The Habitat of Australia’s Aboriginal Languages
≥
Trends in Linguistics Studies and Monographs 179
Editors
Walter Bisang Hans Henrich Hock (main editor for this volume)
Werner Winter
Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York
The Habitat of Australia’s Aboriginal Languages Past, Present and Future
edited by
Gerhard Leitner Ian G. Malcolm
Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York
Mouton de Gruyter (formerly Mouton, The Hague) is a Division of Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, Berlin.
앝 Printed on acid-free paper which falls within the guidelines 앪 of the ANSI to ensure permanence and durability.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The habitat of Australia’s aboriginal languages : past, present, and future / edited by Gerhard Leitner, Ian G. Malcolm. p. cm. ⫺ (Trends in linguistics. Studies and monographs ; 179) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-3-11-019079-3 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Australian languages ⫺ History. 2. Pidgin English ⫺ Australia. 3. Aboriginal Australians ⫺ Education. 4. Languages in contact ⫺ Australia. I. Leitner, Gerhard. II. Malcolm, Ian G. PL7001.H33 2007 4991.15⫺dc22 2006034600
ISBN 978-3-11-019079-3 ISSN 1861-4302 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. ” Copyright 2007 by Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, D-10785 Berlin All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Cover design: Christopher Schneider, Berlin. Printed in Germany.
Acknowledgements This book owes its existence to a long-standing collaboration between the two editors that goes back to the early 1990s. It began thanks to a grant of the Australian Vice-Chancellors’ Committee awarded to Gerhard Leitner in 1995– 96. Subsequent funding came from the Academic Visitors’ Program of Edith Cowan University in 2002 and from the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation in 2003. That support enabled Gerhard Leitner to produce a two-volume study of Australia’s languages habitats and to focus on the language habitats of Aboriginal Australians. Ian Malcolm was central to the establishment of close links with Aborigines in Western Australia and to gain insights into Aboriginal cultural practices, today and in the past. The support of the Freie Universität Berlin and of Edith Cowan University has made it possible for Ian Malcolm to come to Berlin where he co-taught a course on the Aboriginal language habitat and where he was able to visit with a group a students the Herrnhuter Brüdergemeine (Moravians) in Herrnhut, Saxony, Germany. This long-standing collaboration has led us to formulate the idea of a joint edited publication on the Aboriginal language habitats. It was meant to reflect a common approach to the themes of the book and to include leading experts in the field in Western Australia and across the nation. We are grateful to those who have so enthusiastically taken up that proposal and we are particularly grateful to the many Aboriginal Australians who have given us their advice. The editors gratefully acknowledge the support from Dr. Anke Beck, the chief linguistics editor of Mouton de Gruyter, Berlin, and her staff. September 2006
Gerhard Leitner, Berlin Ian G. Malcolm, Perth
Table of contents Acknowledgments................................................................................................v List of Authors.....................................................................................................xi Introduction Gerhard Leitner and Ian G. Malcolm .................................................................1 An overview of Australian traditional languages Harold Koch .......................................................................................................23 Yolngu language habitat: Ecology, identity and law in an Aboriginal society Michael Christie ................................................................................................57 Indigenous languages: Transitions from the past to the present Michael Walsh ...................................................................................................79 Language maintenance, shift – and planning Graham McKay ................................................................................................101 Linguistic responses to contact: Pidgins and creoles John Harris.......................................................................................................131 Aboriginal English: Restructured variety for cultural maintenance Ian G. Malcolm and Ellen Grote .....................................................................153 Aboriginal language habitat and cultural continuity Farzad Sharifian...............................................................................................181 The Aboriginal contribution to Australia’s language habitat Gerhard Leitner................................................................................................197 Issues and policies in school education Gary Partington and Ann Galloway ...............................................................237 Bridging the language gap in education Ian G. Malcolm and Patricia Königsberg ......................................................267 Aboriginal English in the criminal justice system Diana Eades .....................................................................................................299
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Aboriginal language habitat in research and tertiary education Rob Amery .......................................................................................................327 Tyikim/Blekbala perspectives on language Terry Ngarritjan-Kessaris and Linda Ford ...................................................355 Name and author index ....................................................................................371 Subject index ....................................................................................................378
Authors Gerhard Leitner is Professor in the Institute for English Philology in the Free University of Berlin. Ian G. Malcolm is Emeritus Professor and Adjunct Professor in the Faculty of Education and Arts, Edith Cowan University Harold Koch is Senior Lecturer in Linguistics and Head of the School of Language Studies at the Australian National University. Michael Christie is Associate Professor with the Learning Research Group in the School of Education at Charles Darwin University Michael Walsh is Honorary Associate in the Department of Linguistics at the University of Sydney. Graham McKay is Associate Professor and Head of the School of International, Cultural and Community Studies at Edith Cowan University. John Harris is Translation Consultant with the Bible Society in Australia. Ellen Grote is Post Doctoral Scholar in the School of International, Cultural and Community Studies at Edith Cowan University. Farzad Sharifian is Lecturer in the School of Languages, Cultures and Linguistics at Monash University. Gary Partington is Professor in Kurongkurl Katitjin, School of Indigenous Australian Studies at Edith Cowan University. Ann Galloway is Post Doctoral Fellow in Kurongkurl Katitjin, School of Indigenous Australian Studies at Edith Cowan University. Patricia Königsberg is Manager, ABC of Two-Way Literacy and Learning in the Department of Education and Training, Western Australia. Diana Eades is Honorary Fellow in the School of Languages, Cultures and Linguistics in the University of New England. Rob Amery is Lecturer in Linguistics in the School of Humanities at the University of Adelaide. Terry Ngarritjan-Kessaris is Lecturer in Kurongkurl Katitjin, School of Indigenous Australian Studies at Edith Cowan University. Linda Ford is Lecturer in the School of Education in the Faculty of Education, Health and Science at Charles Darwin University.
Introduction Gerhard Leitner and Ian G. Malcolm Australia’s Aborigines are a group of peoples that attract deep interest worldwide but are, despite the wealth of information available, little understood. Though a mere 2.5 per cent of Australia’s current population, they are important far beyond their demographic strength. Their symbolic association with their long past history is willingly adopted by Australia and its writers to claim a history that reaches beyond colonization. Aborigines have suffered massive losses in a short period of time. Yet some of their cultures, religions and languages have survived, have been revived or re-created – in some regions more than in others – in a form that represents Australia’s Aborigines of today. Despite on-going controversies, they have found a place inside the socio-cultural context in which they had been forced to exist. Research into a range of aspects of their language heritage is extensive. There are authoritative studies for many fields we are concerned with that provide great depth. But many studies are compartmental, focusing on their topic and ignoring what holds across language types or sociolinguistic issues. Many studies are not readily accessible or incompatible in content, approach or style with other publications. Many researchers, students and the public inside and outside Australia wish to have the ‘broad picture’, a comprehensiveness in coverage that is academically founded, yet accessible to the non-specialist. The editors thought that a volume by leading experts that would bring the overview and depth in exemplifying major themes would help overcome the shortage in accessible information on Australia’s Aborigines. It should point to parallels in related disciplines and world regions and show that the language habitat of Aboriginal Australians can fruitfully be studied and taught either from an Australian angle, from that of other world regions or from a theoretical angle. 1. Background, motivation and goal The backbone of the understanding of the current Aboriginal language habitat is, of course, the nature of contact that began with the colonization of the continent in 1788. Contact has had pervasive effects on the development of languages within their (prior) socio-cultural and historical contexts – or, in other words, their habitat. Over a long period of migration, colonization
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brought with it a plethora of languages that had had to settle. And as English was rising to its current status as Australia’s national language (see Leitner 2004a), a hierarchical texture emerged that has left little secure and enduring space to other languages, be they Indigenous or non-English migrant. There is no space here to develop that theme, which is a matter of political history and of particular disciplines (see e.g. Jupp 1988; 2001; Leitner 2006) , in detail here. Yet, to the extent that the documented social history relates to language, we will mention it below and several chapters in this book cover further details. What we do want to emphasize at the beginning of this preface is that the history of contact is neither restricted to colonization, nor is colonization confined to British colonization, nor to Australia. Contact was embedded in a long history of European exploration. Post-colonial developments cannot be isolated from the history in other world regions that were affected by colonization throughout the 19th century, nor from the development of scientific disciplines and of general social and cultural politics. The linguistic solutions found for language or communication problems always drew on similar solutions to those found in other parts of the world. In the paragraphs below we will relate some of the details of the pre-colonial period in Australia (which, incidentally, overlapped with the colonial one to the mid 1830s). Rockpaintings in Arnhem Land in the Northern Territory depict the ships of European explorers and prove that Aborigines there had seen European ships skirting their land in search – unbeknown to them – of the terra australis, the mythical southland, which was ‘their land’, after all (see Leitner 2006; Morwood 2002). It was not the first contact Aborigines had with the outside. Macassan fisherman had come from Sulawesi, a part of Indonesia today, but their coming was more focused: they looked for the trepang, a much sought after commodity in China. Contact with them introduced an Arabic-Malay pidgin, which was used in the Asian-Arabic trading network north of the continent. When the Portuguese managed to upset that commercial network, a Portuguese-Arabic-Malay pidgin was introduced. The northern edges of Aboriginal Australia were thus in touch with the outside world. But how far their experiences and the knowledge of Asian and European explorers spread inland, and whether they reached the south-east, where the first penal colony was set up in 1788, we don’t know. It is unlikely that they spread that far, but recounts did spread south-west and south-east. European explorations led to the occasional contact that shaped our knowledge of Aboriginal Australia and co-determined the way contact was established and maintained during the early colonial period, at least. The history of pre-colonial contact is told well in, e.g., Kenny (1995), Marchant
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3
(1998) and Dyer (2005). The Dutch Willem Jansz had discovered Cape York in 1602, and the Spaniard Luis Váez de Torres found the ‘Torres Strait’ passage in that same year. It was now clear that the land he and Jansz had found was not a part of New Guinea. The Dutch continued to be active between 1616 and 1644 and mapped (but did not explore) many coastal regions. Abel Tasman, who had discovered New Zealand, Tonga and Fiji, discovered Van Diemens Land in 1642. Several decades later, Willem de Vlamingh found the Swan River, the site of Perth, in Western Australia in 1697. The British William Dampier set foot on the continent’s west in 1688 and again in 1699. The French renewed their involvement by the middle of the 18th century. Jean-François de La Pérouse, Hyacinthe de Bougainville, Nicola Baudin are well-known names in the latter part of the 18th and the early decades of the 19th centuries. They visited Australia’s south-east at about the same time as Captain James Cook and Joseph Banks did in 1770 (see Leitner 2006). A fair amount of the fauna and flora and the topography of the land in coastal regions were known before colonization. Some experiences with Aborigines had been had and related widely in Europe. That had led to two opposing images. The French Paulmier de Gonneville, who had been believed to have found the terra australis on his voyage in 1503, wrote of a people with a feudal political system, an agricultural economy and village life that was ‘known’ or at least comprehensible to Europeans. They could not have been Aboriginal Australians. But de Gonneville’s picture stimulated interest in exploration and a view of Aborigines as a ‘comprehensible’ people. The Dutch were the first to actually establish contact, but their descriptions focus only on physical appearances, nutrition, weapons, etc. One gets little detail on the character of the people, let alone their language. William Dampier’s depiction of the people was more detailed – but also very unfavourable: The Inhabitants of this Country are the miserablest People in the World. The Hodmadods of Monomatapa [South Africa, GL] though a nasty People, yet for Wealth are Gentlemen to these; who have no Houses, and skin Garments, Sheep, Poultry, and Fruits of the Earth... And setting aside their Humane Shape, they differ but little from Brutes. (fr. Kenny 1995: 107)
He went on to describe parts of their material culture and added one of the rare remarks on spiritual culture: “I did not perceive that they did worship any thing” (fr. Kenny 1995: 107). On one occasion, he and his crew wanted to carry small barrels of water to their ship. As this was a heavy job, they wanted Aborigines to do it. But, he wrote, “all the signs we could make were to no purpose, for they stood like Statues, without motion, but grinn’d like so many Monkeys, staring one upon another: For these poor Creatures seem not accus-
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tomed to carry Burthens.” (fr. Kenny 1995: 109). Dampier and his crew failed, though Aborigines presumably knew what they had wanted. Interaction was not achieved. Dutch reports were similarly negative. Gonzal, who came to Cape York in 1756, described a scene of more real interaction, but progress was stopped when his crew tried to kidnap some Aborigines. So without much interaction, a view formed of Aborigines as being ‘primitive savages’, barely human. The help explorers got from was often left untold. Such views were popularized in fictionalized travel reports and other ways and influenced the public’s views. An opposing picture formed at much the same time and compared Aborigines with the peoples of the Pacific islands, who had been known earlier. They were seen as the ‘noble savages’, in other words, as a primitive people close to the earth, happy, unfalsified by culture. That image was transferred to Aborigines and, too, made its way into literature such as the novels of Jonathan Swift, Daniel Defoe and others; it proved to be so enduring that it is often alluded to in the popular dramatic fiction and TV films. The image is often attributed to James Cook, Joseph Banks and the French of the 18th century. Their voyages were carried out in the context of significant progress in science and the growing interest in primitive cultures worldwide. The Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge had been founded 1660. It had not given much advice to Dampier, but the scientific grid it developed was given to Cook. It was a guide for explorers so that they knew what to look out for and how to classify their observations. The goals of the Royal Society were paralleled by the short-lived Société des Observations de l’Homme (1799–1804) in France (Dyer 2005); German science took a different path and was more connected to the work of individual scholars (Veit 2004). Along the lines set out by such societies, one of du Fresne’s lieutenants, for instance, described in 1772 a scene when they were observed landing by the ‘Diemenlanders’: M. Marion ... made two sailors undress and go ashore, unarmed, carrying with them some small presents such as mirrors, necklaces etc. The Diemenlanders, seeing them acting thus, put their spears on the ground and with several gestures which marked their joy and contentment, came leaping to meet them, singing and clapping their hands. Our sailors reached the shore; they [the Aborigines] presented them with fire and then, as if to recognize this good welcome, [the sailors] handed out the trinkets they had brought. The thing that impressed them most was the mirror... The Diemenlanders could not leave looking at them ...; often they stopped to do this and on each occasion there were new expressions of astonishment... (fr. Kenny 1995: 135)
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Du Fresne’s report seems as factual as Cook’s had been. Accommodation, a well-known psychological concept, enabled explorers to gain acceptance and to observe the customs of Aborigines. They gained some knowledge of language; their descriptions have not been studied yet. Conflicts arose due to misunderstandings and prevented a deeper acquaintance of Aboriginal people. Like d’Entrecasteaux, Arthur Phillip stood in the tradition of the ‘noble savage’. Aborigines tended to avoid contact and Phillip doubted “whether it will be possible to get any of those people to remain with us, in order to get their language, without using force; they see no advantage that can arise from us that may make amends for the loss of that part of the harbour in which we occasionally employ the boats in fishing.” (HRA I 1788–1796: 96). It is worth quoting the advice that Lord Morton, the President of the Royal Society, had given to James Cook and Joseph Banks, the scientific advisor. It must have influenced Phillip’s behaviour and attitudes towards Aboriginal people:1
– To exercise the utmost patience and forbearance with the Natives of the – – – – –
several Lands where the Ship may touch... They are human creatures, the work of the same omnipotent Author, equally under his care with the most polished Europeans; perhaps being less offensive, more entitled to his favor. They are the natural, and in the strictest sense of the word, the legal possessors of the several Regions they inhabit. No European Nation has the right to occupy any part of their country, or settle among them without their voluntary consent.... But the Natives ... should be treated with distinguished humanity, and made sensible that the Crew still considers them as Lords of the Country... Lastly, to form a Vocabulary of the names given by the Natives, to the several things and places which come under the Inspection of the Gentlemen. (fr. Kenny 1995: 70–74)
Along these lines Joseph Banks wrote this: Thus live these I had almost said happy people, content with little nay almost nothing. Far enough removed from the anxieties attending upon riches, or even the possessions of what we Europeans call common necessaries: anxieties intended maybe by Providence to counter-balance the pleasure arising from the Possession of wishd for attainments, consequently increasing with increasing wealth, and in some measure keeping up the balance of happiness between the rich and the poor. (fr. Kenny 1995: 133) 1. Banks was to be the president of the Royal Society from 1788 to his death in 1820.
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Cook had written: from what I have said of the Natives of New Holland they may appear to some to be the most wretched people upon Earth, but in reality they are far more happier than we Europeans; being wholly unacquainted not only with the superfluous but the necessary Conveniences so much sought after in Europe, they are happy in not knowing the use of them. They live in a Tranquillity which is not disturbed by the Inequality of Condition: The Earth and sea of their own accord furnishes them with all things necessary for life... (fr. Kenny 1995: 132f)
There lay a gulf between Dampier and Cook. The French representations of early contact, too, reflect the image of the noble savage but the French stopped their explorations in the 1830s. Arthur Phillip’s task of establishing friendly relations with Aboriginal people was made hard by their refusal to interact. With a sense of exasperation he wrote that The natives still refuse to come amongst us.... I now doubt whether it will be possible to get any of those people to remain with us, in order to get their language, without using force; they see no advantage that can arise from us that may make amends for the loss of that part of the harbour in which we occasionally employ the boats in fishing. (HRA, vol. 1, 96)
Phillip felt compelled to turn to kidnapping. The most famous kidnappee, Bennelong, was apparently a willing learner of English and has been credited as the source of an Aboriginal English jargon to have sprung up in the early 1790s that facilitated communication during the early expansion. It spread quickly, acquired local features in various regions in the course of exploration and settlement, and eventually influenced the pidgins in Melanesia. At the end of the 19th century it creolized; it decreolized during the second half of the 20th century in parts of the north. The 220 years which followed the beginning of colonization thus brought pervasive change to the Aboriginal cultures and societies. These changes are mentioned in the contributions to this volume whenever they are relevant to a particular issue. Generally speaking, solutions to communication problems were determined solely by the colonizers up to the mid-1960s, when Aborigines began to be active participants in the society. We have left further details of the history of these changes to individual authors, but will mention those that were crucial to linguistic developments at this point:
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– the decline and loss of many traditional Aboriginal languages, while those – – – –
that have been retained (at various levels of competence) have changed dramatically under the impact of contact the rise of a few Aboriginal language-based lingua francas the impoverishment of Aboriginal multilingualism and its reduction to a form of bilingualism that includes (varieties of) English as one of its components the emergence and growth of a variety of English closer to, but still distinct from, that of the settlers, i.e. Aboriginal English the formation of a new (post-colonial) Australian language habitat that integrates Aboriginal languages
Indigenous2 languages are thus able to be seen as embedded in continuous contact from – to simplify matters somewhat – colonization till today. We want to explore how they have changed accordingly, in terms of internal structure, status, and use. We will integrate powerful theoretical linguistic studies with a perspective of contact-induced change and with the research on language shift, maintenance, recovery and documentation. A major and enduring part of the response to contact was the rise of contact languages, i.e. pidgins, creoles, lingua francas and ethnic varieties. Most of them were English-based; while they began as enforced and involuntary responses, and served the communicative needs with the white, European political and military power and with the settlers, they soon came to be used amongst Aborigines themselves. We are interested in tracing their origins and how they developed into adopted languages that serve to express Aboriginal identities. A particular area is the impact the Aboriginal habitat has had on English and the contemporary Australian habitat as such. The fourth area looks at the largely English-dominated public domain and how the Aboriginal habitat and its languages repertoire fares. We highlight areas that have been found to pose particular problems, such the legal domain, the education system from the primary to the tertiary sector and teacher training. Of course, the wide scope of a book like this requires simplification and exemplification. That we have done. It also requires that the language stories are related to a consensual outline of history that would ’date’ the developments since 1788. Though a difficult task, it is worth trying, and there are several proposals that correlate with linguistic interests, such as Jupp (1988; 2. The term Indigenous, usually capitalized, is sometimes used as an alternative to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander. In this volume the term Aboriginal will usually be used with the same inclusive reference.
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2001), Aboriginal websites, Leitner (2004a/b; 2006; this vol.) and, from a different angle, Ramson (2002). This collection will look at the way the changes that have affected the Indigenous language habitat correlate with socio-political history. We will integrate theoretical linguistic studies and develop a perspective of contact-induced change. There is, as we have said at the beginning, a vast body of knowledge on all of the relevant areas that contributors could rely on. While research often focuses on Australia, contributors have turned to studies on analogous situations in the United States, Canada, the Pacific and elsewhere to bring out the fact that the themes of this book go beyond Australia. The American context is particularly instructive since Australia was never isolated from developments there. A case in point is Wiley’s (2000) study of the history of language policies in the colonial and independent USA that compares well with what happened with regard to Aboriginal languages in Australia. Much the same is true of educational policies, the impact of Indigenous languages on English and the entire habitat, etc. Before elaborating on the topics and the overall structure of the book, we must turn to a brief overview of past and current research. The online database edited by Gerhard Leitner, Brian Taylor and Clemens Fritz (2006) provides access to the depth and breadth of research into most themes of this book. 2. Survey of past research We will survey past research with a bias in favour of studies relevant for this collection. Given its scope, we will look at (i) socio-political and historical studies that include the whole, pre-colonial history of Australia and studies on Aboriginal settlement and diffusion; (ii) studies of the structure and development of traditional Aboriginal languages that include changes that have occurred as a result of contact; (iii) studies on Aboriginal contact languages; and (iv) studies on language-related issues in the public arena of Australia. To begin with the first area, there are excellent surveys of the pre-historic period, settlement and diffusion, etc. Settlement theories are crucial to the provision of the social dimension to linguistic studies that focus on the relatedness of languages. Morwood (2002) is a good and accessible book, which includes coverage of various theories of settlement. Horton (1994; 1999) relates interesting and accessible information and relate to language issues. As to the pre-colonial period of exploration, one might turn to the popular, but highly informative studies by Kenny (1995), Marchant (1998) and Dyer (2005); the latter is specifically on the explorations of the French. The period of colonization and the formation of the Commonwealth of Australia is
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a matter of historical and political science, and we refrain from selecting titles (see Jupp 1998; 2001). Regarding the limited field of Aboriginal-white contact, we will mention some that have a link to language issues: Harris (1991; this vol.), Leitner (2004b; 2006; this vol.) and Koch (this vol.). The origin, relatedness and texture of Aboriginal languages throw up central questions in linguistic typology that reach far beyond Australian Linguistics, as the field is called in Australia.3 The history of research is covered in many places such as Blake (1991) and recently Bowern and Koch (2004), and Koch (this vol.). The comparative-historical paradigm, which maintains that (one large set of) Aboriginal languages represent a single type that descends from a single ancestor, unrelated to any other language family or type outside the continent, represents the dominant research paradigm. Bowern and Koch (2004) is an authoritative collection of papers on the PamaNyungan languages but says nothing about the non-Pama-Nyungan languages. That gap is filled by Evans (2003). These editors maintain that this typology of languages is firmly established and finds increasing linguistic and other support. Dixon (2002), in contrast, maintains that there is no way of finding enough evidence to reconstruct a proto-Australian language that could serve as the mother from which all established languages have descended. All one can do is to establish small ‘families’ and typological clusters. Though he has been criticized heavily in Bowern and Koch (2004), we do not think he is as negative on genetic relationships as O’Grady and Hale (2004) make him appear. Even if he were wrong, it would be incumbent on those scholars to relate their findings to a theory of settlement and dispersion across the continent along the lines of Indo-European studies. There is a large number of descriptive studies of individual languages worth pointing to. Dixon and Blake (1991) contains a range of papers as do the two studies mentioned above. More accessible to non-experts are the older monographs by Blake (1991) and the recent (and popular) one by the Senior Secondary Assessment Board of South Australia (SSABSA 1996). In-depth studies of a range of features can be found in Evans (2003), Bowern and Koch (2004), Dixon (2002), Schultze-Berndt (2000) and elsewhere (see also Harris, this vol.). Contact has led to contact languages throughout the continent, as we have said above. Some of them stabilized while remaining auxiliary languages, others have become creoles; most have disappeared. There is a considerable interest in contact languages in creolistics, and numerous studies on Aboriginal pidgins and creoles address topics such as the social history of 3. Leitner’s (2000; 2001a) use of this term refers to the study of all Australian languages.
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contact, the rise of the Sydney pidgin, its spread across the continent and its influence on the emergence of Kriol and Torres Strait Creole. Harris’s (1986) strength is social history; Troy (1990; 1993) is strong on linguistic documentation of the Sydney region. The spread across the continent as well as the role of outside contact with the South Pacific is brought out in the contributions to Wurm et al. (1996) and was further explored, for instance, by Simpson (2000) in the collection edited by Siegel (2000) and by Tryon and Charpentier (2004). A more popular account of Indigenous and contact languages is Walsh and Yallop (1993). Regarding Aboriginal English, Eagleson, Kaldor, and Malcolm (1982) is still the classic study of Aboriginal English in the east and west of the continent. Malcolm’s continuing work (e.g. 1994; 1996; 1999; 2002a/b) provides enhanced understanding of Aboriginal English discourse and semantics and their educational implications. The recent decade or so has seen convergent trends in linguistics. One is socio-cultural studies that focus on entire regions or language ecologies and propose a habitat approach to understand their dynamics and the changes that have been, or are, taking place (e.g. Mühlhäusler 1999; Wurm et al. 1996; Leitner 1998; 2004a/b). Such a perspective calls for an integrative perspective that does not isolate language(s) from the context of all the other languages used in a society. It maintains that languages must be studied within the sociocultural, political, and economic contexts in which they are used and in which they function. The second development is what might be referred to here as socio-cognitive theory that starts with concepts like schemata and explores the possibility of cultural-linguistic continuity in light, or despite, of radical changes to a language habitat. One might mention Malcolm (2002a), Malcolm and Sharifian (2002) and Sharifian (2005). Both trends focus on applied domains such as language educational policy in the social services, the law and other domains. They also suggest that policies on language and communication must be sensitive to socio-cognitive and cultural dimensions in order to be successful. Finally, tertiary education and the input it provides into secondary and primary education support the so-called Regional Studies approach (Leitner 2000–2001a), which, on the language side, benefits from socio-cultural and socio-cognitive approaches. Regional Studies are compatible with socio-political, economic and cultural history and lend themselves to feeding into related areas, where English was and is a prominent player such as North America, South-East or East Asia. The impact that Aboriginal and contact languages have had on English has been an important topic in studies on mainstream Australian English and has been pursued, for instance, in Ramson (1966; 2002), Dixon et al. (1990), Leitner (2001b/c; 2004a), and Leitner and Sieloff (1998). Australian dictionaries
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such as the Australian National Dictionary (1988) are good sources. The reciprocal angle of contact, i.e. the impact that English has had on Indigenous languages, has been explored in Siegel (2000), Bucknall (1997), SSABSA (1996), Sharpe (1993) and Harkins (1994). These studies show that Aboriginal languages have changed more dramatically than English has – an area, incidentally, that finds its correlate in Clyne’s (2003) and Clyne and Kipp’s (1999) studies of language contact with migrant languages in Australia or in de Bot and Clyne’s (1994) investigation of third generation migrants. While linguistic and sociolinguistic topics have attracted much attention, the demographic, linguistic, socio- and psycho-linguistic details of language attrition and loss, the shift to English and the growth of Indigenous lingua francas have not gone unnoticed. Schmidt (1990), McKay (1996), Lo Bianco and Rhydwen (2001) have offered insightful analyses of these processes and have, at times, triggered language policy development or led to revisions. Applied linguistic areas in education, teacher training, the legal domain or support structures for language maintenance, revitalization, recovery or mere documentation and relevant policies were first integrated into a coherent framework in Lo Bianco (1987). Many specific studies have been done independently on teacher-awareness, teacher-in-service training and other themes (Eagleson, Kaldor, and Malcolm 1982; Malcolm et al. 1999a–b, Cahill 1999). Critical analyses of the introduction of literacy into Kriol and Indigenous languages have come from Rhydwen (1996), Black (1993) and others. The classroom realities of the teaching of Indigenous languages in Aboriginal schools and the educational issues underlying school education have been at the centre of a collection edited by Hartman, and Henderson (1994). Harris (1990), Partington (1998) and Beresford and Partington (2003) are important educational studies. Fesl (1993) describes the social and political circumstances of language loss from the point of view of an Indigenous person. Those and many other studies contribute the background for the themes of this book. Eades (1995) is a collection of papers on the problems of Aboriginal Australians in the legal domain which has contributions on interpreting, courtroom discourse, the law background, the role of non-standardism, etc. The legal domain has become aware of intercultural communication problems and Fryer-Smith (2002) is a handbook for professionals in the field in Western Australia; it is also available on the internet. Similar books have been produced by the Supreme Court of Queensland and elsewhere. Cook (2002) is a policy-oriented study on language and communication needs in interpreting.
