellschaftlichen Unterschiede, dass ein Stadesdu¨nkel zum Tragen ka¨me. Hier bei auf dem BDPh
Forum ist das so eine Sache. Ich kenne viele, die hier sich verewigen so sehr lange perso¨nlich. Da auch viele ‘Philatelistische Wu¨rdentra¨ger’ sich hier im Forum tummeln und auch von Ihrem Nickname her eine Verbindung zu Ihrem Namen herauszulesen ist, tue ich mich sehr schwer einen ‘WoMa Wolfgang Maasen oder v.Loo’ zu Duzen obwohl es die Netikette erlauben wu¨rde. Da aber auch diese ‘Wu¨rdentra¨ger’ sich der Netikette entziehen und selbst in Ihren Beitra¨gen die User ‘Siezen’ fa¨llt es schwer, eine Erwiderung mit einem ‘Du’ zu ta¨tigen. Dazu kommt noch das man als ‘Normalo’ bei Messen und BDPHVerstaltungen sich perso¨nlich trifft. Soll ich jetzt jemanden, den ich im Forum Duze in der realen Begegnung Siezen? Ich halte es so: User, die in Ihren Fragen und Antworten ein DU benutzen werden von mir ebenfalls geduzt; dementsprechend verfahre ich mit Fragen und Antworten bei denen ein ‘Sie’ eingesetzt wird.

Addressing Policy on the Web

233

Ausnahme: Ich kenne einen im Formun ‘Siezenden’, den ich perso¨nlich ‘duze’ und dann ‘Duze’ ich ihn auch im Forum. Gruß Remmow [grinning smiley] [@sirona & emilianus
first of all, as a [fellow] Saarlander I am addressing you with du [grinning smiley]. You have asked a very good and important question. I am active in several forums that do not deal with stamps but with other hobbies. There it is customary to use du for addressing each other and people do not know each other personally and netiquette requires it. At the same time, in my other hobbies there are no such clear-cut differences in social status that status arrogance would be a factor. Here in the BDPh [Bund Deutscher Philatelisten e.V./ Association of German Philatelists Inc.] forum this is a bit of a question. I have known many of those who have immortalised themselves here in person for such a very long time. Since many ‘philatelic dignitaries’ mingle here in this forum, and since their nicks allow one to draw conclusions as to their real names, I have difficulties in addressing a ‘WoMa Wolfgang Maasen oder v.Loo’ with du, although netiquette would allow it. However, since those ‘dignitaries’ themselves defy netiquette, addressing users with Sie in their own contributions, it is difficult to reply with a du. On top of that, one as a ‘normalo’ [i.e. average Joe] meets [other forum members] in person on fairs and BDPh events. Am I to address someone with Sie in a real life encounter when I address them with du in the forum? This is how I do it: users who use the address form du in their own questions and replies are addressed with du by me, too, I deal in the same way with questions and replies in which Sie is used. Exception: I know someone who uses Sie in the forum with whom I am on du terms personally, consequently I address him with du in the forum, too. Greetings, Remmow [grinning smiley].] (Remmow, 31 May 2005, 14:17) Although long individual postings are not unusual in Germanspeaking internet forums, the unusual length and detail of this posting shows how seriously Remnow takes the question of address in the forum. We will see below that the same issue can also be highly volatile, triggering very long and detailed postings in other forums. Address turning up as a communicative problem in a thread on an unrelated topic Quite a different situation develops in the thread to be discussed next.4 Under the headline Neu hier (‘new here’), werbefrust (lit. ‘adsfrustration’)

234

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

starts a thread in order to discuss what he or she considers the steadily declining quality of TV ads. The question of appropriate address forms in the forum appears only later, in connection with a general discussion of the tone of communication in this thread, triggered by members who find that werbefrust behaves in an impolite way towards fellow contributors. The administrator Christof, who had contributed to the thread from the start, feels the necessity to calm the storm in this thread’s tea cup several times. The discussion of internet and forum-specific address conventions becomes quite heated at times, with contributions flying thick and fast, following each other very quickly
so much so that twice (#33 and #36) contributors feel that the discussion has already overtaken the point they were making while they were typing their last (lengthy) posting. It develops from a miscommunication starting with werbefrust’s feedback on the replies of other members to his or her initial request to discuss TV ads (which werbefrust implies in his or her very first contribution are bad and becoming worse). Four days after the discussion thread had started and after the first argument between werbefrust on the one hand and two other forum members on the other hand had taken place, werbefrust wants to clarify what she or he calls ‘misunderstandings’ (#23), in his or her opinion those misunderstandings all being the fault of other forum members. She or he compiles a long list (seven numbered items) of what she or he feels members of the forum have misunderstood without naming names and addressing fellow forum members directly, although it is clear that she or he is particularly referring to the contributions of the other two members she or he had argued with before. For the second time within the thread, the moderator Christof tries to tone down werbefrust’s criticism of other forum members, addressing werbefrust directly with du. Another member, r.unger, who had taken part in the previous discussion of the thread without getting involved in the argument between werbefrust and the other two members now (#25) takes on werbefrust’s list of seven points from (#23) stating that she or he (r.unger) does not understand werbefrust’s premise and addressing him or her with du. The statement that r.unger does not understand werbefrust’s premise is rather obviously a selfdeprecatingly polite way of expressing that she or he does not share it. Immediately afterwards, r.unger exchanges pleasant messages with the administrator. In #29, 15 minutes after r.unger had criticised him or her, werbefrust shoots back implying that r.unger’s failure to understand a point is a signal for his or her general lack of understanding, making the point that the fact r.unger addresses him or her (werbefrust) with du is

Addressing Policy on the Web

235

also a sign of it, specifically with regard to basic conventions of politeness: [#29] Sorry-ich denke vermutlich verstehen Sie vieles Anderes auch nicht-u. a., dass es eine Unsitte ist, wildfremde Leute im ta¨glichen Leben zu duzen. [ . . .] [Sorry
I think probably you [Sie] do not understand a lot of other things either
amongst which that it is a bad habit to address strangers with du in daily life.] (werbefrust (Neues Mitglied) [new member], 4 September 2004, 19:19) Clearly, r.unger was not the first forum member to address werbefrust with du
three others (including the administrator) had used this address form towards werbefrust before. Consequently, r.unger considers the discussion of address forms by werbefrust a cheap strategy of attack as the best form of defence and says so, interestingly now initially echoing werbefrust’s Sie address, then switching back to du: [#30] Mit dieser Reaktion habe ich gerechnet, [. . .] Und dann [. . .] werden sie beleidigend und diskreditieren sich damit fu¨r jeden weiteren Gedankenaustausch. [ . . .] Wenn Du so viel im Internet unterwegs bist, solltest Du u¨brigens wissen, daß es in Foren u¨blich ist sich zu dutzen. [I expected a reaction like that [. . .]. And then [. . .] you [Sie] become insulting and discredit yourself [Sie] for any further exchange of ideas. [. . .] If you [du] get around in the Internet so much, you [du] should know that it is customary in forums to address each other with du. (r.unger (Senior), 4 September 2004, 19:29) R.unger becomes so agitated that she or he makes a few typographical errors (in itself nothing unfamiliar in forum discussions, particularly at times when one contribution quickly reacts to the preceding one). In the following contribution, the communication has broken down completely and werbefrust uses one of r.unger’s typographical errors to accuse him or her of being illiterate on top of being both inconsiderate and incompetent to discuss PR: [#31] Nein! Dutzen werden sich allenfalls Analphabeten. Rein-sachlich ist das ‘Du’ in Foren aber mit Sicherheit nicht selbstversta¨ndlich, wahrscheinlich eine Frage des Backgrounds und der Qualita¨t.

236

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

Zumindest sollte eine Netiquette bestehen, nach denen sich Poster richten ko¨nnen, und zumindest mir wurde seitens des Webmasters nichts diesbezu¨gliches mitgeteilt. [No! only illiterate people will use du with each other. On a purely factual basis, du is certainly not a matter of course in forums, probably a question of background and quality. At least there should be a netiquette giving some guidelines to users, and as far as I am concerned I was not given any instruction regarding address by the webmaster.] (werbefrust (Neues Mitglied) [new member], 4 September 2004, 20:07) The administrator reacts to the exchange between werbefrust and r.unger by referring to the customary use of du on the internet: [#32] Also ich weiss nicht, warum du so harsch reagierst? [ . . .] Zum Thema duzen: Im ta¨glichen Leben im Internet ist es KEINE Unsitte sich zuduzen. Es ist sogar ga¨nzlich normal. Andere La¨nder, andere Sitten, und das Internet ist definitiv ein ‘eigenes Land’. Das hat u¨brigens nichts mit Respektlosigkeit zu tun, nicht, dass du in die falsche Richtung denkst und glaubst, wir wollen dich mit dem Duzen jetzt a¨rgern. [Well, I don’t understand why you [du] are reacting so harshly? [. . .] Regarding du-ing: in daily life on the Internet it is NOT bad manners to address each other with du. Rather, this is completely normal. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, and the Internet definitely is ‘a different country’. That has nothing to do with a lack of respect, by the way, just so you [du] don’t start thinking in the wrong direction and believe we want to annoy you [du] by addressing you with du.] (Christof (Administrator), 4 September 2004, 20:10) The adminstrator must have realised that things had gotten further out of hand between werbefrust and r.unger while he was writing #32. So in #33, he repeats his message from #32 in stronger words (even using capitals, the chat group equivalent of yelling), strongly reminding werbefrust that she or he has overstepped the line: [#33] Hui, da war ich wohl recht langsam. Nochmal: Duzen hat NICHTS mit der Qualita¨t eines Gespra¨chs zu tun. Es sagt auch NICHTS daru¨ber aus, ob der Duzende gut erzogen ist oder Respekt erweist. Es hat auch NICHTS mit Analphabetismus zu tun. Da man im Internet nicht weiss, wer das Gegenu¨ber ist, macht es keinen

