UNESCO Project on Dying Languages of Melanesia

SIL Experience in Documenting PNG Languages: Useful Tidbits for Others

Indicators of Ethnolinguistic Vitality

M. Lynn Landweer

December 1999

1. Introduction

The fact that languages “die” is not new. Koine Greek and Classical Latin both are “dead” as spoken languages. The only reason we know of them is because of the written record that was left behind. Here in Papua New Guinea we have records of 830 languages, but of that number nine are considered extinct, and at least 16 others[1], with speaker populations of less than 50, could be considered endangered if not dying by almost any observer. In addition there are other languages, such as Taiap, Doga, and Mamaa whose population figures could suggest potential language viability; however, upon closer examination, these vernaculars are in fact dying. They are dying not because their populations have stopped talking – people after all are incurably gregarious – they are dying because of the cumulative effect of language-use choices made by the majority of individuals of those speech communities. In essence, instead of using Taiap, Doga and Mamaa, former speakers have chosen to use Tok Pisin; Anuki or Jimajima; or Finungwa respectively instead. However, my focus today is not specifically on Papua New Guinea’s lost or endangered languages, but on the processes which undermine language vitality that lead toward that demise.

Because SIL linguistics personnel generally commit 10 to 20 years of their lives to living and working within specific indigenous people groups for the purpose of facilitating language development projects, it is advantageous to know in advance which languages are likely to remain viable to the end of such projects. When SIL first entered into the country language groups were relatively isolated from one another and as a result their traditional vernaculars were relatively stable. However, during the last 40 years of SIL’s involvement Papua New Guinea has run a course of rapid development that has brought more and more speech communities into contact with one another through the processes of a unified education system, the growth of corporate and private enterprise, and extensions of systems of travel all which have fostered the need for and use of various lingua franca[2]. With inter-group contact and thus the need for and opportunity to learn other languages, people groups in Papua New Guinea are now faced with the option of switching language allegiances toward the languages they perceive will give them better opportunity. Thus, during the last 14 years, my work with SIL has been aimed at understanding what factors are associated with such shift in language allegiance. Combining the disciplined study of sociolinguistics, with the direction I have gained through personal experience in sociolinguistic survey in language groups throughout this country, I have found that there are at least eight interacting indicators of potential language viability germane to the Papua New Guinea setting. Over the years these indicators have also been utilized by myself and SIL colleagues to produce sociolinguistics profiles of 76 distinct language groups including a projection of the vitality of each of the languages. It is these indicators of ethnolinguistic vitality that I offer you now as potentially “useful tidbits” from SIL’s experience[3] in documenting Papua New Guinea’s wealth of languages.

2. Indicators of Ethnolinguistic Vitality

The indicators of ethnolinguistic vitality are a collection of factors that have been documented in sociolinguistic literature and found pertinent in the Papua New Guinea context. First presented in 1989[4], and then developed further and reported in 1998[5], these factors have been useful in indicating the probable direction a speech community will go relative to the maintenance of, or shift from its traditional language. Within the Papua New Guinea context no one factor has become a leading indicator of linguistic strength, but whether a language appears to be “maintained” or ‘dying” is relative to the collective impact of generally positive or negative indicators that place the language on a continuum ranging from stable vitality, change in process due to other-language interference, radical shift in process, and death. As such language maintenance and shift are long term consequences of consistent patterns of language choice throughout the speaking community.

One note of caution is appropriate at this point. The absence of indicators of ethnolinguistic vitality and by implication the presence of characteristics associated with language shift are not fool proof in the prediction of language shift or death, but they do seem to suggest the direction the language is going. It may be that language maintenance is not completely associated with the quantity of the indicators present, but perhaps the quality of inter-relationships between relatively positive and relatively negative forces, leading to language maintenance or language death respectively. These relative strengths are yet to be studied and documented in the Papua New Guinea context. With this note of caution, a discussion of eight indicators of ethnolinguistic vitality[6] follows. Included in the discussion are example of how each indicator has been manifested in one or more speech communities of Papua New Guinea. In addition a hierarchical scale is proposed for the use of each indicator.