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3. Content, structure and scope of the book There is, then, a large body of past research that a book like this can rely on. In order to establish an integrative focus, we will derive three principles of selection from past research that will help create a cohesive framework and select from past research. The first is that the book is structured around the (types of) languages used by Aboriginal Australians; the second that selections are made on the basis of, or make reference to, what has been retained in one form or another in Indigenous languages or been carried over into contact languages and Aboriginal English. Closely related are the features that have been lost. The third principle will contrast with the second in showing the influence from (varieties of) English (or, in the case of pidgins) from Macassan pidgin. A survey of Indigenous languages will thus look at the modifications that have taken place in these languages and what of them has been carried forward into pidgins, Kriol and Aboriginal English. In highlighting continuity, modification, loss and adaptation at the levels of linguistic organization and use, we can avoid the perception that language(s) or types of languages had just co-existed more or less independently of one another and, at best, show up as belonging together at the level of parole. The underlying theme, viz. that they symbolize a language habitat will thus come out more strongly. The papers by Harold Koch, Michael Christie, and Michael Walsh provide the background to traditional Aboriginal languages, showing what is known about their origin(s), diffusion and convergence in the pre-colonial period and the changes that have taken place since. Harold Koch and Michael Christie also survey the debates about a proto-Aboriginal language, and the various conceptions of the origin of these languages and the hypotheses about the social history of settlement, diffusion, etc. In the coverage of the levels of linguistic organization these papers and John Harris are to be selective and consider those features that re-appear in the guise of contact languages, mentioning significant features that have been, or are being, lost in the processes of language attrition and loss. Farzad Sharifian and Ian Malcolm and Ellen Grote look in detail at the conceptual cognitive structures activated in discourse and text in Aboriginal languages and grounded in the texture of languages. They are focused on cognitive lexical structures that have been investigated from that angle. Graham McKay discusses the loss, maintenance, recovery or documentation of Indigenous languages from national or state language policy perspectives and the efforts being undertaken (or not) by communities themselves. That is to include demographic data and socio-
Introduction
13
psychological or cultural dimensions. While it includes issues common to all Indigenous languages, it is placed best in the context of traditional languages. John Harris, Farzad Sharifian, and Ian Malcolm and Ellen Grote also look at contact languages – mainly those based on or including English, but making reference to the few Indigenous ones that emerged in the 19th century and to the impact of the Macassans during the Dutch-dominated south-east Asian region of the 18th and 19th centuries. Like the authors referred to in the preceding paragraph John Harris will survey the field, including social history and connections with the wider South Pacific and Atlantic pidgins. To that end, the contribution will look at evidence, linguistic and otherwise, in support of the Australian-origin hypothesis and the outreach to the South Pacific. It will cover the time to the mid-20th century, which will be dealt with more fully in other contributions in this section. Ian Malcolm and Ellen Grote will focus on Aboriginal English, the central variety in much of the continent, discuss its origin, structure, regional, social and stylistic stratification, and provide background to current educational and other domains of planning. From a linguistic angle, these papers will focus on its distinctness from other language types; they will also show what affiliates it with mAusE on the one hand and Kriol (and its precursors) on the other. Farzad Sharifian will continue the theme of linguistic and cultural continuity by developing the concept of Indigenous schemata. His treatment will expand it, in not being limited to Aboriginal English but in discussing those schemata in traditional languages and Kriol. Gerhard Leitner will turn to the other side of the contact coin and look at the influence Aboriginal languages have had on mainstream Australian English. While influences have largely been lexical, it will re-iterate periods of influence and the shift from traditional and (early) pidgins as donor languages to the more persistent role today of Aboriginal English and the fact that there is a limited amount of code-switching even amongst non-Aboriginal speakers. Having dealt with traditional and contact languages throughout Australia’s history, the papers by Gary Partington and Ann Galloway, Ian Malcolm and Patricia Königsberg, Diana Eades, and Rob Amery will come to language policy and planning, predominantly a research area of the last forty years – if policy is conceived of as conscious political attempts to influence behaviour. Gary Partington and Ann Galloway will begin with language and education and include a discussion of underlying and changing philosophies about curricular objectives, didactics and methodologies. The emphasis will be on current issues in light of the language diversity of Aboriginal Australians, the choices that have been made, the problems in implementation and in developing Aboriginal participation and control. They will include a brief history
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of Aboriginal education. Ian Malcolm and Patricia Königsberg will move forward and address specifically linguistic aspects of curriculum design and methodology and will take account of the co-presence of the Indigenous and non-Indigenous elements in the Australian language habitat. In light of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody and the acute problems that Aborigines face in the legal domain (court room, etc.) Diana Eades will show how Aboriginal cultural and other beliefs and practices affect that domain, and what has been and needs to be done to provide equality. She will include the Aboriginal practices of dispute settling and other legal issues. Rob Amery will return to the Introduction and outline the relevance of this book to tertiary and secondary education. He will include a discussion of teaching materials in use, internet resources and review the international context that deals with native, minority groups. The editors are aware that a book like this must include the perspectives of the people whose language habitats it describes. While that will be taken note of in all sections, Terry Ngarritjin-Kessaris and Linda Ford, two Aboriginal academics with experience in diverse language habitats, will bring out what Aboriginal Australians think of the ways their language habitat has changed as a result of the practices and policies of the past 40 or so years, and what challenges there are for the future. These authors will express their views and comment from their own perpective and as members of Indigenous speech communities which are still more often perceived as the subject of research than as the source of researchers and research agendas. The last word in this collection, which will be in response to the contributions of the other authors, will belong to them. They have been encouraged to write in their own style rather than conforming to non-Indigenous discourse conventions. There is, the editors would stress at this point, nothing that is uncontroversial in relation to the Indigenous language habitats and the changes that have occurred since colonization and the policies that have been set in place over the past several decades to promote the maintenance and partial reconstruction of Aboriginal languages. Even the views on the pre-colonial past cannot escape controversy. A situation like this is, of course, not confined to Australia and similar controversies can be seen in the context of America’s ancestral languages and the language and educational policies in the USA and Canada. In light of these controversies, the editors have taken care to commission papers from experts that can cover the respective fields and bring out dominant views; they have left it to them to focus on what they think is right and a way forward. We are aware, in particular, that the emerging general emphasis of the authors of this volume on the valuing of contact languages alongside Indigenous languages in Australia, and on the incorp-
Introduction
15
oration of these languages into literacy and education, is not universally shared. As Rhydwen (1996: 50, 123) has reported, there are non-Aboriginal people working in remote areas who dismiss Kriol as “shit language” or “bastard language,” while some Aboriginal people themselves, especially those fluent in other languages, see some forms of Kriol and Aboriginal English as “yalabala tok, ‘speech of Aboriginal people of mixed descent’” (1996: 101) and reject the maintenance of a language which “doesn’t lead anywhere” (1996: 124). While allowing for the fact that Indigenous language policies and practices need to be responsive to community views, and, in particular, Indigenous community views, and will therefore differ from situation to situation, we have attempted here to regard the Aboriginal habitat as one which will continue to change, and we consider that the input of research which is inclusive of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal inputs can contribute positively to the management of such change. As the outline of the goals, content and scope and of the wider research context suggests, this collection of commissioned papers will be of interest to a wide range of readers. We might mention general and typological linguists with an interest in the effects of language contact on smaller and endangered languages, students of English and Anglicists who take an interest in the effects of contact with Indigenous peoples, the rise of contact languages such as pidgins and creoles or ethnolects, and the internal pluricentricity of English. We are thinking of applied linguists, and especially of those working in the domain of language planning, education, and the law; they will find ample material that compares well with analogous situations elsewhere in the world. Scholars in Australian Studies will find what is needed to cast a language angle on the Indigenous and white dimension. Last, but not least, this collection will benefit scholars working in related fields where a traditional language habitat has been upset by colonization (or in other ways) and where endangered languages co-exist alongside contact and dominant languages; where grass-roots and high-level political attempts are being made to bring about change that guarantees the survival of languages in a new habitat. Australia is but one of many cases. And that property will benefit those that teach in the key areas of this collection of papers. References [AND] Australian National Dictionary, The 1988 Edited by W. S. Ramson. Melbourne: Oxford University Press.
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Beresford, Quentin and Gary Partington (eds.) 2003 Reform and Resistance in Aboriginal Education: The Australian Experience. Crawley, WA: University of Western Australia Press. Black, Paul 1993 New uses for old languages. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh and Colin Yallop (eds.), 207–223. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Blake, Barry 1991 Australian Aboriginal Languages. A General Introduction. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. [2nd ed.] Bot, Kees de and Michael Clyne 1994 A 16-year longitudinal study of language attrition in Dutch immigrants in Australia. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 15 (1): 17–28. Bowern, Claire, and Harold Koch (eds.) 2004 Australian Languages. Classification and the Comparative Method. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Bucknall, Gwen 1997 Nyangumarta: Alive and adapting. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 20 (1): 43–56. Cahill, Rosemary 1999 Solid English. East Perth: Education Department of Western Australia. Clyne, Michael 2003 The Dynamics of Contact Linguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clyne, Michael, and Sandra Kipp 1999 Pluricentric Languages in an Immigrant Context: Arabic, Chinese, Spanish. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Cook, Michael 2002 Indigenous Interpreting Issues for Courts. Carlton, Vic.: AIJA, The Secretariat. Dixon, Robert W. M. 1980 The Languages of Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. [esp. chapter 8 on “Classification of Australian languages”] 1997 The Rise and Fall of Languages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2002 Australian Languages. Their Nature and Development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
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Dixon, Robert W. M., and Barry Blake (eds.) 1991 The Handbook of Australian Languages. Vol. IV. The Aboriginal Languages of Melbourne and Other Grammatical Sketches. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Dixon, Robert W. M., William Ramson, and Mandy Thomas 1990 Australian Aboriginal Words in English: Their Origin and Meaning. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Dyer, Colin 2005 The French Explorers and the Aboriginal Australians. 1772–1839. St. Lucia, Qld: Queensland University Press. Eades, Diana (ed.) 1995 Language in Evidence. Issues Confronting Aboriginal and Multicultural Australia. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press. Eagleson, Robert D., Susan Kaldor, and Ian G. Malcolm 1982 English and the Aboriginal Child. Canberra: Curriculum Development Centre. Evans, Nicholas (ed.) 2003 The Non-Pama-Nyungan Languages of Northern Australia: Comparative Studies of the Continent’s Most Linguistically Complex Region (Pacific Linguistics 552.) Canberra: Australian National University. Fesl, Eve 1993 Conned! St. Lucia, Qld: University of Queensland Press. Fryer-Smith, Stephanie 2002 Aboriginal Benchmark for Western Australian Courts. (AIJA Model Indigenous Benchbook Project). Carlton, Vic.: Australian Institute of Judicial Administration Incorporated. [http://www.aija.org.au/ online/ICABenchbook/Intro.pdf, accessed 5 July 2004] Harkins, Jean 1994 Bridging Two Worlds. Aboriginal English and Crosscultural Understanding. St. Lucia, Qld: University of Queensland Press. Harris, John 1986 Northern Territory Pidgins and the Origin of Kriol. (Pacific Linguistics C-89.) The Australian National University, Canberra. 1991 Kriol – the creation of a new language. In Language in Australia, Suzanne Romaine (ed.), 195–203. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
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Harris, Stephen 1990 Two-Way Aboriginal Schooling. Education and Cultural Survival. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Hartman, Deborah, and John Henderson (eds.) 1994 Aboriginal Languages in Education. Alice Springs: Institute of Aboriginal Development Press. Horton, David 1994 The Encyclopedia of Aboriginal Australia. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander History, Society and Culture. 2 vols. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. 1999 Aboriginal Australia. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. [The map is also on http:// www.foundingdocs.gov.au/pathways/index.htm, acc. 15 June 2004.] [HRA] The Library Committe of the Commonwealth Parliament 1914 Historical Records of Australia (Series I, Volume 1, 1788–1796, etc.). Commonwealth of Australia. Jupp, James (ed.) 1988 The Australian People. An Encyclopedia of the Nation, its People and their Origins. Sydney: Angus and Robertson Publishers. 2001 The Australian People. An Encyclopedia of the Nation, its People and their Origins. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. [2nd ed.; rev. ed. of 1988] Kenny, John 1995 Before the First Fleet. The European Discovery of Australia. 1606– 1777. Kenthurst, NSW: Kangaroo Press. Leitner, Gerhard 1998 Australiens Sprachökologie, in Australien. Eine Interdisziplinäre Einführung, Rudolf Bader (ed.), 215–262. Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier. 2000 Australian Linguistics – A module in Australian Studies, Part II. Australian Language Matters 9 (1): 11–12, 14. 2001a Australian Linguistics – A module in Australian Studies, Part III. Australian Language Matters 9 (2): 13, 17. 2001b Lexical frequencies in a 300 million word corpus of Australian newspapers: Analysis and interpretation. International Journal of Corpus Linguistics 5 (2): 1–32. 2001c The Aboriginal contribution to mainstream Australian English. A corpus-based study. In Text – Varieties – Translation, Albrecht
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Neubert, Wolfgang Thiele, Christian Todenhagen (eds.), 93–115. Tübingen: Stauffenburg Verlag. Leitner, Gerhard 2004a Australia’s Many Voices. Australian English – the National Language. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 2004b Australia’s Many Voices. Ethnic Englishes, Indigenous and Migrant Languages. Policy and Education. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 2006 Die Aborigines Australiens. München: C.H. Beck Verlag. Leitner, Gerhard, and Inke Sieloff 1998 Aboriginal words and concepts in Australian English, World Englishes 17 (2): 153–169. Leitner, Gerhard, Clemens Fritz, and Brian Taylor (eds.) 2006 Language in Australia and New Zealand. A Bibliography. 1788–2005. On-line and CD-ROM. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. [http://www. ausbib.mouton-content.com/, accessed 17 July 2006 ] Lo Bianco, Joseph 1987 The National Policy on Languages. Canberra: Australian Government Printing Service. Lo Bianco, Joseph, and Mari Rhydwen 2001 Is the extinction of Australia’s indigenous languages inevitable? In Can Threatened Languages be Saved?, Joshua Fishman (ed.), 391–422. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters Ltd. Malcolm, Ian G. 1994 Discourse and discourse strategies in Australian Aboriginal English, World Englishes 13 (3): 289–306. 1996 Observations on variability in the Verb Phrase in Aboriginal English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 16: 145–165. 1999 Aboriginal English: From contact variety to social dialect. In Processes of Language Contact. Case Studies from Australia and the Pacific, Jeff Siegel (ed.), 123–144. Montreal: Fides. Malcolm, Ian G. 2002a Aboriginal English Genres in Perth. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Centre for Applied Language and Literacy Research and Institute for the Service Professions, Edith Cowan University. 2002b Aboriginal English: What you gotta know. Literacy Learning: The Middle Years 10 (1): 9–27.
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Malcolm, Ian G., et al. 1999a Two-way English. Towards More User-friendly Education for Speakers of Aboriginal English. East Perth: Education Department of Western Australia. 1999b Towards More User-Friendly Education for Speakers of Aboriginal English. East Perth: Education Department of Western Australia and Centre for Applied Language and Literacy Research, Edith Cowan University. Malcolm, Ian G., and Marek Koscielecki 1997 Aboriginality and English. Report to the Australian Research Council. November 1997. Centre for Applied Language Research, Edith Cowan University, Perth. Malcolm, Ian G., and Farzad Sharifian 2002 Aspects of Aboriginal English oral discourse: an application of cultural schema theory. Discourse Studies 4 (2): 169–181. Marchant, Leslie R. 1998 France Australe. The French in Search for the Southland and Subsequent Explorations and Plans to Found a Penal Colony and Strategic Base in South Western Australia 1503–1826. Perth: Scott Four Colour Print. McConvell, Patrick, and Nicholas Thieberger 2001 State of Indigenous Languages in Australia – 2001. (Second Technical Paper Series No. 2, Natural and Cultural Heritage.) Department of the Environment and Heritage, Canberra. [http://www.deh.gov.au/soe/ techpapers/languages/, accessed 23 June 2004] McGregor, William B. 2002 Verb Classification in Australian Languages. (Empirical Approaches to Language Typology 25.) Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. McKay, Graham 1996 The Land Still Speaks. Review of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Language Maintenance and Development Needs and Activities. [Report Commissioned by the Australian Language and Literacy Council] Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Morwood, M. J. 2002 Visions from the Past. The Archeology of Australian Aboriginal Art. Crows Nest, NSW: Allen and Unwin. O’Grady Geoffrey, Ken Hale 2004 The coherence and distinctiveness of the Pama-Nyungan language family within the Australian linguistic phylum. In Australian
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Languages. Classification and the Comparative Method, Claire Bowern and Harold Koch (eds.), 69–92. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Partington, Gary (ed.) 1998 Perspectives on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education. Tuggerah, NSW: Social Science Press. Ramson, William S. 1966 The Currency of Aboriginal Words in Australian English (Occasional Paper 3). Sydney: Australian Language Research Centre. 2002 Lexical Images. The Story of the Australian National Dictionary. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Rhydwen, Mari 1996 Writing on the Backs of the Blacks. Voice, Literacy and Community in Kriol Fieldwork. St. Lucia, Qld: University of Queensland Press. Schmidt, Annette 1990 The Loss of Australia’s Aboriginal Language Heritage. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. [SSABSA] Senior Secondary Assessment Board of South Australia 1996 Australia’s Aboriginal Languages. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Schultze-Berndt, Eva 2000 Simple and Complex Verbs in Jaminjung: A Study of Event Categorisation in an Australian Language. (Max Planck Institute Series in Psycholinguistics 14.) Nijmegen: Eva Schultze-Berndt. Sharifian, Farzad 2001 Schema-based processing in Australian speakers of Aboriginal English. Language and Intercultural Communication 1 (2): 120–134. Sharpe, Margaret 1993 Bundjalung: Teaching a disappearing language. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh, Colin Yallop (eds.), 71–84. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Siegel, Jeff, (ed.) 2000 Processes of Language Contact. Studies from Australia and the South Pacific. Saint-Laurent: Fides. Simpson, Jane 2000 Camels as pidgin-carriers: Afghan cameleers as a vector in the spread of features of Australian Aboriginal pidgins and creoles. In Processes of Language Contact: Studies from Australia and the South Pacific, Jeff Siegel (ed.), 195–244. St Laurent, Canada: Fides.
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Troy, Jakelin 1990 Australian Aboriginal Contact with the English Language in New South Wales: 1788 to 1845 (Pacific Linguistics B-103.) Department of Linguistics, Australian National University, Canberra. 1993 Language contact in early colonial New South Wales 1788 to 1791. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh and Colin Yallop (eds.), 33–50. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Tryon, Darrell, and Jean-Michel Charpentier 2004 Pacific Pidgins and Creoles. Origins, Growth and Development. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Veit, Walter (ed.) 2004 The Struggle for Souls and Science. Constructing the Fifth Continent: German Missionaries and Scientists in Australia. [Occasional Paper Number 3, Strehlow Research Centre]. Northern Territory Government, Alice Springs. Walsh, Michael, and Colin Yallop (eds.) 1993 Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Wiley, Terence G. 2000 Continuity and change in the function of language ideologies in the United States. In Ideology, Politics and Language Policies. Focus on English, Thomas Ricento (ed.), 67–85. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Wurm, Stephen A., Peter Mühlhäusler, and Darrell T. Tryon (eds.) 1996 Atlas of Intercultural Communication in the Pacific, Asia, and the Americas. 3 vols. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.
An overview of Australian traditional languages Harold Koch 1. Introduction Some 250 languages1 are thought to have been spoken in Australia at the time that the continent began to be settled by the British in 1788 (Dixon 2002: 2). It is these languages that I am calling the traditional languages of Australia, as opposed to new forms that have developed since 1788 through the changed linguistic ecology that was introduced by the coming of European people with their language(s). By the present time all surviving Australian languages have been affected by the presence of English and the cultural changes that came in the wake of colonization . In this paper I give an outline of the history of the documentation of these traditional languages (in section 2), describe what has been considered to be their historical relationships (in section 3), and present their salient typological features (in section 4). In section 5 I use the point of view of placenames to highlight their changing linguistic habitat. 2. History of research This section gives a short history of research on Australian languages. Other overviews are Capell (1971), Wurm (1972: ch. 2), and Dixon (1980: 8–17).2 The Australian languages first came to the attention of European scholars, ironically, when their habitat was contacted by the intrusion of outsiders who 1. The term language is used here in the linguists sense of a lect or set of lects that are considered not to be mutually intelligible with other lects (in contrast to dialects of a language, which are mutually intelligible). Aboriginal people (and in fact nonlinguists in general) typically do not conceptualize language in the same way (see Dixon 1980: 33; 2002: 4-5 for traditional languages and Rhydwen (1996) with respect to creole languages). 2. McGregor (forthc.) has called attention to the fact that much of the work that has been done on past investigators is from the perspective of the relevance of their results to present-day concerns, rather than with a view to understanding their work on its own terms and in the context of their social and intellectual climate. McGregor (ed., forthc.) aims to redress this deficiency.
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brought with them an alien language. Wordlists were collected in 1770 by members of Captain James Cook’s expedition to the South Pacific. While repairing their ship, the Endeavour, Cook’s crew was in contact with Aboriginal people of the group who spoke the Guugu Yimidhirr language. One word popularized from this source and adopted into European languages was kangaroo, which was the name of a species of marsupial (Haviland 1974; 1979). When a British penal colony was established at Port Jackson (Sydney) in 1788, wordlists of the Sydney language were collected by a number of officials and naval officers. One of these, Colonel William Dawes, began a systematic study of the grammar, but his results remained largely unknown until relatively recently (Troy 1992; 1993). Meanwhile, Aboriginal people of the Eora tribe began learning English and a pidgin language developed, with input from English, Pacific jargon, and the Sydney language. This NSW Pidgin was widely used as the European frontier moved beyond the Sydney region from 1813, and it absorbed vocabulary from other New South Wales languages such as Wiradhuri (Troy 1994; Amery and Mühlhäusler 1996). The documentation of Aboriginal languages was largely confined to wordlists, “spelled in the normal ‘English’ fashion which has bedevilled practically all recording of Aboriginal languages until the twentieth century” (Capell 1971: 662). The collection of wordlists continued for the first century of European settlement. The largest published collection was in Edward M. Curr’s (1886–87) The Australian race, which includes three volumes of lists of up to 120 words for a great many localities of Australia. Many of these were supplied by settlers, policemen, missionaries, etc. For some languages this is the only documentation available. Attempts to describe the grammar (as opposed to the vocabulary) of Aboriginal languages began with missionary Lancelot Threlkeld’s work on the language of the Awabakal people of Lake Macquarie near Newcastle NSW (Threlkeld 1834). Further grammars were written by missionaries on such languages as Kamilaroi of New South Wales (Ridley 1875), the Kaurna language of South Australia (Teichelmann and Schürmann 1840) and the language of Encounter Bay, South Australia (Meyer 1843). In the first decade of the 20th century a large number of sketches, mostly of languages of southeastern Australia, were published by the surveyor R. H. Mathews.3 About the same time Walter E. Roth, a doctor and Aboriginal protector, started to write descriptions of several Queensland languages. These early grammatical descriptions – in fact most grammars written up until about 1950 – were generally written in the framework of Traditional 3. See Koch (forthc.) for an analysis of Mathews’ system of grammatical description.
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Grammar, which developed in Western Europe out of the work of Greek, Roman, and medieval grammarians. This framework was familiar to any educated person who studied the grammar of English or the classical or foreign languages that were taught in the schools of Europe or colonial Australia. These grammars fail to give a realistic picture of the grammar of the languages – although it must be admitted that their writers, some of whom had experience of languages from other parts of the Pacific, did recognize the presence of some categories that were unfamiliar to European languages – such as the dual number, inclusive and exclusive distinctions in personal pronouns, and a separate (ergative) case to mark the subject of transitive verbs. A renewed interest in the documentation of Australian languages and an increase in the professional quality of linguistic descriptions followed from the research and teaching of Arthur Capell in the Department of Anthropology at Sydney University from the 1930s, from the involvement of missionary linguists of the Summer Institute of Linguistics from the 1950s, from the establishment of the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies (AIAS, later AIATSIS) in Canberra in the early 1960s, and from the founding of linguistics departments in Australian universities in the late 1960s, and the 1970s. Grammatical descriptions were published through Sydney University’s Oceania and Oceanic Linguistics monograph series (Strehlow 1942–1944; Smythe 1952; Douglas 1964; O’Grady 1964); Monash University’s Linguistic Communications series (Blake and Breen 1971; Breen 1973); AIAS in Canberra (Holmer 1966; Glass and Hackett 1970; Osborne 1974; Chadwick 1975; Yallop 1977; Crowley 1978; Hudson 1978; Hansen and Hansen 1978; Heath 1978; Heath 1984); Pacific Linguistics in Canberra’s Australian National University (Blake 1979; Heath 1980a; Williams 1980; Tsunoda 1981; Hercus 1982; Rumsey 1982; Wordick 1982; Merlan 1983; Oates 1988; Hercus 1994; Hosokawa 1991; Dench 1995; Nordlinger 1998; Patz 2002; Evans 2003; Pensalfini 2003; Sharp 2004; Kite and Wurm 2004; Breen 2004); Dixon and Blake’s (1979; 1981; 1983; 1991; 2000) Handbook of Australian Languages; and from the 1970s by international publishers such as Cambridge University Press (Dixon 1972; 1977; Donaldson 1980; Austin 1981), Mouton de Gruyter (Capell and Hinch 1970; McGregor 1990; Merlan 1994; Evans 1995; Harvey 2002), and Lincom Europa (McGregor 1996; Dench 1998; Terrill 1998). 3. Historical relations among the Australian languages In this section I summarize the changing understanding of the historical relations among the Australian languages. For the history of historical
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classifications, see Koch (2004a), on which the following is largely based. For details of recent approaches see Evans (2003) and Bowern and Koch (2004a). Relatively early in the history of Australia observers noted the resemblances among the Australian languages that were known from the more settled parts of the country (i.e. the eastern and southern parts), and proposed that this was evidence of common origin (Grey 1841, cf. Dixon 1980: 11–12). Speculation then proceeded on the presumed origin and direction of the prehistoric spread of Aboriginal people, with language playing a role in the debates. Authors such as Curr (1886–87) and John Mathew (1899) argued on the basis of linguistic resemblances for an African vs. South Asian origin. These debates are of historic interest only, since they were not based on sound methodology. The first large-scale classification of Australian languages was undertaken by the Vienna-based scholar Father Wilhelm Schmidt in the first decade of the 20th century, published in Schmidt (1919). His aim was to establish, on the basis of an exhaustive compilation of available material, an internal classification of all the Australian languages, which he considered to be a necessary prerequisite for any claims about relationships with languages outside the continent. His main conclusion for the highest level of classification was that the Australia languages do not, as had always been believed, represent an essentially homogeneous group of languages. On the contrary, although by far the largest part of Australia is filled with languages which despite many differences are nonetheless connected by strong common elements, nevertheless the whole of the north of Australia contains languages which do not present any lexical relationship and only very few grammatical relationships with that larger group or even with each other. (Schmidt 1972: 4)
Schmidt’s large genetic grouping was labelled the “South Australian languages”; it consisted of all the languages of the southern half of the mainland, except for Aranda in the central area, and included eastern languages as far north as the base of Cape York Peninsula.4 The first academic linguist based in Australia, Arthur Capell, after surveying many of the languages of northern Australia, reasserted the case for the genealogical unity of all the languages of the Australian continent. There can, however, be no doubt that the languages of Australia, even including those of the Northern Kimberleys, belong to one family. What Professor Radcliffe-Brown said of Australian social organization may be said 4. For a critique of Schmidt’s methodology see Koch (2004a).
An overview of Australian traditional languages
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also of Australian languages: “In spite of the diversity of the various systems a careful comparison reveals them as being variations of a single type. ” (Capell 1937: 58) They differ as widely, both in structure and in vocabulary, among themselves, as do their speakers in physical features, yet there remains a basic similarity in certain structural elements and a small but obstinate basic vocabulary... It is therefore safe to assert that the Australian languages are in the ultimate at least as much a unity as the Australian people... (Capell 1956: 2–3)
Capell identified a small but recurrent set of some 50 vocabulary items plus a few grammatical forms that he labelled “Common Australian”; he posited a historical relationship between Australian languages but claimed it was not possible to reconstruct an ancestral “Original Australian” language in any great detail (Capell 1956: 3). The next major classification resulted from an initiative of Carl Voegelin of Indiana University, survey work in the years 1959–1961 by Kenneth Hale, Geoffrey O’Grady, and Stephen Wurm, and collaboration into the mid-1960s by these three researchers plus Carl and Florence Voegelin. The classification was based primarily on the comparison of vocabulary: Virtually all attention is focused on cognate densities derived from comparison of the hundred items of a Swadesh-type lexical list in pairs of named communalects. (O’Grady, Voegelin and Voegelin 1966: 23)
However, the researchers’ familiarity with the grammatical forms and structures also informed their classification. Languages and groupings of languages were named after local words for “person” or “man”, following the practice of Schmidt, with the inclusion of a suffix -ic or -an for larger groups. A hierarchy of linguistic classes (dialect, language, subgroup, group, family, phylum) was established on the basis of percentage of vocabulary shared on the test list. It was provisionally assumed that these groups reflected historical relations, although the scholars who established the classification advocated that the history needed to be confirmed by the kind of evidence used in what is called “the comparative method”. [O’Grady, Voegelin and Voegelin 1966] contains a preliminary classification of Australian languages based on cognate densities calculated by Hale, O’Grady and Wurm, in which the authors make a plea for the future consideration of types of evidence additional to that of lexicostatistics, in order that a balanced perspective of Australian historical linguistics might be achieved. (O’Grady 1966: 71)
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This classification scheme, as revised in (Wurm 1972), posits that all the Indigenous languages of Australia are related in one macrophylum (or superfamily) – with the exception of the languages formerly spoken in Tasmania5 and the Miriam language of the eastern Torres Strait Islands, which is known to be related to Papuan languages of the Kiwai family on the adjacent region of Papua New Guinea. This agrees with Capell’s assumption of the unity of the mainland languages. The scheme includes 28 language families, with the greatest diversity being found in north-western and north-central Australia. But they also recognize one very wide-spread language family, which they named “Pama-Nyungan”6, which includes all of Schmidt’s “South Australian languages”, plus the Arandic subgroup in central Australia, languages of northwest Queensland, an enclave of “Yolngu” languages in northeast Arnhem Land in the north-central region, and, significantly, all the languages of Cape York Peninsula – Hale had shown that the seemingly aberrant languages in this area had merely undergone drastic sound changes which made them look (or rather sound) different from their unaltered relatives (Hale 1964; 1966b; see also papers in Sutton 1976). The classification has undergone some alterations since the 1960s, with some languages being reclassified from Pama-Nyungan to non-PamaNyungan or the reverse, other families or subgroups being united or further differentiated, etc. as languages have become better described and as the comparative method has been applied to more languages. The Pama-Nyungan family has been further supported by reconstruction of features of its protolanguage (Alpher 2004; Koch 2003; and its status has been accepted by most comparative Australianists – a notable exception being R.M.W. Dixon (1980; 2002). The genetic unity of all mainland languages is widely assumed, on the basis of cognate verb roots (Dixon 1980) and pronominal forms (Blake 1988), although this has not been conclusively demonstrated as yet.7 The classification of non-Pama-Nyungan languages in northern Australia has 5. The speakers of languages once spoken in Tasmania were separated from the mainland thousands of years ago by the rise of sea levels which created Bass Strait. For an assessment of the Tasmanian linguistic situation see Crowley and Dixon (1981). 6. This name derives from the names of the component linguistic groups of the far north-eastern and south-western areas – Paman and Nyungan respectively – on the pattern of language family names such as Malayo-Polynesian or Indo-European. 7. One of the aims of Dixon (1980) was “to provide the beginnings of a proof that all the languages of Australia [with a few possible exceptions] are genetically related” (1980: xiv). The position taken in Dixon (2002), on the other hand, is agnostic about this genetic unity and sceptical about the possibility of ever establishing the wider genealogical (vs. areal-typological) relations among Australian languages.