Addressing Policy on the Web

237

Sinn mehrere Anredeformen zu haben. Es kann eine rennomierte Perso¨nlichkeit aus dem o¨ffentlichen Leben sein, es kann aber auch ein 12-ja¨hriges Kind sein. In Anlehnung an das englische ‘you’ hat sich im Laufe der Zeit im deutschsprachigem Internet durchgesetzt ‘Du’ zu sagen, unabha¨ngig davon, mit wem man es zu tun hat. Die Begru¨ndung kann man wie gerade eben gesagt praktisch fu¨hren, man kann sie aber auch ideologisch fu¨hren. Das Internet ist eine Plattform fu¨r ALLE Menschen, unabha¨ngig von der Staatsangeho¨rigkeit, vom Alter, sozialen Status etc. Deshalb will man eine Differenzierung an dieser Stelle vermeiden, da allen Menschen der Gleiche Respekt gebu¨hrt. Demnach profiliert sich eine Perso¨nlichkeit nicht dadurch, wie sie angesprochen werden mo¨chte, sondern dadurch, wie sie sich gegenu¨ber der online-community verha¨lt. Dazu za¨hlt vor allem die Fa¨higkeit die Meinung anderer zu tolerieren und sachlich diskutieren zu ko¨nnen. Die Regeln im Internet sind etwas anders als das, was man ‘von der Straße’ gewohnt ist. Man kann das entweder akzeptieren oder versuchen sich mit der ‘kopf durch die Wand’-Methode durchzuschlagen. Ich schlage dir allerdings vor, die erstere Wahl zu treffen. Ich hoffe, dass du das nach meiner kurzen Einfu¨hrung auch so siehst. [Oh, it appears I was a bit slow there. So once more: Using du as an address form has NOTHING to do with the quality of a conversation. Neither does it give ANY indication on whether the person using du is well educated or behaving respectfully. Nor does it have ANYTHING to do with illiteracy. Since one does not know who one’s opposite number on the Internet is, it does not make sense to have more than one form of address. It can be a well renowned personality from public life, but just as well a child of 12 years. Following the model of English you, in the German-speaking Internet it has become customary over time to address everybody with du, no matter who you are dealing with. The reason for this can be given on a practical basis, as I just did, but one can also give ideological reasons. The Internet is a platform for ALL people irrespective of their nationality, their age, their social status etc. Therefore one wants to avoid constructing any differences here, since every person is entitled to the same respect. Consequently, people do not distinguish themselves by the way they want to be addressed, but by the way they behave towards the online community. A great part of this is the ability to tolerate other people’s opinions and to discuss in an objective way. The rules on the Internet are slightly different from

238

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

what one is accustomed to ‘in the street’. One can either accept this or try to break through with the ‘head through the wall’ method. I would really suggest that you [du] choose the former. I hope that, after my short introduction, you [du] see it the same way.] (Christof (Administrator), 4 September 2004, 20:20) Werbefrust now turns directly to Christof and justifies his or her standpoint in the address question in a rather more polite (if firm) tone than she or he had used towards r.unger before. As far as address is concerned, werbefrust sticks to addressing Christof with Sie: [#34] Hallo Critstof, [sic] eigentlich glaube ich nicht ‘harsch’ reagiert zu haben
und vor allem wollte ich dies auch nicht. Mit dem Duzen habe ich eigentlich nicht das geringste Problem
nur meine ich, dass ein entsprechender Status zuvor geschaffen sein sollte. Nicht richtig ist na¨mlich Ihre Ansicht, dass das ‘Du’ im Internet eine allgemeinu¨bliche Anrede sei
darauf war ich bei meinen ersten Schrittten im Internet selbst auch schon peinlich hereingefallen. Ich bewege mich seither in Foren von Wirtschaft, Recht und Medizin in denen ausschliesslich das ‘Sie’ gebra¨uchlich ist. [Hello Christof, I don’t really think I reacted ‘harshly’
and above all that was not my intention. It is not that I have the slightest problem with du-ing
I just think an appropriate state [of the relationship? HLK] should be established beforehand. For your [Sie] opinion that du is a generally customary address form on the Internet is not correct
I had some embarrassing problems with that assumption in my own first steps on the Internet. Since then, I have been active in forums dealing with economic, legal and medical topics where Sie is used exclusively.] (werbefrust (Neues Mitglied) [new member], 4 September 2004, 20:51) Subsequently, other members discuss werbefrust’s attitude towards the forum community and its conventions critically, using Sie to address werbefrust directly. However, werbefrust is not active in the thread any more. The impression that Sokrates utters in #36, that the address pronoun generally accepted as appropriate in the forum is du, is inferred rather than stated explicitly by any other forum member: [#36] [. . .] Es ist doch vo¨llig Wurscht, ob im Internet allgemein geduzt wird oder nicht, oder? Wenn in diesem Forum das ‘du’ gepflogenheit ist, dann ist das eben so. [[ . . .] It really is completely irrelevant whether there is general du-ing

Addressing Policy on the Web

239

on the Internet or not, isn’t it? If the du is customary in this forum, then that’s just how it is.] (Sokrates (Neues Mitglied) [new member], 4 September 2004, 21:04) All other members who talk about du as an appropriate address form refer to the internet as a whole, not to a specific rule of the particular forum (which, as werbefrust complains in #31, does not seem to exist in explicit form). So while a number of misunderstandings take place in the thread, they are not the ones that werbefrust considers as such. Instead, for him or her they are the result of radical differences in general assumptions about the tone of contributions in the forum between werbefrust and the other forum members, including assumptions about the place of the du address in relation to this tone.

Conclusions As in offline communication, address in online communication is a sensitive area for German speakers. Contrary to widespread assumption, we see that the internet is not really ‘a different country’ in respect to the complex rules of address in German, and while du has become the default address pronoun in many forums, this cannot be said to be the case across the board
with uncertainty and conflict over the appropriate address pronoun clearly noticeable. Therefore, netiquette policies are often necessary to spell out the address forms considered appropriate by the communities in specific forums. In forums where no such a priori policies exist, a posteriori policies sooner or later emerge in the forum itself, as illustrated by the second thread discussed in this chapter. Administrators or newcomers may trigger the discussions that produce implicit or explicit address policies in forums. In many cases, the discussion of appropriate address becomes entangled in the discussion about social coherence of the forum. Ideas about ‘solidarity’ expressed or even produced by the du address form are widespread across the German-speaking internet: Ich mache mir doch nicht die Mu¨he eine Community, eine Gemeinschaft zu erstellen um dann zu sehen wie sich die Mitglieder untereinander in ‘kalter’ Art und Weise, und das ‘sie’ ist nunmal kein Ausdruck fu¨r Freundschaft, begegnen. [I’m certainly not going through the motions to establish a community, just to see then how its members interact with each other in a ‘cold’ way, the Sie definitely not being an expression of friendship.]

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

240

(MrNase, 5 August 2005, 21:47; http://boardunity.de/anrede-sieoder-du-t3390.html; accessed 2 January 2010) Very similar ideas about the revolutionary social power of a ‘solidary’ address pronoun were circulating, particularly in what was then West Germany, at the time of the first big du wave in the wake of the 1960s student revolt (cf. Bayer, 1979). They have not proven prophetical. Neither has du become the sole address pronoun in German nor has the increased scope of du address led to a greater solidarity among German speakers. So it remains to be seen how the address conventions on the German-speaking internet develop. Du is certainly more common in CMC, and it is clear many users are hopeful about this change and see this as a liberation from the angst caused by address choice in real life. However, bastions of Sie remain on the internet and a substantial number of internet users apparently do not wish to forgo the choice of address forms that German offers. Notes 1. All German forum contributions are quoted as in the original form, including their typographical errors (such as the misspelling sietzen here). 2. This portmanteau word from net and etiquette originally referred to a collection of informal rules complied by Arlene Rinaldi from 1992 (cf. http://courses. cs.vt.edu/ cs3604/lib/Netiquette/Rinaldi/ (accessed 2.1.10) for a version updated in 1996) and a memo titled ‘Netiquette Guidelines’ published by the Internet Engineering Task Force in October 1995 (http://tools.ietf.org/html/ rfc1855; accessed 2 January 2010). 3. See http://www.bdph.de/forum/showthread.php?t 1701; accessed 2.1.10. 4. See http://www.internet-foren.de/printthread.php?Cat  &Board  talk & main  154018&type  thread; accessed 2.1.10.

References Androutsopoulos, J. (2003) Jugendliche Schreibstile in der Netzkommunikation: zwei Ga¨stebu¨cher im Vergleich. In E. Neuland (ed.) Jugendsprachen
Spiegel der Zeit. Internationale Fachkonferenz 2001 an der Bergischen Universita¨t Wuppertal (pp. 307
321). Frankfurt/Main: P. Lang. Androutsopoulos, J. (2006) Sociolinguistics and computer-mediated communication. Journal of Sociolinguistics 10 (4), 419
438. Bader, J. (2002) Schriftlichkeit und Mu¨ndlichkeit in der Chat-Kommunikation. Networx Nr. 29. On WWW at http://www.mediensprache.net/de/networx/docs/ networx-29.asp. Accessed 30.12.09. Bayer, K. (1979) Die Anredepronomina DU und SIE. Thesen zu einem semantischen Konflikt im Hochschulbereich. Deutsche Sprache. Zeitschrift fu¨r Theorie, Praxis, Dokumentation 7 (3), 212
219. Clyne, M., Norrby C. and Warren, J. (2009) Language and Human Relations: Styles of Address in Contemporary Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Addressing Policy on the Web

241

Hess-Lu¨ttich, E.W.B. and Wilde, E. (2003) Der Chat als Textsorte und/oder als Dialogsorte? Linguistik online 13 (1), 161
180. On WWW at http://www. linguistik-online.de/13_01/hessLuettichWilde.pdf. Accessed 9.3.10. Kretzenbacher, H.L. (2005) ‘Hier im großen internetz, wo sich alle dududuzen’: Internet discourse politeness and German address. Paper presented at the 3rd International Conference on Language Variation in Europe (ICLaVE), Amsterdam 2005. On WWW at http://www.rumaccc.unimelb.edu.au/address/ Internetaddress.pdf. Accessed 30.12.09. Kretzenbacher, H.L. (2010) ‘Man ordnet ja bestimmte Leute irgendwo ein fu¨r sich . . . ’: Anrede und soziale Deixis. Deutsche Sprache. Zeitschrift fu¨r Theorie, Praxis, Dokumentation 38 (1), 1
18. Kretzenbacher, H.L., Clyne, M. and Schu¨pbach, D. (2006) Pronominal address in German: Rules, anarchy and embarrassment potential. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 29 (2), 17.1
17.18. Schepelmann, A. (2004) Kontextualisierungskonventionen in Internet relay Chat. MA thesis, University of Vienna. On WWW at http://www.univie.ac.at/linguistics/ publikationen/diplomarbeit/schepelmann/start.htm. Accessed 9.3.10. Schu¨tte, W. (2000) Sprachentwicklung und Kommunikationsformen in den interaktiven Diensten des Internet. In H. Hoffmann (ed.) Deutsch global. Neue Medien
Herausforderung fu¨r die deutsche Sprache (pp. 77
95). Ko¨ln: DuMont. Thimm, C. and Ehmer, H. (2000) ‘Wie im richtigen Leben . . . ’: Soziale Identita¨t und sprachliche Kommunikation in einer Newsgroup. In C. Thimm (ed.) Soziales im Netz: Sprache, Beziehungen und Kommunikationskulturen im Internet (pp. 220
239). Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag.