2.1 Relative Position on the Urban – Rural Continuum

The first indicator of ethnolinguistic vitality is the relative position of speech communities along an urban-rural continuum. For example, the Baibai people of Sandaun province live in three widely separated villages the first located 19 hours hiking time from the nearest airstrip[7]. There are no roads nor are there any navigable rivers in the area. Clearly, the Baibai people group would be considered remotely located. In contrast, the people of the eastern dialect of Koita live in communities that are now within the city and suburban limits of Port Moresby. One of the outcomes of the daily contact these Koitabuans have with outsiders has been the adoption of Motu, a regional lingua franca for communication even among themselves. During the survey of Koita, I found that Motu was spoken by the majority of ethnic Koitabuan people located in this eastern dialect area. This choice of language even included Koitabu elders, who sheepishly admitted[8] to me that they spoke Motu to their children and grandchildren instead of Koita. The experience of speakers of the eastern dialect of Koita is not unusual. Proximity to urban centers is a well documented undermining factor to vernacular or minority language vitality.[9]

However, position on the urban-rural continuum covers more than the physical location of a speech community relative to an urban area (or area where speakers of different and more prestigious languages congregate), but also access to that urban community. In 1989 I had the opportunity to work briefly among the Labu people of Morobe Province. During my stay I noted that about one-half of the Labu lived in Labubutu, a village of approximately 800 people. This village is located just 20-30 minutes by dinghy southwest of Lae, across the mouth of the Markham. While visiting in Labubutu, I noted that the majority of the adult population left the village for Lae sometime between 6:00 and 8:00 a.m. and then returned between 4:00 and 6:00 p.m. the same day. Those who remained behind were the very old, the children enrolled at the community school nearby, and very young children. Of further significance was the reported fact that these trips to Lae and back occurred 6 days a week. For all intents and purposes then, Labubutu seemed to function like a suburb of the city of Lae even though not physically within the city or suburban limits. The linguae francae in Lae are Tok Pisin and English. Not surprising then, was the noted shift of allegiance from the traditional Labu language to Tok Pisin, particularly among the many who spent their days in Lae. Thus, when considering the impact of urban communities on the relative viability of a traditional language one must also ask what access speakers of the vernacular have to urban communities, and how many people take advantage of that access.

For application among speech communities in this country, the underlying questions of the remote-urban continuum are: 1) Is the speech community located in or near a population center where its members would have contact with speakers of other languages? Do they have access to such a population center? In the scaled breakdown of these questions that follows, a language found to be located remotely from an urban community or congregation of other-language speakers would be the least affected therefore the strongest, and a language located within urban confines would be the most affected and thus the weakest. Thus a four point scale might be:

__Remote, i.e., no easy access to or from the language community

relative to the nearest urban center.

__Marginal access to and from the language community relative to

the nearest urban center.

__Fairly easy access to and from the language community relative

to the nearest urban center.

__Located within urban confines.

2.2 Domains in which the target language is used

It has been demonstrated that language (or dialect) choice can function as a mark of group identification and solidarity[10]. Thus, within the Melanesian context where multilingualism is the norm, accounting for vernacular choice, according to the number of domains in which it is found, becomes the second proposed indicator of ethnolinguistic vitality. Practically speaking this means identifying the domains of life where language choice becomes a factor and determining just how many domains the target language is the language of choice and use.

Within Papua New Guinea there are a number of social domains found consistently in any language community. These social domains can then be broken into variable sub-domains. Speakers then choose which language to use every time they interact within a given sub-domain. The cumulative choices then suggest which of the languages in the community’s repertoire is the language of choice for each domain.

The foundational social domain throughout Papua New Guinea is that of the home. Within the domain of home, there are the sub-domains of instruction, correction or scolding, information, comfort, humor, and religious observance within communication dyads of spouses, adults with in-laws, adults with other adults who are not related, adults with children, and children with children. After the home, the next most foundational domains are cultural events followed by social events. Depending on how one slices the societal pie, such events as marriages; funerals; births and/or naming ceremonies; harvest and/or competitive feasts; public discussions or arguments; and singsings can be considered primarily sub-domains within the domain of cultural events. Social events could include such things as political campaigns, work parties, sport, and adjudication (called ‘courting’ here in Papua New Guinea). Within the domain of the church, there are the sub-domains of Scripture, liturgy, sermon or homily, music, prayer, and announcements.