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changed considerably, but there are still some 20 separate families recognized whose relation to one another has still not been established authoritatively (see Evans, ed., 2003; Evans 2005). We are not yet in a position to answer the old question of the external relations of Australian languages. Given the former existence of land bridges connecting northern Australia to the island of New Guinea up until some 10,000 years ago, it is very likely that a deep historical relation existed between Australian and Papuan languages. The comparative linguistics of Papuan languages is still in its early stages (Pawley 2006). It is to be hoped that continuing progress in comparative research on both sides of the divide may eventually provide some confirmation of this expectation. It should be borne in mind, however, that the comparative method is usually thought to be incapable of reconstructing beyond a time depth of some 5–10,000 years. Given that Sahul (the New Guinea plus Australian land mass) has been populated by humans for at least 50,000 years, we cannot expect to ever recover anything like a complete picture of its linguistic prehistory. 4. Typology of Australian languages In this section I give an overview of the structural features of Australian languages. Further discussion can be found in Dixon (1980; 2002), Yallop (1982), Blake (1987), and McGregor (2004). 4.1. Phonology It has long been clear to many investigators that the Australian languages are much more similar to one another than any of them are to European languages. The details of their phonological systems, however, did not become clear until the second half of the twentieth century, well after the development of phonemic theory in the first half of the century. It is now clear, as shown in Dixon (1980) and Yallop (1982), that most languages share a common phonemic inventory, with some variation between languages. The vowel system usually includes three vowels, i, a, u, with or without a length contrast. Some languages have in addition e or o. The consonant system usually lacks a voicing contrast, lacks fricative phonemes, includes two rhotics – a tap/trill and an approximant – and a set of at least four nasals, and distinguishes apical (tongue-tip) and laminal (tongue-blade) articulation in coronal consonants. This last feature noticeably involves a difference in the active articulator, the tongue, which has a concave shape for apicals and a convex
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shape for laminals. Languages differ in whether or not they have a second set of apical consonants – post-alveolar or retroflex consonants – that contrast with alveolars, and whether or not they have contrasting dental and prepalatal articulations among the laminal consonants. The typical consonantal system is shown in Table 1, where parentheses are put around the place of articulation features that are absent in some languages. The typical orthography is used. Table 1. Typical consonantal system of Australian languages Bilabial Stop Nasal Lateral Trill/tap Approximant
p m w
(Laminodental) th nh lh
Apicoalveolar t n l rr r
(Apicopostalveolar) rt rn rl
Lamino(pre)palatal ty ny ly
Dorsovelar k ng
y
This is the majority pattern. There are some Australian languages that have in addition: sets of stop consonants that contrast in voicing or length, fricatives, prestopped nasals (pm, tn, etc.), prestopped laterals (dl), glottal stop, or rounded consonants. The phonotactic patterns are also widely shared. Words tend to be at least two syllables (or morae) long, have primary stress on the first syllable, require words to begin with consonants, disallow word-initial consonant clusters, have restrictions on the class of consonant (if any) that can occur finally, limit word-internal consonant clusters to two consonants, allow heterorganic clusters such as nk, np and even rnk, rnp and nyk, nyp. 4.2. Grammar Grammatical features vary more widely, but still show many commonalities. With respect to parts of speech, languages largely lack articles, prepositions, conjunctions, numerals, and a clearly distinct class of adjectives. They express a lot of grammatical information within words rather than by means of separate grammatical words such as articles, prepositions, auxiliary verbs. The word-internal device is usually suffixation. Nouns typical inflect for a large number of cases. Where case and number (dual or plural) are both expressed by means of suffixes, there is separate expression of each; i.e. the word structure is agglutinative, like that of Turkish el-ler-de ‘hand-Plural-Locative’) rather than fusional like Latin (amic-ǀrum ‘friend-Genitive:Plural’).
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4.2.1. Case Case is the most important grammatical category affecting nominal words. Cases indicate the role that noun phrases play within larger constructions. They fulfil the functions of word order in English in that they mark grammatical relations of subject and object. They also express the functions of English prepositions such as of, for, at, to, from, with. See Blake (1977) for an overview of case in Australian languages. To describe the core grammatical relations involving subjects and objects in Australian languages we need a threefold terminology. Australianists distinguish three grammatical relations: subject of a transitive verb (A), subject of an intransitive verb (S), and object of a transitive verb (O) – see Dixon (1980; 2002). The case that marks the subject of a transitive verb is called Ergative; the case that marks an intransitive subject is called Nominative, and the case marking an object is Accusative. (This differs from most European languages, where the “nominative” case marks both transitive and intransitive subjects; consequently early grammarians such as R.H. Mathews sometimes called the Ergative the “Nominative-Agent” case.) However, not all nominals formally distinguish all three cases. It is fairly usual for (especially non-human) nouns to have the same form to express both the S and O functions, and in this role to have no overt case suffix. This combined form, which syncretizes the nominative and accusative cases, is sometimes called the “Absolutive” case form. On the other hand, personal pronouns often have separate expression for the accusative case but syncretize the nominative and the ergative cases. In many languages certain personal pronouns, especially the first and second singular, have separate forms (sometimes suppletive) for all three cases.8 Table 2 illustrates, using the Kaytetye language of Central Australia, the case syncretisms typical of nouns and pronouns and suppletion in the pronouns.9 8. I am using the case terminology proposed by Goddard (1982) and Blake (1985). Others, especially R.M.W. Dixon and his students, use a terminology that, instead of keeping the case names constant and describing overlaps in terms of syncretism, gives separate labels to the syncretized forms; in this system different nominal paradigms have different case systems: ergative (A) vs. “absolutive” (S/O); “nominative” (A/S) vs. accusative (O); and a 3-way system with ergative (A), accusative (O), and an unnamed case for just S-function. Note that in this system “nominative” is used for an A=S function, and there is no name for the case form that expresses only the S-function. 9. Note the allomorphy in the ergative and locative cases of ‘dog’ vs. ‘old man’. This is typical of many languages; however the homophony between the ergative and
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Table 2. Case syncretism in Kaytetye Case name Ergative Nominative Accusative Dative Locative
syntactic A S O
‘dog’ alekele aleke Aleke alekewe Alekele
‘old man’ erlkwenge erlkwe erlkwe erlkwewe erlkwenge
2Sg pronoun nte nge ngkenge ngkenge ngkengele
3Sg pronoun re re kwere kwere kwerele
Another typical case is the instrumental (‘with, by means of’), whose marking is often identical with the ergative for nouns but not pronouns: the ergative-instrumental case form has sometimes been called the “operative” case form. A dative case expresses ‘for’: in some languages, such as Kaytetye, it is marked identically to the accusative case for personal pronouns. Typical local cases are locative (‘at’), allative (‘to’), ablative (‘from’), and sometimes perlative (‘through, across’). A relatively common function, which may be expressed by a suffix or the ablative or locative, is the “aversive”, which indicates something to be avoided (‘(afraid) of the dog’, ‘(build a hut) as protection from the rain’, ‘(walk around the edge of camp) to avoid my mother-in-law’). Some cases mark the relation between a noun phrase and another nominal. These include the genitive or possessive (‘of, belonging to’), the proprietive, sometimes called comitative (‘having’), and the privative (‘lacking/without’). It is possible to get double case marking, where a noun already marked for proprietive or possessive is further marked by a case indicating the grammatical relation of the larger constituent; e.g. ‘the boy with the hat (boy hatPropriet.-Ergat.) gave meat to the wife of the old man (old man-Poss.-Dat.)’. (See Dench and Evans (1988) and Plank (1995) on double case marking.) 4.2.2. Number Three contrasting values are usually expressed within the number category – singular, dual, and plural. It is personal pronouns that express the number distinctions most consistently. Nouns, especially those denoting inanimate objects, typically do not require the expression of number. If it is expressed by means of a suffix, this is typically closer to the stem than is the case suffix. locative case forms is unusual, and is here the result of regular sound changes that transformed both ergative *-lu and locative *-la to -le and both ergative *ngku and locative *-ngka to –nge (see Koch 2004b) – the vowel e is shwa.
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4.2.3. Kinship categories Kinship plays a large role in grammar, as it does in the social structure of Aboriginal communities (see Heath, Merlan and Rumsey 1982; also Sharifian this vol.) In many languages kin nouns can be marked for the person from whose perspective the kin relationship is reckoned. Heath (1982: 13) has called this “propositus”. Kin terms in some languages express the person but not the number of the propositus; i.e. ‘my/our’ vs. ‘your’ or ‘his/her/their father’. Another kin-related category has been called the dyadic marker (Merlan and Heath 1982). This marks a set of relatives defined by a reciprocal relation; thus a term glossed ‘mother-DYAD’, such as Dhuwal ngandi-’manyji (Merlan and Heath 1982: 113), refers to a mother and her child(ren).10 4.2.4. Personal pronouns Personal pronouns typically distinguish three persons (1st, 2nd, and 3rd) and three numbers (singular, dual11, and plural). Only about half of the languages distinguish between masculine and feminine in the third person, and if they do, it is confined to the singular number.12 Most languages make a distinction (either morphologically or syntactically) in first person dual and plural pronouns between inclusive and exclusive forms; in some languages the inclusive form is transparently ‘we-you’ or the exclusive is ‘we-he/she’ or ‘we-me’13. A few languages make further distinctions in non-singular pronouns according to the kin relations between the referents – same or different generation level, same or different moiety, spouses, etc. (Hale 1966a; Schebeck 1973; Koch 1982). Table 3 (next page) illustrates the distinctions made among Kaytetye first person non-singular pronouns between dual and plural number, inclusive and exclusive, and social dimensions derived from kinship relations.
10. In the Aboriginal English and Kriol of the Northern Territory this function is expressed by a term -gija derived from English (to)gether (Sandefur 1979; Koch 2000a). 11. Australian pidgins and creoles have distinctive dual forms derived from two fellows, you two fellows, me and you or you and me. 12. Australian pidgins and creoles never distinguish gender in third person pronouns. 13. Australian pidgins and creoles in the Northern Territory distinguish between inclusive forms yunmi or minyu and exclusive forms such as mipala (< me+ fellow), minalabat (< me+allabout).
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Table 3. Nominative case forms for ‘we’ in Kaytetye
Dual Inclusive Dual Exclusive Plural Inclusive Plural Exclusive
Same Patrimoiety ayleme aylene aynangke aynenangke
Same Patrimoiety aylake aylenake aynake aynenake
Opposite Patrimoiety aylanthe aylenanthe aynanthe aynenanthe
4.2.5. Deictics In some languages the role of third person pronouns is largely taken by deictic words. The word class of deictics can be considered a nominal class, since they inflect for case and often number, without a clear distinction being made – as in English – between pronouns, adjectives, and adverbs. Deictics inherently distinguish at least between proximal (‘this’/‘here’) and distal (‘that’/ here’) forms, but in many languages there is a three-way distinction, which in-ludes a ‘yon’ form. Deictics in Australian languages may mark further nuances such as invisibility, relative degree of elevation, or differences in precision (‘right here’ vs. ‘somewhere around here’). (See Dench (1995) for a description of deictics in one of the languages of the Pilbara in WA.) 4.2.6. Interrogative and indefinite Another class of nominals is interrogative-indefinite forms. The same forms typically indicate both ‘what’ and ‘something’, ‘who’ and ‘someone’, ‘where’ and ‘somewhere’. The ‘who’ form often refers to a name and corresponds rather to ‘what name’; it is presumably the origin of Kriol wanim ‘what’. 4.2.7. Verbal categories Verbs typically inflect for tense, aspect and mood by means of suffixes. These may differ for different classes of verbs. Thus, as in Latin, verb conjugations need to be recognized for many (but not all) Australian languages. Table 4 gives an example of verbal inflectional paradigms in a language that has four inflectional classes or conjugations – the Yankunytjatjara dialect of the Western Desert language – based on the description in Goddard (1985).14 This 14. The spelling has been adapted to the system given above in Table 1.
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language shows a perfective (Pfv) and imperfective (Ipfv) aspectual contrast in past tense and imperative mood. It also shows that verbs can inflect for negation. There are numerous verb forms that indicate nominalizations and subordinate clause functions. Purposive is a typical Australian verb category that marks a subordinate clause as the purpose of the action in the main clause (e.g. ‘go hunting in order to kill a kangaroo’). In many languages such clauses can be used as main clauses; then the verbal form indicates a modal value such as the speaker’s intention (‘I will’ – almost a future – or ‘let’s’) or a mild obligation ([subject] ‘should’). The aversive category, also called apprehensional or evitative, indicates an undesirable event that should be avoided: as a subordinate inflection it occurs on the verb in a ‘lest’ clause; in a main clause it is usually translated by might; e.g. ‘Don’t go walking in the dark, lest a snake bite you’ or “A snake might bite you”. The form labelled Process on Table 4 (next page) is a derived verb stem, formed by compounding with the verb kati- which otherwise means ‘carry’, that marks motion associated with the verbal action. One use in Yankunytjatjara is ‘VERB while going along’. The expression (by inflection, compounding, or verb phrases) of motion that occurs concurrent with, prior to, or subsequent to the main action expressed by the verb stem is relatively common in Australian languages, where the phenomenon is called “associated motion” or “associated path” (see Koch 1984; 2006; Tunbridge 1988; Wilkins 1991; Simpson 2001).15 Valence-changing processes are marked in the verbs of many languages. Reflexive and reciprocal are typically marked by a suffix (often the same suffix for both functions) in the verb. There is typically no passive voice – the subject noun phrase is simply omitted. Some languages have an antipassive construction, in which a direct object is omitted or downgraded to an oblique grammatical relation; apart from involving different case-marking on the relevant noun phrases, this construction may be registered by a suffix in the verb, as happens in Dyirbal (Dixon 1972). Affixes marking applicative constructions – where a non-object is promoted to direct object status – are found in some the northern languages. (See table on next page.) A feature of many languages of the northwestern and northern parts of the continent is a bipartite verbal structure in which verbal meanings are expressed by the combination of an inflected verb – which may occur separately – and an uninflected word, which is called by various terms including preverb, coverb, particle (Dixon 2002: 184–7). In these languages 15. For the transfer of this feature from Kaytetye to the Aboriginal English of Central Australia, see Koch (2000a).
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the inflecting verbs are much fewer in number than their uninflecting partners, and have rather generic meanings – if a separate meaning can be discerned. They are typically the etymological verbs for basic actions such as ‘hit’, ‘carry’, ‘go’, ‘see’, etc. It has been argued by Schultze-Berndt (2000) and McGregor (2002) that the inflecting verbs have a classifying or categorizing function. In some languages the inflecting verb has lost its separate identity. Table 4. Yankunytjatjarra verb paradigms NG-class ‘hit’ pupuwa pungu pungangi punganyi pungama pungkuku
Gloss Verb stem Imperative Past (Pfv) Past (Ipfv) Present Imperative Future Characteristic pungkupayi Nominalization pungkunytya pungkula Serial form pungkuwiya Negative pungkunytyaku Purposive pungkupayingka Aversive pungkunytyikitya Intentive Circumstantial pungkunytyala Post-Circum- pungkunytyityangka stantial Process
pungkukati-
Ø-class ‘talk’ wangkawangka wangkangu wangkangi wangkanyi wangkama wangkaku
L-class ‘bite’ patyapatyala patyarnu patyaningi Patyarni Patyanma Patyalku
N-class ‘put’ tyutyurra tyunu tyunangi tyunanyi tyunama tyunkuku
wangkapayi
patyalpayi
tyunkupayi
wangkanytya wangkarra
patyantya Patyara
tyunkunytya tyunkula
wangkawiya
patyalwiya
tyunkuwiya
wangkanytyaku
patyantyaku
tyunkunytyaku
wangkapayingka
patyalpayingka
tyunkupayingka
wangkanytyikitya
patyantyikitya
tyunkunytyikitya
wangkanytyala
patyanytyala
tyunkunytyala
wangkanytyityangka
patyanytyityangka
tyunkunytyityangka
wangkakati-
patyalkati-
tyunkukati-
4.2.8. Person-number marking Australian languages do not necessarily mark subject person and number in the verb – unlike many European languages. Nevertheless some languages of south-eastern Australia do attach subject (and even object) clitic pronouns to verbs and many other languages attach them to the first word of a sentence or to a particle. R. H. Mathews (1903: 259) referred to languages with enclitic
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subject pronominals as being of the “Thurrawal type”, as opposed to those without such clitics, which he labelled the “Kamilaroi type” (see Koch forthc.). Capell (1972) called languages with clitics attached to clause-initial elements, “affix-transferring” – as if the person-number markers belonged as affixes to the verb and were transferred to another element of the clause. Example (1), from Dhurga on the southeast coast of New South Wales, illustrates enclitics on the verb. (1)
Gungara-mbaraga dhambul=ag=in. possum-PLURAL see:PAST=1SgSubject=3PlObject ‘I saw a lot of possums.’ (Eades 1976: 63)
Example (2), from the Hunter River–Lake Macquarie language spoken near Newcastle, NSW, illustrates enclitics on the first element of the clause: (2)
Wollung tia noa wiréa. [Threlkeld’s original spelling] /walang=tya=nhuwa wiraya. [my phonemic interpretation] head=me=he hit ‘He hit me on the head.’ (Threlkeld 1834: 108)
Example (3), from Walmajarri in the northwest, illustrates enclitics hosted by a second-position auxiliary or catalyst, here glossed as Modal Root 1. (The plural subject is marked by a discontinuous set of enclitics.) (3)
Nyurra-warnti ma=rna=nta=lu nyanya nganampa-rlu. you-PL MR1=1Su=2Ob=PlSu see:PAST wePL:Ex-ERG ‘We all [exclusive] saw you.’ (Hudson 1978: 60)
4.2.9. Prefixing languages Many languages of northern Australia belong to a so-called prefixing type (Capell 1962). These languages are characterized by having verbal pre- and suffixes. Prefixes typically mark the subject person-number, mood, and often object person-number. Prefixing languages, which mark subjects and objects on the verb, use what Nichols (1984) calls a head-marking strategy of indicating grammatical relations, while languages that use only case-marking on nominals follow a dependent-marking strategy. Languages which use both case and clitic subject and object markers use a dual strategy. Many of these northern languages also indicate a number of noun classes. The class of third person subjects and objects may also be indicated in the pronominal prefixes.
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This is shown in example (4), from Nunggubuyu. Here the noun is prefixed for one of the five non-human classes; the same class is marked, cumulatively with the marker of third plural object, as a prefix on the verb. (4)
ngarra-majbarrwarr wangi-nga-ng CL-python CL: 3PL-eat-PAST1 The olive python ate them. (Heath 1980b: 25)
The structure of verbs in prefixing languages can be further elaborated by the incorporation of nouns, as in (5), or by reduplication, as in (6). (5)
ngu-rulbu-warnaga-ny 3SgM:CL-back-hold-PAST1 He held it by the back. (Heath 1980b: 21)
(6)
ma-wulu-wulany-jirryirra-ny CL-REDUP-blood-drip-PAST2 blood dripped down (Heath 1980b: 17)
4.3. Syntax A few characteristics of the syntax of Australian languages will be noted – in addition to what has already been covered. The order of constituents in a sentence is flexible, although many syntactic features are characteristic of SOV typology. Grammatical relations, as noted above, are indicated by case marking on nominals or by cross-referencing on the verb. Even elements that are construed as members of the same noun phrase are not necessarily adjacent; this has led to Australian languages being described as “non-configurational” (Hale 1983). Nouns and pronouns can often be omitted if their referents recoverable from the context.16 Various types of non-verbal clauses typically occur in Australian languages. The order of the subject and predicate is variable, with the predicate often coming first. Most languages lack a copula verb, but use an overt stance verb (‘sit’, ‘stand’, ‘lie’) if a verb is required.17 16. See Koch (2000b) for a discussion of how this feature of Australian languages may have contributed to the grammar of Australian Pidgin, in particular the development of -im as a marker on transitive verbs and -fela/pela on adjectives. 17. Australian pidgins and creoles also dispense with a copula, or use a stance verb derived from English sit down.
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Noun phrases typically have modifiers following the modified noun – e.g. ‘dog big this’. A widespread feature of noun phrases is the inclusion of a generic noun preceding a more specific noun – such as ‘animal kangaroo’, ‘(vegetable) food yam’, ‘fire ashes’. These generic nouns fulfil a classifying role, and seem in some languages to have been the source of classifying prefixes (see papers in Dixon 1982). Many of the languages of the north have systems of noun classification, usually signalled by prefixes on the noun itself or on agreeing words. For a description of some of these systems, see Harvey and Reid (1997). Similar to the Generic Specific construction is a Part Whole construction. The typical way of expressing the relation between the whole and a part is by simple juxtaposition – ‘man leg’, etc. – without the marking of the whole as a possessor. A third noun phrase construction involving juxtaposition is the “inclusory construction” (Singer 2001), which denotes a group plus a specific member; thus instead of using a conjoined expression such as ‘I and my elder brother’, one mentions the group and a particular member, as example (7) from Kaytetye shows.18 (7)
aylene alkere-ye 1Du:Ex elder.brother-my ‘my elder brother and I’
4.4. Lexical semantics 4.4.1. Some general characteristics In this section I describe briefly some of the characteristics of the lexicon and semantics of Australian languages. The degree of lexical elaboration in many semantic domains differs from that of European languages. Kinship, environment, space and direction19, and ceremony are areas that have well-developed vocabularies, whereas the vocabulary of numerals and colour are relatively simple. Aboriginal vocabularies often make semantic distinctions not made in English (e.g. ‘hit with held instrument’ vs. ‘hit with a missile’, ‘hole in 18. This syntax is reflected in Aboriginal English expressions such as Topsy mintupala ‘Topsy and I’, where mintupala is the Pidgin first person dual exclusive pronoun (Koch 1985: 186–7). 19. Elaborated systems of cardinal direction have been described for Warlpiri and Gooniyandi by Laughren (1973) and McGregor (2004: 210–11) respectively.
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ground’ vs. ‘hole in a spear’, ‘dry grass’ vs. ‘green grass’, ‘older brother’ vs. ‘younger brother’, ‘paternal grandfather’ vs. ‘maternal grandfather’). On the other hand they may unite in the same term senses that are separated in the lexicon of English, such as: ‘cooked’ and ‘ripe’, ‘stone’ and ‘hill’, ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ or ‘be at’, ‘tree’ and ‘stick’, ‘finger’ and ‘hand’, ‘deaf’ and ‘mad’. Regular polysemies are found between “potential” and “actual” senses20 such as: ‘wood’ and ‘fire’, ‘breast’ and ‘milk’, ‘guts’ and ‘faeces’, ‘animal’ and ‘meat’, ‘hit’ and ‘kill’, particular tree species and ‘spear’, etc. 4.4.2. Kinship vocabulary The terminology of kin relations is fairly elaborate in most Australian languages, and is structured quite differently from that of English.21 Many languages, for example, distinguish: four grandparental terms – ‘father’s father’, ‘father’s mother’, ‘mother’s father’, and ‘mother’s mother’ – and make a distinction between what are “uncles” and “aunts” in English – ‘father’s brother’ is different from ‘mother’s brother’ and ‘father’s sister’ from ‘mother’s sister’; sibling terminology likewise often differentiates between ‘older’ and ‘younger’ brothers and sisters; some languages even use different terms according to whether they are used by a male or a female speaker. On the other hand, Australian kin terminologies often collapse distinctions made in English; such as those between: ‘mother’s sister’ and ‘mother’, ‘mother’s child’ and ‘man’s sister’s child’, ‘brother’ and ‘father’s brother’s son’ (i.e. parallel cousins), ‘father’s father’ and ‘father’s father’s brother or sister’, or even ‘father’s father’ and ‘man’s son’s child’ (i.e. grandparent and grandchild linked by two male parental relations). Finally, some Australian languages have special kin terms that index not only the relationship between two relatives but also the relationship of these to the speaker; for example a special term for ‘wife’ is used when speaking to someone of one’s parent’s generation (see esp. Laughren 1982; McConvell 1982). 4.4.3. Environment As is to be expected in the languages of traditional hunter-gatherers, the vocabulary that describes the physical environment is rich. Each language includes many specific terms for the kinds of trees, shrubs, mammals, birds, 20. The terms “actual” and “potential” are from Dixon (1980: 103). 21. For kinship terminology, see Scheffler (1998), and Heath, Merlan, and Rumsey (1982).
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lizards, snakes, etc. which are found in their habitat. Most of these terms are unanalysable; i.e. they cannot be broken down into separate forms meaning ‘X+tree/bird/snake’, etc. Natural species may be classified by their inherent properties (e.g. woody plants vs. herbs), by their locality (i.e. topographic zone where they are found, such as hills vs. plains, water, etc.), or by their usefulness to human beings (as ‘meat’, ‘vegetable food’, ‘medicine’, etc.). Individual members of species of creatures that are important as food sources may be terminologically distinguished according to their size, sex, or stage of life (see Rudder 1978/9; Waddy 1982; Walsh 1993). 4.4.4. Bodypart metaphors A prevalent characteristic of Aboriginal vocabularies is the extension of bodypart terms to other uses. These include, as in many languages, topographic references; e.g. ‘leg’ for ‘creek’, ‘head’ for ‘hill’, ‘back’ for ‘ridge’, ‘forehead’ for ‘bluff’, etc. Less predictable meanings are conveyed by expressions using bodyparts for emotions and mental processes. Terms derived from ‘ear’ are typically used for understanding (Evans and Wilkins 2000); terms for ‘stomach/belly’, ‘eye’, ‘nose’, etc. are also included in many expressions of emotion (see e.g. Turpin 2002; Walsh 1995). 4.5. Non-verbal communication Although it is not strictly part of language, non-verbal aspects of communication in Aboriginal languages deserve some mention. Gestures are widely used to supplement oral discourse: the serious study of this has only begun recently and there are few results to report beyond conference presentations. More is known about manual signs, which were widely used across the continent and differ considerably between Aboriginal groups; a number of older studies are collected in Umiker-Sebeok and Sebeok (1978). In an area of north-central Australia, among the Warlpiri people and their neighbours, there is a relatively highly developed auxiliary system of communication based on signs. This has been intensively studied by Adam Kendon (1988). This is used especially by widows during a period after their bereavement when they are subject to a total speech ban. Kendon found that this system differs in interesting ways from the sign languages of deaf communities: it is more directly based on the spoken language.
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5. Aboriginal traditional languages in a changing habitat: exemplified by placenames One aspect of traditional Aboriginal languages – and one that relates the languages to the physical environment in which its speakers are located – is the vocabulary of placenames. Every language includes hundreds of placenames marking localities within the traditional territory of its speakers. Placenames typically allude to significant events of the Dreamtime, the creative period of origins in the traditional Aboriginal belief system. This part of language is typically overlooked in linguistic descriptions: grammars may include a short section on the grammatical features of placenames, but dictionaries rarely include many placenames. Important exceptions are Dixon (1991) and the Bardi dictionary compiled by Aklif (1999), which at the insistence of the community includes a 24-page “Place Names Inventory”, including associated maps.22 When Aboriginal languages came into contact with English the lexical items which were borrowed into English were predominantly from the semantic domains of flora, fauna, Aboriginal artefacts and culture (Dixon, Ramson, and Thomas 1990; Leitner, this vol.). Placenames are not usually discussed among the loanwords from Aboriginal languages into English. Nevertheless a great number of placenames from Aboriginal languages entered into the early colonial system of geographical nomenclature, as the names of towns and especially pastoral properties. In fact, an early SurveyorGeneral of the New South Wales colony, Thomas Mitchell, gave explicit instructions that Indigenous placenames should be used wherever possible – provided they were “euphonious”. Moreover, many early settlers first selected and occupied land before it was officially surveyed, and they had Aboriginal placenames available as handy labels when they applied to have their occupation officially registered (see Windsor forthc.). The consequence of this practice is that for those parts of Australia that were settled early we have great numbers of placenames that (often imperfectly) reflect names from the Aboriginal languages once spoken in the area, many of which are otherwise poorly documented.23 In fact Aboriginal-derived placenames serve (along with flora-fauna terms) to give a unique flavour to the vocabulary of Australian English. 22. The Bardi dictionary and dictionary supplement contain 535 different placenames (Bowern forthc.). 23. A notorious exception is the state of Tasmania, where almost no traditional placenames were adopted by early settlers (Plomley 1990: 3).
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There has for decades been a general interest in the “meaning” (i.e. etymology) of placenames of Aboriginal origin and there are available popular books of dubious reliability that purport to supply this information (e.g. Reed 1977) and dictionaries that give more authoritative information (Appelton and Appelton 1992; Clark and Heydon 2002). Recent interest in placenames has been stimulated, arguably, by official recognition of Indigenous rights to their traditional lands, through the Aboriginal Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act of 1976 and the nationwide Native Title legislation of 1993. Research on behalf of land claims under the Northern Territory legislation has documented a host of named sites of significance in traditional Aboriginal law. (To gain rights under this law Aboriginal groups had to prove traditional associations with sites on the land that were of spiritual significance in their tradition.) In recent years a number of Australian states, through their Geographical Names Boards, have introduced a dual naming policy, whereby traditional Aboriginal placenames can be legally recognized, alongside the name established in the introduced naming system (see Windsor forthc. for policy in New South Wales). Some twenty sites in Sydney Harbour, many of which were documented by officers in charge of the original British colony from 1788, have now received official status. Further descriptions of the reinstating of traditional Aboriginal names (as well as discussions of traditional naming systems) can be found in papers in Hercus, Hodges and Simpson (2002) and Hercus and Koch (forthc.). The recognition of further placenames is one aspect of the revitalization of some languages which have largely ceased to be spoken. For other efforts, see Amery (2000), Walsh (2005), and McKay (this vol.). The relation between the traditional Australian languages and the imported English languages continues to evolve. Placenames are an interesting indicator of this evolution. 6. Conclusion It is a pity that so few of the Indigenous languages of Australia have remained strong to the present day, and that not more of them were documented more thoroughly while they remained in a thriving state. Nevertheless the main outlines of their typological structure and historical relations are discernible from the documentation that we do possess – with the exception of the languages of Tasmania. There has been an upsurge of interest in traditional languages in recent decades, especially for reasons of cultural heritage, which has given relevance to all previous documentation, whatever its inspiration or quality.