Chapter 15

Language Policy in Practice: What Happens When Swedish IKEA and H&M Take ‘You’ On? CATRIN NORRBY and JOHN HAJEK

Introduction Language policy statements and their implementation are by no means solely a concern of governments and official bodies. On the contrary, many large private companies boast formal or informal guidelines which regulate language use within the company as well as in customer service encounters and other external interactions (see also Cameron, this volume). The endorsement of a particular linguistic behaviour is also a means of promoting a corporate identity and ideology and, by extension, a way of selling a certain lifestyle. In this chapter, we investigate how such policy decisions on language use impact on relationships among employees and, most importantly, with customers in a globalised economy. In our discussion, we draw on examples from two large multinational companies of Swedish origin
the furniture retailer IKEA and the clothing company H&M. Both companies are widely known for their promotion of informal linguistic behaviour in internal and external communication, particularly through informal address practices (e.g. by the use of tu instead of vous in French, du instead of Sie in German). They have, as a result, attracted considerable media attention for their Swedishstyle address policy, sometimes referred to as IKEA du (Grol et al., 1998), and have met with opposition from some employees and customers who resist or resent such a development. The chapter opens with a brief section on address practices, which highlights the Swedish address system and the cultural values it expresses, in order to provide background to the informal corporate address practices advocated by the two companies. We then consider official company policy, and in particular actual address behaviour, as documented on company websites aimed at different speech communities. 242

Language Policy in Practice

243

We show that despite the companies’ reputations for informal interaction, the actual situation is more complex, with some sensitivity shown to more formal practices in some countries, focusing on Europe because of space restrictions. Finally, we explore reactions and resistance to company policy by drawing on interview data from a large-scale project on contemporary address practices in some European speech communities (Clyne et al., 2009) and comments on internet sites and in the print media.

Background Address practices
the use of second-person pronoun such as you in English or tu/vous and du/Sie in French and German and the choice between first name, full name or title and last name
are fundamental components for building and maintaining social relationships. While there is noticeable intracultural variation in address usage and attitudes to address terms (Clyne et al., 2009), there is even greater intercultural variability (Clyne, 2009). Superficially the Swedish address system looks like the French, with an informal address pronoun (du) and a second-person plural form (ni) which can be used as a formal pronoun of address to one person. However, the functions of the two address pronouns are very different in Swedish, as there is only very limited use of the formal address pronoun (ni), with du as the default address in almost all contexts. (A frequently repeated saying in Sweden is that the only exception to this rule is the royal family whose members cannot be addressed with du.) In practice, therefore, the contemporary Swedish address system is more similar to the English system with its universal address pronoun you. Nevertheless, the shift to du as default address is a recent development, and the address system has undergone significant change in the last 50 years
from a high level of formality to extreme informality. Before the 1950s when the traditional Swedish address system started to break down, du was the pronoun of solidarity (Brown & Gilman, 1960), used within the family and between friends. As a marker of solidarity, du was also used in the organised labour movement to underscore equality. For relationships marked by a higher degree of social distance, it was common to employ titles as a sign of (mutual) respect among equals, whereas in unequal relationships ni was used socially downwards to a person who lacked a title, who in turn would address the interlocutor by his/her title (Ahlgren, 1978: 78). Through this non-reciprocal use ni attracted negative connotations for many speakers and led to a situation where Swedish lacked a neutral, polite form of address that could be

244

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

used in interactions between strangers. This gave rise to considerable insecurity about address use, where avoidance of direct address became commonplace, resulting in a cumbersome address system. The period after the Second World War was characterised by a strong egalitarian movement and saw the introduction of numerous social reforms, which worked as a catalyst for the introduction of du
a democratic, no-nonsense form of address based on solidarity and equality resonated with a large section of society and the egalitarian ideals of post-war Sweden. Undoubtedly, the rapid spread of du as the default address pronoun was also facilitated by the lack of a neutral formal option. The rapid shift to du during the 1960s and 1970s has been described as a change from below, among ordinary people (Ahlgren, 1978: 84
85), and by the late 1970s the use of titles, ni and avoidance strategies had largely been eradicated in favour of du. However, less than a decade later, Ma˚rtensson (1986) noted the reappearance of the V pronoun ni, but in a new and much less hierarchical function, used primarily in service encounters by younger staff to older customers to signal polite distance. Later research (Clyne et al., 2009: 110) shows that while reciprocal T address is still the expectation by the majority of Swedish speakers, a surprisingly large 20% of informants expect nonreciprocal V to be used in service encounters. However, at the same time many resent this use of ni. This apparent revival of ni, limited to customer service, should not be overstated. It is certainly the perception outside of Sweden that du is used universally. It is this informal and nonhierarchical form of address that is championed by companies such as IKEA and H&M, and in what follows we consider both policy statements and actual use as documented in particular on the companies’ official websites.

Selling ‘You’ to You: Company Identity and Ideology ` -Vis Reality Vis-a A mail survey of public institutions and companies, including multinationals such as IKEA and H&M, was distributed as part of the previously mentioned address project (for project description, see Clyne et al., 2003). The survey included questions about company address policy as well as actual address use within the organisation and externally, primarily in communication with customers. While the return rate was disappointingly low, there were a few exceptions, including IKEA whose marketing department at the Swedish head office provided a detailed response on their company address policy.

Language Policy in Practice

245

According to IKEA’s Swedish marketing department, the use of the informal address pronoun (henceforth referred to as ‘T’) is a carefully considered policy, both with regard to interactions within the IKEA workforce and in any material directed to customers, such as signage, catalogues and other information available on the internet. IKEA Sweden prescribes the use of T among all its co-workers, and it also uses T in all market and customer communication, an address policy decision ultimately made by the founder of IKEA, Ingvar Kamprad. The address policy is described as an essential element of the overall IKEA vision and business foundation: Our address policy is intimately connected to our vision and business idea, where we talk about ‘the many people’, where it would feel unnatural and untrustworthy to use another form of address. IKEA’s target group is within the 22
40 years age range. Mail survey response, IKEA Sweden. (Authors’ translation) On the IKEA website this vision is described as part of ‘the IKEA Way’ which draws on the company’s Swedish heritage. Specific reference is made to the 1950s which saw the rise of functionalism, ‘at the same time as Sweden was establishing a society founded on social equality’.1 While there is no explicit mention of language practices anywhere on the IKEA website, the actual use of T (e.g. du, tu) in languages where an address pronoun distinction exists could be interpreted as promoting ‘Swedishness’; that is, the use of T is an expression of the social equality and egalitarianism alluded to in the quote above. With respect to H&M, the company is more discreet about its Swedish origins and ownership. We did not receive a response to the mail survey from H&M and are therefore unable to ascertain whether a formal address policy exists within the company. However, based on media coverage, not least in Germany and Austria, the company is known for promoting a du policy (see, e.g. Invernizzi, 2001; Knapp, 2008; Sakowski, n.d.).

IKEA online We now turn to actual address usage in communication aimed at customers. Online customer information and the 2010 IKEA catalogue
available in a total of 39 countries and 27 languages, with 25 countries and 22 languages in Europe
display variation in the actual address form used across speech communities. This contradicts IKEA’s stated goal of always addressing the customer with T, with just over half of

246

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

country-/language-specific sites using T only, as the following European examples show: T: Dutch (Netherlands, Belgium), Danish, German (Austria, Germany), Icelandic, Norwegian, Swedish, Catalan (Spain), Romanian, Spanish (Spain), Polish, Finnish, Hungarian [13 countries, 12 languages] V: French (France, Belgium), Portuguese, Czech, Russian, Slovakian, Greek (Greece, Cyprus), Basque, Turkish [9 countries, 8 languages] V/T: German (Switzerland), French (Switzerland), Italian (Switzerland) [1 country, 3 languages] T/V: Italian (Italy) [1 country] n/a: English (UK and Ireland) [2 countries] In Switzerland, V predominates across all three languages
T is used only to address prospective applicants seeking employment. In Italy, the site is restricted to customers only and T predominates, with occasional and seemingly random use of the V form (see also below). Overall, the national IKEA sites are similar, but not identical, in layout and general information. For most countries, information is directed exclusively towards customers, while in a few instances, for example Switzerland, there is also some information specifically for job seekers. The majority of sites include an online customer service function where an image of a young woman wearing a headset with a microphone appears below the text ‘Need help? Ask Anna’ (British site) followed by brief information on the service provided. By clicking on the link the customer encounters a pop-up window with a blonde or brunette version of ‘Anna’ above the text ‘Hallo, how can I help you?’ In languages where a T/V distinction exists, there are quite striking differences in address usage, even between speech communities that use the same language, as the following German-language examples show: Brauchst du Hilfe? Frag einfach Anna. [ . . .] Hallo! Ich heiße Anna. Ich bin hier, um deine Fragen zu IKEA zu beantworten. [Do you (T) need help? Simply ask Anna [. . .] Hallo! My name is Anna. I am here to answer your (T) questions to IKEA.] (Austrian website2) Brauchst du Hilfe? Frag doch einfach Anna [ . . .] Hej! Ich bin Anna. Gerne beantworte ich deine Fragen zu IKEA.