In many, but not every Papua New Guinean village context there are additional domains where language choices are made. These include formal education, business, travel, and in written communication. Within the domain of formal education, sub-domains would include the language of instruction, the language(s) of study, the language(s) allowed in recreation, and the language(s) that the faculty use to communicate to local parents of school matters. Within the domain of business there are the sub-domains of employment, private business (such as trade store operation), and marketing. Within the domain of travel one could identify three potential possibilities; viz., using transport owned by relatives or speakers of the targeted language; using transport owned by outsiders; and using public transport. The final domain in some instances could be that of writing when there is an accepted alphabet associated with the vernacular in addition to that of the languages of instruction within the formal education system.

Thus, the underlying question relative to the number of language-use domains asks if there is sufficient use of the target language throughout community life. In essence the more domains the vernacular is used the better. Anecdotal evidence suggested that the last domain to be lost in any potential language allegiance battle is that of the home. Thus, the home forms the anchor domain for this hierarchy. A suggested scaled breakdown indicating the relative strength of the vernacular language by domains could be as follows:

__Home, cultural events, social events, and other domains

__Home, cultural events, social events

__Home, and cultural events where vernacular is used, but is mixed

with outside lingua franca or other local language(s).

__Home, where the vernacular is used but is mixed with an outside

lingua franca or other local language(s).

2.3 Frequency and type of code switching

Code switching is as common as speech. Technically, “code” is a neutral term that denotes any variety of speech within the repertoire of the participants, from their language(s) to the dialect(s) within their language repertoire, and within their dialect(s) various registers and styles. However, in the context of the current discussion, we will focus on code switching that occurs between languages within multilingual communities such as those found in Papua New Guinea.

Code switching within the multilingual context occurs when speakers use forms from one language (called the embedded language) in an utterance that is primarily composed of another language (called the matrix language) within the same conversation. Stretches of code-switched material may be inter-sentential, where the switching occurs between thoughts, grammatically marked as sentences; or intra-sentential, where the switch of languages occurs within a thought, grammatically marked as a single sentence. Inter-sentential code switching often occurs at major communication boundaries, when there are changes of participants, topics or any time the communication situation is being redefined (such as a change of domain). Inter-sentential code switching is also referred to as situational code switching. Intra-sentential code switches may involve a single word to an entire clause, but the key element is that the switch has occurred within a single thought group, defined grammatically as one sentence, and typically without redefinition of the communication situation.

Code switching can also be differentiated by type. The code switching phenomenon can be 1) consistent across the community as in the case of diglossia,[11] 2) a stable form of multilingualism, as in situational code switching where domains determine the language of choice (though not everyone in the community controls the preferred language forms); or 3) unbounded code switching where language choice changes without notable pattern or consistency.

In my experience in Papua New Guinea I have not yet found a classic case of diglossia, however, there are many examples of the second type of code switching - stable bilingualism or multilingualism. One example of stable bilingualism is that of the Bugawac, a language group located along the southern border of the Huon Peninsula, Morobe province. Until the 1960’s the language of education and religious instruction among the Bugawac was Yabem. It seems that while students were expected to learn and use Yabem in these two domains, the use of Yabem did not untowardly affect Bugawac vernacular usage in every other domain. At least the evidence would suggest little or no impact, as almost 20 years later, my survey team found Bugawac was the language of choice throughout all community interaction with the exception of the domains of education and religious instruction, where English and Tok Pisin had subsequently replaced Yabem.

There are also cases in Papua New Guinea of the third type of code switching. In extreme cases, the infiltration of the non-vernacular language has become so extreme, that in reality, the non-vernacular has become the matrix language and the traditional vernacular the embedded language. At this point we would say that language shift has taken place. A case in point may be Taiap, a language located in the East Sepik province near the Madang province border, documented by Don Kulick[12]. Such shift does not happen overnight. It begins with linguistic choices of individual speakers. Over the years the impact of many choices of both situational and unbounded code switching accumulates in such a way to undermine both attitude and use of the traditional vernacular, until the vernacular is no longer the language of choice.