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References Aklif, Gedda (compiler) 1999 Ardyooloon Bardi Nganka: One Arm Point Bardi Dictionary. Halls Creek, W.A.: Kimberley Language Resource Centre. Alpher, Barry 2004 Pama-Nyungan: Phonological reconstruction and status as a phylogenetic group. In Australian Languages: Classification and the Comparative Method, Claire Bowern and Harold Koch (eds.), 93–126. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Amery, Rob 2000 Warrabarna Kaurna! Reclaiming an Australian Language. Lisse: Swets and Zeitlinger. Amery, Rob, and Peter Mühlhäusler 1996 Pidgin English in New South Wales. In Atlas of Languages of Intercultural Communication in the Pacific, Asia, and the Americas, Stephen A. Wurm, Peter Mühlhäusler and Darrell T. Tryon (eds.), 33– 52. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Appleton, Richard and Barbara Appleton 1992 The Cambridge Dictionary of Australian Places. Melbourne: Cambridge University Press. Austin, Peter 1981 A Grammar of Diyari, South Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blake, Barry J. 1977 Case Marking in Australian Languages. (Linguistic Series 23) Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. 1979 A Kalkatungu Grammar. (Pacific Linguistics B-57.) Canberra: Australian National University. 1985 Case markers, case and grammatical relations: An addendum to Goddard. Australian Journal of Linguistics 5: 79–84. 1987 Australian Aboriginal Grammar. London: Croom Helm. 1988 Redefining Pama-Nyungan: Towards the prehistory of Australian languages. In Aboriginal Linguistics 1, Nicholas Evans and Steve Johnson (eds.), 1–90. Armidale, NSW: Department of Linguistics, University of New England. Blake, Barry J., and J. G. Breen 1971 The Pitta-Pitta Dialects. (Linguistic Communications 4.) Melbourne: Monash University.
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Bowern, Claire forthc. Naming Bardi places. In Aboriginal Placenames Old and New, Luise Hercus and Harold Koch (eds.). Canberra: Pandanus Bowern, Claire, and Harold Koch (eds.) 2004 Australian Languages: Classification and the Comparative Method. (Current Issues in Linguistic Theory 249.) Amsterdam: Benjamins. Breen, John Gavan 1973 Bidyara and Gungabula Grammar and Vocabulary. (Linguistic Communications 8) Melbourne: Monash University. 2004 Innamincka Talk: A Grammar of the Innamincka Dialect of Yandruwandha with Notes on Other Dialects. (Pacific Linguistics 558.) Canberra: Australian National University. Capell Arthur 1937 The structure of Australian languages. Oceania 8: 27–61. 1956 A New Approach to Australian Linguistics (Handbook of Australian Languages Vol. 1). (Oceania Linguistic Monographs 1.) Sydney: University of Sydney. 1962 Some Linguistic Types in Australia (Handbook of Australian Languages Vol. 2). (Oceania Linguistic Monographs 7.) Sydney: University of Sydney. 1971 History of research in Australian and Tasmanian languages. In Current Trends in Linguistics Volume 8: Linguistics in Oceania, Thomas A. Sebeok (ed.), 661–720. The Hague: Mouton. 1972 The affix-transferring languages of Australia. Talanya 1: 5–36. Capell, Arthur, and Heather E. Hinch 1970 Maung Grammar: Texts and Vocabulary. The Hague: Mouton. Chadwick, Neil 1975 A Descriptive Study of the Djingili Language. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Clark, Ian D., and Toby Heydon 2002 Dictionary of Aboriginal Placenames of Victoria. Melbourne: Victorian Aboriginal Corporation for Languages. Crowley, Terry 1978 The Middle Clarence Dialects of Bandjalang. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies.
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Crowley, Terry, and Robert M. W. Dixon 1981 Tasmanian. In Handbook of Australian Languages, Vol. 2, Robert M. W. Dixon and Barry J. Blake (eds.), 395–421. Canberra: Australian National University Press. Curr, Edward M. 1886–1887 The Australian Race: Its Origin, Languages, Customs, Place of Landing in Australia, and the Routes by Which it Spread Itself Over that Continent. Melbourne: J. Ferres, Government Printer. Dench, Alan Charles 1995 Martuthunira: A Language of the Pilbara Region of Western Australia. (Pacific Linguistics C-125.) Canberra: Australian Ntional University. 1998 Yingkarta. (Languages of the World/ Materials 137.) München: Lincom Europa. Dench, Alan Charles, and Nicholas Evans 1988 Multiple case marking in Australian languages. Australian Journal of Linguistics 8: 1–48. Dixon, Robert M. W. 1972 The Dyirbal Language of North Queensland. (Cambridge Studies in Linguistics 9.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1977 A Grammar of Yidiny. (Cambridge Studies in Linguistics 19.) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1980 The Languages of Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1982 Where Have All the Adjectives Gone? And Other Essays in Semantics and Syntax. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 1991 Words of our Country. Stories, Place Names and Vocabulary in Yidiny, the Aboriginal Language of the Cairns-Yarrabah Region. St. Lucia, Qld.: University of Queensland Press. 2002 The Australian Languages: Their Nature and Development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dixon, Robert M. W., and Barry J. Blake (eds.) 1979 Handbook of Australian Languages Vol. 1. Canberra: Australian National University Press. 1981 Handbook of Australian Languages Vol. 2. Canberra: Australian National University Press. 1983 Handbook of Australian Languages Vol. 3. Canberra: Australian National University Press.
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Dixon Robert M. W., and Barry J. Blake (eds.) 1991 Handbook of Australian Languages Vol. 4: The Aboriginal Language of Melbourne and Other Grammatical Sketches. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. 2000 Handbook of Australian Languages Vol. 5: Grammatical Sketches of Bunuba, Ndjebbana and Jugu Nganhcara. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Dixon, Robert M. W., William S. Ramson and Mandy Thomas 1990 Australian Aboriginal Words in English: Their Origin and Meaning. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Donaldson, Tamsin 1980 Ngiyambaa, the Language of the Wangaabuwan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Douglas, Wilfrid H. 1964 An Introduction to the Western Desert Language: A Pedagogical Description of the Western Desert Language, Based on the Dialect Spoken at Warburton Ranges, Western Australia. (Oceania Linguistic Monographs 4.) Sydney: University of Sydney. Eates, Diane Kelloway 1976 The Dharawal and Dhurga Languages of the New South Wales South Coast. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Evans, Nicholas 1995 A Grammar of Kayardild: With Historical-comparative Notes on Tangkic. (Mouton Grammar Library 15.) Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 2003 Bininj Gun-wok: A Pan-dialectal Grammar of Mayali, Kunwinjku and Kune. (Pacific Linguistics 541.) Canberra: Australian National University. 2005 Australian languages reconsidered: A review of Dixon (2002). Oceanic Linguistics 44: 242–286. Evans, Nicholas (ed.) 2003 The Non-Pama-Nyungan Languages of Northern Australia: Comparative Studies of the Continent’s Most Linguistically Complex Region (Pacific Linguistics 552.) Canberra: Australian National University. Evans, Nicholas and David Wilkins 2000 In the mind’s ear: The semantic extensions of perception verbs in Australian languages. Language 76: 546–592.
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Glass, Amee, and Dorothy Hackett 1970 Pitjantjatjara Grammar: A Tagmemic View of the Ngaanyatjara (Warburton Ranges) Dialect. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Goddard, Cliff 1982 Case systems and case marking in Australian languages: A new interpretation. Australian Journal of Linguistics 2: 167–196. 1985 A Grammar of Yankunytjatjara. Alice Springs, N.T.: Institute for Aboriginal Development. Grey, Sir George 1841 Journals of Two Expeditions of Discovery in North-west and Western Australia, During the Years l837, 38 and 39: With Observations on the Moral and Physical Condition of the Aboriginal Inhabitants. London: T. and W. Boone. Hale, Kenneth 1964 Classification of northern Pama languages, Cape York Peninsula, Australia: A research report. Oceanic Linguistics 3: 248–264. 1966a Kinship Reflections in Syntax: Some Australian Examples. Word 22: 318–324. 1966b The Paman Group of the Pama-Nyungan phylic family: Appendix to XXIX. Anthropological Linguistics 8: 162–197. 1983 Warlpiri and the grammar of non-configurational languages. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 1: 5–47. Hansen, Kenneth C., and Leslie E. Hansen 1978 The Core of Pintupi Grammar. Alice Springs, N.T.: Institute for Aboriginal Development. Harvey, Mark 2002 A Grammar of Gaagudju. (Mouton Grammar Library 24.) Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Harvey, Mark, and Nicholas Reid (eds.) 1997 Nominal Classification in Aboriginal Australia. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Haviland, John B. 1974 A last look at Cook’s Guugu Yimidhirr word list. Oceania 44: 216–232. 1979 Guugu Yimidhirr. In Handbook of Australian languages Vol. 1, Robert M. W. Dixon, and Barry J. Blake (eds.), 26–180. Canberra: Australian National University Press.
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Heath, Jeffrey 1978 Ngandi Grammar, Texts and Dictionary. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. 1980a Basic Materials in Ritharngu: Grammar, Texts and Dictionary. (Pacific Linguistics B-62.) Canberra: Australian National University. 1980b Nunggubuyu Myths and Ethnographic Texts. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. 1982 Introduction. In Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia, Jeffrey Heath, Francesca Merlan, and Alan Rumsey (eds.), 1–18. Sydney: University of Sydney. 1984 Functional Grammar of Nunggubuyu. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Heath, Jeffrey, Francesca Merlan, and Alan Rumsey (eds.) 1982 Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia (Oceania Linguistic Monographs 24.) Sydney: University of Sydney. Hercus, Luise A. 1982 The Baagandji Language. (Pacific Linguistics B-67.) Canberra: Australian National University. 1994 A Grammar of the Arabana-WangkangurruLlanguage of the Lake Eyre Basin, South Australia. (Pacific Linguistics C-128.) Canberra: Australian National University. Hercus, Luise A., Flavia Hodges, and Jane Simpson (eds.) 2002 The Land is a Map: Placenames of Indigenous Origin in Australia. Canberra: Pandanus Books in Asssociation with Pacific Linguistics. Hercus, Luise A., and Harold Koch (eds.) forthc. Aboriginal Placenames Old and New. Canberra: Pandanus Holmer, Nils M. 1966 An Attempt Towards a Comparative Grammar of Two Australian Languages. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Hosokawa, Komei 1991 The Yawuru Language of West Kimberley: A Meaning-Based Description. Linguistics, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National UniversityPhD thesis. Hudson, Joyce 1978 The Core of Walmatjari Grammar. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies.
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Kendon, Adam 1988 Sign Languages of Aboriginal Australia: Cultural, Semiotic and Communicative Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kite, Suzanne, and Stephen Wurm 2004 The Duungidjawu of Southeast Queensland: Grammar, Texts and Dictionary. (Pacific Linguistics 553.) Canberra: Australian National University. Koch, Harold 1982 Kinship categories in Kaytej pronouns. In Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia, Jeffrey Heath, Francesca Merlan and Alan Rumsey (eds.), 64–71. Sydney: University of Sydney. 1984 The category of ‘associated motion’ in Kaytej. Language in Central Australia 1: 23–34. 1985 Non-standard English in an Aboriginal land claim. In Cross-Cultural Encounters: Communication and Mis-Communication, J. B. Pride (ed.), 176–195. Melbourne: River Seine Publications. 2000a Central Australian Aboriginal English: In Comparison with the Morphosyntactic Categories of Kaytetye. Asian Englishes: An International Journal of the Sociolinguistics of English in Asia/Pacific 3: 32–58. 2000b The Role of Australian Aboriginal Languages in the Formation of Australian Pidgin Grammar: Transitive Verbs and Adjectives. In Processes of Language Contact: Case Studies from Australia and the Pacific, Jeff Siegel (ed.), 13–46. (Champs linguistiques.) Montreal, Canada: Fides. 2003 The case for Pama-Nyungan: Evidence from inflectional morphology. In Proceedings of XVII International Congress of Linguists, Prague, Czech Republic, July 24–29, 2003: CD-ROM, E. Hajiþová, A. KotČšovcová, J. Mírovský (eds.). Prague: Matfyzpress, Univerzity Karlovi . 2004a A methodological history of Australian linguistic classification. In Australian Languages: Classification and the Comparative Method, Claire Bowern and Harold Koch (eds.), 17–60. Amsterdam: Benjamins. 2004b The Arandic subgroup of Australian languages. In Australian Languages: Classification and the Comparative Method, Claire Bowern and Harold Koch (eds.), 127–150, and 575–580. Amsterdam: Benjamins. 2006 Languages of the world: Kaytetye. In The Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics, Vol. 6, Keith Brown (ed.), 170–172. Oxford: Elsevier. forthc. R. H. Mathews’ schema for the description of Australian languages. In The History of Research on Australian Aboriginal Languages, William B. McGregor (ed.), Canberra: Pacific Linguistics.
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Laughren, Mary 1973 Directional terminology in Warlpiri. Working Papers in Language and Linguistics 8 (Launceston College of Advanced Education): 1–16. 1982 Warlpiri kinship structure. In Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia., Jeffrey Heath, Francesca Merlan and Alan Rumsey (eds.), 72–85. Sydney: University of Sydney. Mathew, John 1899 Eaglehawk and Crow: A Study of the Australian Aborigines Including an Inquiry into their Origin and a Survey of Australian Languages. London: David Nutt. Mathews, Robert H. 1903 Languages of the Kamilaroi and other Aboriginal tribes of New South Wales. Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 33: 259–283. McConvell, Patrick 1982 Neutralization and degrees of respect in Gurindji. In Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia., Jeffrey Heath, Francesca Merlan and Alan Rumsey (eds.), 86–106. Sydney: University of Sydney. McGregor, William B. 1990 A Functional Grammar of Gooniyandi. (Studies in Language Companion Series 22.) Amsterdam: Benjamins. 1996 Nyulnyul. (Languages of the World/Materials 88.) München: Lincom Europa. 2002 Verb Classification in Australian Languages. (Empirical Approaches to Language Typology 25.) Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 2004 The Languages of the Kimberley, Western Australia. London/New York: RoutledgeCurzon. forthc. Introduction. In The History of Research on Australian Aboriginal Languages, William B. McGregor (ed.). Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. McGregor, William B. (ed.) forthc. The History of Research on Australian Aboriginal Languages. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Merlan, Francesca 1983 Ngalakan Grammar, Texts and Vocabulary. (Pacific Linguistics B-89) Canberra: Australian National University. 1994 A Grammar of Wardaman, a Language of the Northern Territory of Australia. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.
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Merlan, Francesca, and Jeffrey Heath 1982 Dyadic kinship terms. In Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia, Jeffrey Heath, Francesca Merlan and Alan Rumsey (eds.), 107–124. Sydney: University of Sydney. Meyer, Heinrich August Edward 1843 Vocabulary of the Language Spoken by the Aborigines of the Southern and Eastern Portions of the Settled Districts of South Australia, Preceded by a Grammar. Adelaide: James Allen. [“Aborigines” is spelt with lower case “a” in the title, GL] Nichols, Johanna 1984 Head-marking and dependent-marking grammar. Language 62: 56–119. Nordlinger, Rachel 1998 A Grammar of Wambaya, Northern Territory. (Pacific Linguistics C140) Canberra: Australian National University. O’Grady, Geoffrey N. 1964 Nyangumata Grammar. (Oceania Linguistic Monographs 9.) Sydney: University of Sydney. 1966 Proto-Ngayarda phonology. Oceanic Linguistics 5: 71–130. O’Grady, Geoffrey N., Carl F. Voegelin, and Florence M. Voegelin 1966 Languages of the world: Indo-Pacific fascicle 6. Anthropological Linguistics 8: 1–199. Oates, Lynette 1988 The Muruwari Language. (Pacific Linguistics C-108.) Canberra: Australian National University. Osborne Charles R. 1974 The Tiwi Language. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Patz, Elisabeth 2002 A Grammar of the Kuku Yalanji Language of North Queensland. (Pacific Linguistics 527.) Canberra: Australian National University. Pawley, Andrew 2006 Papuan languages. In The Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics, Keith Brown (ed.). Vol. 9: 162–171. Oxford: Elsevier. Pensalfini, Robert 2003 A Grammar of Jingulu, an Aboriginal Language of the Northern Territory. (Pacific Linguistics 536.) Canberra: Australian National University.
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Plank, Frans (ed.) 1995 Double Case: Agreement by Suffixaufnahme. New York: Oxford University Press. Plomley, Norman J. B. 1990 Tasmanian Aboriginal Place Names. (Occasional Paper No. 3.) Launceston, Tas.: Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery. Reed, Alexander W. (compiler) 1977 Aboriginal Words and Place Names. Adelaide: Rigby. Rhydwen , Mari 1996 Writing on the Backs of the Blacks: Voice, Literacy and Community in Kriol Fieldwork. St Lucia, Qld: Queensland University Press. Ridley, William 1875 Kámilarói, and Other Australian Languages. Sydney: Thomas Richards, Government Printer. Rudder, John 1978/9 Classification of the natural world among the Yolngu, Northern Territory. Ethnomedezin/Ethnomedicine 5: 349–360. Rumsey, Alan 1982 An Intra-Sentence Grammar of Ungarinjin, North-Western Australia. (Pacific Linguistics B-86.) Canberra: Australian National University. Sandefur, John R. 1979 An Australian Creole in the Northern Territory: A Description of Ngukurr-Bamyili Dialects (Part 1). (Work Papers of SIL-AAB B3.) Darwin: Summer Institute of Linguistics. Schebeck, Bernhard 1973 The Adnjamathanha personal pronoun and the ‘Wailpi kinship system’. Papers in Australian Linguistics 6: 1–45. Canberra: Australian National University. Scheffler, Harold W. 1978 Australian Kin Classification. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schmidt, Wilhelm P. 1919 Die Gliederung der australischen Sprachen: geographische, bibliographische, linguistische Grundzüge zur Erforschung der australischen Sprachen. Wien: Mechitharisten-Buchdruckerei. 1972 Classification of the Australian Languages. (Translated by D. Clark, Ms.) Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies.
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Schultze-Berndt, Eva 2000 Simple and Complex Verbs in Jaminjung: A Study of Event Categorisation in an Australian Language. (Max Planck Institute Series in Psycholinguistics 14.) Nijmegen: Eve Schultze-Berndt. Sharp, Janet Catherine 2004 Nyangumarta: A Language of the Pilbara region of Western Australia. (Pacific Linguistics 556.) Canberra: Australian National University. Simpson, Jane 2001 Preferred word order and the grammaticalization of associated path. In Time Over Matter: Diachronic Perspectives on Morphosyntax, Miriam Butt and Tracy Holloway King (eds.), 173–208. Stanford: Centre for the Study of Language and Information. Singer, Ruth 2001 The Inclusory Construction in Australian Languages. Linguistics and Applied Linguistics, Melbourne University, BA Honours thesis. Smythe, W. E. 1952 Elementary Grammar of the Gumbáinggar Language (North Coast, N.S.W.). (Oceania Monographs 8.) Sydney: Australian National Research Council. Strehlow, Theodor G .H 1942–1944 Aranda Phonetics and Grammar. (Oceania Monographs 7.) Sydney: Australian National Research Council. Sutton, Peter (ed.) 1976 Languages of Cape York. (Research and Regional Studies No. 6.) Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Teichelmann, Christian G., and Clamor W. Schürmann 1840 Outlines of a Grammar, Vocabulary, and Phraseology of the Aboriginal Language of South Australia, Spoken by the Natives in and for Some Distance around Adelaide. Adelaide: Thomas and Co. [Reprinted in facsimile, 1982, by Tjintu Books, Largs Bay, Adelaide]. Terrill, Angela 1998 Biri. (Languages of the World/Materials 258.) München: Lincom Europa. Threlkeld, Lancelot 1834 An Australian Grammar Comprehending the Principles and Natural Rules of the Language as Spoken by the Aborigines in the Vicinity of Hunter’s River, Lake Macquarie, and. New South Wales. Sydney: Stephens and Stokes, Herald Office.
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Troy, Jakelin 1992 The Sydney language notebooks and responses to language contact in early colonial NSW. Australian Journal of Linguistics 12: 145–170. 1993 Language contact in early colonial New South Wales. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh and Colin Yallop (eds.), 33–50. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. 1994 Melaleuka: A History and Description of New South Wales Pidgin, PhD thesis, Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. Tsunoda, Tasaku 1981 The Djaru Language of Kimberley, Western Australia. (Pacific Linguistics B-78.) Canberra: Australian National University. Tunbridge, Dorothy 1988 Affixes of motion and direction in Adnyamathanha. In Complex Sentence Constructions in Australian Languages, Peter Austin (ed.), 267–283. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Turpin, Myfany 2002 Body part terms in Kaytetye Feeling Expressions. Pragmatics and Cognition 10 (2): 271–305. Umiker-Sebeok, D. Jean, and Thomas .A. Sebeok (eds.) 1978 Aboriginal Sign Languages of the Americas and Australia, Vol. 2, Part III: Australia. 257–440. New York: Plenum Press. Waddy, Julie 1982 Biological classification from a Groote Eylandt Aborigines point of view. Journal of Ethnobiology 2: 63–77. Walsh, Michael 1995 Body parts in Murrin-Patha: Incorporation, grammar and metaphor. In The Grammar of Inalienability: A Typological Perspective on Body Part Terms and the Part-Whole Relation, Hilary Chappell and William B. McGrego (eds.), 327–380. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 1993 Classifying the world in an Aboriginal language. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh and Colin Yallop (eds.), 107–122. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. 2005 Indigenous languages of southeastern Australia: Revitalization and the role of education. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 28 (2): 1–14. Wilkins, David 1991 The semantics, pragmatics and diachronic development of ‘associated motion’ in Mparntwe Arrernte. Buffalo Papers in Linguistics 91: 207–257.
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Williams, Corinne 1980 A Grammar of Yuwaalaraay. (Pacific Linguistics B-74.) Canberra: Australian National University. Windsor, Greg forthc. The recognition of Aboriginal placenames in New South Wales (Australia). In Aboriginal Placenames Old and New, Luise Hercus and Harold Koch (eds.). Canberra: Pandanus. Wordick, Frank J. F. 1982 The Yindjibarndi Language. (Pacific Linguistics C-71.) Canberra: Australian National University. Wurm, Stephen A. 1972 Languages of Australia and Tasmania. The Hague: Mouton. Yallop, Colin 1977 Alyawarra: An Aboriginal Language of Central Australia. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. 1982 Australian Aboriginal Languages. (The Language Library.) London: Andre Deutsch.
Yolngu language habitat: Ecology, identity and law in an Aboriginal society Yolngu language habitat
Michael Christie The majority of Yolngu today live in large former mission communities along the far north-eastern coast of Arnhemland, Northern Territory, Australia. Most others reside on ancestral lands, and many of the “mission” Yolngu still regularly visit their country. Even those Yolngu who have lived on missions for several generations still celebrate an identity and practise a law1 through the traces of ancestral journeying, singing, dancing, ritual performances, talking, hunting, sleeping, cooking, eating and so on, which criss-cross through the Yolngu communities. People, their practices and their places continue to relate through the logics of long trajectories where arriving at each new place, the ancestors made the land recognisable to the people and other natural phenomena they left behind, before moving on, or finishing up. Every Yolngu grows up in a group, but groups are many and various and can be constituted in many ways at many levels. At the basic “anthropological” level, Yolngu belong to a patrilineal clan group. Each clan has its own places, speaks its own language, sings its own songs, and paints its own ancestral images. From a Yolngu perspective, the language and culture of each place is different precisely because its history, its topography and its biota (including of course its Yolngu) is different. This complex of peoples and places constitutes the Yolngu language habitat. Old people from whatever clan affiliation, continue to show their linguistic skills retelling the creation journeys, shifting from one language to the next as they recount the conversations of the creators as they moved from place to place: “Oh look yonder lovely sister, what do you think that might be?” “Oh we had better not go in that direction, I can hear the sounds of some sacred business belonging to another group of people over there”. Neither the shapes of the world nor the shapes of its languages are ontologically prior. They are coextensive and co-constitutive. This is a striking metaphysics when we compare it to a view of language as representing an objective pre-existing reality, which generally underpins our European philo1. Law is translated in Yolngu languages as ‘rom’, which also means appropriate customary ways of being and doing in the world.
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sophy of language. Mary Graham, speaking more generally of Aboriginal world views, puts it like this: “Aboriginal logic maintains that there is no division between the observing mind and anything else. There is no ‘external world’ to inhabit” (Graham 1999: 113). Languages in Yolngu society, like the habitats they sustain, are powerful and often dangerous. They produce realities as much as they retell them. Children grow up with a strong metalinguistic awareness, knowing from an early age never to pronounce the names of particular kin, to strenuously avoid the constitutive consequences of repeating the names of the deceased, and beginning to develop a facility with the circumlocutions that protect them from accidental incursions into the sacred/secret business under the control of elders2. Young Yolngu grow up hearing many different languages around them. Marriage is exogamous, so for a start, one’s mother and father speak different languages. Then one’s mother’s mother (and her brothers), who are key figures in one’s life, will in turn speak another language. When children reach early adulthood, they have traditionally been expected to take on their father’s language. They also will have as adults much to do with their mother’s business controlled to a large extent by her brothers who need to negotiate extensively with their sisters’ children who are caretakers or custodians of their land and lore. Yolngu children learn who they are as they learn the associations they inherit with various individuals and groups and by extension their languages, lands, and totems. The songs instantiate and validate the relations between entities in the environment (winds, animals, blossoms, plant foods, currents, etc) their ownership, and appropriate practices for dealing with them. Boys particularly learn increasing levels of sacred/inside information. They learn to discern the boundaries between the inside and the outside, and to use those boundaries for negotiations and exchanges of knowledge and resources. The boundaries are negotiated collectively through performance: painting, dancing, singing, carving, crying. (Women, unlike men, can cry through the songs of all their kin. Men sing only their father’s ancestral song). In each of those contexts, senior Yolngu are assessing the performances of others, and measuring up their truth claims against their own experience, their known histories and feelings. Except in the realm of the secret/sacred, 2. Conversely, Yolngu old and young are impressed by the almost complete lack of such awareness on the part of non-Yolngu who, while making good progress in learning to speak Yolngu languages, continue to show considerable retardation in their perceptions of the political and spiritual potentials of language.
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“everyone speaks from a position with an obvious, acknowledged, linguistically marked ancestral history, and the history and location of that position necessarily saturates any assertion made through language” (Christie and Perrett 1996: 63).3 This paper looks at published reports of a Yolngu school curriculum development process, and a Yolngu research and community health and education resource centre for some examples of how Yolngu elaborate this indissoluble link between language, ecology and “law” (i.e. rom). In two quite separate contexts, Yolngu have taken up arguments about health, education, law, ecology, sustainability, and governance, engaging their own ecological metaphors to elaborate identity, truth and appropriate behaviour, steering collaborative practice in a sensible, sensitive direction. “Only Yolngu really understand the metaphors which this land holds, but Balanda4 can learn about this too if they go about it in the right way.” (Marika-Mununggiritj 1991b: 18) Each in our own place, it is the ecology of places, people, other species, other connections, tropes, songs and dances, which mean everything for our being in the world, our religious life, our resource access, our partners, our descendents and our understanding of who we are and what we are to do. Some Yolngu writers whose published work is described here, feel constrained to remind us that the same language-place-mind ecology is at work for “Balanda, Chinese, Japanese and whatever other groups” (Guymun 2003: 3). Yolngu locate the foundation of a way ahead in the routine ways they understand and perform the reality of their world. I have been associated in some way (usually linguistically) with the routine practices (curriculum development, and documentation, health and identity research) which are described here. I offer a Balanda perspective of how in particular moments in particular places Yolngu have been able to teach Balanda in collaborative work. “These very stories reveal the work of our day to day lives, and we practise them as we carry our knowledge, confidence and skills into the bush and on to the beach.” (Garnggulkpuy 2002: 3). The two largest Yolngu communities are Yirrkala and Galiwin’ku. Both were established as Methodist missions in the 1930s. Yirrkala is at the north of the Laynha (the north west coast of the Gulf of Carpentaria). Galiwin’ku is on Elcho Island farther west from Yirrkala on the north eastern coast of Arnhemland. Both communities have a long history of collaboration with non-Yolngu including Macassans who regularly visited Yolngu from the 3. See also Muecke (2004: 163–8). 4. Balanda, Hollander, European.
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north for at least a hundred years before the first Europeans. Yirrkala Yolngu claim to occupy the home of Australian Aboriginal land rights, for it was here in the 1960s, that the Yolngu fought to prevent the establishment of a bauxite mine on their land. While the legal case was unsuccessful, it did lead eventually to the Aboriginal Land Rights Act of the Northern Territory (1976). By the 1980s, a successful program of bilingual education had been running at Yirrkala and Galiwin’ku schools for ten years. There were high levels of student attendance, many students attained commendable levels of literacy in the vernacular and English, many Yolngu teachers were well trained and joined the professional work force, Yolngu education staff worked within action groups to collectively influence curriculum policy and process, and there were generally favourable links between the schools and the communities which fed into the community workforce (clinics, essential services, housing, etc.). The story of how and why that all came unstuck is yet to be told. At its height, Yolngu teachers and elders were working excitedly to make Yolngu ways of knowing and contributing to the shaping and telling of good Yolngu education. From the discourses of bilingual education came the rubrics of ‘Aboriginalization’ and of ‘both-ways education’ (see below). 1. Feet and bones In a wave of Yolngu educational writing at the end of the 1980s, we find the Yolngu educators at the Yirrkala School embedding a commitment to knowledge in the local and the grounded. Djalkiri was suddenly a much utilized word in the classroom and in the interactions between Balanda and Yolngu workers on Yolngu curriculum development and implementation. Djalkiri means foot, footprint, foundation. In the Yirrkala classrooms, djalkiri was much performed. Young people read, wrote, painted, danced, mapped and otherwise re-presented their ancestral investment in land5. “Djalkiri shows us that the curriculum must be integrated, because people cannot exist independently of their environment.” (Marika-Mununggiritj 1991b: 18) The land “is our bone place containing foundations, customs and laws. They provide our Yolngu laws. They hold us together those Yolngu laws which we will hold on to and give to the children who are to come.” (Marika 2002) This work in the classroom around the metaphors of bones and footprints was paralleled by more academic work in the Literature Centre. See for example Raymattja’s detailed translation of the ancestral song celebrating the Rirrat5. The Yolngu word for this investment is balyunmirri. See Garnggulkpuy (2002).