Language Policy in Practice

247

[Do you (T) need help? Then simply ask Anna [. . .] Hej! I am Anna. I am pleased to answer your (T) questions to IKEA.] (German website3) Brauchen Sie Hilfe? Fragen Sie Anna. [ . . .] Guten Tag! Mein Name ist Anna. Ich bin hier um Ihre Fragen zu IKEA zu beantworten. [Do you need help? Ask (V) Anna [. . .] Good morning/afternoon! My name is Anna. I am here to answer your (V) questions to IKEA.] (Swiss website, German version4) There is a scale of formality, with the Swiss website the most and the German the least formal. The Swiss website uses the more formal greeting Guten Tag and consistent V address (Sie, Ihre), whereas the German one uses T address (du, deine) and also achieves a sense of informality through the use of the discourse marker doch (‘but’) and the Swedish informal, but ubiquitous, greeting hej (‘hi’). Of all national websites, the German is the only one to greet people in Swedish. This practice also extends to pre-recorded messages about special offers that are broadcast over the speaker system in the German IKEA stores: Hej, jetzt kannst du dein Badezimmer komplett neu einrichten und dabei noch sparen! [‘Hej, now you (T) can make over your bathroom completely while saving money!’] (Sick, 2006), thereby emphasising a very specific sense of Swedishness. From these examples it is clear that IKEA Germany and Austria both promote T address to customers, in line with the stated goals of IKEA, but not reflecting general perceptions about appropriate address in service encounters in those countries where reciprocal V generally is the norm. According to questionnaire responses, only about 10% of Germans and Austrians expect to be addressed with T in a service context, and with few exceptions they are below the age of 40 (Clyne et al., 2009: 109). The V address of the Swiss German website clearly deviates from the other German-language websites. The parallel use of address forms across the Swiss French, German and Italian sites appears to be a specifically local pattern
which seems to reflect both the greater formality of customer interaction in French in general (as seen in France) and the greater formality associated with standard high German in particular
since for most Swiss the more informal local Swiss German dialect is the normal communicative means of daily life. It is similarly not

248

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

surprising that IKEA’s Swiss Italian website follows the same norms, given the relatively small Swiss Italian community’s extensive contact with the dominant Swiss French and German population. While the Swiss Italian customer is always addressed with V, IKEA Italy’s Anna mixes T and V, as the examples below demonstrate: Occorre aiuto? Chiedete ad Anna! [ . . .] C’e` qualcuno? Credo che abbiate dimenticato di scrivere la vostra domanda. [Is help needed? Ask (V) Anna! [. . .] Is anyone there? I think you (V) have forgotten to write your (V) question] Swiss website Ti servono informazioni? Chiedi ad Anna! [ . . .] Ciao! Il mio nome e` Anna. Sono qui per rispondere alle vostre domande su IKEA. [Do you (T) need information? Ask (T) Anna! [. . .] Ciao! My name is Anna, I am here to respond to your (V) questions about IKEA.] Italian website The examples in this section suggest that the practical address outcome varies among speech communities, with only about half of the IKEA websites in Europe following ostensible company policy, while the others either use V, alternate between T and V, or even avoid addressing the customer directly. For speech communities where the use of T is more generally accepted, such as Scandinavia, the Netherlands and much of Spain, implementing official company policy is hardly a contentious issue, while the insistence on T in Germany and Austria goes against community expectations. In some cases, notably French-speaking and most Slavonic communities, universal T has not been put into practice, presumably because it is deemed potentially controversial and thus not conducive to good customer relations. In actual interactions with customers
in-store service encounters or in written communication
still more variation is likely to occur. Even in Sweden where T is the default, reality does not always reflect the explicit company policy. According to the IKEA mail survey response, there are differences between the explicit policy of the company and what happens in day-to-day work in direct conversation with the customer and/or in written communication. Yet another example of discrepancy between policy and practice comes from Germany. According to Sick (2006), address practices differ

Language Policy in Practice

249

between the pre-recorded product announcements broadcast in all German IKEA stores and live announcements produced by local staff directed at individual customers. In the former case T address is invariably the custom (jetzt kannst du dein Badezimmer . . . [‘now you (T) can your (T) bathroom . . .’]) while local announcements revert to V address: Gesucht wird der Halter des Fahrzeugs mit dem Kennzeichen DU DA 496. Bitte melden Sie sich umgehend an der Information! [‘The owner of the vehicle with the number plate DU DA 496 is asked to please report (V) to the information desk immediately’] (Sick, 2006). In other words, the official IKEA pre-recorded product announcements follow the explicit T policy of the company, which serves to promote a Swedish identity and an ideology of social equity, while the local announcements are in tune with generally accepted address practices in service encounters in Germany. By using Sie (V), local staff follow general expectations of polite behaviour in the German speech community and also avoid the risk of not being taken seriously when some action is urgently needed. A similar situation exists in Austria where IKEA staff are encouraged to use du with customers, but according to a 25-year-old female IKEA worker it does not happen, because it is not practical (Sedlaczek, 2007). H&M online H&M, which like IKEA has a global presence, operates about 2000 stores in 37 countries, 23 of which are located in Europe, with the single largest market being Germany followed by the United Kingdom and Sweden.5 The H&M websites are uniform with identical layout and design across countries and languages. Despite H&M’s general association with informal T address, there is significant variation in address practices among speech communities as documented on H&M’s nationspecific websites. For information directed at customers, the majority of European countries employ V: Belgium (French site), Czech Republic, France, Germany, Greece, Italy, Luxembourg, Portugal, Russia, Slovakia, Slovenia and Switzerland (French, German and Italian sites), while the rest apply T address: Belgium (Dutch language site), Denmark, Finland (both Swedish and Finnish sites), Hungary, the Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Sweden and Spain. Thus, the use of either T or V address in customer communication mirrors the IKEA practices closely, but with two salient exceptions
Germany and Austria where customers are addressed with V and not T on the H&M sites. However, on the page entitled ‘Working at H&M’ T is used without exception for addressing prospective co-workers. Images of four young

250

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

and beautiful people
two men and two women of different ethnic backgrounds
are prominently positioned on the web page, and below the text, ‘Before you apply’ appears in large letters. Invariably, in languages where a T/V distinction exists the pronoun used is T. At the top of the same page, four job categories are listed
sales advisor, floor manager, visual merchandiser and store manager
and by clicking on a link the job description appears. Without exception, the prospective co-worker is addressed directly and always with T. We illustrate with an excerpt from the French description of the position of store manager: IMPRESSIONNE´(E) PAR LES TITRES? PAS DU TOUT. Oui, ge´rer un magasin de mode est un travail dont tu peux eˆtre fier(e). Mais comme tous les responsables de magasins H&M (shop manager) pourront te le dire, cela permet de tester tes capacite´s de management, ton sens commercial et tes qualite´s personnelles. [Impressed by job titles? Not at all. Yes, running a fashion shop is a job you can be proud of. But as all H&M shop managers will tell you (T), it allows you (T) to test your (T) management skills, your (T) commercial sense and your (T) personal qualities.] H&M France website The use of T in this context, supported by the visual imagery, works to reinforce the idea of a youthful workforce and to advance the message that no hierarchical barriers exist among staff, no matter the position they occupy. For example, we see that the store manager position description, given above, is introduced by a headline that reads: ‘Impressed by job titles? Not at all.6 The use of T in a staff context is likely to be associated with a policy that dictates universal and mutual use of T among all H&M employees, a point we return to in the final section of the chapter. Each job description is also further illustrated by a short video clip where we follow a young co-worker on location in store and hear his or her testimony about working for H&M. There are two sets of video clips, with one in English profiling four American co-workers and one in German with four German co-workers. For countries where neither English nor German is a national language, some showcase the German clips, others the American and yet others use a mix. We will limit our observation to the European countries which make use of the German store manager clip, because this particular clip has the most instances of direct address: (1) the male store manager asks a young female co-worker if she has finished with a certain display (Bist du fertig?; ‘Are you finished?’); (2) the store manager gives positive feedback to a younger female sales advisor in his office (Das hast du supertoll gemacht; ‘You’ve done that really great’) and (3)

Language Policy in Practice

251

he asks a female customer, of about his age (early 30s), if he can help her (Darf ich dir helfen?; ‘Can I help you?’). In all three situations he uses the T form, du. The use of du to a customer in a German-speaking context would appear quite marked (cf. results above about expected address in service encounters), while the use of T and first names is increasingly becoming the norm in many workplaces, particularly in workplaces with a young profile and fewer hierarchical structures (Clyne et al., 2009: 103). However, while this is often the case, it is not yet the norm: several people in manager positions who were interviewed for the address project pointed out the importance of preserving social distance between themselves and subordinate staff as a means of protecting the dignity of both parties in case of a conflict (Clyne et al., 2009: 104). Table 15.1 shows the European sites where the German original is used, either with subtitles or voice-over in the local language and the use of address pronoun in each of the three situations (the other European countries use the American clip and are therefore not included). Table 15.1 also outlines the variation in address that is evident in subtitles and voice-over. The Russian voice-over uses V (vy) throughout, Table 15.1 Address strategy (T, V or no direct address) in three interactions Language, country

Mode

Situation 1

Situation 2

Situation 3

German, Germany

Original

T

T

T

German, Austria

Original

T

T

T

German, Switzerland

Original

T

T

T

French, Switzerland

Subtitles

V

T

V

Danish, Denmark

Subtitles

T

No direct address

No direct address

French, France

Subtitles

V

T

V

Italian, Italy

Voice-over

T

T

No direct address

Portuguese, Portugal

Voice-over

T

T

T

Russian, Russia

Voice-over

V

V

V

Spanish, Spain

Voice-over

T

T

T

Swedish, Sweden

Subtitles

T

No direct address

T

252

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

and the French language sites also employ V (vous) in Situations 1 and 3 but retain T (tu) in the interaction with the younger, more junior sales advisor. For Danish, Portuguese, Spanish and Swedish, T address is used. The fact that no direct address is used in Situation 2 for both Danish and Swedish (Da: Flot, Daniella. Godt ga˚et. Fortsæt det gode arbejde; ‘Great, Daniella. Well done. Continue the good work’; Swe: Ja¨ttebra jobbat, Daniella, fortsa¨tt sa˚; ‘Super good work, Daniella, continue like that’) and in Situation 3 in Danish (Kan jeg hjælpe?; ‘Can I help?’) cannot, however, be interpreted as an avoidance strategy. A construction without an address pronoun is quite idiomatic in these situations and there is no other way of signalling T or V since neither Danish nor Swedish verbs are conjugated for person. The Italian voice-over preserves T address to the co-workers but avoids direct address in the encounter with the customer: Posso aiutare?, ‘Can I help?’. These findings also demonstrate that reality at the local level might override company policy decisions (as evidenced in the otherwise overall use of T in the job descriptions). In the original German video clip, the sales manager’s universal use of T address corresponds to the general youthful image of the company, but in the translations (either as subtitles or voice-over) local considerations seem paramount, with Russia and France being two examples of countries which do not adhere to the T policy. The fact that the French subtitles retain T in the second situation could reflect a general tendency in French workplaces to be more hierarchical (than, e.g. German workplaces), as evidenced by questionnaire data from the address project where 16% of respondents reported non-reciprocal use, addressing their superiors with V and receiving T (Clyne et al., 2009: 63).