As noted earlier, Carol Myers-Scotton has argued that code switching is used as a momentary marker of group identification for the purpose of renegotiating role relations within the communication context.[13] She argues that code switching is then a type of skilled performance, an ability used with communicative intent[14]. This being so, code switching may also then be a marker of ethnolinguistic ambivalence. For as language choice is an indicator of momentary group identification for an individual communicator and as language contact and use are mitigating factors toward language change for that person, so the frequency and type of code switching within the communication patterns of a community of speakers impact the strength of the vernacular code in that community. This, then is the third indicator of relative ethnolinguistic vitality. The underlying question of this indicator asks: Is there linguistic ambivalence? In other words, do people characteristically switch between the normative code, i.e., local vernacular and one or more other languages without any notable consistency as opposed to more stable forms of bilingualism represented by situational code switches or diglossia? As such a scale for ranking the effects of the frequency and type of code switching for any individual in the community may be as follows with monolingual allegiance to the vernacular being the least destructive to that vernacular and frequent individual unbounded code switching being the most destructive.

__Monolingual allegiance to the vernacular among the majority

__Evidence of a diglossic or stable bilingualism

__Infrequent individual unbounded lexical code switching

__Frequent individual unbounded code switching.

2.4 Population and Group Dynamics

One of the most commonly cited factors key to the determination of potential viability is the matter of a critical mass of speakers. But the number of speakers defined as “critical” varies. In Africa and South Asia, for example, language communities of less than 10,000 speakers are not given priority for language development projects by government agencies and some non-government organizations (NGOs)[15] because the languages are considered too small. However, 90% of the languages spoken in Papua New Guinea number less than 10,000 speakers. Yet among this 90% are many languages which have been targeted by the Papua New Guinea National Department of Education (NDOE) as well as SIL and other NGOs for language development projects such as orthography design, writer’s workshops, literature production, and literacy development. They are in fact viable languages some with a speaking population of less than 500 people[16]! Thus, while there must be some number of speakers in a stable communication environment for a language to continue to be spoken, the actual number of speakers necessary for linguistic vitality may vary according to other factors within the society.

Joshua Fishman, speaking on the requirements for reversal of language shift[17], and Nancy Dorian, speaking on the mechanisms of language death[18], both address the issue of the need of a core of fluent speakers for the continuation of a language. One of the ways that core of fluent speakers is either supported or undermined is through the language use characteristics of those who immigrate into a speech community (whether through employment, trade alliances, or marriage patterns). In Papua New Guinea this is particularly applicable. Teachers, clergy, medical workers, and agricultural specialists are frequently assigned to language areas other than their own. Further, in today’s modern society, young people often find spouses from among peers at boarding school and/or through the experiences working away from their village setting. Thus, language use characteristics among those who come to live in areas outside of their traditional home is significant to the continuation or decline of the language of their adopted home. Their actions either support or undermine the future use of the local vernacular.

An example of this phenomenon can be drawn from the Turaka people of Milne Bay Province. In part because of a natural disaster that wiped out all but two couples of two clans, and in part through modern educational contact, as well as other factors, the vast majority of the Turaka have married spouses from among the neighboring Mapena, Daga, and Umanakaina language groups. Consequently, children from these alliances grow up minimally bilingual, but frequently with linguistic allegiance directed toward the language of their non-Turaka parent. As a result from the third descending generation the Turaka language is generally known only marginally if not only passively, unless again there is a marriage alliance formed with a Turaka speaker. In this event the children of the new union grow up speaking Turaka as well as the primary language of their Turaka-mixed parent. Depending on their subsequent choice of marriage partner, then the Turaka language is supported or further undermined. Geneological records[19] show that this pattern of cross-cultural marriage has gone on for at least 6 generations. As a result, only a handful of fluent speakers remain today.

Thus, the underlying questions of the fourth indicator of ethnolinguistic vitality then asks: Are there speakers of the language? How is that group of speakers impacted by the language characteristics of the immigrants who come to live among them? A scale relative to maintaining a critical mass of speakers follows where the least undermining situation would be where the immigrants to the community become actively bilingual in the community’s language. By contrast, the most detrimental to the local vernacular would be the situation where immigrants chose to maintain their own mother-tongue(s) and insisted others in the community learn to speak it.

__Immigrants are actively bilingual – they speak the vernacular of

their adopted home.

__Immigrants are passively bilingual – they understand vernacular of

their adopted home, but use a lingua franca or speak their

own mother-tongue.

__Immigrants require communication entirely through a lingua

franca or trade language.

__Immigrants maintain their own language and insist that others

in their adopted home learn to speak it.