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jingu hunter walking along the shore – muscles moving in his calves, footprints filling with water, then washed over by the tide (Marika-Mununggiritj 1989). See also Dhayirra’s paper on ‘Land and Body’, on the question of what Balanda mean by metaphor: Is our body a metaphor for our land, or does our land provide a metaphor for our body? (Yunupingu 1992). We know and are our own bodies through our land, and our land through our bodies. The metaphor of bones links land to governance. The Management group of the “Exploring the Connections” project at Galiwin’ku (see below) was designated its backbone. 2. Spring water and ashes Particular people’s footprints are located in particular places, they are a sign that someone has been somewhere. How do we understand the identities of those whose footprints we find in place? Through the water they drink each from their own place. Raymattja came from Yirrkala to CDU to deliver a lecture to Yolngu studies students on Yolngu knowledge. She continued to develop this link between water and identity. Milngurr, she says, refers to the fresh water springs which belong to particular people from particular groups in particular places. It connects the water in a baby’s head with the spring water on that baby’s land. Intelligence is located in responses to the rhythmic inflow and outflow of the spring waters specific to the child’s ancestral land: Milngurr ... water is Dhuwa6 water ... for all the Dhuwa Yolngu, and yet my own water is quite distinct, it is over at Yalangbara and Gulurunga, fresh water, created by those two sisters as they travelled ... they created the water that is Milngurr. (Raymattja points to the top of her head). This is what tells us about this water which we can feel within a newborn baby when it is young, a very young baby. On a child we will feel that soft, that area. And when we grow, our head is used for thinking... this Milngurr water determines how we will develop our mind for work and for living. Yes and that Milngurr also determines our feelings, how we feel, our emotions. For our thoughts and our spirit are in our heads, you see. And also it will explain knowledge, this water. (Marika 2002)7
The Rirratjingu child grows to learn that her habitat (hills, wells, rocks, springs, tides, species, songs etc) powerfully determines who she is. She 6. Dhuwa and Yirritja are the two moieties into which all Yolngu life is divided. 7. Translated from original Rirratjingu by Adrian Herron and Michael Christie
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knows that while she acts upon the environment, the environment has always already been acting upon her. They renew each other. The causal arrows blur. Around the Rirratjingu spring are Rirratjingu footprints. Not far form the Rirratjingu springs are the Rirratjingu ashes where the Rirratjingu ancestors cooked and ate. Groups of people are named by how and what and where they ate their totemic food (like turtle people singing about what their ancestral turtle people look like, with the turtle fat dribbling down their chins). All over the land are hearths8, where people of the land have collected since time was, to cook and eat what the land has given them and talk about these things. The philosophical work which attended the Yirrkala experiences recorded here often grew around campfires. The work around the cycad bread discussed further below, depends upon particular ancestral hearths in particular places. 3. Nests At Galiwin’ku on Elcho Island, Yolngu were drawn into research “exploring the connections” between Indigenous health and education. Elcho, like Yirrkala was established as a Methodist mission in the 1930s. Only a few people remember life before the missionaries. The Cooperative Research Centre for Aboriginal Health in Darwin was looking at the possible relevance to Aboriginal Australia of international research which had shown positive correlations between maternal education and infant health and survival in developing countries (see e.g. Tsey 1997). The CRC funded two Indigenous “exploring the connections” research projects, one of which was conducted by women from Galiwin’ku (Lowell, Lawurrpa, and Biritjalawuy 2000). Yes, they agreed in their report, there is a strong correlation between education and health, but the educational starting point for Yolngu must always be Yolngu historical (ancestral) connectedness. For Yolngu babies to be healthy, mothers must first and foremost have a strong level of traditional education, upon which depend both their success at school and the health of their infants. The Yalu is the basis of this good Yolngu education. The women researchers were mothers and grandmothers with a strong vision of links between clan groups as a key determinant of community harmony. While they were concerned about what happened at school, they were very conscious of 8. The common Yolngu word is lirrwi, literally ‘charcoal’, which refers to spots (adjacent to good hunting and ceremonial sites) where charcoal has built up from ancestral fires for millennia.
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the fact that, by 2001, only a relatively small proportion of the eligible children (less than 30%) were turning up at school each day. The school had troubles, and they were happy to help out at school wherever possible, but their concerns as community elders were wider and deeper. Schooling was only a part of their concern for the new generations. Perhaps the specific notion of yalu emerged because the original focus had been on women’s knowledge (see Tsey 1997). It was mostly women involved in the Centre, although men too were keen to emphasize the importance of maternal descent lines in the constitution of Yolngu identity and law. Women’s children always belong to a different clan group from themselves. (Marriage is exogamous, and children inherit their father’s moiety and clan affiliation.) Yalu speaks of the rights and responsibilities which accrue to an individual through his or her mother (and equally importantly their mother’s mothers). Feet and bones may be primarily determined by father, but major connectednesses lie beyond, through the yalu. Its everyday translation is ‘nest’. A bird’s nest is commonly called yalu. Yalu represents a place from which new identities are dispersed through the land. Two people from different clans and different places (different fathers, different personal histories), may share the same yalu. As women’s business, it has inside and outside levels: “The story is sacred. Men do not know, only women know! The name Yalu is about the making of the peoples. Relationship is very important here in the name Yalu. This name is a place and the place is inside and secret.” (Guymun 2003: 3–9) The Yalu Marnggithinyaraw Nurturing Centre started in 2000 soon after the CRC ‘exploring the connections’ project.9 Yalu Marnggithinyaraw literally means ‘the yalu for becoming knowing’. Rather like the curriculum development imperative at Yirrkala, the Yalu workers set out to redress a perceived cultural imbalance, to bring to light some critical perspectives which had long been clear to Yolngu but invisible or unrecognisable to Balanda. Here as at Yirrkala there was clear concern that Balanda institutions in the community had distracted Yolngu from their identity. Buthimang turned straight to his totem to represent his point of view: When the Balanda asks why (I listen to my mother’s mothers people from Dhalinybuy), he might look for the answer in the heron. What does it mean, he will ask? He might think that it is just an untrue story. But the Yolngu will tell him from his law, Yolngu law, developing in the community to bring about good ways of doing things ... these days. Everybody going to church and 9. The pilot project was funded by CRCATH, and later in 2001 supported through a grant from the Commonwealth Department of Family and Community Services.
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Michael Christie listening, everybody at the council, sitting down, everybody at Mardhakal (homeland resource centre), everybody school, hospital, ALPA (the store) but forgot about his own law. But for me it starts from the Yalu, for council work, for Mardhakal, for the school, the hospital, the store, I can go though that (yalu). (Buthimang 2003: 34, 50–58) 10
We need to understand how we are produced as a subject by our natural/ cultural environment, before we can in return act appropriately upon it, including the relatively intractable bureaucratic structures which Balanda have brought11. “Balanda... will understand that Yalu is helping Yolngu by upgrading jobs, activities, sports, whatever.” (Djaati 2003). We all share various yalu (and the ‘banks’ of their resources) with people from different clan groups and faraway places. Yalu means... roots. People are spread out, doesn’t matter about the father’s clan, doesn’t matter where the father comes from, but ... whoever married from this Yalu then they have been building up... you (speaking to Wirrinywirriny) are very far away and your father made you closer (by marrying your mother), so you are a pandanus from another place that stands here facing into the sun. Yes, this a great story and you and all your brothers and sisters, you are from one Yalu bank, and I am from there too, I am telling you the same story. (Dhalnganda 2003: 1–10)
A young person needs to know first and foremost who his/her connections are. They need to know where to go for identity resources. We have heard those old people saying when there was trouble... ‘Hey, don’t come speaking to us like that or retaliating. You don’t belong to the group of all those other people from their ancestral lines. You are actually here from our own Yalu. You shouldn’t be speaking back to us like that and speaking roughly. And calling us strangers. You grew up not understanding and you can’t recognize the Yalu which belongs to us.’ And so you have answered 10. Emma Kowal, a postgraduate Yolngu Studies student, worked with Joanne Wirrinywirriny, other Yalu workers and community elders to elaborate the Yolngu philosophy of Yalu for the sort of work the Centre was developing. All quotes in this section can be found on the Yalu website which Emma produced. Select Yalu Marnggithinyaraw at http://learnline.cdu.edu.au/yolngustudies/. Refernce numbers refer to sentences from the translations by Wirrinywirriny and Michael Christie. 11. Many Yolngu have imagined the key to dealing with these unman-ageable powers to lie in learning ‘secret English’ whereby Balanda are able to make direct access to that power “which transcends the positionality of the speaker and claims its meaning from some … transcendent signifier.” (See Christie and Perrett 1996.)
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back, and said ‘What is this Yalu thing?’ It is like a string, a string, like a tree with all its branches. From wherever we came. (Bepuka 2003: 16–21)
It provides security and resources. Yalu is a place or a group that claims itself as being rightfully for that area... own to choose, own to think, own to run the law or whatever. It also put(s) Yolngu into a place that they’ll think and feel comfortable within their own group of people, share ideas and make it work. If you have no yalu you are floating around or you are nothing. You are a person or a group that have no identity because yalu is identity too, strong identity for Yolngu. (Djaati 2003)
Two noticeable threads ran through the many stories which Emma and Wirrinywirriny collected. Yalu should not be understood to apply exclusively to Yolngu, and it is mobilized here as a heuristic specifically for the purposes of research, told “through the perspective of the workplace”: Everybody’s in place through this thing called Yalu, for Yolngu people and for Balanda and for others, others, others, each group giving birth to new generations though this thing that we call Yalu. And what? There is a big kinship network lying in there, in that thing called Yalu. You and I will grow up the children in their different individual groups, groups being renewed generation after generation inside these things called Yalu... Not just Yolngu but Balanda and Chinese and Japanese and whatever other sorts of groups. The name refers to their land, it has sacred meaning as well. And this idea is coming out into the open through what? Through Balanda research, through the work side of things, that’s bringing it out, they are learning as it becomes clear... I am just telling this story in the Balanda way through the perspective of the workplace. (Guymun 2003: 3–9)
Djati concludes his interview: Yalu is there to ... encourage you to be strong ... to tell you, don’t get carried away, don’t stick to only one side, Yalu is there to steer to right position, because without a pilot the plane goes down, crash. Yalu is just like a pilot, it steers your way ... tells you the way, the rightful way, so you are strong. That’s what Yalu is. (Djaati 2003)
4. Strings The Yalu Marnggithinyaraw Centre has become an active force for Yolngu health at Galiwin’ku. In 2002 a national study into community-based public
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health interventions chose Galiwin’ku as a research site. Garnggulkpuy and other Yalu workers, became involved as “associate investigators” into personal perceptions of “mastery and control”. They were to investigate “the extent to which people see themselves as being in control of the forces that importantly affect their lives.” (Pearlin et al. 1981: 340). As part of her study at CDU, Garnggulkpuy (2002) wrote a paper on Yolngu perspectives of mastery and control. Originally in Dhuwal, it was translated into English with a commentary.12 What follows is the abstract in seven sections, interspersed with some direct quotations from the translation.
– Introduction. Yolngu are distributed in distinct groups knowing their lives through ancestral songs etc.
We Yolngus people grew up and we learnt the various stories, we got them from the ceremonies, and the ancestral songs, from the mortuary rites, from the keening, and from many other sources. These very stories reveal the work of our day to day life, and we practise them as we carry our knowledge, confidence and skills into the bush and on to the beach.
– Yolngu from both the freshwater country and the saltwater country have
the full balance of carbohydrate and meat food through their individual skills and resources, and through sharing. Okay, we saltwater Yolngu, call ourselves good hunters because we can get meats from the sea, and fruit and vegetable from the bush. Other Yolngu belong to freshwater country, and the freshwater Yolngu will still get some of those things which the salt water holds, because the work and the resources are shared around..
– Our Wangurri song teaches Wangurri people how we should live our daily lives, as well as how we should see our world. Okay, and when a Yirritja person sings, they might sing for example, ‘That Wurarr group is going to see the long open beach Djaltji, Watjpalala, Gawunu, and Manurr lying there’. That implies that there is a lot of good meaty food there, and we will gather it successfully. That Wangurri (clan) song makes clear what the Yolngu hunter is to do, and prepares him for his search for the best and most efficient source of meat.
– It is our affiliation to particular groups and their affiliations to the natural and cultural world – places, species, and practices – which drives our knowledge and our behaviour. 12. Translations by Michael Christie and Garnggulkpuy, see Garnggulkpuy (2002).
Yolngu language habitat The law which is in their own song, is also for their mothers’ people and their (sisters’) children’s people, and so it makes connections through kinship to all the other various groups of Yolngu... And therein lies the work of sharing for each person, how we will continue to collect food, and share it. We are born alone, but we grow up in specific Yolngu ancestral groupings. Our understanding of our actions is individual to our particular groups.
– Within each group we have a particular way of talking about our collective knowledge as a clan, and we can see how that helps knowledgeable Yolngu keep the peace by directing people to consider themselves in terms of their ancestral affiliations. For example, we Wangurri clan Yolngu, we call our minds, our ‘Gayilinydjil’. If we got into a fight, and someone hits us on the head, then people will say of us: ‘They have seen her Gayilinydjil’. By speaking that way a Yolngu can work towards a peaceful solution which keeps everyone united, tied together by good faith, trust and confidence. They are not going to say: ‘she got bashed in the head’. That would be asking for trouble. People could get really angry. This principle applies to all Yolngu groups. To make our law work, we have to bring our heads back to thinking about our ancestral land, using those sacred ancestral names which take us back each to our own place.
– Within the mother-child clan relationship (yothu-yindi) our clan-based mindsets show us how to behave responsibly as children/caretakers and as mothers (like using peaceful Yirritja seawater for sorting out problems for our shark-like Dhuwa mother’s clan) We Wangurri people are the children of shark mothers, we are called the ‘shark fat’, we will look after our mothers’ mob through our law of the calm seawater called Betj because their mind is a shark’s mind, a confronting one, they just speak straight out to other Yolngu. They are very up-front.
– All Yolngu groups have names to link their minds into ancestral practice, in every aspect of everyday life from hunting to politicking, within and between groups. Even when Yolngu have passed away, our bodies are still sacred objects belonging to our own group. If I went off all by myself separating myself from my Yolngu group, they would still bring me back just as myself, through their singing of the sacred names, through their ceremonies, their sacred business, because if even I were to die, my body would still be a sacred object.
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5. Bread How can Balanda and Yolngu go forward together to build new worlds based equally on groundedness and connectedness? What is the process? In 1988, the Yolngu teachers at Yirrkala frustrated by the often peremptory style of non-Yolngu education officials, offered an analogy between the production of cycad13 bread and curriculum writing as a Yolngu perspective. There are appropriate ways of going about negotiating knowledge, which the Yolngu educators and elders were happy to share. Some years ago we were searching for ways of coming up with a Yolngu curriculum for our school. We needed something to expand our imaginations. Something which would lead us to do things in proper ways. We wanted to create a Yolngu curriculum which our community would feel was theirs. Two elders who were working with us, my older sister Gulumbu and her husband Djamika, told us to remember the process of ngathu (cycad). It could help us find the ways to do things which would produce a sustaining ‘bread’ for children. (Yunupingu 1994: 6)
At the end of each dry season, when there has been no rain for months, and when many foods are in short supply, Yolngu have traditionally gathered together for ceremonials and been sustained by bread made from cycad nuts. This bread has sacred aspects to it, and the nuts being poisonous, a complex preparation process is involved. The process entails
– going to particular religiously significant cycad groves – the right women selecting the right nuts in the right place at the right time. – – – –
Their roles have special names depending on their clan group and where they are. preparing a proper named space for the work cracking and sorting out the kernels, the whole ones and the split ones have different names and are sorted and treated differently. leaving them for a while to dry in the sun for careful, timely airing and consideration soaking in fresh running water for several days to leech out the poison; each place of preparation belongs to a particular group of people, and has its own name. In each place the flowing water has its own name. Natural
13. Cycas media – an ancient palm bearing poisonous nuts. It has many names. The CD dictionary of Yolngu languages has 49 entries under cycad, and there are many more which refer to clan-specific names for cycad palms, nuts, breads, grinding stones, waters, poisons, places, processes, parcels etc.
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processes purify the product. Each day in the process has its name. The poison has its various names, belonging to the owning clan groups, used in other contexts as a symbol of strength. The people who taste it have special names. grinding and preparing the dough on special stones, different nuts are used to prepare different sorts of loaves for different sorts of people. Children are not allowed to play around while they do this wrapping up the cycad bread in the right (totemically connected) sort of paperbark, preparing different shaped loaves with different names for different people roasting in the coals of the land from which it came – the lirrwi referred to above, each with its own name. distribution for food, and for ceremonial purposes. Its preparation and use, like all special totems, must be supervised by a caretaker or manager. 14
This ritualized and religious work is often given as a metaphor for due process: the right place, the right system, the right people, the right timing, the right techniques for each place, the right authority and supervision, the right roles, the specific names, the right song, dance and painting, the right distribution (Marika 1989; Watson and Chambers 1989; Yunupingu 1994: 6– 8). More recently, Marrnganyin, a Yolngu renal patient from Galiwin’ku, made a video using the cycad bread preparation story to illustrate the nature, function and process of dialysis.15 The machine does for the (sacred16) body what the cycad preparation process does for sacred bread. 6. Hunting In a further move which linked the idea of grounded ritualized practice (as in cycad preparation) with everyday clan based ‘doing the world’ (as in Garnggulkpuy’s Yolngu Balandi-watangumirr) Raymattja used an account of hunting practices, in an effort to identify schooling as a natural intelligent part of ongoing contemporary Yolngu life. Invited to contribute to an international journal on the sociology of language, she immediately turned to hunting metaphors explained to her and other teachers, by Daymbalipu Mununggurr, a famous educator from the mission days (Raymattja Marika-Mununggiritj and 14. This account is based on Marika (1989: 37–8). Notes by Michael Christie from a talk Raymattja was giving to the school staff. 15. See http://www.sharingtruestories.com/. 16. Refer to page 49 of Garnggulkpuy's paper concerning the sacredness of the body.
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Christie 1995). The process, always at once quotidian and sacred, begins with each new day’s work identifying and tracking traces in the environment – a sort of literacy – clouds, winds, tides, blossoms, footprints.17 There is work to be done identifying their consistency with our knowledge of history and place – ‘even if we can’t see the creators and the ancestors, we can still see... exactly where they have been, what they have left behind, their signs and reflections, their images and their way of life’ (1995: 61). When we read and understand, we can behave appropriately and consistently in such a way as to reproduce ... the lives of our ancestors, in the same way that allowed them to preserve our knowledge and our culture for thousands of years and bring it right up to the modern world. This is more than just copying – (it) has the effect of bringing our spiritual past to life again through modern behaviours. It also has an effect on ourselves – putting us ‘in tune with’ our spiritual past, shaping us like our ancestors... Yolngu education is not about young Aboriginal people following their ancestors like robots. And Yolngu education is not about young people learning to do just what they feel like. Yolngu education is learning to love and understand our homeland and the ancestors who have provided it for us, so as to create a life for ourselves reworking the truths we have learned from the land and from the elders, into a celebration of who we are, and where we are in the modern world. (1995: 61)
7. Lagoons In 1990, Raymattja was invited to deliver guest lectures at the University of Melbourne. Again she uses water to elaborate how “in teaching and learning there is always a dynamic interaction of knowledge traditions” (MarikaMununggiritj 1990: 48). Here again we find connections between land, body, and identity, but now the interactions of different waters are mobilized to describe cooperative and negotiative production. Even within the Yolngu polity, knowledge negotiations are always in a sense intercultural, because they always depend upon doing difference together: different land/people configurations, different language habitats, different authorities coming together. The same rules and principles that govern these Yolngu practices should be at work when Yolngu children find themselves in Balanda classrooms. 17. These processes in Djapu language are dhin'thun, lundu-nhama, and dhudakthun. (see Marika-Mununggiritj and Christie 1995: 59–62).
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Fresh water from the land, bubbling up in fresh water springs to make waterholes, and salt water from the sea are interacting with each other with the energy of the tide and the energy of the bubbling spring. When the tide is high the water rises to its full. When the tide goes out the water reduces its capacity... in this way Balanda and Yolngu traditions can work together. There must be balance, if not either one will be stronger and will harm the other. (Marika-Mununggiritj 1990: 48)18
Raymattja here is drawing upon an earlier episode in the 1980s, where she and community elders and educators were engaged at the Yirrkala school, to work on clarifying epistemological issues for Yolngu schooling. Elders from the Gumatj clan (her ‘mother’) introduced the notion of ganma to elaborate a theory of two cultures – Yolngu and Balanda – meeting together. Ganma is a particular confluence of sea water and fresh water in the mangroves at a Gumatj site called Biranybirany. Mandawuy Yunupingu, a Gumatj man and principal of the Yirrkala school, used ganma to talk about ‘both ways’ mathematics education. What Yolngu know about the salt and the fresh water... is something that is real and meaningful in the outside view and the inside view. The outside view is the everyday experience of how we relate to each other and the world in which we live: this understanding occurs when we actually touch, smell and taste things, and furthermore, we are told things by our old folks about the nature of what life is in our own world view. We know that salt and fresh water produce brackish water when they meet at the mouth of a river. This process is called in a number of names in Gumatj... it is the taste of the water and the process of mixing and the place in which both waters meet that is part of my reconnaissance for exploring the Ganma theory. (Yunupingu 1991)
Ganma, the still lagoon, may appear smelly and threatening to whitefellas, but it is full of life and very productive as a food source. Water is circulating silently beneath its surface; we can read the spiralling lines of foam on top. The swelling and retreating of the tides, and the wet and dry season fluctuations, can be seen in the two bodies of water. Each of them has its own life. This is the conceptual framework we are using to begin exploring that area where Balanda and Yolngu meet. This is where our children live, this is where we must look for relevance... The Ganma curriculum emphasizes the interface
18. She goes on to elaborate the use of the milngurr metaphor to understand teacherlearner interactions (p 49).
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What happens in a school where we have two different cultures, must mirror what nature achieves in the Ganma lagoon. For education to be genuine, natural and productive, both cultures have to be presented in such a way that each is preserved and respected. “It is like this, like salty and fresh are talking and explaining how we will differentiate bad and good law, at work, at play, out on the land” (Marika 2002: 3). What is produced by their interaction is unique, deep, inexhaustible, and always changing. Moment by moment we may work together, to read its surfaces19. 8. Performance How might this truly intercultural education work? A year or so after the ganma lagoon story was given by elders to Balanda and Yolngu working together on curriculum development a further quite different metaphor – garma – was mobilized. Ganma told how what we see in the mangroves helps us understand the interchange between the currents of Yolngu and Western life. Garma tells how this interchange can be created, supervised, assisted and evaluated within an educational institution. The key setting in which connections between people, and groups of people are made and maintained, where history is celebrated and reworked, where art is produced and displayed, and where songs and associated dances reproduce the ancestral work in the here and now, is the garma ceremony20. It was in theorizing the ceremony, and in applying aspects of ceremonial language and practice as metaphors to clarify the practices and principles of pedagogy, that the elders at Yirrkala community worked to expose and address the alienating and assimilationist practices of schooling. They, like the Yalu researchers further west, were concerned about an unbalanced curriculum which would turn their young people away from an ongoing consciousness of their ancestral identities. They were also concerned that their young people should learn the skills of Western mathematics, literacy etc through practices which in no way compromise their ancestral links to land and kin. “When we talk of bothways, we view both ways in terms of the Yolngu word garma” (MarikaMununggiritj et al. 1990: 46). 19. See further Christie (2000. 3–19). 20. Later taken up as the name of an annual festival run by Gumatj elders and their kin, and based on the principles of garma. See http://www.garma.telstra.com/.
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“Garma … is an open21 word … describing the format where a Yolngu learning environment begins” (Marika-Mununggiritj 1990: 43). It would be wrong and anyway impossible for a group of people to perform a ceremony for their own enjoyment and edification. People from other groups who are important to the particular ceremony must be invited, and made welcome. They will all have their jobs to do, and will be carefully supervised by particular others whose ancestral task it is to make sure things are done properly.22 Ceremonies are not easy things to arrange and perform. There are always private sacred and secret negotiations before and during the ceremony, and there may be old enmities beneath the surface. So an open ceremonial ground is provided – a space where people come together from different parts of the land, and perform the ancestral stories in song, dance and art in a visible, designated forum. This is the garma, the first necessary condition for a true Yolngu education. The garma always actually belongs to a specific group of course – its welcome as a place for others to work together is culturally defined. It has a history, and that history is relevant to the work performed there. There is no such thing as a place that doesn’t belong to someone, but the garma is set aside as a special sort of space – away from the sacred business, and in a place where people know they are welcome if they treat the place, its owners, its history and its visitors with respect. Youngsters must have people in authority (from both traditions) to tell them the stories of origins and history. Young adults must observe the work which is done by the elders and then perform themselves, through their histories and connections to provide at once images of unity, and elaborations of difference. They must learn to participate in these processes themselves, grow into responsibility for them, and learn to produce and discern the truths which emerge from them. 9. Nexus Having clarified a particular representation of process (ganma) and of negotiation in context (garma) in their work assisting curriculum 21. Open as opposed to secret. Garma as an adjective often distinguishes between the secret ceremonial spaces, names and practices, and their public manifestations. Eucation may begin as garma, but for particular individuals, it may end ‘inside’. 22. There are two types of people: those who share ownership of the ceremony in some way (usually because their own territory is on the same ‘dreaming’ track as their ceremonial hosts) and those who, through the totemic network of their mother’s people have some managerial or supervisory or facilitatory responsibility to fulfil.
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development, the Yirrkala Yolngu further extended their contribution to an understanding of human and non-human agencies working together in the ongoing creation of new realities. Galtha is at once a moment and a place, a process and a manifestation. Raymattja worked with the Yolngu and non-Yolngu Yirrkala school staff to explain the concept. All ceremonies are preceded by long and often fraught negotiations between stakeholders – people from other places who share the totems because they share a dreaming track, by virtue of their original creating totemic ancestors having passed through their territory. If it is, for instance, a morning star ceremony, there will always be at least two or three and sometimes up to a dozen different clan groups who have their own connections to the morning star and through these, to the people and places which are hosting the ceremony. The ceremony must be enacted in such a way that all their perspectives can be adequately represented and respected here and now, and they can sing, paint and dance their own special versions, distinguished as their own through their readable performances of their own identity – in concert with others of shared djalkiri and yalu. To ensure the effectiveness of this important intellectual and aesthetic work, the preceremonial discussions will decide the territory to be covered in the singing, the roles to be performed, and the tropes to be foregrounded, elaborated and celebrated in this particular ceremony, for these particular people, at this particular moment. When the boss of the ceremony is satisfied that the important stakeholders are satisfied, the plan is creditable and workable, and that the protocols for performance have been agreed, he will perform a short ceremonial act – the galtha – which marks the transition from the negotiations of the religious leaders and their minders, to the practical, grounded, community celebration of history and place through performance23. “History stays in the place where it has been made” (Marika-Mununggiritj et al. 1990: 38). Raymattja makes clear that the galtha in this sense is both a product and a catalyst for “the shared wisdom held in trust by the (elders) ... shared knowledge which is triggered to be delivered through the teaching/learning and tuition which Galtha provides.“(Marika-Mununggiritj 1991a: 34) “The rules that govern Galtha should be taken into account when we plan for learning to occur – this is when we use our ideas about Pedagogy” (1991a: 33). This embodied, interpretive working through of history, place and connectedness into the future is exactly what Yolngu elders insisted education has always been like for the young, and should continue to be like. Especially in 23. Raymattja’s perspectives are further discussed by Verran (2002: 155–81).
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the days where so much of what needs to be learnt appears to come from outside, unanchored to history, and from whitefellas who enjoy power and access to resources, but little respect for land, history, or the immense historical, environmental and spiritual knowledge of traditional owners.24 So while a ceremony has a galtha, so can individuals have their own Galtha when they become truly themselves in line with ancestral imperatives. A man who is a good dancer, who knows his connections and his land and understands his rom (law and culture), can produce his own Galtha. This what we are aiming for in Yolngu education. A man who is Galtha-ga:nangumirri (literally ‘possessing a different and distinct Galtha’), can present his own galtha in the context of a ceremony and is much admired. He can act intelligently as an individual because he knows and respects the background to what he is doing. He is a unique individual. He isn’t just copying his ancestors. He isn’t just keeping Yolngu culture unchanged like a museum piece. He has learned to create something that is especially his own, but quite consistent with the past... He is a modern Yolngu keeping his Yolngu culture strong. (MarikaMununggiritj and Christie 1995: 61–2)
10.
Conclusion
Specific Yolngu language habitats continue to be alive and productive as networks which link people to place, history, the networks of relatedness and the modern world in their ongoing work in universities, schools, knowledge centres, and government departments. At both Yirrkala and Galiwin’ku the possibilities of students of Yolngu language and culture, non-Yolngu linguists, and other researchers engaging with these complexes was preceded by lengthy periods of active Yolngu collaboration in the delivery of government services (including health and education)25. The contributions grew up in an environment characterized by mutual respect. There is something highly responsive, almost ad hoc about the particular strategies which emerged from these engagements. Women told stories of their own embodiment, work, and connections. Gumatj told stories of Gumatj land, Rirratjingu of Rirratjingu waters, Wangurri of Wangurri minds. Educators told stories of the development of a child’s mind, young people of hunting, elders of ceremonial practice. All made reference to new generations of Yolngu young people dealing with a changing world. 24. See Ngurruwutthun (1991) for an indication of the complexity of this work. 25. And before that, a relatively happy cooperative relationship with the Methodists.