Reactions and Resistance to Informal Address Practices Reactions and resistance to the introduction of an informal address policy by IKEA and H&M, be it among colleagues or in interactions with customers, have naturally been more pronounced in speech communities where a higher level of formality (V) is expected in the workplace and/ or in service encounters than in countries where T address is commonplace or the norm in such situations. For example, in 2004 when IKEA Germany introduced T in public customer communication, for example in the catalogue and advertisements, it was followed by extensive commentary online, in blogs and discussion forums, with many expressing negative sentiments (Kretzenbacher, 2005: 10). In Austria, informal address was introduced earlier (Kretzenbacher, 2005) but has nevertheless been

Language Policy in Practice

253

an object of some resentment. The Austrian newspaper O¨Nachrichten conducted a survey which concluded that ‘Mr and Mrs Austria evidently see no compelling reason to be on du terms with somebody just because they have bought a Billy bookcase or a Vilma chair from them’ (Schacherreitner, 2004, quoted in Clyne et al., 2009: 150). However, the IKEA policy of addressing customers informally with T has little to do with intimacy and is often interpreted as a conscious strategy to build a certain image. Firstly, the use of du echoes the company’s Swedish roots and works in tandem with other strategies to convey a sense of Swedishness (e.g. Swedish product names, numerous references to the company’s Swedish heritage and Swedish dishes in the IKEA restaurant). This type of emblematic du has been dubbed das Schweden-Prinzip (‘the Sweden principle’) and, as previously noted, the IKEA du (Grol et al., 1998; Knapp, 2008). For many, this emblematic T is non-problematic, as illustrated by our address project data where participants were asked what their view was of companies such as IKEA that are generally thought to prescribe the T form. Compared to the Austrian newspaper survey referred to above, our Austrian and German respondents were generally much less negative regarding the IKEA du and some saw it mainly as an expression of Swedish culture where informal address is everywhere: Das nehme ich als Eigenart des Landes [‘I take that to be a feature of the country’], a comment by an 83-year-old woman from Vienna (Clyne et al., 2009: 150). Secondly and just as importantly, the use of du conveys a youthful image, in line with IKEA’s stated market segment being 22
40 years of age. For those who primarily interpret the use of T in this kind of setting as an expression of younger people, it can be a sticking point. For older German customers, the constant use of T can seem provocative (Knapp, 2008; Sick, 2006), and the same generational gap seems to exist in Austria with younger customers accepting informal address much more readily and even expecting it (Sedlaczek, 2007). However, there is also evidence of a distinction being made between general use of T in, for example, the catalogue and advertising materials and particular use of T directly to an individual customer. When participants in the address project commented that the IKEA du is typical for the company image and their Swedish origin, it is this general T with no particular addressee that is referred to. When T address concerns individual customers, however, the judgement is often more critical and negative. For example, the address project data collected among FinlandSwedes showed that the acceptance of universal T in addressing customers was relatively low (40%) compared to Swedish participants (80%). In

254

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

particular, the Finland-Swedes expressed reservations about the use of T towards older customers. They also commented that Finnish speakers
who use V noticeably more in general (in contrast to Swedish speakers in bilingual Finland; see Nyblom, 2006)
are less likely to feel at ease with a general T policy towards customers. While IKEA has often been singled out for comment regarding their T policy with customers (e.g. in blogs and internet forums, particularly in German-speaking communities), there has been much more news coverage of H&M regarding its company policy of prescribing T among staff. In particular, public interest in Germany has been sparked by a highly publicised court case in which a manager of the men’s department of a German H&M store took legal action against the company, claiming his right to be addressed by Sie (V) by other staff (Sakowski, n.d). The T address policy became a fact when a local clothing retailer was taken over by H&M and staff were told that H&M wanted to dispense with hierarchy and status symbols. The manager in question put up with the new regime for two years, but then filed a suit before the industrial court after having been unsuccessful in persuading the H&M management to change its universal T policy. The manager’s position was that being addressed by du (T) was a violation of his personal rights as a German citizen, but he lost the case (Sakowski, n.d) as the use of T address was deemed to be part of the corporate culture, which staff had to follow (Invernizzi, 2001). While the use of du and first names has become increasingly common in the German workplace, there are those who see a danger in the informal address practice in that it blurs hierarchies, which could be detrimental to conflict resolution (Clyne et al., 2009: 104; Invernizzi, 2001). Reactions in France to the use of T by H&M and IKEA have also been mixed. For example, on an H&M website, some interviews reported on with young French employees reveal a positive attitude to the obligatory use of T among staff, linking it to more equitable relationships in the workplace.7 However, evidence of uneasiness about workplace T comes from the French data collected for the address project. The question seeking opinions about companies that prescribe the use of T was interpreted by the French interviewees as referring to prescribed T in the workplace (as opposed to the research sites in Austria, Germany, Sweden and Finland where it was interpreted as a question about customer interactions). The French results show that nearly half (45%) of respondents reacted negatively to an imposed workplace T. It was seen as a superficial and hypocritical measure
simply exchanging a pronoun was not considered to remove existing hierarchies, and the same conflicts

Language Policy in Practice

255

could easily remain beneath a surface of seemingly friendly and equal behaviour (Clyne et al., 2009: 63
64).

Conclusion In comparing language policy measures of the two companies, we have found that IKEA has a stronger T identity than does H&M as evidenced on the company websites. Nevertheless, the use of T is not consistent across cultures, and in actual customer interaction the use of V is much more common than the popular perception of the company policy suggests. The discrepancy between prescribed behaviour and practical reality
what happens in interaction in a certain speech community
is shared with H&M whose translations/voice-overs of their video clip do not always adhere to the use of T in the German original. This practice contrasts starkly with the otherwise uniform use of T in addressing prospective co-workers. In other words, the variation in address behaviour as noted for both IKEA and H&M illustrates how policy considerations are reflected only in official texts, while cultural expectations in a specific speech community lead to pragmatic decisions on what is possible or suitable, especially when it might impact negatively on customers’ willingness to spend their money with a particular company. Where the power relationship between the individual and the company is clearly in the latter’s favour, that is, as a paying employer, companies such as IKEA and H&M are much more likely to impose their own address norms and expect their employees everywhere, regardless of local tradition, to conform. Prescribing a certain address behaviour that has its origin in a particular culture, in this case Sweden, and implementing it in another culture as part of company language policy could serve as a means of making a particular point or to construct a certain company image. It is, nevertheless, not a risk-free enterprise, as language users in different speech communities may very well react negatively towards such policies, which may seem intrusive and not culture sensitive. Our investigation confirms that such tensions exist between prescribed behaviour and reactions within certain speech communities. While IKEA often features as an example of a company with a strong Swedish profile, where T address is simply interpreted as resource in constructing a Swedish identity, H&M is not linked to Sweden in any obvious way and the use of T with customers is also much less prominent and hence subject to much less comment. There is not a single reference to Sweden on the website, and the images

256

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

and models we encounter convey a sense of global youthfulness that resonate just as well with consumers in Berlin, Tokyo or Helsinki. In the context of work, however, both companies advocate the use of T in the workforce, regardless of position or status. This policy can be interpreted as a bid to enforce a non-hierarchical company structure, expressing a corporate philosophy of equality and inclusion (‘we are all the same’), as well as signalling a youthful image. However, the mere insistence on obligatory use of a certain address form, while seen as positive by some employees, could also be seen as an example of the opposite to what it is said to promote
a rather heavy-handed policy decision made by top level management and dictated throughout the organisation, leaving no room for staff to negotiate their own use of address terms. Notes 1. See http://www.ikea.com/ms/en_US/about_ikea/the_ikea_way/swedish_ heritage/index.html. 15.3.10. 2. See http://www.ikea.com/at/de/. 15.3.10. 3. See http://www.ikea.com/de/de/. 15.3.10. 4. See http://www.ikea.com/ch/de/. 15.3.10. 5. Official information on H&M (2010) from http://www.hm.com/gb/omhm/ hmivrlden__worldofhm.nhtml. 15.3.10. 6. See http://www.hm.com/gb/workingathm__career.nhtml?jobroleid  4& jobareaid  1. 15.3.10. 7. See http://www.sourcea.fr/interview.php?interview_en_cours 92. 15.3.10.

References Ahlgren, P. (1978) Tilltalsordet ni. Dess semantik och anva¨ndning I historiskt perspektiv. Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell. Brown, R. and Gilman, A. (1960) The pronouns of power and solidarity. In T.A. Sebeok (ed.) Style in Language (pp. 253
276). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Clyne, M. (2009) Address in intercultural communication across languages. Intercultural Pragmatics 6 (3), 395
409. Clyne, M., Kretzenbacher, H.L., Norrby, C. and Warren, J. (2003) Address in some Western European languages. In C. Moskovsky (ed.) Proceedings of the 2003 Conference of the Australian Linguistic Society. On WWW at http://www.new castle.edu.au/school/lang-media/news/als2003/proceedings.html. Accessed 15.3.10. Clyne, M., Norrby, C. and Warren, J. (2009) Language and Human Relations: Styles of Address in Contemporary Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Grol, P., Schoch, C. and CPA [Paris Chamber of Commerce] (1998) IKEA: Managing cultural diversity. In G. Oddou and M. Mendenhell (eds) Cases in International Organisational Behaviour (pp. 88
112). Oxford: Blackwell. Invernizzi, F. (2001) Das Du geho¨rt immer o¨fter zur Unternehmenskultur. Handelsblatt, 23 November. On WWW at http://www.handelsblatt.com/ archiv/das-du-gehoert-immer-oefter-zur-unternehmenskultur;479453. Accessed 15.3.10.