2.5 Distribution of speakers within their own social network

In my earlier work[20] I referred to the findings of Milroy and Dow that attest to the value of dense, multiplex networks for the maintenance of a minority vernacular within a wider societal context. To review, a social network is said to be dense when each person to which ego is linked in some kind of relationship is also linked in relationship with one another. In most village contexts in Papua New Guinea the social fabric is very dense because of the actual and attributed wantok relations. A social network is said to be multiplex when ego relates to other individuals in a number of capacities simultaneously. Thus, ego might be the neighbor of a man, who is his brother, who also serves as the local catechist for community children including ego’s children. Of course ego and his brother are from the same clan and share clan obligations with the same group of people. Thus, in this example, ego and his brother share at least four relational links: viz., parentage, neighborhood, religious instruction, and clan membership. Because of the simultaneous nature of relationships across the community in a dense multiplex social network there is as a result internal reinforcements of whatever cultural values are held dear across that society. Thus, the societal norms regarding language use are reinforced along with every other societal norm. In the case of a single language, such networks can serve to insulate speakers, isolating and protecting them from language contact pressures toward change.

The Vanimo people of Sandaun province provide a classic example of a dense, multiplex network functioning to support the traditional vernacular. When I worked among the Vanimo in 1989, I found that they were a highly educated and cohesive group. As such the vast majority of the population lived in the three coastal Vanimo communities. Further, Vanimo speakers served in every significant community role within those communities – from teacher, to aid post orderly, to PMV owner-driver, to trade store owner, to catechist, to club owner, to political leader (whether appointed, conferred or elected). Marriage patterns were also supportive of the vernacular. Typically, Vanimo people married other Vanimo speakers, but even in the event of marriage to individuals outside of the Vanimo speech community, the immigrant was expected to attain at least passive bilingualism in Vanimo. Thus, except with the expatriate priests and brothers[21] serving in the area, and for Vanimo people who were employed in town and thus were required to speak with those who were ethnically non-Vanimo, Vanimo speakers could use the Vanimo language throughout everyday life.

Thus, the fifth indicator of ethnolinguistic vitality asks, is there a network of social relations supportive of the local language? A possible scaled continuum of relative social systems supportive of the vernacular is as follows, where the most supportive of the vernacular would be contexts of cross cultural independence (such as the Vanimo) and the least supportive of the vernacular would be context where individuals were isolated by expected independence (such as in the case of individual indentured plantation workers of the 1800’s).

__Cross cultural independence, intra-community interdependence

with dense, multiplex networks utilizing the local language

to meet communication needs.

__Cross cultural interdependence – divided network systems,

internally dense and with a degree of multiplexity modified

by the necessity to communicate with outsiders who do not

know the local language for some goods and services.

__Cross cultural dependence – divided network systems,

internally dense however, there is the necessity to communicate

with outsiders who do not know the local language for all

goods and services.

__Individual independence – low density, uniplex networks.

2.6 Social outlook regarding and within the speech community.

As language choice can serve as a marker of ethnic identity, so a strong ethnic identity can substantiate language choice. In his discussion of the American sign language community, Nash[22] demonstrates the strength of identity that the local group has works to maintain their language choice, in this case American sign language. In other words, the perception a group has of itself can be supportive or can undermine the value associated with their language and ultimately their own use of their language. Further, Bourhis, Giles and Rosenthal[23] have indicated various status factors which serve to reinforce ethnolinguistic vitality. Thus, how well a group is perceived by outsiders, and whether or not it is supported by outsiders, e.g., by government funding of development projects, also impacts the value associated with the group’s language. Thus, the sixth indicator of ethnolinguistic vitality is a measure of a the language community’s social outlook both internally and externally.

Two examples come immediately to mind: the Anuki and the Enga.

The Anuki language community is located on the north coast of the Cape Vogel peninsula in Milne Bay province. Though numerically smaller than their linguistic neighbors to the south (Gapapaiwa) and east (Are), and equivalent in size to their linguistic neighbors to the west (Jimajima), the Anuki people are still very self aware. While working among the Anuki during July of 1998, I was told how people of the peninsula used to fear the cockatoo feathers (Anuki warriors sported cockatoo feathers when going into battle), and I was also shown the old fight grounds. Further I was told how in food fights[24] the Anuki align themselves with other winning groups, most recently with the Are and a segment of the Gapapaiwa people. Thus, by their cockatoo feathers and their winning ways, the Anuki are “known” on the peninsula. It was clear that the Anuki people I spoke to viewed themselves as a group in a very positive light.