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We learn only as we participate. These stories and ours reflect a strong link between the time and place of each storyteller and ‘the context of the workplace’ (Guymun 2003: 9). This is quite natural to Yolngu who see the work of talking and doing as being fundamentally constitutive of new realities. We need to learn to do that together intelligently, to produce owned, situated, and timely truths. What each in his own place appreciates about the other’s relation to their language habitat, is not what the other knows, but rather how they know it, how they apprehend it, how they elaborate it collectively, how they implement it in education, art, performance, and everyday life, and how they renew it. In these contexts, non-Yolngu and Yolngu are working together through disparate knowledge traditions from disparate language habitats to build new futures. References Bepuka 2003 [http://yalu.ntu.edu.au/philosophy/bepuka.html]. Buthimang 2003 [http://yalu.ntu.edu.au/philosophy/buthimang.html]. Christie, Michael J. 2000 Galtha: The application of Aboriginal philosophy to school learning. New Horizons in Education 103: 3–19. Christie, Michael J., and William Perret 1996 Negotiating resources: Language, knowledge and the search for ‘secret English’ in northeast Arnhem Land. In Resources, Nations and Indigenous Peoples, R. Howitt, J. Connell and P. Hirsch (eds.), 57–65. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Dhalnganda 2003 [http://yalu.ntu.edu.au/philosophy/dhalnganda.html]. Djaati 2003 [http://yalu.ntu.edu.au/philosophy/djati.html]. Garnggulkpuy, Joanne 2002 Yolngu Balandi Watangumirri, Yalu Marnggithinyraw Centre, [http://learnline.cdu.edu.au/ yolngustudies/docs/garnggulkpuy.pdf].
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Graham, Mary 1999 Some thoughts about the philosophical underpinnings of Aboriginal worldviews. Worldviews: Environment, Culture, Religion 3 (2) 105– 118. Guymun 2003 [http://yalu.ntu.edu.au/philosophy/guymun.html]. Lowell, Anne, Elaine Lawurrpa, and Dorothy Biritjalawuy 2000 Indigenous Health and Education: Exploring the Connections. Darwin: CRC Aboriginal and Tropical Health. Marika, Raymattja 1989 Ngathu the cycad. In Third Galtha Workshop, Biranybirany, September 1989, Yirrkala Literature Production Centre (ed.), 37–8. [Nhulunbuy, N.T.]: Yirrkala Literature Production Centre. 2002 Gapu Dhawu. [http://xmeg.cdu.edu.au/ikm/media/Gapu_Raymattja_ final.doc, accessed 24 September 2004] Marika-Mununggiritj, Raymattja 1989 Ngayi Balngana Mawurrku. Yirrkala Literature Production Centre, Yirrkala. 1990 Workshops as teaching-learning environments. Ngoondjook 4: 43–54. 1991a Some notes on principles for Aboriginal pedagogy. Ngoondjook 6: 33–4. 1991b How can Balanda (White Australians) learn about the Aboriginal world? Ngoondjook 5: 17–25. Marika-Mununggiritj, Raymattja, Banbapuy Maymuru, Marrayala Mununggurr, Badangdhun Munyarryun, Gandalal (Jamesie) Ngurruwutthun, and Yalway Yunupingu 1990 The history of the Yirrkala community school: Yolngu thinking about education in the Laynha and Yirrkala area. Ngoondjook 3: 32–52. Marika-Mununggiritj, Raymattja, and Michael J. Christie 1995 Yolngu metaphors for learning. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 113: 59–62. Muecke, Stephen 2004 Ancient and Modern: Time, Culture and Indigenous Philosophy. Sydney: University of NSW Press. Ngurruwutthun, Dayngawa 1991 The Garma project. In Aboriginal Pedagogy: Aboriginal Teachers Speak Out, R. Bunbury, W. Hastings, John Henry, and Robin McTaggart (eds.), 107–122. Melbourne: Deakin University Press.
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Pearlin, Leonard, Elizabeth Menaghan, Morton A. Lieberman, and Joseph T. Mullan 1981 The stress process, Journal of Health and Social Behavior 22 (4): 337– 356. Tsey, Komla 1997 Aboriginal self-determination, education and health: Towards a radical change in attitudes to education. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Public Health 21 (1): 77–83. Verran, Helen 2002 “Transferring” strategies of land management: The knowledge practices of Indigenous landowners and environmental scientists. Research in Science and Technology Studies 13: 155–181. Watson Helen, and David W. Chambers 1989 Singing the Land, Signing the Land. Geelong: Deakin University Press. Yunupingu, Dhayirra 1992 Waanga ga Rumbal Ngilimurrunggu. Yaan 3: 16–21. Yunupingu, Mandaway 1991 A plan for Ganma research. In Aboriginal Pedagogy: Aboriginal Teachers Speak Out, John Henry and Robin McTaggart (eds.), 98–107. Geelong: Deaking University Press. 1994 Yothu Yindi – finding balance. In Voices from the Land, Mandaway Yunupingu (ed.), 1–11. Sydney: ABC Books.
Indigenous languages: Transitions from the past to the present Michael Walsh 1. The state of traditional Aboriginal languages today When first significant contact was made with outsiders it is generally agreed that there were about 250 Indigenous languages in Australia (McConvell and Thieberger 2001:16; Koch, this vol.). After sustained contact began in earnest with the European settlement of Australia in 1788, it will come as no surprise that there is a strong correlation between languages which experienced sustained and early contact and their relative viability today. Many of the languages in the southeast of Australia have been referred to as ‘extinct’ and it is these languages which suffered the brunt of sustained contact. On the other hand, the languages for which contact was much later and sparser are the ones in which children are still learning traditional languages as part of daily life. These are to be found in the remoter parts of northern Australia. According to some accounts (e.g. Schmidt 1990) there are only about 20 languages that can be considered ‘safe’. However we will see that some languages that had been written off as extinct are undergoing revitalization and the whole notion of linguistic viability needs nuanced consideration in Aboriginal Australia. The general picture is quite gloomy: many languages have already been lost and more are to follow. There have been numerous surveys of the Indigenous language situation in Australia, e.g. by Dixon (1980; 1991), Schmidt (1990), House of Representatives Standing Committee on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs (1992), Pearson et al. (1998)1, and McConvell and Thieberger (2001). Dixon (2002) is most relevant for his account of structural features of the languages. In these surveys there is general agreement that there has been a decline in the number of languages spoken on a day-to-day basis. McConvell and Thieberger conclude that “There has been a decrease of 90% in the number of Indigenous languages spoken fluently and regularly by all age groups in Australia since 1800.” (2001: 2). However we cannot conclude from this that only 10% of the languages are spoken at all. There is a range of linguistic vitality and it is relatively 1. See in partic. David Nash Indigenous Languages component (esp. pp. 19–20, 77–86).
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uncommon to find an Indigenous person in Australia who knows not a single word of their ancestral language(s). Even an Indigenous person who claims that their language has gone will nevertheless know at least a few words and some stock phrases. For some such people there can be considerable ambivalence. They may be at once ashamed and proud of this knowledge: ashamed that they do not know more – as much, for example, as their grandparents but proud because they see it as a marker of their linguistic identity. 2. Measuring language vitality The figures for the number of speakers of Indigenous languages cannot be taken at face value. There are degrees of fluency to be taken into account, for instance. Particularly in parts of northern Australia many Indigenous people are multilingual and the survey instruments need to take account of such matters as what a person regards as their primary linguistic affiliation. In some instances this may be their ‘father tongue’ rather than the mother tongue we tend to think of in that part of the wider Australian population which is monolingual. Often enough in these areas of northern Australia an individual’s parents will each have a multilingual repertoire. Such individuals will build up their own multilingual repertoire with inputs from the parents and other members of the community as they are growing up and later from their spouses, employment and travels. However the overall trend in Australia is towards language shift so that the Australian Census presents disturbing figures for the percentage of Indigenous people over 5 years old who speak an Indigenous language: 1986 18% 1991 20% 1996 14% 2001 12% Such figures can be queried (McConvell and Thieberger 2001: 16–27; 33– 45; the figures for the 2001 Census are available from data at: http://www.abs. gov.au/ausstats/censusfree.nsf/log?openagentandIPP_0.zipand0and2001+Cen sus+Indigenous+ProfileandF263ACCE91D93800CA256C7C0001250Cand0a nd2001and19.11.2002and-blank-) but the overall situation is a matter for concern. It seems we can expect accelerated loss in the years to come (for instance, Henderson and Nash 1997). McConvell and Thieberger (2001: 2) warn: “If these trends continue unchecked, by 2050 there will no longer be any Indigenous languages spoken in Australia”.
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However it can be difficult to assess language vitality. Perhaps the bestknown scheme is the eight-stage Graded Intergenerational Disruption Scale (GIDS) proposed by Fishman (1991). In brief, GIDS provides a sociolinguistic taxonomy for endangered languages. At one end (stage 8) an endangered language needs to be reconstituted before it can be restored as a vernacular. In stage 6, certainly one of the most critical in the scale, informal, intergenerational communication in the language needs to have geographic/demographic concentration and institutional reinforcement. Stage 5 extends the focus from mainly oral communication in stage 6 to literacy. Stages 4 and below bring on functional expansion: schools, then in other cultural institutions like higher education, government, and the media. This has attracted criticism and calls for modification. For instance, Lo Bianco and Rhydwen (2001) propose modifications to the basic GIDS approach for Australian Indigenous languages. In particular the GIDS approach has an emphasis on literacy so it may not be the most appropriate model in these contexts. Another factor is the problem of under-reporting or even what from an outsider’s perspective may seem like misreporting. Evans (2001: 250) explores the notion, ‘last speaker’ and demonstrates “the way in which the broader social system determines individuals’ perceived right to be a speaker, as well as their linguistic performance”. In other words an Aboriginal person may claim that they do not speak some language but later begin to use it when the ‘last speaker’ has passed away. Particular cultural practices can hinder as well as assist the survival of Indigenous languages. Concerning Ilgar, an Indigenous language of northern Australia, Evans (2001: 278) observes, “On the other hand, he never talks it [Ilgar] to his own sisters, both of whom do speak Ilgar, because of a strict taboo on conversation between opposite-sex siblings. This leaves him in the odd position of talking his mother-tongue to people who don’t speak it, and not talking it with the couple of people who do”. Another language from northern Australia, Gurrgoni has a tiny speaker population, but there is a cultural imperative that children should learn their father’s language. As a result, their mothers, who are mostly not Gurrgoni, teach the children after they have learned it themselves (Green 2003). Often the description of a language will be given in isolation rather than considering the overall language ecology (Mühlhäusler et al. 2004) or language habitat (Leitner 2004: 343–346). This can be misleading so I will attempt to provide a description of a particular location in northern Australia which has been the subject of my research since 1972.
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3. The Wadeye (Port Keats) area as a case study The dominant traditional language at the township of Wadeye (formerly referred to as Port Keats, roughly 250 kms southwest of Darwin in the Northern Territory) is Murrinhpatha. The Australian National Census for 2001 indicates that there are 1157 speakers of this language. What are we to make of such a statement? Firstly it indicates that this is one of the ‘stronger’ traditional languages today given that the total number of speakers for many languages is under 100. However we must question the number because of factors such as have been mentioned above: primary linguistic affiliation; degree of fluency etc. Finally we must examine the local language habitat. To see how Murrinhpatha fits into a wider perspective, it is useful to consider the situation in terms of time slices each of 30 years starting in 1885, progressing up to the present and then projecting forwards to 2035. This will show how the current situation is part of an evolving pattern. In 1885 the area around Wadeye was considered very remote and very few researchers of any kind had studied this area. The major European settlement in this part of Australia, Darwin, had only begun in 1869. Settlement spread out in the Darwin hinterland but never reached Wadeye. However there were mining activities in the 1880s as far down as the Daly River area. In the late 1870s the need for cheap labour in the Northern Territory was met by a substantial influx of Chinese workers. By the end of 1878 there were nearly 3000 Chinese in the Northern Territory mainly in Darwin and at mining sites south of Darwin. Their number peaked in 1888 at a little over 7000 at a time when there were only around 1000 Europeans in the whole of the Northern Territory (Powell 1996: 90). It is possible that they may have intermingled with people travelling to Daly River from Wadeye. It is also possible that there may have been some contact with seafarers from Indonesia who plied northern Australian waters for over 200 years up until the early years of the 19th century (Urry and Walsh 1981). At that time there were no known recordings of the Murrinhpatha language and little was known about its linguistic neighbours. Even so we can assume from later research in this area and from our general knowledge about Aboriginal language practices that Murrinhpatha was spoken by all age groups and that it would have formed one part of the multilingual repertoire of Aboriginal people whether or not they regarded Murrinhpatha as their primary linguistic affiliation. We can also assume that at least some speakers of Murrinhpatha would have travelled to other linguistic areas for ceremonies, trade or intervisitation. It is also possible that at least some people travelled to
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other areas for employment but this must remain fairly speculative as the historical record for this period is not strong. In 1915 the situation was little changed although the mining activities around Daly River had mostly ceased. Indeed ‘In 1911 Territory mining was moribund …’ (Powell 1996: 131). Wadeye remained a place largely free of outside contact from non-Aboriginal people. By 1945 the historical record is much stronger. Around 1935 a Roman Catholic mission was set up near what is now the township of Wadeye. The establishment of this mission brought a number of groups into contact that formerly had mostly lived on their own country, including Marri Ngarr, Magati Ke, Marri Tjebin (these three to the north of Wadeye) and Jaminjung (to the south). None of these languages shares much vocabulary with Murrinhpatha and Jaminjung has been classified into a separate group. It is likely that more people would have included these languages in their multilingual repertoires. There was not infrequent contact with Aboriginal groups further north along the coast including the Manda, Emmi, Batjamalh and Larrakia as well as some inland groups like Ngan’gityemerri. And at least some people would have acquired other languages through employment on cattle stations to the south where they would have acquired languages like Gurindji, Malngin and Mutpurra. There are also anecdotal accounts of some Aboriginal people gaining some knowledge of Japanese from seafarers who ventured along these shores up until the 1930s. From 1935 onwards English literacy was introduced and a growing number of local people were exposed to English, either through formal education or through their contact with English speakers. Thirty years later, in 1975, the township of Wadeye had changed considerably. The influence of the mission was weakening through a national government policy of self-determination for Aboriginal people. Populations of Aboriginal people who had been effectively controlled by the mission presence became more independent – developing into townships where Aboriginal people continued to be the majority but were now able to direct their own affairs through an Aboriginal town council. But gaining independence could be a two-edged sword. Up to the late 1960s many Aboriginal people in northern Australia lived and worked on cattle stations. Although the stations did not pay standard wages many provided food, clothing and shelter not just for the workers but also for their children and extended families. With a view to granting these Aboriginal pastoral workers conditions equal to those enjoyed by non-Aborigines a policy of equal wages was introduced by the end of 1968 (Stevens 1974: 205). Unfortunately the pastoral properties were unable to provide full wages to all of those who had
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previously worked for them so the substantial and relatively stable populations of Aboriginal people living on these cattle stations were greatly reduced. The reduction resulted in the dispersal of Aboriginal people – some of them ending up as fringe dwellers in larger population centres. Others were employed at a local cattle station nearby Wadeye while many remained unemployed. The effect on the language ecology was significant: there were far fewer people gaining knowledge of less local Aboriginal languages. Added to this, bilingual education had been introduced in the Northern Territory as a Federal Government initiative in 1973 and Murrinhpatha had been selected as the vehicle for bilingual education at Wadeye. Many of the Aboriginal staff at the local school were totally fluent in Murrinhpatha (as it was now entrenched as the local lingua franca) even though this was not their primary linguistic affiliation. The children studying at the school brought a wide array of linguistic repertoires with them. For example, a child might have a Jaminjung father and a Magati Ke mother and be taught syllabus content in Murrinhpatha by a teacher whose primary linguistic affiliation was Marri Ngarr. Although no detailed sociolinguistic studies have been carried out at Wadeye it would seem that the seeds of language shift had already been sown by 1975. Thirty years on in 2005 Wadeye has become an Aboriginal township under Aboriginal control. Murrinhpatha continues to be the dominant language but other local languages are in decline (see Ford and Klesch 2003 for a detailed account). After 30 years of bilingual education few people are literate in Murrinhpatha and there is less emphasis on bilingual education. Most Aboriginal people will use basic English in their interactions with Europeans at the store or office otherwise the usual language of day-to-day discourse is Murrinhpatha. However the Murrinhpatha of 2005 has undergone some simplification when compared with the Murrinhpatha of 1975. Murrinhpatha has had a quite elaborate morphology in its verbal system and some of this complexity is no longer in use among younger speakers. A very rough comparison with English may be useful here. Some older speakers maintain a distinction between “shall” and “will” to indicate future time reference but the majority of Australian English speakers either go from one to the other in an unsystematic fashion or solely use “will”. Thus a part of the English verbal system has been lost. It is difficult to predict the details of the language situation at Wadeye in 2035. We anticipate more simplification of Murrinhpatha and perhaps more admixture with English. We suspect that some of the local languages now under threat may have succumbed after 30 years. It is possible that Kriol (the English based creole spoken across much of northern Australia) may have
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Table 1. Language situation at Wadeye (Port Keats), Northern Territory Murrinhpatha (the language of the landowners) 1885 the major language
1915 the major language
Other Aboriginal English languages
Contact varieties
presumably some through intermarriage, intervisitation, etc
minimal contact with any outsiders
?some Aboriginal English
uncommon
?some Aboriginal English
presumably some through intermarriage, intervisitation, etc Marri Ngarr, 1945 the major Magati Ke, language; emerging as Marri Tjebin, the Indigenous Jaminjung lingua franca
much more common through school education and 10 years of sus-tained contact some language common 1975 the major language; also shift becoming the Indigenous noticeable lingua franca 2005 some simplifi- language shift common cation of more noticeable Murrinhpatha 2035 ?more ? language shift common simplification more noticeable and shift to English
Non-Aboriginal languages other than English ?some unconfirmed possibility of contact with ‘Macassans’?; perhaps some Chinese ??
?some ?some Aboriginal Japanese English and no Kriol
some Aboriginal English and no Kriol some Aboriginal English and no Kriol ?encroachment ?? of Kriol
encroached into Wadeye. Kriol already surrounds the Wadeye area: to the north (at Belyuen, for instance) and to the south and east. The language situation at Wadeye is surely unique at a detailed level but much of what has been described here will be found at other places – although the timing may be very different (see also Silverstein 1998). Even in this area where one language, Murrinhpatha, has remained substantially intact there is
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evidence of language loss. It is therefore instructive to consider factors which contribute to language loss. 4. Factors contributing to language loss Not everyone is agreed on the factors contributing to language loss although many have commented on them. Dixon (1991: 236) proposes four factors: white insistence; Aboriginal choice; shift of cultural emphasis; media pressure. By ‘white insistence’ Dixon means the insistence from nonAboriginal people that English be used instead of Indigenous languages. At times this was enshrined in official policy but more broadly Aboriginal languages were discouraged with varying degrees of explicitness. ‘Aboriginal choice’ includes the decision by parents to speak to their children only in English, thinking that this will give them a ‘better’ chance in life. At one time Indigenous people may have used English for some purposes such as work and an ancestral language for traditional activities like hunting and social gatherings with Indigenous people. As less time was devoted to traditional activities there was a ‘shift of cultural emphasis’ and English came to predominate. Finally, ‘media pressure’ refers to the barrage of English encountered by children from radio, TV, popular songs, print media and educational instruction. 5. Competition between Aboriginal languages The case study concerning Wadeye in the Northern Territory demonstrates that there can be competition among languages. In the case of Wadeye Murrinh Patha has gained ascendancy at the expense of other local languages. A similar pattern can be found in many areas across northern Australia. In the southeast there can sometimes be different pressures. In the Sydney area, for example, the local language (sometimes referred to as Dharuk) is not as well documented as some other languages of New South Wales. This means that attempts towards language revitalization in the Sydney area must reach decisions about whether to use Dharuk as the vehicle for language revitalization or some other, more extensively documented language like Gamilaraay or Wiradjuri. On the one hand Dharuk is the language of the land and therefore regarded by many Indigenous people as the legitimate choice. On the other hand it is perhaps more realistic to engage with the better documented languages particularly when there are many descendants of the speakers of these languages are living in Sydney.
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6. Stages of language loss It is not feasible here to enter into all the details for stages of language loss. To start with there are many different schemes, one of the best known being the already mentioned Graded Intergenerational Disruption Scale [GIDS] proposed by Fishman (1991). A fundamental problem with applying any of the schemes is the lack of detailed knowledge about levels of language proficiency across so many languages. A useful survey of the issues is provided by McConvell and Thieberger (2001: 52–69). Dixon (1991: 237–8) proposes 5 stages of language loss and then attempts to match the quality of linguistic documentation against these stages. Given the history of research on Australian Indigenous Languages in which the bulk of detailed work has been carried out in the last 50 years it is not surprizing to find that the most poorly documented languages are also the ones which have experienced the greatest degree of loss. More recently, McConvell and Thieberger (2001: 70) have implemented a point system to describe the documentation of a language as follows (with a possible total of 17 points for a well-documented language): Dictionaries: Detailed dictionary (e.g. Arrernte, Kayardild) (4); Medium dictionary (3); Small dictionary/wordlist (e.g. Warnman) (2); Simple wordlist (e.g. Bates, Curr) (1). Texts: Extensive text collection (3); Several texts (<10) (2); Elicited/example sentences (1). Grammar: Detailed grammar (e.g. Gooniyandi, Kayardild) (4); Middle-sized grammar (e.g. Handbook) (3); Grammar sketch or many technical articles (2); Few technical articles only (1). Ethnolinguistic information: Substantial ethnolinguistic work (e.g. thesis) (3); Ethnolinguistic description (2); Some ethnolinguistic information (1). Audio recording: More than several hours of audio (3); Less than several hours of audio (2); Less than an hour of audio (1); No audio recorded (0).
This scheme provides a snapshot for each language so that a relatively well-documented language like Pitjantjatjara gets a score of 15 (out of a possible 17) (2001: 110) while Yitha Yitha (straddling the border of the states of New South Wales and Victoria) only gets a score of 1 (Blake 2002). 7. Loss of language = loss of culture? A recurring question in connection with language loss is the extent to which loss of language entails loss of culture. Certainly this is a concern expressed
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by Aboriginal people themselves as Henderson and Nash (1997: 30) observe: “There is also a strong belief among speakers that traditional languages are the appropriate vehicle for traditional knowledge. This belief is sometimes expressed in statements like the following from an Arrernte speaker: ‘Dreamtime stories in English are nothing; it’s gotta be in language.’” Taking a wider perspective Woodbury (1993) is a strong proponent of the view that loss of culture follows from loss of language. However other commentators like Dauenhauer and Dauenhauer (1998: 73–76) are strongly opposed to this view. In discussing the Tlingit of southeast Alaska they note: We hear that “cultural values can only be transmitted in the language”; that something “can only be done in the Native language”; that we “can’t save the culture without the language.” There is clearly truth to all of this, but the truth is more complicated than the cliché. The fact that 90 percent of ethnically Tlingit people do not speak Tlingit suggests that somehow “the culture” is surviving without “the language.” Tlingit culture – at least in some form perceived and accepted by its members as ethnically distinct – is actually functioning without use of the ancestral or heritage language … (1998: 73)
In the native title arena proficiency in an Aboriginal language has sometimes been employed as a marker of cultural continuity. This strikes me as essentially wrong headed as the key notion in the idiom of Aboriginal Australia is language ownership rather than language proficiency. For large areas of Australia in which language proficiency has declined Aboriginal people will still claim a particular language as their own and that claim will be either be contested or acknowledged by other Aboriginal people (Walsh 2002). Even when this notion is accepted the question of authenticity arises: does the Aboriginal language of today reflect a ‘truly’ traditional Aboriginal past? In one Aboriginal land claim lawyers opposing the claimants suggested that the adoption of literacy somehow weakened the claimants’ case (Walsh 1995)! More generally there have been complaints about the extent to which the retention of items from a traditional language counts as ‘authentic’. Dalby (2003: 250), for example mocks some attempts at reviving the use of an endangered language: “this is no longer a language, any more than musicians are speaking Italian when they say andante and fortissimo. These are simply loanwords used in a special context”. On the other hand Crystal (2000: 162), commenting on Kaurna, an Indigenous language of the Adelaide Plains in South Australia, presents what I consider a more balanced view. The revived language is not the same as the original language, of course; most obviously, it lacks the breadth of functions which it originally had, and large amounts of old vocabulary are missing. But, as it continues in present-
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day use, it will develop new functions and new vocabulary, just as any other living language would, and as long as people value it as a true marker of their identity, and are prepared to keep using it, there is no reason to think of it as anything other than a valid system of communication. In Aboriginal Australia it is clear that distinctive Aboriginal values are persisting among people who claim that they know no Aboriginal language. In some instances this is reflected in the English they use and sometimes in the ancestral languages even as they are changing. 8. New languages Having discussed issues arising in connection with language loss, it is instructive to consider some gains in the language habitat. Some traditional Aboriginal languages have given rise to ‘new Aboriginal languages’. What we are talking about here should be distinguished from various other responses to language contact (see Harris, and Malcolm and Grote, this vol.). An example from Areyonga Teenage Pitjantjatjara (adapted from Langlois 2004: 92) may help to illustrate the difference: (8)
Ngayulu kant nyurala ula I cannot you cry ‘I cannot cry [like] all of you.’
In this example kant is taken directly from the English word ‘cannot/can’t’ but the other words are all essentially from the traditional language and the word order differs from standard English. It would be quite wrong to think of this as an example of a pidgin or creole even though there is some influence from a contact language: English. It is perhaps better to think of it as an example of code-switching or as a ‘mixed language’ but these terms can be difficult to apply with precision (McConvell and Meakins 2005). Other Aboriginal languages have undergone comparable changes. Broadly speaking there are three kinds of the Tiwi language of the Northern Territory: traditional; modern and children’s. “The verbal repertoire of the Tiwi speech community can be characterized by four ‘languages’ or ‘codes’. These are: Traditional Tiwi (TT); Modern Tiwi (MT), which is an anglicized Tiwi; TiwiEnglish (TE), which is a Tiwiized English, and Standard Australian English (SAE).” (Lee 1987: 9). She also identifies Children’s Tiwi which differs from TT and MT as well as Less Traditional Tiwi. Of particular interest is a detailed comparison of these varieties showing considerable structural and
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phonological differences. In northern Queensland a traditional language, Dyirbal, has given rise to neo-Dyirbal in which there has been simplification of the traditional language (for instance, loss of ergativity) and elements from English have been incorporated (Schmidt 1985). In the Northern Territory Gurindji people between the ages of 3 and about 45 speak Gurindji Kriol which contains elements from traditional Gurindji and Kriol, the English based creole spoken across a huge area of northern Australia (see Harris, this volume). Some features of this new language are solely Gurindji, some are solely Kriol and some are in between (McConvell and Meakins 2005). Another new language of the Northern Territory is light Warlpiri which combines elements from a traditional language, Warlpiri, Kriol and (Aboriginal) English (O’Shannessy 2005). Also worthy of mention in this context is the emergence of koines in some parts of Indigenous Australia. Basically a koine is a contact language like a pidgin or creole, but where the originating languages or dialects are mutually intelligible. Perhaps the most comprehensive account of a koine is to be found in Amery’s study of Dhuwaya in northeast Arnhem land (1993b). 9. New uses for traditional Aboriginal languages Even when traditional Aboriginal languages have remained substantially unchanged they have still needed to adapt to changing circumstances: new uses for old languages. Black (2005) continues to be a useful introduction to this topic. One of the more obvious needs for traditional Aboriginal languages is terminology development (Troy and Walsh 2004; also Amery 1993a). Media like radio and TV lend themselves to the propagation of traditional Aboriginal languages. However while there is plenty of potential for the use of Aboriginal languages in the media it has mainly been in radio and the detailed knowledge of how much use has been made is difficult to determine (McConvell and Thieberger 2001: 73–75). (See also ATSIC 1999; Molnar and Meadows 2001; Productivity Commission 2000.) As Aboriginal people have interacted with Europeans the need for interpreting has become apparent. This is especially so in health and legal services but after a continuing struggle over the last 30 years relatively little progress has been made. The recurring problem is one of resources which is bad enough for non-Aboriginal languages but even more problematic when the speaker populations are relatively tiny and sometimes dispersed over a wide area (McConvell and Thieberger 2001: 32 ff.).