Language Policy in Practice

257

Knapp, R.L. (2008) Duzen oder Siezen? Du statt Sie
Wird sich das SchwedenPrinzip durchsetzen? Sprache & Stil, 2 September. On WWW at http:// sprache-stil.suite101.de/article.cfm/duzen_oder_siezen. Accessed 15.3.10. Kretzenbacher, H.L. (2005) ‘hier im großen internetz, wo sich all duduzen’. Internet discourse politeness and German address. Paper presented at the 3rd International Conference on Language Variation in Europe (ICLaVE), Amsterdam, 2005. On WWW at http://www.rumaccc.unimelb.edu.au/address/Internet address.pdf. Accessed 15.3.10. Ma˚rtensson, E. (1986) Det nya niandet. Nordlund 10 (pp. 35
79). Lund: Department of Nordic Languages. Nyblom, H. (2006) The use of address pronouns among Finnish and FinlandSwedish students. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 29 (2), 19.1
19.12. Sakowski, K. (n.d.) Geduzt werden im Betrieb
LAG Hamm. Juristische Beitra¨ge Arbeitsrecht. On WWW at www.sakowski.de/arb-r/arb-r13html. Accessed 5.2.10. Sedlaczek, R. (2007) Irgendwann sind wir alle per Du. Wiener Zeitung Online, 19 September. On WWW at http://www.wienerzeitung.at/DesktopDefault.aspx? TabID 4409&Alias wzo&cob 302909. Accessed 15.3.10. Sick, B. (2006) Siezt du noch oder duzt du schon? Spiegel Online, Die ZwiebelfischKolumne, 21 December. On WWW at http://www.spiegel.de/kultur/ zwiebelfisch/0,1518,455733,00.html. Accessed 15.3.10.

Chapter 16

Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry DEBORAH CAMERON

Introduction Traditionally, language policy, planning and regulation have been treated as prototypically governmental or quasi-governmental functions. Recently, however, some scholars have argued for a broader view. Spolsky (2009), for example, considers state language planning and policy-making as part of the wider field he calls ‘language management’, which he defines as ‘an attempt by some person or body [. . .] claiming authority to modify the language practices or beliefs of a group of speakers’ (p. 181). As Spolsky points out, such attempts can be observed across a range of social domains, including some (such as the family, religion and private business) that
at least in modern democracies
are subject to minimal state regulation. This chapter examines, as an instance of language management, the regulation of verbal communication by corporate and quasi-corporate entities whose core activity is providing services. Many of these entities are commercial companies, but over time linguistic practices that originated in the domain of business have also been adopted by many public bodies providing non-commercial services. This reflects the rise, since the late 1980s, of what has been called ‘enterprise culture’, an ideological framework in which business undertakings become the privileged model for other undertakings, and relationships that were previously imagined in other terms (e.g. the relationship between state and citizen or between professional and client) are redefined as versions of the commercial relationship between a seller and a customer. In Britain, which will be the main focus of this chapter (though what it describes is not peculiar to Britain),1 the public institutions that have explicitly adopted an approach to service modelled on that of commercial companies include local councils, the 258

Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry

259

government agencies that administer taxation and welfare benefits, hospitals, universities and even
for some purposes
the police. By comparison with state agencies whose remit explicitly includes language regulation, both commercial and public sector service providers tend to be secretive about their language management practices, which are evidently regarded as ‘sensitive’ in commercial and public relations terms. This sensitivity can make it difficult for researchers to gain access to the relevant information (for a fuller discussion, see Cameron, 2000a). Even where local managers are willing to grant access, requests for permission to publish the information may be refused by those higher up the chain of command, on the grounds of protecting the organisation’s commercial interests or the privacy of its internal communications. This institutional gatekeeping has affected the content of this chapter. When I planned it, I intended to use the material I had collected with the assistance of people in the organisation concerned, but by the time I came to write it, permission to reproduce the material had been withdrawn. Had I reproduced it anyway, I would have put the staff members who made it possible for me to collect it in a difficult position, and because of that I chose not to use it. Nevertheless, the forms of language regulation discussed below are of sufficient sociolinguistic interest to deserve scrutiny, despite the practical obstacles, for two main reasons. The first reason relates to the pervasiveness of managed corporate communication. It is a particularly prominent feature of the linguistic landscape in advanced capitalist societies, where people are constantly exposed to examples through their everyday experience of consuming goods and services; it is also increasingly familiar to people who live in less affluent societies, but who have access to global media such as the internet and satellite television, which are saturated with commercial messages. What that means, among other things, is that variants originating in corporate communication have the potential to diffuse more widely. One small illustration is the spread of the English verb love used with progressive aspect since the fast food chain McDonald’s adopted the advertising slogan ‘I’m lovin’ it’. In Britain, at least, this usage was previously uncommon, but it can now be heard frequently in ordinary conversation, and in certain written genres characterised by informality and high affect, such as music and fashion journalism, ‘I’m/ we’re loving . . .’ (as in, say, ‘we’re loving Kate Moss’s new collection for Top Shop’) appears to be displacing the previously unmarked ‘I/we love . . .’. A similar point could be made about the corporate regulation of discourse norms in service interactions, discussed in more detail below.

260

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

The second point of interest is implicit in the remarks made above on ‘enterprise culture’. In both the commercial and the public sector during the past 20 years, language management has served institutions as a tool for creating ‘enterprising’ subjects. By addressing and interacting with people in new ways, corporate bodies have sought to modify not just their linguistic beliefs and practices, but their understanding and performance of their roles as workers, consumers and citizens. Particularly noteworthy in this regard is the discoursal transformation of citizens (who had rights and responsibilities) into consumers (who prototypically have choices), effected through a barrage of official communications whose keywords (e.g. choice, customer, product, service, value) are taken from the vocabulary of consumer capitalism. The adoption of a consumerist discourse goes along with the abandonment of bureaucratic language and modes of address (‘enterprise’ in the context of public bodies is often specifically opposed to ‘bureaucracy’). But that shift has larger implications: being addressed by the police or the tax authorities (both institutions that citizens are obliged to deal with) in much the same way you might be addressed by a commercial service provider such as a bank or a phone company
which is to say, as a customer, someone whose business the organisation must make an effort to get and then keep
changes the imagined relationship between the parties. While these developments have been of interest to critical discourse analysts (e.g. Fairclough, 1989; Gee et al., 1996) they have not figured prominently in the language planning literature, whose treatment of the business and governmental domains tends to focus mainly on examples of internal language policy, such as the adoption of English as a lingua franca by some multinational companies, or conversely the decision of certain legislative assemblies (e.g. the devolved Parliaments of Scotland and Wales) to allow business to be transacted in more than one language. This may reflect the field’s traditional preoccupation with the regulation of language choice in multilingual settings. But it needs to be recognised that this is no longer, if it ever was, the only problem to which organisations perceive managing language as a solution. The discussion that follows is informed by a view of contemporary corporate language management that is briefly summarised in the following list of propositions: .

Contemporary service-providing organisations typically seek to manage both external communication (with actual and potential customers) and internal communication (among members of the

Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry

.

.

261

organisation), and the former is usually considered at least as important as the latter. The aspect of language use that is managed most extensively is not the choice between languages (or varieties) but the manner in which a particular language/variety is used. The underlying motivations for this kind of regulation go beyond the obvious goal of maximising communicational efficiency. Often they are related to two other goals: managing the relationship between the organisation and its customers in accordance with a particular ideology of ‘service’, and corporate branding, creating a distinctive and consistent persona for the organisation.

Managing Language Choice for Customer Service The suggestion that language choice per se is not usually the most important concern for contemporary service providers may seem counter-intuitive, given that businesses today operate in conditions of increasing linguistic diversity both within and across national borders. It is not that the question is irrelevant, but that the answer is usually seen as obvious: customers are assumed to prefer service in their own language
either their first language or the second/additional language that they habitually use for transacting business. The issue for companies is therefore not so much language selection as employee selection. In the travel and tourism industries, where many customers will be visitors from abroad, companies favour staff with proficiency in one or more foreign languages. In officially bilingual territories, or those where there are sizeable minority language communities, they may look for bilingual workers who can switch to accommodate individual customers’ preferences. Additional challenges are thrown up by the increasingly common practice of ‘offshoring’ customer service, using modern telecommunications technology to reduce costs by locating service providers at a distance from the customers they serve. Language is an important consideration here: companies must look for locations that offer a pool of potential workers proficient in the language of the customer base. British and North American companies locate offshore operations in places such as India, Malaysia and the Philippines, where English is widely spoken either as a first or a second/additional language; Spanish companies locate them in the North African enclaves of Ceuta and Melilla (where Spanish is spoken alongside Arabic) or in Latin American countries where Spanish is the majority first language.

262

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

But choosing a location is only the first step. Since what offshore workers speak will usually be a local, and not infrequently a non-native, variety of the customer’s language, companies must also invest in language training to produce convergence towards the customer’s variety. In the Indian call centres discussed by Cowie (2007), recruits undergo accent training that seeks to eliminate certain common features of Indian English pronunciation (especially those that are thought to impair the speaker’s intelligibility to non-Indians, such as retroflexion) and to introduce certain salient features of (most commonly) American English pronunciation (e.g. t-flapping and rhoticity).2 What is being managed in these cases is not language choice as such, but the choice of language variety (particularly accent) or indeed of specific variants (like flapped rather than retroflexed /t/). The motivation generally is to ensure efficient communication, though in some cases it also reflects a desire to have offshore employees project an identity that conceals their real location. It is sometimes claimed that accent is also an important consideration for companies selecting call centre locations in the country where their customers are based. For instance, the perceived reliability of Scotsaccented speakers has often been cited to explain why so many UK financial services call centres are in Scotland. But this is something of a myth: my own research (Cameron, 2000a) suggested that companies were more concerned about local land or rental costs, telecommunications infrastructure and labour market conditions. Their interest in locations where well-educated people can be induced to take low-paid and casualised jobs, because alternative opportunities are limited, has led many UK companies to locate call centres in economically depressed areas such as Merseyside and Northern Ireland, whose local accents typically do poorly in social evaluation tests. But this does not mean there is no language management in non-offshored call centres. It means only that accent and dialect are not its primary targets. In all call centres, and in many face-to-face service settings, language management is undertaken for reasons which cannot be reduced to a concern with either the intelligibility or the acceptability of the server’s linguistic variety.

Designing Service-Speak: Routinisation, Personalisation and Corporate Branding Below I reproduce several authentic examples of the language of service that were either addressed to me or overheard by me between 1999 and 2009.

Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry

(1)

(2)

(3)

263

Colleague announcement: This is a colleague announcement. Would all available colleagues please come to the checkouts (announcement made over the public address system in a supermarket). [smiley voice] Hi, Mrs Cameron, this is David calling from Marketing Solutions. How are you today? [pauses] (opening of unsolicited phone call to customer’s home). Enjoy your meal (closing of fast-food outlet transaction, spoken by the server while handing over a half-pint carton of milk that the customer has just purchased).

What Example 1 illustrates is the corporate regulation of language used internally, for communication among employees. The people being addressed, check-out operators at a supermarket, are referred to
not just on this one occasion but uniformly, as a matter of policy
as colleagues. Another British supermarket chain makes analogous use of the word partners. These terms are intended to function as symbols of the ‘enterprise’ approach that aims to instil in all employees the belief that they have a personal stake in (and thus, responsibility for) the organisation’s success, foregrounding solidary relationships (‘we’re all in this together’), while simultaneously backgrounding
by using the same generic term for everyone
the existence of an internal hierarchy. It is obviously not a new idea that by controlling or changing the way language is used one can also control or change the way reality is perceived, but around the middle of the 1990s that idea began to attract more sustained attention from management experts and ‘gurus’. For example, in a late 1990s management text entitled Corporate Speak, Czerniawska (1998) argued that businesses were failing to harness the power of language as a ‘tool by which to influence collective culture and individual behaviour’ (p. 26). She offered various examples of organisations adopting new terminology for that purpose, including one that had renamed its meetings ‘events’ in an attempt to make employees more enthusiastic about attending them. Du Gay (1996), who studied four UK retail companies as they attempted to introduce the principles of ‘enterprise culture’, also found that one key objective was to change the terms in which employees spoke, and by implication thought, about their roles
to make the new order, as one manager said, ‘part of their everyday language’ (p. 147). To linguists such interventions may seem to display a naive belief in the power of words to override people’s experiential knowledge that, for instance, workplace meetings are boring. But many of the experts involved in corporate language management derive their knowledge

264

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

about language not from linguistics or a comparable academic discipline, but from therapy and popular psychology, especially those approaches
such as assertiveness training and transactional analysis
which were popularised by the ‘personal growth’ movement of the 1960s and 1970s. Proponents of these approaches take a normative view of language, often basing their prescriptions on the assumption that there is a direct causal link between speaking and thinking, so that people really will be excited by the prospect of going to an ‘event’ as opposed to a ‘meeting’. What motivates many instances of corporate language management, then, is not the perception of language itself as a problem, but the perception of language as a tool for solving ‘deeper’ problems, such as the apathy and alienation of workers in routine jobs. This view of language is also relevant to the management of external communication with customers. The idea that successful businesses make the customer feel valued as an individual by creating the illusion of a personal relationship figures prominently in early texts aimed at salespeople, and so does the idea that there are specific linguistic tricks that can be used to achieve that goal. But the conditions in which contemporary service providers have to manage relationships with customers have changed significantly in recent decades. To reduce their costs, organisations have increasingly chosen to shift from the traditional channel (face-to-face interaction) to newer technologies (the internet and/or the telephone), and to concentrate telephone service in dedicated locations known as ‘call centres’, where it is organised according to the industrial logic of the production line. On factory production lines, efficiency is maximised through routinisation
breaking a process up into its component parts, working out the most efficient way of doing each task and training workers to make the required moves repeatedly. In call centres this logic is applied to verbal transactions. Workers are provided with templates, and sometimes scripts, for service routines: typically, there are targets for the time each transaction should take. The problem with this approach in the context of customer service is that routinising verbal interaction also means depersonalising it, and while that might be conducive to efficiency, it is in tension with the equally important goal of maximising customer satisfaction
for it remains axiomatic among management and marketing experts that what the customer wants is a ‘personal’ service. Rather than leading service providers to abandon the routinising approach, however, this understanding has led many of them to apply it to the interpersonal aspects of interaction, by codifying standards and attempting to enforce rules for things such as address terms, politeness

Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry

265

formulas and the performance of particular speech acts. Example 2 above is a case in point: it is a standardised opening salutation for sales calls initiated by the company. Many of the prescribed features are evidently not designed to maximise efficiency; rather they exemplify what Fairclough (1989) calls ‘synthetic personalisation’, a technique used to compensate for the impersonality of scripted routines. In an opening move whose basic function is to establish who is calling whom, the worker has been instructed to personalise the interaction using various strategies. (The precise details here will reflect assumptions about what is acceptable/expected in British English, but the principle applies in other contexts too.) A positive attitude is conveyed paralinguistically by smiling (though telephone workers’ facial expressions are not visible, smiling can be inferred from voice quality). The idea that this is not just a generic sales call but a genuine exchange between individuals is communicated by the caller’s use of personal names, whose formulation also suggests a combination of friendliness and polite deference (the called party receives title plus last name, while the caller identifies himself only by the given name). Interest in the customer as a person is simulated by inquiring after her well-being and then pausing to receive a response (a particularly ‘inefficient’ move, in that it takes up time without advancing the business of the call). Synthetic personalisation is even more extensive in cases where calls are not unsolicited, but are initiated by customers. At one insurance company call centre studied by Hultgren (2008), operators are told to look for opportunities to engage in personalised small talk, using the information to which their computers give them access as a guide to possible subject matter (a customer’s date of birth may indicate that she or he has just had or is about to have a birthday; a change of name or address may suggest she or he has recently married or moved house). The same company also instructs operators to use the customer’s name at least twice during each interaction. Example 3 shows that routinising/synthetic personalisation may be used not only when business is being transacted by phone, but also in face-to-face service encounters. This example serves in addition to illustrate the insensitivity to context that is one of the sociolinguistic peculiarities of the approach. I first became interested in the scripting of service interactions as a result of hearing this example repeatedly. Every Sunday night when I returned to the city I then worked in after spending the weekend elsewhere, I would go to the only place still open
a fast food outlet at the railway station
to buy half a pint of milk for the following morning. The transaction invariably concluded with the server

266

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

saying ‘enjoy your meal’. Since the reference to a ‘meal’ seemed out of place given the hour and the nature of the purchase, I eventually asked the server why he used this formula. He told me it was part of the script he was required to follow. When I asked how the management would know if he departed from the script, he replied that anyone he served, myself included, could be a ‘mystery shopper’, employed to pose as an ordinary customer while covertly checking up on workers’ compliance with company rules. Many call centres, similarly, employ ‘mystery callers’; in addition, their systems are usually set up to allow supervisors to listen in to calls, and it is common for calls to be recorded for use in more formal assessments of performance. Surveillance is a fact of life for workers in the modern service economy, and this enables organisations to enforce regulations that might otherwise be disregarded or selectively applied. Scripting is not the only strategy used to regulate service interactions. Equally pervasive is the approach I have labelled ‘styling’ (Cameron, 2000b) through which organisations attempt to control those aspects of linguistic performance that are not amenable to scripting, such as prosody, voice quality and overall affect. Again, this is not done for reasons of efficiency, but rather for reasons of synthetic personalisation and branding
creating a distinctive personality for the organisation that will ideally be communicated in every aspect of the customer’s experience. Unsurprisingly, the linguistic dimension of branding is attended to most closely in telephone service, where employees’ speech is the only channel through which the organisation can communicate (whereas in face-to-face contexts it can also use spatial layout, decor, signage, product labelling and the dress and physical demeanour of its staff). One common approach involves defining a set of ‘brand values’ that are supposed to be expressed in employees’ way of speaking (e.g. one call centre discussed in Cameron, 2000a, used the acronym FISHES, which stood for ‘fast-acting, imaginative, straightforward, helpful, expert and self-assured’). Other instructions are more specific about the kind of affect a worker’s voice should or should not project. A manual issued to agents at a directory assistance centre (where a standard call is supposed to last no more than 30 seconds) warns: ‘[Y]ou must never sound bored [ . . .] your telephone manner should give the impression that you have been waiting for that individual call all day’. However, because service personnel tend not to have a precise vocabulary for describing the subtleties of prosody and paralanguage, the rules codified in manuals do not, on their own, provide sufficiently detailed guidance. Whereas an instruction to smile or use the customer’s

Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry

267

name is straightforward, the instruction just quoted to avoid sounding bored does not explain how the speaker’s intonation or voice quality might ‘give the impression that [she or he has] been waiting for that particular call all day’; it relies on the employee’s intuitive understanding of how to communicate that meaning, and not every employee may have the same intuitions. In practice, therefore, an equally important styling technique is face-to-face ‘coaching’, in which a supervisor or manager critiques an agent’s recorded performance and works with the agent on ‘improving’ it (i.e. eliciting a performance that conforms to the supervisor’s own interpretation of the rule). Scripting and styling are essentially prescriptive approaches (involving rules for what to say and how to say it), but in the documents examined by Cameron (2000a) and Hultgren (2008)
operating manuals, training materials and checklists used to assess performance
many rules are proscriptive, specifying what workers may not say or do. Some proscriptions have obvious motivations relating to efficiency (e.g. avoiding extended silence on the phone, since this may lead callers to suspect that the connection has been broken) or basic etiquette. (Many call centres forbid agents dealing with an abusive caller either to respond in kind or to terminate the call.) Others, however, are based on the same view of language that prompts companies to rename employees ‘partners’ or meetings ‘events’
that is, the belief that a speaker’s linguistic choices have the power to alter the addressee’s perception of reality. A common proscription of this kind concerns so-called ‘negative language’: To ensure that the customer’s perception of the organisation remains consistently positive, servers may be forbidden to tell customers explicitly that they cannot comply with a request, or more generally to use ‘negative’ words such as ‘can’t’ and ‘unfortunately’. This rule applies in the insurance call centre studied by Hultgren, where agents faced with a request they cannot grant are instructed to ‘present solutions’, telling the customer only what can be done. The result is exchanges such as the following (adapted from a real call that is reproduced in full in Hultgren & Cameron, 2009): Caller: Can you just send me an email confirming that? Agent: I can arrange for a full written confirmation to be issued. A straightforward answer to the caller’s request would be negative: Telephone agents at this company are not permitted to send emails. However, this agent follows the ‘present solutions’ rule by withholding any mention of that policy. Instead he describes what procedure dictates