The Engans hail from a province by the same name in the highlands of Papua New Guinea. The Engans are proud first because there are so many people who speak the Enga language. It is the largest language in this country with nearly 165,000 speakers. They are known as hard-working people, good at both gardening and fighting. They also have a reputation of being very committed to one another. As one Engan speaker[25] told me, an Engan will not allow another Engan to die; i.e., Engans will die (in order to adequately retaliate harm) for each other and for those they consider part of their group. Finally, the Moki exchange systems, feasting competitions, and singsings serve to identify Enga speech communities as well as unify them by renewing relationships throughout the whole group and cementing relationships between potential marriage partners. Clearly Engans have a strong sense of ethnic identity. They are also considered positively by outsiders. For example, Paul Heineman, an SIL colleague working in the Lembena language just to the north of Enga territory reports that in traditional Lembena stories Enga characters are portrayed as “noble and good”[26].

The sixth indicator of ethnolinguistic vitality thus asks, is there internal and/or external recognition of the language community as separate and unique within the broader society? Is there material or non-material evidence of such a distinction? A suggested means of ranking language groups on this sixth indicator could be as follows. In it the greater the positive internal identity, external status, and cultural distinctions the better in the support of the vernacular language.

__Strong internal identity, high status or notoriety conferred by

outsiders, with cultural markers present.

__Strong internal identity, neutral status conferred by outsiders, with

cultural markers present

__Weak internal identity, neutral status conferred by outsiders, with

some cultural markers present

__Weak internal identity, negative status conferred by outsiders, with

few if any cultural markers present.

2.7 Language Prestige

As I indicated in the introduction to this paper, there are over 800 separate language and cultural groups in Papua New Guinea. The populations of these speech communities vary from a handful to almost 165,000 people. Population, cultural characteristics (e.g. aggressiveness versus passivity; culturally outward looking and assimilative versus cultural contentment and protectionism; and/or trading versus isolationist); physical accessibility versus inaccessibility; and opportunity (such as commercial development, missionization, and education by expatriate groups) all impact the relative prestige between language groups.

Dobu, spoken by a people group numerically fourth largest in Milne Bay province, is a good example of a language that has a measure of prestige especially among speakers of languages located on the D’Entrecasteaux island group. That prestige is likely to have been developed and nurtured by a combination of many of the factors just listed so that not only are the Dobu people prestigious, but their language as well.

Language prestige is manifested in many ways. One of them is in the expectations non-native speakers have regarding their own language in relation to the prestigious language. According to Cliff Olson[27], expectations regarding the written form of the Gumawana language with reference to the Dobu language are a case in point. As the Gumawana people have approached translating literature from Dobu to Gumawana they have frequently fallen back to the Dobu originals, particularly adopting Dobu grammatical constructions in their word for word translation. This is in spite of the fact that Gumawana constructions are naturally different from the Dobu. One of the reasons Cliff proposed for this phenomena is the fact that written materials were first produced in Dobu and then imported into Gumawana. Regardless of the reason, it is clear that Dobu has greater prestige in the minds of the Gumawana translators than their own language.

The Lembena language group, mentioned in §2.6 provides another example of the indicator of relative prestige, but this time negative prestige. While working among the Lembena people[28] I was told by leaders in that community that Enga would eventually “cover up” the Lembena language. I found this prediction interesting in the light of the fact that while in the community we observed that Lembena was spoken in the majority of domains regardless of age and gender by the Lembena people. Thus, while the Lembena language is yet strong, Lembena speaker attitude toward their own vernacular has negligible if not negative prestige when compared to the neighboring Enga language. Without other supportive factors, the Lembena language would be at risk.

Thus, the seventh indicator addresses the issue of relative language prestige. The questions asked are: Does the target language have prestige among other neighboring or regional languages? What is the relative prestige of the language within the linguistic repertoire of the speech community? A descending scale of relative prestige could be as follows with a nationally recognized language having the greatest deal of prestige and thus a greater potential for use in the foreseeable future, and locally disparaged varieties having the least potential for continued use in the future (assuming other supports are also absent).