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In recent years Aboriginal languages have had an increasing presence on the Internet. The first web dictionary was launched in 1996: a Gamilaraay (Kamilaroi) bilingual dictionary http://coombs.anu.edu.au/WWWVLPages/ AborigPages/LANG/GAMDICT/GAMDICT.HTM and this has the advantage over paper dictionaries that a dictionary entry will contain links that take the reader directly to explanatory grammatical material. Since then an increasing amount of material on traditional Aboriginal languages is becoming available on the Internet. One site of particular interest is maintained by FATSIL, the peak body for addressing language policy and language planning issues for Indigenous Australian languages (http://www. fatsil.org/). Finally we mention a recent but growing trend: documenting songs and then making those songs accessible to a wider audience. Even at a place like Wadeye where at least one of the traditional languages is still widely spoken some of the traditional songs have fallen into disuse. Such songs can contain special forms of the everyday language and if the songs are lost then that part of the language will be lost as well. This has led the local community to engage a research team to document their song traditions with a view to making these traditions available to future generations of Murrinhpatha people as well as the wider public (Barwick et al. 2005). Similar projects have been carried out at other localities in the Northern Territory (Barwick and Birch 2005; Marett, Barwick and Ford 2001) and we are now getting new songs being produced in the more settled parts of Australia, for example in New South Wales (Yuwaalaraay Language Programme 2003). 10. New life for traditional Aboriginal languages Although some commentators have claimed that many languages are “moribund” or “extinct” at least some of these languages have had a new lease of life. A full account of language revitalization efforts is not possible here but we can briefly allude to some of the issues (see McKay, this vol.). For New South Wales a significant issue is whether a traditional Aboriginal language can be taught or learned outside the traditional territory of that language (Troy and Walsh 2005) while another matter is whether such a language should only be taught by a person from that language group (Walsh 2003). Aside from these matters the majority of traditional Aboriginal languages have little in the way of suitable language learning materials but there are some notable exceptions. Hercus and Wilson (2004) have produced around 500 pages of materials developed specifically for pedagogic purposes – drawing on a substantial documentary base. This has recently been amelior-
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ated with the addition of sound clips for each illustrative phrase or sentence and these will be available on an accompanying CD. In this way there is some easing of a recurring problem arising from the written representation of traditional Aboriginal languages. Sometimes Aboriginal people reject a phonemically based spelling because they have become used to literacy in English and expect the spelling conventions of English to be readily transferable! Although supposedly more comfortable with English such Aboriginal people may in fact struggle with literacy in English because of limited formal education. Ironically they end up championing spelling systems which have imported some of the vagaries of English spelling over to a language which could be effectively represented in an essentially consistent fashion. A crucial issue is the expectations that people have about getting the language back. Thieberger (2002) argues that Aboriginal people may only want a fairly limited amount of the language back and should not be deterred by other people’s obsessions with total reclamation. The best overview of language revival activities in Australia is provided by Amery (forthc.) while useful case studies of individual languages are now available, for instance: Amery (2000) on Kaurna; Tsunoda (2004) on Warrungu (north Queensland) and Walsh (2001a) on Gumbaynggirr (NSW). 11. Information sources on traditional Aboriginal languages The most comprehensive and most readily accessible information source on traditional Aboriginal languages today is provided by McConvell and Thieberger (2001). This 120 page report “was commissioned as part of the State of the Environment reporting program by Environment Australia” (2001: 1) and addresses four key issues:
– – – –
condition of Indigenous languages, state of documentation of languages, the wider use of Indigenous languages, funding, research and education. (2001: viii)
Of particular interest are the case studies which give a good deal of detail for particular languages, regions or issues. The two authors bring a wealth of research background and practical experience to this task. It is to be hoped that a snapshot of this detail for the contemporary situation of traditional Aboriginal languages will be undertaken on a regular basis. Another valuable resource can be found in Laughren (2000). Probably the best single website
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for gaining information and links about traditional Aboriginal languages is maintained by David Nathan (http://www.dnathan.com/VL/austLang.htm). Another valuable website still being developed is AUSTLANG (Web-enabled Australian Indigenous Languages Database). This project has been undertaken by AIATSIS (Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies), in collaboration with LTG (Language Technology Group, Department of Computer Science and Software Engineering, University of Melbourne). For bibliographic resources the standard reference has been OZBIB (Carrington and Triffitt 1999) which has recently been digitized and will soon become available with updates to the present. On the negative side it can be quite difficult to get up to date information on traditional Aboriginal languages. In the area of educational programs relevant to traditional Aboriginal languages this is particularly problematic as there is a Commonwealth Department of Education as well as educational authorities for each of the States and Territories. McConvell and Thieberger (2001: 6) praise the South Australian Department of Education for providing data which is close to what they would see as “best practice”. By implication other States and Territories have room for improvement. In this and other areas of interest re traditional Aboriginal languages McConvell and Thieberger call for a coordination of effort to lead to more effective reporting on the state of traditional Aboriginal languages today. 12. The future Despite the gloomy predictions about the future of traditional Aboriginal languages I am more confident now about their future than I was ten years ago. Although I have seen some fluctuation in the level of support and its uptake in university based research on traditional Aboriginal languages this may be offset by the much greater attention now paid to language endangerment. While university budgets seem to be shrinking and this may mean less university-based research I anticipate more research being carried out by Aboriginal people, which would follow in the footsteps of earlier efforts by Aboriginal researchers (Austin forthc.: 17; Walsh 2001b). Although the interest had been there Aboriginal people rarely had opportunities to gain the relevant skills. However, new opportunities are now appearing like the Studies in Language Endangerment Program at Monash University (http:// www.arts.monash.edu.au/ling/pglangen/index.html) or the Master of Education (Indigenous Languages), which began at the University of Sydney in 2006 (http://www.koori.usyd.edu.au/studying/postgrad.shtml). The former is of
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interest because it encourages Indigenous people who might have insufficient formal education to gain entry through “at least 5 years of relevant, documented, community and/or professional experience at a senior level” (http://www. arts.monash.edu.au/ling/pglangen/course/faccert.html). Such people formerly found it difficult to embark on many years of study, (which might include completing high school) before they can start to gain the relevant skills. While these particular initiatives give some reason for optimism the general picture is looking brighter. Traditional Aboriginal languages that had virtually been written off 15 years ago by the academic establishment (Dixon 1991) are now being taught and studied at all levels of education. To take just two examples: Gamilaraay from northern New South Wales (Austin to appear) and Kaurna from around Adelaide in South Australia (Amery 2000; 2001). It is to be hoped that some of the traditional Aboriginal languages currently described in pessimistic terms will enjoy this level of accomplishment 15 years from now. References Amery, Rob 1993a Encoding new concepts in old languages: A case study of Kaurna, the language of the Adelaide Plains. Australian Aboriginal Studies 1: 33– 47. 1993b An Australian koine: Dhuwaya, a variety of Yolngu Matha spoken at Yirrkala in north east Arnhemland. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 99: 45–64. 2000 Warrabarna Kaurna! Reclaiming an Australian Language. Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger. 2001 Language planning and language revival. Current Issues in Language Planning 2 (2–3): 137–221. forthc. Language revival in Australia. In History of Research on Australian Languages, William McGregor (ed.). Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. ATSIC 1999 Digital Dreaming: A National Review of Indigenous Media and Communications, Executive Summary [based on a 500 page report]. Canberra: ATSIC. Austin, Peter forthc. The Gamilaraay (Kamilaroi) language, northern New South Wales – a brief history of research. In History of Research on Australian
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Languages, William McGregor (ed.). Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. [http://www.hrelp.org/aboutus/staff/peter_austin/Austin Gamil.pdf] Barwick, Linda, and Bruce Birch 2005 Jurtbirrk Lovesongs from Northwestern Arnhem Land. Batchelor, NT: Batchelor Press. Barwick, Linda, Allan Marett, Lys Ford, Nicholas Reid and Michael Walsh 2005 Communities of interest: Issues in establishing a digital resource on Murrinh-Patha song at Wadeye (Port Keats), NT. Literary and Linguistic Computing 20 (4): 383–397. [full text available for the purpose of private study/research at http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ cgi/content/full/20/4/383?ijkey=qSzadMJHz9MDsuSandkeytype=ref] Black, Paul 2005 Reprint. New uses for old languages. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh and Colin Yallop (eds.), 207–233. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Original edition: 1993. Blake, Barry 2002 Reclaiming languages in Aboriginal Victoria. In Language Endangerment and Language Maintenance, David Bradley and Maya Bradley (eds.), 156–166. London: Routledge Curzon. Carrington, Lois, and Geraldine Triffitt 1999 OZBIB: A Linguistic Bibliography of Aboriginal Australia and the Torres Strait Islands. (Pacific Linguistics D-92) Canberra: Australian National University. Crystal, David 2000 Language Death. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dalby, Andrew 2003 Language in Danger: The Loss of Linguistic Diversity and the Threat to our Future. New York: Columbia University Press. Dauenhauer, Nora and Richard Dauenhauer 1998 Technical, emotional, and ideological issues in reversing language shift: Examples from southeast Alaska. In Endangered Languages: Language Loss and Community Response, Lenore A. Grenoble, and Lindsday J. Whaley (eds.), 57–98. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dixon, Robert M. W. 1980 The Languages of Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1991 The endangered languages of Australia, Indonesia and Oceania. In Endangered Languages, Robert H. Robins and Eugenius M. Uhlenbeck (eds.), 229–255. Oxford: Berg.
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Dixon, Robert M. W. 2002 Australian Languages: Their Nature and Development. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Evans, Nicholas 2001 The last speaker is dead – long live the last speaker! In Linguistic Fieldwork, Paul Newman and Martha Ratliff (eds.), 250–281. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fishman, Joshua A. 1991 Reversing Language Shift: Theoretical and Empirical Foundations of Assistance to Threatened Languages. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Ford, Lys, and Maree Klesch 2003 “It Won’t Matter Soon, We’ll All be Dead”: The Wadeye Aboriginal Languages Project. [http://www.uq.edu.au/insideout/pdfs/fordklesch. pdf, accessed December 14 2005] Green, Rebecca 2003 Gurr-Goni, a minority language in a multilingual community: Surviving into the 21st century. In Endangered Language and Identity. Proceedings of the FEL Conference, Broome, Western Australia, 22– 24 September 2003, Joe Blythe and R. McKenna Brown (eds.), 127– 134. Bath: Foundation for Endangered Languages. Henderson, John, and David Nash 1997 Culture and heritage: Indigenous languages. [Abstract] (State of Environment Report Technical Paper Series Culture and Heritage.) Canberra: Environment Australia, Department of Environment. [http://www.deh.gov.au/soe/techpapers/series1/pubs/indigeno.pdf, accessed 15 June 2006] House of Representatives Standing Committee on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs 1992 Language and Culture – A Matter of Survival. Canberra: Australian Government Printing Service. Langlois, Annie 2004 Alive and Kicking: Areyonga Teenage Pitjantjatjara. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Laughren, Mary 2000 Australian Aboriginal languages: Their contemporary status and functions. In The Handbook of Australian Languages Volume 5, Robert M. W. Dixon, and Barry Blake (eds.), 1–32. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
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Lee, Jennifer 1987 Tiwi Today: A Study of Language Change in a Contact Situation. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Leitner, Gerhard 2004 Australia’s Many Voices: Australian English – the National Language. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Lo Bianco, Joseph, and Mari Rhydwen 2001 Is the extinction of Australia’s indigenous languages inevitable? In Can Threatened Languages be Saved? Reversing Language Shift, Revisited: A 21st Century Perspective, Joshua A. Fishman (ed.), 391–422. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. McConvell, Patrick, and Felicity Meakins 2005 Gurindji Kriol: A mixed language emerges from code-switching. Australian Journal of Linguistics 25 (1): 9–30. McConvell, Patrick, and Nicholas Thieberger 2001 State of Indigenous Languages in Australia – 2001. Canberra: Department of the Environment and Heritage. [http://www.ea.gov.au/ soe/techpapers/languages/] McKay, Graham 1996 The Land Still Speaks: Review of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Maintenance and Development Needs and Activities. (National Board of Employment, Education and Training; Commissioned Report no. 44) Canberra: AGPS. [available at www.dest.gov.au/sectors/training_ skills/publications_resources/indexes/documents/96_10_pdf.htm] Marett, Allan, Linda Barwick and Lys Ford 2001 Rak Badjalarr: Wangga from North Peron Island, Sung by Bobby Lane (CD and notes). Canberra: AIATSIS. Molnar, Helen, and Michael Meadows 2001 Songlines to Satellites: Indigenous Communication in Australia, the South Pacific and Canada. Annandale, NSW: Pluto Press. Mühlhäusler, Peter, Greg Wilson, and South Australia. Dept. of Education and Children’s Services 2004 Ecological Issues in Language Revival. Hindmarsh: DECS Publishing. O’Shannessy, Carmel 2005 Light Warlpiri: A new language. Australian Journal of Linguistics 25 (1): 31–57.
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Pearson Michael, Dave Johnston, Jane Lennon, Isabel McBryde, Duncan Marshall, David Nash, and Bruce Wellington. 1998 State of the Environment: Environmental Indicators for National State of Environment Reporting – Natural and Cultural Heritage, by. State of Environment (Environmental Indicator Reports). Canberra: Environment Australia, Department of the Environment. [http:// www.deh.gov.au/soe/heritage/pubs/heritage-ind.pdf, acc. 26 June 2006] Powell, Alan 1996 Far Country: A Short History of the Northern Territory. Carlton: Melbourne University Press [3rd edition]. Productivity Commission 2000 Broadcasting: Inquiry Report. (Report Number 11). Canberra: Ausinfo. Schmidt, Annette 1985 Young People’s Dyirbal. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1990 The Loss of Australia’s Aboriginal Language Heritage. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Silverstein, Michael 1998 Contemporary transformations of local linguistic communities. Annual Review of Anthropology. 27: 401–26. Stevens, Frank 1974 Aborigines in the Northern Territory cattle industry. Canberra: Australian National University Press. Thieberger, Nicholas 2002 Extinction in whose terms? Which parts of a language constitute a target for language maintenance programmes? In Language Endangerment and Language Maintenance, David Bradley and Maya Bradley (eds.) 310–328. London: Routledge Curzon. Thieberger, Nicholas (ed.) 2005 Paper and Talk: A Manual for Reconstituting Materials in Australian Indigenous Languages from Historical Sources. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. [reprint of 1995 edition]. Troy, Jakelin and Michael Walsh 2004 Terminology planning in Aboriginal Australia. Current Issues in Language Planning 5 (2): 151–165. 2005 Languages off country? Revitalizing the ‘right’ Indigenous languages in the South East of Australia. In Creating Outsiders: Endangered Languages, Migration and Marginalization. (Proceedings of Ninth Conference of the Foundation for Endangered Languages, Stellen-
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bosch, South Africa, 18–20 November 2005), Nigel Crawhall and Nicholas Ostler (eds.), 71–81. Bath: Foundation for Endangered Languages. Tsunoda, Tasaku 2004 Attempt at the revival of Warrungu (Australia). In Linguistics Today – Facing a Greater Challenge, Piet van Sterkenburg (ed.), 267–303. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Urry, James and Michael Walsh 1981 The lost “Macassar language” of northern Australia. Aboriginal History 5. 91–108. Walsh, Michael 1995 “Tainted evidence”: Literacy and traditional knowledge in an Aboriginal land claim. In Language in Evidence. Issues Confronting Aboriginal and Multicultural Australia, Diana Eades (ed.), 97–124. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press. 2001a A case of language revitalisation in ‘settled’ Australia. Current Issues in Language Planning 2 (2 and 3): 251–258. 2001b Indigenous grammatical traditions in Aboriginal Australia. In Indigenous Grammar in Culture-Contrastive Perspective, Hannes Kniffka (ed.), 297–314. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 2002 Language ownership: A key issue for Native Title. In Linguistics Issues in Native Title Claims (Native Title Research Series), John Hendersonand David Nash (eds.), 230–244. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. 2003 Raising Babel: Language revitalization in New South Wales, Australia. In Endangered Language and Identity. Proceedings of the FEL Conference, Broome, Western Australia, 22–24 September 2003, Joe Blythe, and R. McKenna Brown (eds.), 113–117. Bath: Foundation for Endangered Languages. Wilson, Greg and Luise Hercus 2004 Arabana, years R to 10: An Arabana Teaching Framework for Language Revitalization and Second Language Learning from Reception to Year Ten. Hindmarsh, SA: DECSPublishing. Woodbury, Anthony C. 1993 A defense of the proposition ‘When a Language dies, a culture dies’ Proceedings of SALSA 1 Texas Linguistic Forum 33: 311–330. Yuwaalaraay Language Programme 2003 Yugal: Gamilaraay and Yuwaalaraay Songs. Tamworth: Coolabah Publishing.
Language maintenance, shift – and planning Graham McKay 1. Introduction When Europeans first arrived in Australia to settle in the late eighteenth century there were upwards of two hundred and fifty languages spoken by Indigenous inhabitants of the continent, with perhaps two or three times that number of dialects being spoken. Most Aboriginal people were multilingual as a matter of course. Each language was considered to be inherently connected with a tract of land as a result of establishment in that place by the relevant ‘dreamtime’ beings (cf. Rumsey 1993) Policy and planning related to language in Australia have been outlined by Leitner (2004: 219–220; see also Clyne 1991: 4–9; Kaplan and Baldauf 2003: 143–148; Amery 2001: 146–148) in seven historical stages, though these refer almost exclusively to planning in relation to the non-Indigenous component of the Australian language habitat:
(a) A laissez faire period to the 1870s (b) An assimilationist policy from the 1870s to the 1960s (c) An integrationist policy that foreshadowed multiculturalism from the 1960s to the mid-1980s
(d) A short period of multiculturalism that centred around community
aspirations to the early 1990s (e) A shift to an economically-driven acceptance of plurilingualism to the mid-1990s (f) An Asian-language-focused policy to the turn of the 21st century (g) A return to seeing plurilingualism as a problem and a shift back to literacy in English at the present time.
The languages of Indigenous Australians always sat somewhat outside of these main policy directions, not least because Aboriginal people were seen as problematic throughout much of the post-contact history of Australia. This occurred partly because their hunting and gathering practices came into conflict with the agricultural objectives of the uninvited settlers on their land and partly because they became largely ‘invisible’ to the majority of city dwellers as urbanization progressed. It also occurred partly because they
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appear to have been seen officially as not on the same level as other people, as evidenced by the fact that they were not counted in the census until after the 1967 referendum. As a result, policy and planning related to Indigenous languages, including Aboriginal English, have been relatively uncoordinated and ad hoc and driven by various other considerations. A House of Representatives report on Aboriginal language maintenance summarized the early treatment of Aboriginal languages in strong terms: Apart from some very occasional exceptions where Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander languages were recognised, languages recorded or some missions taught in language, official attitudes to ATSI [Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander] languages since European settlement were those of repression. (House of Representatives Standing Committee on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs 1992: 75)
The authors of that report outlined the treatment which led to the widespread loss of Indigenous languages elsewhere in their report (House of Representatives Standing Committee on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs 1992: 21–24). See also the summary of the oppressive treatment of Aboriginal people in the Report of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (Johnston 1991: 7–11). This latter report also suggests that the period covered by periods (a) to (c) listed above (laissez faire, assimilationist, integrationist) were little differentiated as far as Aboriginal people were concerned (Johnston 1991: 8). Beginning with the period of multiculturalism (period (d)) however, the situation changed significantly for Indigenous languages. They were officially recognised and supported in a variety of ways and incorporated into policy and planning in ways that had not occurred before that. Aboriginal English and creoles were also given some increasing recognition in policy and planning. From this period, too, Aboriginal people in “settled” Australia became increasingly willing to self-identify as Indigenous. We could therefore suggest that there are two fundamental periods of policy and planning as they affect Indigenous languages: a repressive period until the mid 1980s, encompassing periods (a) to (c) as outlined above, followed by a more positive period since then. This latter period encompasses more subtle changes from a period of proactive support for Indigenous languages moving towards the current approach of giving primary support for English. Throughout this second more positive period, however, there has been a range of ongoing though not fully systematic activities and policy developments in support of Indigenous languages and their maintenance.
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It seems clear that planning in relation to the Aboriginal language habitat has been sporadic and to a considerable degree uncoordinated beyond local or state based arenas and from program to program, and much of what has been achieved has depended on the innovation and commitment of individuals and specific organizations. Furthermore much of the policy and planning has not had Indigenous language maintenance as an objective, but rather as a byproduct of activity designed to provide more effective services to Indigenous people. It is nevertheless true that the planning and policy development, as well as the support and activity devoted to Indigenous languages and to Aboriginal English has formed a continuing groundswell of productive work which has supported Indigenous language maintenance. In what follows we will first summarize the overall Indigenous language maintenance situation in Australia today. We will then look at education and the courts as a couple of case studies of policy and planning in relation to Indigenous languages to exemplify the individually based and almost fortuitous origins of current policy. We will then summarize national policy developments as they relate to Indigenous languages, outline and give examples of funding programs and policy and planning activities for Indigenous languages, before looking briefly at issues that have come to be significant in the thinking of Aboriginal people in relation to language maintenance activities. 2. The maintenance of Indigenous languages in Australia According to the 2001 Australian Census, around 50,000 people claimed to speak an Indigenous language at home. This figure covers all Indigenous languages and represents approximately 0.3% of the total Australian population. This is roughly the same percentage of the total population as each of the following individual migrant languages: Polish, Turkish, Serbian and Hindi. There are almost seven times as many people speaking Italian at home in Australia than there are speakers of all Indigenous languages put together (ABS 2005: Table 5.69). Note that with all census data we are dealing with self-report data and the questions used do not allow a judgement to be made about the actual language proficiency of those who report speaking any particular language. In the 1996 Australian census the proportion of Indigenous people who spoke an Indigenous language at home by State/Territory was as set out in Table 1. In this table, for instance, the Northern Territory has 60% of all Indigenous people across the country who report using an Indigenous language at home and these people constitute 65% of the total Indigenous
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population of the Northern Territory. In the south and far north of the Northern Territory and in the Torres Strait Islands 79% or more of the Indigenous population reported that they used an Indigenous language at home (based on ABS 2000: 4). This clearly shows that the greatest use of Indigenous languages occurs in the far north and the centre of the country, where white settlement occurred later, the population is more sparse and many communities are very remote. The lowest level of Indigenous language use occurs in the south east of the country where settlement occurred earliest and where urbanization and population density is greatest. Table 1. Proportion of Indigenous people reporting that they use an Indigenous language at home by state/territory 1996 State/Territory
State/Territory Indigenous Proportion of total language users as proportion state/territory Indigenous of total national Indigenous population using an population using an Indigenous language at Indigenous language at home (%) home (%) Northern Territory 60 65 Western Australia 19 18 Queensland 14 7 South Australia* 4 11 New South Wales <1 Victoria <1 3 Tasmania <1 Australian Capital Territory 2
Australia wide, the broad picture on the maintenance of Indigenous languages is summarized in Table 2, which gives the percentages of Indigenous people in various age groups who report using an Indigenous language at home across the fifteen year period covered by three census collections. A decline is to be found in both directions. For each age group there is clearly a decline over the period from 1986 to 2001. If the different age groups are compared within the same census year the basic pattern is that the older the age group the higher the proportion of the group speak an Indigenous language at home (with a slight aberration in the 25–44 age group in 1996 and 2001) (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 85). Note that the decline in Indigenous language use is most rapid in the youngest age group. This does not bode well for language maintenance. Part of the apparent decline over time (1986–2001) in the proportion of Indigenous people claiming to use an Indigenous language at
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home may be due to an increased rate of willingness to self-identify as an Indigenous person (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 85). Table 2. Proportion of Indigenous people reporting that they use an Indigenous language at home by age group 1986, 1996 and 2001 Age Group 5–14 years 15–24 years 25–44 years 45– years
1986 % 16 16.96 19.70 28.48
1996 % 10.88 14.46 14.21 16.80
2001 % 5.28 12.23 11.24 23.53
Furthermore, as shown in Table 3 (next page; ABS 2003 based on Table 4.4), the 2001 Australian census reported language data on a total of 410,003 Indigenous people across Australia, of whom 33,195 (or 8.1%) either appeared to indicate that they spoke a language other than English and/or an Indigenous language or did not give clear indication of language spoken or, in more than two thirds of cases, did not state language spoken at all. Of the total number of Indigenous people surveyed, 327,042 (or 79.8%) speak only English. This actually represents 86.8% of those (totalling 376,808) who gave clear responses relating to English and Indigenous languages. Of the 49,755 who claim to speak an Indigenous language at home (who represent 12.1% of the total number of Indigenous people), 36,213 (or 72.8%) speak English well or very well and 12,206 (or 24.5%) do not speak English well, or at all. A further 1,336 (or 2.7%) did not indicate English proficiency. In other words, almost three quarters of the Indigenous language speakers nation-wide are in fact bilingual (using English) to a great degree. Not surprisingly, the proportion of Indigenous language speakers who have poor English or no English is generally greater in the older age groups and in the more remote northern states and territories. This level of bilingualism in Indigenous languages and English is more likely to lead to language shift than the traditional forms of bior multilingualism involving Indigenous languages only. The National Indigenous Languages Survey Report 2005 (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b) (referred to as NILS) reports in detail on the maintenance of Indigenous languages around Australia. This report uses a series of ten indicators of language vitality, based on nine indicators developed by UNESCO (UNESCO 2003) and those used in the State of Indigenous Languages report (McConvell and Thieberger 2001). The NILS report outlines these indicators in detail in Appendix A of the report
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Table 3. Indigenous persons, language spoken at home and proficiency in English, Australia 2001 English proficiency Speaks English only % Speaks English only (of total Indigenous)
0–14 yrs
15–24 yrs
131,317 59,386 81.6%
78.9%
Speaks an Indigenous language at home – and speaks English well or very well 8,491 8,552 and does not speak English well or at 6,492* 1,370 all English proficiency not stated 587 255 Total 15,570 10,177 % Speaks Indigenous language (of total Indigenous)
9.7%
Speaks other language (includes unclear) 3,875 Language not stated 10,164 Total
25–44 45+ yrs Total yrs 89,856 46,483 327,042 78.8% 77.7% 79.8%
12,948 6,222 36,213 1,843 2,501 12,206 300 194 1,336 15,091 8,917 49,755
13.5%
13.2% 14.9% 12.1%
1,923 3,736
2,777 6,309
1,518 10,093 2,893 23,102
160,930 75,220 114,036 59,817 410,003
* 4930 of these are in the Northern Territory, with a further 1536 across WA, Queensland and SA.
(Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 125–137). The indicators are as follows, though we do not have space here to do more than touch on the results for the first two: 1. Intergenerational language transmission 2. Absolute number of speakers 3. Proportion of speakers 4. Domains and functions of a language 5. Response to new domains and media 6. Materials for language education and literacy 7. Governmental and institutional attitudes and policies, including official status and use 8. Community members’ attitudes towards their own language
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9. Type and quality of documentation 10. Language programs NILS 2005 Indicator One defines six categories of language endangerment and attempts to draw together information from various sources to classify Indigenous languages according to these categories. The categories are, in order of endangerment: Safe/Strong, Unsafe, Definitely endangered, Severely endangered, Critically endangered, No longer fully spoken (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 125). The last means that there are no speakers left.Drawing on the detailed data presented in NILS 2005 Indicator One: Inter-generational language transmission, the authors summarize the situation for the Indigenous languages covered by this survey in Table 4 (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 69 based on Table 6.1). They see this indicator as the most reliable measure of language endangerment, though they also discuss some of the problems of the survey results. In their Tables 6.2 and 6.3 the NILS 2005 authors give details to show the estimated intergenerational transmission levels language by language, albeit an incomplete listing (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 71–75). Table 4. Indigenous language endangerment – NILS indicator one: Intergenerational language transmission Endangerment category Safe Unsafe Definitely endangered Severely endangered Critically endangered No longer (fully) spoken
Number of languages 3–6 2 9 14 155
A less useful but still important measure of endangerment is NILS indicator two – absolute number of speakers (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 126–127). The authors note that Indigenous language group sizes in Australia tend to be smaller than Indigenous language groups elsewhere in the world and that even some quite small groups seem to be able to remain relatively stable in the Australian context. Nevertheless they see 50 speakers as about the critical mass below which a language is at definite risk. Table 5 sets out the number of languages by each number of speakers category for all languages covered by the NILS, apart
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from those with no speakers (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 79 based on Table 6.5). Table 5. Number of languages in each number of speakers category Number of speakers category Range Number of languages % of total
Large
Medium
Small
Severely endangered
Critically endangered
>500 19
201–500 2
51–200 15
10–50 46
<10 63
13%
1%
10%
32%
43%
Finally, it is worth noting that the Western Australian Telethon Institute for Child Health survey on the health of children and young people showed greater use of Indigenous languages by young children and their carers the more remote the community in which they lived (Zubrick et al. 2004: 33). It noted that the degree of loss or continuing use of an Aboriginal language is highly dependent on the degree of relative isolation (remoteness) and the extent to which there have been systematic initiatives to preserve and recover traditional languages (e.g. Kimberley Aboriginal Language Resource Centre) or where there are local opportunities for bilingual or traditional first language education (…) (Zubrick et al. 2004: 35)
The survey notes also that the rate of traditional language loss is greatest in those larger rural communities (e.g. Kalgoorlie, Broome, Port Hedland, Carnarvon) that are service and educational centres for more remote, outlying traditional Aboriginal communities. Aboriginal children in these communities not surprisingly experience more acculturative stress than those within more traditional communities and those in larger metropolitan centres. This suggests that such transitional communities have a priority need for, and potential to benefit from, traditional language promotion and preservation initiatives. (Zubrick et al. 2004: 35)
3. Indigenous languages in education The little early recognition that was granted to Indigenous languages in education was dependent on individuals and came, in the main, from Christian missionaries. While some take the cynical view that this was merely a means
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to more effectively convert these people and assimilate them to European ways in line with government policy of the time (cf. Gale 1997: 54; Lowe n.d.: 3), it could also be argued that the efforts of such Christians speak of a significant level of recognition of the Aboriginal people as human beings who had significant rights, whose languages were worthy of being learned and with whom one could communicate effectively. This was not necessarily a position endorsed by others in the society at the time, including other missionaries. Gale (1990: 42–44; 1997: 54–60), Amery (2001: 146) and Harris (1994: 316–334), for instance, report how Lutheran missionaries in the Adelaide area in the 1830s undertook to run education programs for local Aboriginal children in the local Kaurna language, until lack of support and a change of governor (with the new governor espousing English-only education) forced them to move away from the town, though it did not stop them running similar programs in different languages in more outlying areas for a period. Ironically, the documentation of the Kaurna language that these missionaries left behind has provided an indispensable basis for the highly successful Kaurna reclamation program which has been mounted in recent years (Amery 2000; 2001). It is also no accident that the schools where the Northern Territory’s bilingual education program in Aboriginal languages commenced in 1973, following the decision of the Australian Government, were primarily in areas where Christian missionaries were already using the Indigenous language for communication and had already carried out preparatory work in developing written material, including Bible translation in the local language(s). In fact, previous government policy had discouraged mission schools in the Northern Territory from using the local vernaculars by withholding support if they did so (Gale 1990: 50–51; Beazley 1999: 5). Later, Kriol bilingual programs were also supported. (Harris (1994: 805–831) has presented an overview of Bible translations into Aboriginal languages and of attitudes of missionaries to Aboriginal languages. As a final example, the major organization fostering Indigenous language maintenance, education and services in Central Australia, the Institute for Aboriginal Development, was founded by the Uniting Church in 1969, though it is now an independent Aboriginal community-controlled body (IAD n.d. a) . These examples show that efforts had been made, particularly by Christian groups, to use Indigenous languages in education from early in the settlement period, and that the countervailing pressure for Aboriginal people to use English had also existed from the early settlement period. The most significant government policy shift at national level in favour of Indigenous languages in education occurred in 1972, when the Whitlam
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Australian Government decided to introduce bilingual education into selected Aboriginal community schools in the Northern Territory, which was at that time under its control. This was done to improve the effectiveness of education for Aboriginal children (Beazley 1999: 5). This program finally gave government policy recognition to Indigenous languages and was seen as nationally and internationally significant. It is also interesting to note that, according to Beazley, the responsible minister at the time, the decision to introduce bilingual education was made almost overnight, though not without a grounding in background thinking and experience on his part, as well as building on the work of others, particularly missionaries (Beazley 1999: 5). Many (e.g. Romaine 1991: 7 quoting Fesl) have accused this program of being primarily assimilationist and aimed at transition to English. In an early statement of the aims of the program, however, the first two aims were much more focused on support and maintenance of the Aboriginal language: (a) To help each child to believe in himself and be proud of his heritage by the regular use of his Aboriginal language in school and by learning about Aboriginal culture. (b) to teach each student how to read and write in his own language (Australian Department of Education 1975: 1) Subsequently, after the Northern Territory assumed responsibility for the program, the aims were reordered and the first aim came to emphasize the importance of English as follows: 1. To develop competency in reading and writing in English and in number to the level required on leaving school to function without disadvantage in the wider Australian community. (Northern Territory Department of Education 1980: 2)
The earlier aim (a) was relegated to third position and the earlier aim (b) was relegated to sixth position (though both were still retained in similar form). See also the further slightly modified aims approved in 1982, as reproduced in the National Policy on Languages (Lo Bianco 1987: 115). While all models of bilingual education necessarily involve the teaching of two languages, it is difficult not to take this reordering and the change of first aim as a policy shift from a maintenance model to a transitional model. At the same time we must note that this is not the whole story in the interplay between policy/planning and implementation. Firstly, the Northern Territory Aboriginal communities in which bilingual education programs operated saw their bilingual programs primarily as programs in support of
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their own languages. This view was also held by most if not all nonAboriginal staff who worked within these programs and in the bilingual section of the Education Department at the time, despite the official pronouncements on aims and sometimes despite the attitudes of other staff in schools and in the Department of Education. Secondly we need to recognize that the aims were formulated as they were because of the outlook of the government of the day, which was probably more aligned with the historic assimilationist/integrationist approach to Aboriginal people and their languages. But this was the government that continued to provide the funding for the program from the early 1970s through until the time when it closed the program down at the end of 1998. This tension between the aims of the government funding source and the aims of the beneficiary community, together with the workers in the program, could nevertheless work to the benefit of both sides in enabling the program to go ahead. It is a good example of tapping majority support by presenting the rationale “in terms of unifying, +power, +solidarity metaphors” (Eggington 2001: 248, following McGroarty 1997). In other words, acknowledging the dominant assimilationist ideology at government level, much could nevertheless be undertaken at local level to support Aboriginal language maintenance in the local community and both parties’ aims could be seen to be being met, while the government continued to provide very considerable financial support. Significantly, much of the outcry directed against the Northern Territory Government for its decision to close the bilingual education program in 1998 was addressed more at the loss of an Indigenous language and culture support program than against the loss of a transition to English program (Nathan (ed.) 1999). This shows clearly that, despite the appearance of those early policies, the overall thrust of the activity within the programs through the decades (and thus a significant component of the policy actually implemented) has continued to be towards the support of Aboriginal languages and cultures rather than the promotion of English. In fact the Northern Territory experience was that bilingual education led to more effective education for Aboriginal children in both languages, while leading to significant Aboriginalization of the whole education process in those communities where bilingual programs operated (see Gale 1990: 54–59; McKay 1996: 113–117 and other references cited there; see also the brief outline of international research on the benefits of bilingual education in the discussion of the ‘English-only’ movement in the National Indigenous Languages Survey Report 2005 (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 36–37)).