268

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

he should do in this situation, namely log a request for another department to send out a letter. Rules of this kind overlook the basic pragmatic principle that propositions which are not directly stated can nevertheless be inferred. In this case, the agent’s failure to provide a maximally informative and perspicuous answer to the question is bound to give rise to the inference ‘I can’t/won’t send you an email’. Not only does the supposedly ‘positive’ formulation communicate the forbidden, negative proposition, by doing so indirectly it risks suggesting that the agent is being deliberately evasive. Similarly, the avoidance of ‘negative’ prefaces such as ‘unfortunately’, whose normal function is to mitigate potentially offensive propositions, may not communicate what the rule-makers intend
a ‘positive’ attitude
but may instead strike the recipient as simply impolite. Many of the same preoccupations and beliefs about language that underpin the management of spoken language in service interactions are also evidenced in corporate guidelines for written documents. In England and Wales, for instance, the Local Government Association regularly compiles a list of words and phrases that it advises local councils not to use in documents intended for the general public. Many of the ‘banned’ expressions are jargon (e.g. ‘roll out’ meaning ‘introduce’), but some are apparently innocuous words such as ‘welcome’. It has been suggested to me by an inside source in local government that the proscription is aimed not at all uses of ‘welcome’, but more specifically at vacuous opening sentences such as ‘welcome to this leaflet/factsheet/application form’. If so, though, this underlines the problem with context-insensitive rules, since if interpreted strictly it would also force local councils to stop welcoming visitors to their buildings and putting up road signs informing motorists that ‘[Town] welcomes careful drivers’. Often the designers of corporate scripts, styling rules, communication training materials and writing guidelines are independent ‘consultants’ brought in by organisations for their supposed expertise in the field of communication. What that expertise consists of varies: some have been trained in psychology or one of the quasi-therapeutic ‘personal growth’ approaches, while others are self-taught. (One I interviewed in the late 1990s told me that he had learnt what he knew
and what at the time he was using to produce materials for a leading British company
by reading popular self-help books.) In Britain, a strong influence on corporate writing is exerted by the Plain English Campaign (PEC). The PEC began as a grass-roots pressure

Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry

269

group campaigning against incomprehensible language in medical, legal and bureaucratic documents, but over time it has become more involved in the definition and dissemination of ‘good practice’, offering organisations the opportunity to earn its ‘Crystal Mark’ by conforming to the precepts that are taught (for a price) on its training courses. Many organisations, in both the public and the private sectors, regard the PEC’s endorsement as worth having, and the result is that the same pre- and proscriptions (including such Orwellian staples as ‘avoid the passive voice’) are repeated in many different sets of institutional language guidelines.

Questions and Conclusions It will be apparent that corporate language regulation, as undertaken in both commercial and non-commercial service settings, is unlike classical forms of language planning in two main ways. Firstly, it tends to concern itself with a different set of perceived problems, seeking on one hand to routinise interaction so that the service is maximally efficient and consistent (delivered in the same way by every employee on every occasion to every customer) and on the other hand to compensate for the impersonality of routinised service by prescribing markers of ‘synthetic personalisation’ while proscribing ways of speaking/writing that are believed to give an unfavourable impression. Secondly, it is not generally grounded in ‘scientific’ forms of linguistic knowledge. Rather its knowledge base tends to be a mixture of folk linguistic common sense, precepts taken from therapeutic practices and their popularised versions, and the kind of approach that has a long history in sales lore, and that attributes quasi-magical powers to certain verbal formulas (e.g. customers will be positively affected by the use of their names and negatively affected by words such as ‘can’t’ or ‘unfortunately’). An obvious question to ask about this form of language regulation is whether it does in practice ‘work’. Are the rules actually followed, and do they achieve their promulgators’ aims? The answer to the first question would appear to be a qualified ‘Yes’. Hultgren (2008) found relatively high levels of compliance at the two telephone service providers she studied, one an English-speaking company in Scotland and the other a Danish-speaking company in Denmark (though the Scots were more compliant than the Danes, and there was a tendency in both locations for women to be more compliant than men). Where non-compliance was observed, it was usually for contextual reasons
for instance, agents would skip a prescribed

270

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

question if it happened that the caller had already supplied the answer. But where employees believed compliance would be attended to in the assessment of their performance, which had consequences for their remuneration and future prospects, most did make efforts to meet the prescribed standards. How far this behaviour achieves its objectives is debatable. None of the companies studied by Hultgren (2008) or myself carried out research to check the accuracy of their assumptions about what customers wanted (e.g. expressions of personal interest from the server or a script that never varied). Those on the receiving end of synthetically personalised service are often well aware that it is a formulaic enactment of the company policy, and some are irritated or even offended by such features as the introduction of small talk and the repeated use of their names. Such unpopular practices persist because of the imperative that Ritzer (1996) dubs ‘McDonaldization’: a drive to minimise the cost of service provision while at the same time maximising managerial control over it. ‘Communication’ is a favoured target for this control, with many managers claiming that inadequate communication is the single most important cause of customer dissatisfaction. However, a close analysis of problematic call centre interaction (Hultgren & Cameron, 2009) showed that in reality most dissatisfaction arose from a more basic limitation of routinised service, that is its reliance on standard operating procedures that cannot be varied, and its consequent inability to deal with any situation that is not covered by those procedures. Addressing this would be possible, but the measures needed (such as giving servers more personal discretion, more time to spend with certain customers and more training to perform a larger range of tasks) would run counter to the logic of ‘efficiency’ and cost minimisation. Managers are therefore obliged to focus on areas such as communication, where they can be seen to be doing something to improve service without incurring large additional costs or disrupting the basic logic of the operation. The practices discussed in this chapter could be described as attempts to standardise a subset of linguistic behaviours, focusing on discourse patterns and stylistic features rather than the more familiar targets of grammar and pronunciation, and it is of interest to ask what sociolinguistic effects this has. Here we may distinguish, following Milroy and Milroy (1999), between the ideological and the practical effects. Standardising efforts rarely produce uniformity of behaviour (a practical effect), but they are more successful in persuading people that the behaviour in question should ideally be uniform, governed by norms prescribed by experts (an ideological effect). At the ideological

Regulating Language in the Global Service Industry

271

level, corporate language management has helped to disseminate the belief that there are rules that should be followed for such everyday conversational behaviours as listening, asking questions, and addressing people politely, among other things. Though corporate culture is not the only important source for that belief, which has also acquired wide currency through mass-market self-help literature, it is arguably an influential source
not only because so many people are exposed to it in their workplaces but also because it is expressed in practical activities such as communication training, coaching and surveillance, which solicit more active engagement than simply reading a book. The most obvious practical effects of corporate language regulation are context-specific, primarily affecting the conduct of service encounters, but the effects are not necessarily confined to the behaviour of service employees. Leidner (1993) found in a study of McDonald’s restaurants that the use of scripted routines by servers tended to produce a corresponding routinisation of the behaviour of customers, in effect training them to use the approved discourse sequences and vocabulary. A more recent example of this process is the way customers habitually order coffee at chains such as Starbucks: their fluent production of utterances such as ‘tall skinny latte with an extra shot to go’ is a triumph of language management in the service of corporate branding. In some locations, however, the practical effects may extend beyond the domain of service provision. Anecdotally, it has been suggested that the young, educated speakers who work in offshored call centres perceive linguistic features acquired through workplace training (e.g. Americanised pronunciations) as prestigious, and transfer them into non-workplace contexts such as peer conversation. If so, one might predict that these variants will eventually spread to a larger population. Similarly, the appropriation by many institutions in non-English-speaking countries of discourse norms that were originally formulated for English, and often specifically for American English, has given those norms more global currency and prestige, which could result in them spreading at the expense of pre-existing local norms. Cameron (2002) quotes one internationally successful (American) expert’s view that what is communicatively ‘effective’ does not vary from culture to culture; on the contrary, she argues that certain cultural norms (e.g. preferences for indirectness or reticence) are inherently dysfunctional and should yield to more effective alternatives. A concrete example of discourse norm change in which corporate preferences have played a part is the increasing use of informal address and solidary politeness formulas in languages whose users had historically preferred formality and social

272

Part 3: Language Policy in Real and Virtual Worlds

distance (see, e.g. Norrby & Hajek, Chapter 15, this volume, on the promotion of informal address by Swedish companies operating transnationally). Although the effects of corporate language management are variable, and may sometimes be at odds with the designers’ own intentions, practices such as those discussed above are not inconsequential. In current conditions, there can be little doubt of the cultural as well as economic influence of global capitalism: how the communication practices of capitalist organisations affect language attitudes and behaviour is an important question for contemporary sociolinguistics, and the study of corporate language management must form part of that larger investigation. Notes 1. The phrase ‘enterprise culture’ is particularly associated with Margaret Thatcher’s administration in Britain during the 1980s, but similar developments occurred elsewhere (e.g. Hungary and New Zealand). 2. Some trainers use an American English model because their clients need workers to serve the US market, but others describe the target of training as a ‘neutral’ variety of English.

References Cameron, D. (2000a) Good to Talk? London: Sage. Cameron, D. (2000b) Styling the worker: Gender and the commodification of language in the globalized service economy. Journal of Sociolinguistics 4 (3), 323
347. Cameron, D. (2002) Globalization and the teaching of ‘communication skills’. In D. Block and D. Cameron (eds) Globalization and Language Teaching (pp. 67
82). London: Routledge. Cowie, C. (2007) The accents of outsourcing: The meanings of ‘neutral’ in the Indian call centre industry. World Englishes 26 (3), 316
330. Czerniawska, F. (1998) Corporate Speak. London: Macmillan. Du Gay, P. (1996) Consumption and Identity at Work. London: Sage. Fairclough, N. (1989) Language and Power. London: Longman. Gee, P., Hull, G. and Lankshear, C. (1996) The New Work Order. St. Leonards, NSW, Australia: Allen & Unwin. Hultgren, A-K. (2008) Linguistic regulation and interactional reality: A sociolinguistic study of call centre transactions. DPhil thesis, University of Oxford. Hultgren, A-K. and Cameron, D. (2009) ‘How may I help you?’ In S. Ehrlich and A. Freed (eds) Why Do You Ask? The Function of Questions in Institutional Discourse (pp. 322
342). New York: Oxford University Press. Leidner, R. (1993) Fast Food, Fast Talk. Berkeley: University of California Press. Milroy, J. and Milroy, L. (1999) Authority in Language. London: Routledge. Ritzer, G. (1996) The McDonaldization of Society. Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge. Spolsky, B. (2009) Language Management. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.