__The language in question is a prestigious, nationally recognized

lingua franca, e.g., Motu, Tok Pisin, and English.

__The language in question is a regionally recognized lingua

franca, church, education, and/or trade language, e.g., Gogodala

Dobu, Wedau, Tolai, Yabem, Kate

__The language in question is a locally recognized variety with neutral

status. (The majority of languages in Papua New Guinea

would fall into this category.)

__The language in question is a locally disparaged variety.

2.8 Access to a stable and acceptable economic base

One of the most common factors that leads a community to shift from one language to another is that the acquired language is thought economically beneficial by its adoptive community of speakers.[29] Scott Palmer suggests that this shift in language allegiance is a “consequence which hinges on the parents’ perception that adequate work environments using their mother tongue do not exist for their children.” [30] Although Palmer discusses this phenomenon in the North American context, the principle of perceptual adequacy is applicable in the Papua New Guinea setting as well. Like their counterparts around the world, Papua New Guinea parents want their children to prosper, i.e., to access material wealth and social prestige specific to their cultural setting. For those having exposure to the Papua New Guinean élite as well as expatriates, ‘prospering’ would also likely include accessing more of the wealth and prestige associated with those two groups.

For some in Papua New Guinea (such as those who live in urban settings) facility in the lingua franca is not as much a matter of ‘prospering’ but of existing.[31] However for others, living in outlying areas near, but not in urban settings, subsistence gardening, and hunting or fishing makes it possible to live with a repertoire of traditional languages. The crux of the matter then rests in the parents’ perception of ‘prospering’ and what language(s) is/are necessary for access to the ‘prosperous’ lifestyle.

According to SIL colleague, Ginny Whitney[32], the Akoye people of the Gulf province meet all of their personal needs through the use of their own vernacular and marginal use of the vernacular that surrounds them. There is little or no opportunity and no perceived necessity to learn English, Tok Pisin, or Hiri Motu.

The Maiadom people of northwest Fergusson island have adequate fertile land, abundant clean water sources, sufficient rainfall, a bountiful sea, and the skill to enjoy a healthy lifestyle from all of these resources. To access them the Maiadom language meets all communication needs. However, the Maiadom people also choose to trade with the Kiriwina and the Gumawana to obtain cash and trade goods. For this the Maiadom men have had to learn the lingua franca of the area, Dobu. To get ahead then Maiadom and Dobu are perceived as necessary.

Children having grown up in urban communities such as Port Moresby, Lae, Madang, and Alotau inevitably must learn English, Tok Pisin, and/or Motu in spite of their ethnic heritage. Unless they come from a people group whose traditional land is under the city streets, they are dependent upon a cash economy for their subsistence. To access this cash economy facility in at least one of the national languages is necessary.

Thus, the final indicator of ethnolinguistic vitality asks: Is there an acceptable economic base supportive of continuing use of the target language? A scale of descending support for the vernacular follows. The most supportive of the vernacular is in situations where the vernacular is the code of choice in a stable and acceptable economy. The least supportive of the vernacular is where the people groups are entirely dependent on an economic system that requires the use of a language other than the vernacular.

__Stable and acceptable economic base where the vernacular is

the code of choice.

__Adequate dual economy where the language used is dictated

by choice of economic base.

__Marginal subsistence economy requiring augmentation of

the traditional means of subsistence with non-

vernacular, cash-based economic schemes.

__Dependence on an economic system requiring use of a

non-vernacular.

3. Summary

Eight indicators of ethnolinguistic vitality have been discovered, developed, and documented in the Papua New Guinea context through the years of SIL’s experience in nearly 300 speech communities. These indicators look at the following factors: location and access of the speech community relative to urban communities or other population centers where people of mixed ethnolinguistic heritages congregate; number of domains within the society in which the language is used; the frequency and type of code switching behavior of speakers; whether or not there is a core of fluent speakers and how that core is impacted by the language behavior of immigrants; the network of social relations within the community; the kind and strength of both internal and external prestige of the group; the relative prestige of the language within the local repertoire of languages; and economic base perceived as necessary within the language group. As presented in this paper, each of these indicators have been broken down into a four-point scale, providing the reader with suggested criteria by which to assess the position of the targeted language relative to the indicator in question. While the scale for each indicator has four points, this is not meant to suggest that each point is equidistant within the indicator, nor that each indicator is equal in weight to every other indicator. The weight and variable impact of these indicators and sub-points with them has yet to be statistically demonstrated. They are however, in summation, a way that the relative strength of a group’s language can be indicated, particularly through comparative use of these indicators between languages within the same national context. They are therefore presented for your consideration, discussion and potential use. Any discoveries or comments regarding these indicators or their use are sought by the author. Discussion is welcome.

[2] An auxiliary language used to enable routine communication to take place between individuals who speak different native languages – also known as a language of wider communication. Motu is one of Papua New Guinea’s national languages.

[3] It should be noted that SIL has been documenting the languages of Papua New Guinea since the organization was invited into the country over 40 years ago. For example, in 1959 the national government of Papua New Guinea instigated an investigation of the country’s linguistic situation, asking SIL to implement a series of surveys to linguistically map the country. In order to gather the data necessary SIL and other linguists traveled throughout Papua New Guinea gathering word lists from every geographic region. As a result today there is a fairly accurate picture of the number and location of languages in this country. Then from 1980 onward, SIL began the work of documenting languages sociolinguistically. Since that time approximately 120 languages have been profiled using sociolinguistic parameters. From 1988 sociolinguistic surveys have been developed to include a process to rank languages along a continuum of relative viability. It is this ranking system, using indicators of ethnolinguistic vitality, that has been field tested in 76 surveys. Finally, it should be noted that SIL’s experience in Papua New Guinea has not been limited to the survey documentation of the existence and status of languages, but to the development of those languages as well. To date SIL has begun work in almost 300 of Papua New Guinea’s languages, completing languages development programs in nearly 120 of them and continuing work in another 177.

[4] At the Summer Institute of Linguistics International Language Assessment Conference, 23-31 May 1989.

[5] At the second Foundation for Endangered Languages Conference, 25-27 September 1998.

[6] Landweer, 1991, 49-67 introduced indicators of ethnolinguistic vitality for the Papua New Guinea context. At that time six indicators were proposed. The seventh and eighth indicator included in the current work are subsequent additions based on continued discussion, study and experience with the maintenance and shift phenomenon within Papua New Guinea.

[7] Actual travel time from the Amanab government station airstrip. The Baibai survey was completed by the author and a companion in June of 1999.

[8] This was admitted during the sociolinguistic survey of the language group completed in 1988

[10] Cf. for example the discussion of classic studies reviewed by J.K. Chambers,(1995) in his chapter called Class, Network and Mobility gives examples of group identification marked by dialect differentiation and Carol Myers Scotton (1995, 106,107) has argued that speakers use distinct languages for the purpose of redefining role relations and as markers of group identification.

[11] Diglossia is recognized as a stable form of bilingualism, where two or more linguistic forms exist side by side, throughout the speech community. Cf. classical articles on diglossia by Ferguson, 1959; Fishman 1967 & 1980, and more modern discussions of the phenomenon such as in Romaine, 1994.

[15] Douglas Boone, reporting of his experience in both Cameroon and the Democratic (Personal Communication 11-22-99). Clare O’Leary reporting of her knowledge in working with one NGO in India. (Personal Communication 11-26-99)

[16] The smallest example of a living language of which I am familiar was reported by Jacqueline Van Kleef (personal communication, 11-22-99). Sjaak and Jacqueline Van Kleef work among the Siroi people (population 1200) on the Rai Coast in Madang Province. In the middle of the Siroi people there is an enclave of 70 Arawom speakers, living in a village by the same name. According to the Van Kleefs, the Arawom people continue to speak their own language as a marker of ethnic identity, in spite of being surrounded by and bilingual in the Siroi language. (Sjaak and Jacqueline Van Kleef have been working among the Siroi people since 1983.)

[21] Non-clerical members of the religious order

[26] Paul Heineman. 1994. 36. (Paul and Marcia Heineman have been working among the Lembena since 1991.)

[27] Cliff Olson, 1999. (Cliff and Roxanne Olson have worked among the Gumawana since 1985.)

[28] The survey occurred from 31 October – 6 November 1989. Cf. Graham and Landweer, 1989, ms.

[32] Ginny Whitney, 11-27-99, (Personal Communication) Henry and Ginny Whitney have worked among the Akoye since 1983.