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Interestingly it has recently been announced that the Northern Territory government is considering reintroducing bilingual education into Aboriginal schools in the Northern Territory. The announcement specifically recognizes that an effective education process needs to start where the students are at in terms of language and cultural background, rather than starting in a foreign language and culture. It specifically cites the fact that bilingual education has been shown to be more effective than monolingual education in a second language (i.e. English) in Aboriginal schools (FATSIL 2005: 6–7; Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 35). 4. Indigenous people in the courts Another example of the relatively spontaneous but unplanned official “policy” recognition of Indigenous speakers and their language and of the communication issues surrounding them arose in the 1970s in the Supreme Court of the Northern Territory. Justice Forster, supported by Justices Muirhead and Ward, set out some guidelines for interrogating Aboriginal suspects that have come to be known as the Anunga Rules, named after the first defendant in the relevant case in Alice Springs, as is normal in citing court cases. While specifically addressing the matter of defendants who speak Indigenous languages, the judge introduced his guidelines with comments that might be seen to encompass more general communication issues and thus include Aboriginal English as well, though this variety was not well recognised in that period. The report of these guidelines in the legal source notes that they might also apply to the interrogation of migrants (Forster 1976: 412). In the case in question, the prosecution evidence was rejected by the court for failure to adhere to the sort of procedures set out in the guidelines promulgated as a result (Forster 1976: 413; McKay 1985). I preface this statement of guidelines by pointing out that Aboriginal people often do not understand English very well and that, even if they do understand the words, they may not understand the concepts which English phrases and sentences express. (…) Some words may translate literally into Aboriginal language but mean something different. (…) In case I may be misunderstood, I should also emphasize that I am not expressing the view that Aboriginal people are any less intelligent than white people but simply that their concepts of certain things and the terms in which they are expressed may be wholly different to those of white people. (…) Bearing in mind these preliminary observations which are based partly on my
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own knowledge and observations and partly by evidence I have heard in numerous cases I lay down the following guidelines. (…) (1) When an Aboriginal person is being interrogated as a suspect, unless he is as fluent in English as the average white man of English descent, an interpreter able to interpret in and from the Aboriginal person’s language should be present, and his assistance should be utilized whenever necessary to ensure complete and mutual understanding. (…) (Forster 1976: 413–414)
These guidelines, arising out of the experience of an individual judge, thus became part of the formal judicial process of the Northern Territory (though somewhat watered down in practical application (Mildren 1999: 140)), but they have also become influential in a number of other states, even where they have no legal status. Further developments have included the production of a handbook entitled Aboriginal English in the Courts as part of the Aboriginal English in the Courts Project developed by the Queensland Government, based on the research of Diana Eades (Eades 1992). This handbook specifically mentions the Anunga Rules and a slightly later set of guidelines issued in Queensland (Eades 1992: 79–80) and covers a number of the language features singled out for mention by Mr Justice Forster, including particularly the form of questions and the phenomenon of gratuitous concurrence (Eades 1991; 1992; 1993). Other states, particularly South Australia, Victoria, Queensland and the Australian Capital Territory have developed guidelines for the questioning of Aboriginal suspects (cf. Mildren 1999: 155–156, note 5). Furthermore the adaptation of the Anunga Rules has even been proposed for the Province of Manitoba in Canada (Aboriginal Justice Implementation Commission 1999). In addition, the provision of interpreter services for Aboriginal people gained some impetus in various states from such guidelines as well as from the National Policy on Languages (Lo Bianco 1987). See, for instance, the current interpreting services in Indigenous languages offered by organizations such as the following (KIS 2004a: 10–15): Aboriginal Translating and Interpreting Services (ATIS) run by the Institute for Aboriginal Development in central Australia (IAD n.d. b); the Kimberley Interpreting Service (KIS), funded by eight Western Australian Government departments (KIS 2004b); the Northern Territory Interpreting Service (NTAIS) (Northern Territory Department of Local Government, Housing and Sport 2006); and the Interpreting and Translating Centre (ITC) of South Australia (ITC n.d.). The Northern Territory’s Aboriginal Interpreting Service, for instance, was the result of collaboration between the Northern Territory and Commonwealth Governments, with specific recognition of the need to “[a]lleviate the
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language barriers faced by Aboriginal persons” in the context of the criminal justice system (Australian Government Attorney General’s Department 2004). It was founded in 2000 with funding support from the Commonwealth, following a pilot program in 1997. At present interpreters are available on the register to cover one hundred and four Aboriginal languages/dialects (Northern Territory Department of Local Government, Housing and Sport 2006). (As an aside, the varying range of government departments charged with Aboriginal language matters is indicative of the varying position of such matters in the concerns of the governments concerned.) This language recognition and support in the justice system is another example of support being given, not specifically to maintain Indigenous languages, but rather to achieve other social ends. It does, however, have some effect in facilitating the continuing use of Indigenous languages, as well as providing a rationale for relevant linguistic work and training programs using Indigenous languages. 5. National language policy developments Australia received large numbers of migrants from non-English-speaking backgrounds after the second world war and this gave rise to discussion of the language implications of the increasingly multicultural Australian community in the 1970s and early 1980s, with significant impetus being provided by members of various ethnic and Indigenous communities and language professionals. This led first to the Senate Standing Committee on Education and the Arts releasing a report in 1984 entitled A National Language Policy. This sets out four guiding principles for language policy development (Senate Standing Committee 1984: 4, 224): 1. competence in English; 2. the maintenance and development of languages other than English; 3. the provision of services in languages other than English; 4. opportunities for learning second languages. What is important, however, in terms of Indigenous language habitat, was that this report gave recognition to Indigenous languages, creoles and Aboriginal English, alongside other varieties of English and a range of migrant languages (Senate Standing Committee 1984: 18, 82, 89, 90–91). The Commonwealth Department of Education subsequently released the National Policy on Languages (Lo Bianco 1987), following some separate policy development in certain states (Clyne 1997: 66–67; Kaplan and Baldauf 2003: 145). The National Policy on Languages gave recognition once more to
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Aboriginal languages, creoles and Aboriginal English and made a broad range of policy recommendations regarding these languages. (Lo Bianco 1987: 73– 75, 105–119). These recommendations include activity to “assist in the preservation, continued use and appreciation of and salvage work on Aboriginal languages” (105), translation and interpreting services for Aboriginal people, bilingual and bicultural education programs and English and literacy classes for Aboriginal adults (108–116), bidialectal education and Aboriginal language programs for speakers of Aboriginal English (116), programs to develop awareness of Aboriginal languages and cultures among non-Aboriginal people (117) and programs of support for Aboriginal languages in each Commonwealth Government department that deals with Aboriginal people (117–119). Lo Bianco has subsequently argued (2001: 14) that the Senate Standing Committee report of 1984 and the subsequent National Policy on Languages arose because of the combination of three forces: language professionals, ethnic and Indigenous community groups, and Britain’s growing links with Europe, which were leading to a weakening of ties between Australia and Britain. As a result of the convergence of these three forces, Indigenous languages became embedded within language policy and planning in Australia. Lo Bianco, however, in outlining the sequence of language policies from the National Policy on Languages (1987) to Australia’s Language: The Australian Language and Literacy Policy (1991) to the National Asian Languages and Studies in Australian Schools Strategy (1994) and to what he calls the Commonwealth Literacy Policy (1997), further argues that the orientation of policy shifted over subsequent periods away from supporting community (including Indigenous) languages to emphasizing the role of English in the community: In essence there has been a movement from a policy ambition that attempted to be comprehensive of community languages and community cultures (demographic pluralism shaping policy) to an approach that constructed a hierarchy of choice involving English language literacy (that is, neglecting ‘non-language’ literacies) combined with selected commercially critical Asian foreign languages, to an approach that further removed diversity by addressing only English literacy in primary schooling (constructing a national imagery of a homogeneous norm for the population). (…) Although the pattern of change has been complex and shifting it nevertheless reveals a clear trajectory from the 1970s and 1980s pattern of making reference to and utilizing demographic pluralism as positive warrant for new policy, a kind of organizing ideology for languages policies which foregrounds learners’ backgrounds, to a 1990s
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pattern that treats difference as problematical and in which backgrounds are ‘backgrounded’. (…) The shift from a language as resource orientation to a language as problem orientation was motivated by concern that making diversity prominent in public policy would enshrine notions of language rights for minorities, or at least establish this principle as a basis on which public resourcing claims would be made. (Lo Bianco 2001: 18)
Leitner (2004: 219–232), however, suggests that the shift over time was not as great as some make out, since many of the seeds of later developments, including the position of English, were already present in the National Policy on Languages. Another factor in the developing policy on Indigenous languages has been the findings of two significant inquiries: the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (Johnston 1991) and the Bringing Them Home report (Commonwealth of Australia 1997), which dealt with the so-called ‘stolen generation’ of Indigenous children who had been removed from their parents under government policies. Both these reports recognize the importance of language and/or culture in the lives of Indigenous Australians and at the same time recognize the destructiveness of previous policies and treatments towards Indigenous people and their culture. See, for instance, recommendation 55 of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (Johnston 1991: 43), which recommends implementing the National Policy on Languages, and Recommendations 12a and 12b of the Bringing Them Home report (Commonwealth of Australia 1997: 296–301; cf. 202– 205), which recommend the funding of Indigenous language, culture and history centres. These reports are referred to, for instance, in the New South Wales Aboriginal Languages Policy (NSW Department of Aboriginal Affairs 2004: 12) as significant foundations of that policy. 6. Funding programs for Indigenous languages The National Policy on Languages proposed the setting up of a National Aboriginal Languages Project to provide supplementary funding to initiatives in Aboriginal language education for education authorities and school communities (Lo Bianco 1987: 118). This led to the establishment over time of a series of funding programs that continues to the present day, through which community projects in support of Indigenous languages were provided with government funding. These project funding programs have included the National Aboriginal Languages Program (NALP), the Aboriginal Education Program (AEP) (from 1989), the Aboriginal Languages Initiatives Program
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(ALIP) (under the Australian Language and Literacy Policy 1991). This last was subsequently transferred from the Department of Employment, Education and Training to the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC) and became known as the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages Initiatives Program (ATSILIP). ATSIC subsequently operated a program entitled Preservation of Indigenous Languages and Recordings (PILR). ATSIC was later disbanded by the government and this program was transferred in mid-2004 to the Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts, which currently operates a successor to this program under the title Maintenance of Indigenous Languages and Records (MILR) Program. The MILR program’s objectives include reducing the loss of Indigenous languages; recording, documenting and preserving Indigenous languages; revitalizing Indigenous languages; improving awareness of Indigenous languages among the wider community; and supporting advocacy activities of funded organizations (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005a). While the various funding programs listed above have operated on a project basis and thus have been dependent on the quality and range of projects proposed in applications for funding, rather than providing strategically coordinated developments at national level, they have, in the words of Kaplan and Baldauf (2003: 148) “allowed Aboriginal people to begin to take control of their own linguistic destiny and a lot of very useful community-based work has been done”. The project basis of the funding available for Indigenous language projects has imposed some limitation on what can be done because of the lack of assured continuity of funding, leading to continuing uncertainty and a focus on projects of manageable and relatively short term duration. A further issue has been that of the tension between Indigenous control of community based projects and the formal requirements of funding authorities which sometimes significantly limit the freedom of community groups and may also lead to the involvement of non-Indigenous service providers. The issue of how best to allocate the limited funds available is a continuing one and the different cultural expectations of Indigenous communities and nonIndigenous funding bodies need to be accommodated. One of the more long-term, systematic and significant outcomes of this funding has been the work of Regional Aboriginal Language Centres in different parts of the country (FATSIL n.d.). In fact, McConvell and Thieberger claim (2001, §2: 2) in their State of the Environment report, State of Indigenous Languages in Australia 2001:
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14. Particularly significant and productive has been the establishment of Regional Aboriginal Language Centres and language management committees under Indigenous control from the mid-1980s onwards; there are few parallels to this development elsewhere in the world.
Even here there is wide variation in these regional centres, which range from state-wide centres such as Yaitja Warra Wodli in South Australia to much more localised centres such as the Katherine Regional Aboriginal Language Centre. It might be expected that broader based centres might face a range of additional issues in mounting programs in communities as a result of the wider range of communities being represented, the different types of language situations being covered and so on, while more localised centres may have more limited resources. While the support provided by these funding programs for community based activities has been very helpful in emphasizing that Indigenous language maintenance is a matter for the community rather than just the school, the frequent separation between school and community funding has not allowed these domains of language work to be as mutually supportive as they could have been (McKay 1996: 12; Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 36) Separate strands of funding have been made available for education programs and for interpreting and translating services in various states and at federal level through a variety of departments, though we will not go into this in detail here. The point is that these projects and funding programs are positive contributors to the recognition and maintenance of Indigenous languages, and that they all arise from the positive policy environment initiated by the National Policy on Languages, but they are not systematic or coherent as a national approach to planning of the Indigenous language habitat. A further persistent tension has been that between the needs of Indigenous languages and those of Indigenous people for English and English-based literacy. Some of the government education programs have focused primarily on English language education. The National Indigenous Languages Survey Report 2005, for instance, highlights the Indigenous Education Strategic Initiatives Program (IESIP) as the major source of funding for Indigenous education in the period 2000 to 2004 but a program which provided no funding earmarked for the teaching and learning of Indigenous languages (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 35). In fact the guidelines for the English as a Second Language stream within the program speak of eligible Indigenous students in the
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following terms, which see Indigenous languages as a “barrier” or problem to be overcome (Commonwealth of Australia 2000: 11): Indigenous students (…) who live in communities and homes in which Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages are heard and spoken (…) if they satisfy the following criteria:
– are assessed locally as having a language barrier which prevents them from being able to participate in the classroom in English (…) ; – have a home language that is an Indigenous language, Kriol, or Torres Strait Creole; – live in a community in which the predominant language is not English.
Such guidelines do not appear to even recognize the distinctive English language needs of speakers of Aboriginal English. 7. Significant but scattered policy and planning initiatives It has been argued here that a range of planning activities and policy developments have taken place, which have a bearing on the Indigenous language habitat in Australia. It is encouraging to see the different places where relevant matters appear, in the sense that many aspects of the habitat are being included. What is lacking is the deliberate connection between these things in terms of policy and planning across governments, government departments and other organizations, in terms of funding sources and as responses to similar broad developments. A small selection of policy developments and planning activities will be listed here. For instance, on the education front we might mention two significant projects of the 1990s which were funded by the Commonwealth Government: the Western Australian based Framework for the Teaching of Aboriginal Languages in Primary Schools (Ministry of Education Western Australia 1992); and the South Australian based Australian Indigenous Languages Framework (Senior Secondary Assessment Board of South Australia 1996). The former framework attempted to implement and build, implicitly or explicitly, on a range of intersecting policy and planning documents, some covering Languages Other Than English (LOTE) in general and others with an Aboriginal focus. These include the Australian Language Levels Guidelines (Scarino et al. 1988), Languages for Western Australians (Ministerial Working Party 1988), The National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy, the Western Australian Aboriginal Education
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Strategic Plan for 1993–1995. More recently the Curriculum Council of Western Australia has been engaged in work towards developing a course for Australian Indigenous Languages at post-compulsory level level (see Malcolm and Königsberg, this vol.). Some of such programs are parts of broader state or national curriculum or other projects, but they do not cohere with other Indigenous languages programs in any systematic way. In terms of reporting on Indigenous languages we can mention some significant national reports in the 1990s: The Loss of Australia’s Aboriginal Language Heritage (Schmidt 1990); Language and Culture – A Matter of Survival (House of Representatives Standing Committee on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs 1992); and The Land Still Speaks (McKay 1996) The various census reports of the Australian Bureau of Statistics since the point at which language questions became part of the regular Australian census in 1986 also provide broad data on languages and their use. A rather more surprising set of reports on Indigenous languages in Australia (only in terms of their source) were those produced as State of the Environment Reports for Environment Australia (Henderson and Nash 1997) and the Department of the Environment and Heritage (McConvell and Thieberger 2001). ATSIC provided funding for language surveys in New South Wales (Hosking et al. 2000) and South Australia (AIATSIS 2002). Out of the New South Wales survey developed the New South Wales Aboriginal Languages Policy (NSW Department of Aboriginal Affairs 2004), which encompasses language programs in Aboriginal communities, in the educational system, in gaols and detention centres and in the broader community. Parallel to this, the 1996 NSW Aboriginal Education Policy recognised the significance of both Aboriginal English and Aboriginal languages (NSW Department of School Education 1996: 9) and led to the development of the Aboriginal Languages K–10 Syllabus (Board of Studies NSW 2003; cf Hobson 2004; Walsh 2003). The South Australian Department of Education and Children’s Services has also developed a draft Languages Policy 2005–2010, incorporating Indigenous languages (Department of Education and Children’s Services 2005) building on the extensive work done in that state with Aboriginal languages in schools. Another significant reporting and planning project funded by ATSIC was the recently published National Indigenous Languages Survey 2005 (Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b). This combines data from the Australian Census, from the previous State of the Environment reports and from earlier more local research with data resulting from a new national survey. The resulting report presents language data, analyses it and develops a series of recommendations.
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8. Ownership and copyright for Aboriginal people in language maintenance Over the years a significant cluster of issues has emerged in relation to policy and planning with respect to Indigenous languages. These issues seem to arise partly from cultural differences between Indigenous and other Australians and partly because of the insecurities felt by Indigenous people as a result of the long and traumatic history of white conquest and oppression in Australia. They have begun to be highlighted in some recent work outlining language maintenance activity, but the issues themselves have been around longer than the date of the documentation cited here would imply. For Aboriginal people in Australia the ‘ownership’ of languages is a significant issue, arising out of the fact that, for Aboriginal people, as outlined by Rumsey (1993), languages have a foundational relationship with the land and a derivative relationship with the people who are also linked to that tract of land. Aboriginal people may even ‘own’ a language which they do not know or speak. This is a very different relationship between speakers and language than characterizes non-Aboriginal Australians, especially AngloAustralians (Newry and Palmer 2003: 103–104). The recognition of ownership, however, is a significant element of ensuring Aboriginal control of language maintenance efforts, and without Aboriginal control it is widely recognised that such efforts are unsuccessful (McKay 1996: xxvi–xxvii, 228– 229; FATSIL 2004; Walsh 2001: 254–255; 2005: 10). This ownership is further evidenced in the fact that Aboriginal artists and story tellers focus on the objects and stories which they ‘own’ and do not paint or tell stories about other things or places (Newry and Palmer 2003: 103–104) and by the decisions frequently made by Aboriginal communities to offer education in the language of the local landowners, even if this is not the language of all the children in the school, simply because it is the language of the land (McKay 1996: 63, and 226–227). Furthermore the history of contact between Aboriginal people and nonAboriginal people and authorities over more than two centuries of alien settlement has made Aboriginal people wary, and rightly so, of the behaviour and intentions of non-Aboriginal people ranging from researchers to officials and from individuals to businesses and governments. Sometimes it seems to be the communities which have suffered the greatest language and culture loss who put the heaviest limitations on access by others. A core issue of tension is that, legally, copyright applies to materials produced using language but not to the language itself (Lowe n.d.: 4; FATSIL 2004: 16–18) and this is why the development of an appropriate legal
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framework for copyright and intellectual property ownership for language groups was singled out as an item on the agenda for the Governing Committee of the Federation and Torres Strait Islander Languages for 2003 (FATSIL 2003). Lowe sees the Aboriginal assertion of ownership of languages and of language materials as a political statement of the unique status of Aboriginal people in Australia over against the prevailing official position which values and recognizes diversity rather than uniqueness (Lowe n.d.: 4). 9. Conclusion The loss of Indigenous languages continues in Australia as the shift to various varieties of English by speakers continues. The loss of languages is occurring more slowly in the more remote central and northern parts of the continent. For most of the first two hundred years of white settlement in Australia, attitudes and policies were oriented towards the rejection and elimination of Indigenous languages, with a few localized exceptions, particularly amongst Christian missionaries. A significant turning point in this context was the National Policy on Languages in 1987 and the events leading up to that. From that point on, a significant but modest level of recognition has been accorded to Indigenous languages and numerous policy developments and funding programs have been devoted to them or have included them. While support of this kind for the maintenance of Indigenous languages has continued unabated since that time, it has been fragmentary and unsystematic across the range of jurisdictions and functions affecting Indigenous societies and subject to many stops and starts. Furthermore, apart from some specific, but continuing Commonwealth funding programs directed at Indigenous language maintenance and some, but not all, education programs involving Indigenous languages, most of the policy and planning which has supported Indigenous languages has actually had other priorities such as improving justice outcomes, improving overall education outcomes (particularly in English), improving health outcomes. Despite this, the recognition granted to Indigenous languages and the ongoing scatter of policy development, funding and activity involving Indigenous languages has continued around the country since the 1980s with the effect of providing considerable, if unsystematic, support for maintenance. Government pronouncements at a broad level often tend to focus on education, health, justice and law and order, employment and housing as their priorities and seem to see support for language and culture as somewhat of a diversion of resources. It is important, however (Department of Communic-
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ations, Information Technology and the Arts 2005b: 12), to recognize that support for education, health and justice in particular can have support for Indigenous languages as a by-product and that recognition and support for Indigenous language and culture can create a more positive social climate and a level of recognition within which support for education, health, justice and housing are more effective. References Aboriginal Justice Implementation Commission 1999 Policing. Chapter 16 of The Justice System and Aboriginal People: Report of the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba. [http://www.ajic. mb.ca/volumel/chapter16.html, accessed 31 March 2006] ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics) 2005 Year Book Australia: Population: Languages (1301.0). [http:// www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/
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[email protected]/Lookup/7D4B1F697804E03BCA25699F0005D618, accessed 24 October 2005, updated 2002] ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics) 2003 4713.0.55.001 Population Characteristics, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians, Australia: National, State and Territory Comparisons of Population Characteristics, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians, Australia. [http://www. abs.gov.au/ausstats/
[email protected]/lookupresponses/59e9226f42b5df92 ca256dce007bb6f0?opendocument, acessed 9 December 2005, updated 2005] AIATSIS (Australian Institute of Aboriginal and TorresStrait Islander Studies) 2002 Language Needs of South Australia: A Consultancy by AIATSIS for ATSIC. [http://www.aiatsis.gov.au/rsrch/rsrch_pp/salangsurv. htm, acc. 24 Oct 05] Amery, Rob 2000 Warrabarna Kaurna! Reclaiming an Australian Language. Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger. 2001 Language planning and language revival. Current Issues in Language Planning. 2 (2 and 3): 141–221.
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Australian Department of Education, Northern Territory Division, Bilingual Education Section 1975 Handbook for Teachers in Bilingual Schools in the Northern Territory of Australia [2nd ed.] Australian Government Attorney General’s Department 2004 Northern Territory Agreement. [http://www.ag.gov.au/agd/ WWW/ncphome.nsf/Page/NT_Agreement, accessed 15 April 2006] BeazleyKim 1999 Aboriginal bilingual education in the Northern Territory. (Opening address to the 24th Annual Congress of the Applied Linguistics Association of Australia, Perth, 26 September 1999.), Australian Language Matters 7 (4): 5. Board of Studies New South Wales 2003 Aboriginal Languages K–10: Syllabus. Sydney: Board of Studies, New South Wales. Clyne, Michael 1991 Australia’s language policies: Are we Going Backwards? Australian Review of Applied Linguistics Series S No. 8: 3–22. 1997 Language policy in Australia: Achievements, disappointments, prospects. Journal of Intercultural Studies 18 (1): 63–71. Commonwealth of Australia 1997 Bringing Them Home: Report of the National Inquiryinto the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families. Sydney: Sterling Press. 2000 Indigenous Education Strategic Initiatives Programme (IESIP) Provider Administrative Guidelines 2001–2004 – Part One. [http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/indigenous_education/programme s_funding/forms_guidelines/iesip_provider_administrative_guideli nes_2001_2004_part_1.htm, accessed 12 April 2006] Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 2005a Maintenance of Indigenous Languages and Records (MILR) Program, Program Information and guidelines 2005–2006. [http://www.dcita.gov.au/indig/maintenance_Indigenous_language s/funding_guidelines/language_guidelines, accessed 24 October 2005] 2005b National Indigenous Languages Survey Report 2005. Compiled by the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies and the Federation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages (Corporation).
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Department of Education and Children’s Services 2005 DECS Languages Policy 2005–2010. [http://www.decs.sa.gov. au/curric/files/links/May4DraftLangPolicy.doc, acc. 24 October 2005] Eades, Diana M. 1991 Communicative strategies in Aboriginal English. In Language in Australia, Suzanne Romaine (ed.), 84–93. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1992 Aboriginal English and the Law: Communicating with Aboriginal English Speaking Clients: A Handbook for Legal Practitioners. Brisbane: Continuing Legal Education Dept. of the Queensland Law Society 1993 Language and the law: White Australia v Nancy. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh and Colin Yallop (eds.), 181–190. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Eggington, William G. 2001 Language revitalisation planning within a power/solidarity framework. Current Issues in Language Planning 2 (2 and 3): 242–250. FATSIL (The Federation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages Corporation) 2003 FATSIL’s 2003–2005 Strategic Plan – targets outlined. Our Languages are the Voice of the Land: The FATSIL Newsletter 24. [http://www. fatsil.org/VOTL/Articles/24-1.htm, acc. 20 December 2005] 2004 FATSIL Guide to Community Protocols for Indigenous Language Pro-jects. [http://www.fatsil.org/papers/FATSILProtocolsguide.pdf, acc. 12 April 2006] 2005 Northern Territory Government Reinstates Bilingual Education. Our Languages are the Voice of the Land: The FATSILNewsletter 31. n.d. Contacts. [http://www.fatsil.org/contacts.htm, accessed 12 April 2006] Forster, William (R. Davis) 1976 R v Anunga; R v Wheeler. Australian Law Reports Vol 11: 412– 416. Gale, Mary-Anne 1990 A review of bilingual education in Aboriginal Australia. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 13 (2): 40–80.
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Gale, Mary-Anne 1997 Dhangum Djorra’wuy Dhäwu: A History of Writing in Aboriginal Languages. Underdale, South Australia: Aboriginal Research Institute, University of South Australia Harris, John W. 1994 One Blood: 200 Years of Aboriginal Encounter with Christianity: A Story of Hope. [2nd ed.]. Sutherland NSW: Albatross Books. Henderson, John and David Nash 1997 Culture and Heritage: Indigenous Languages. (Australia: State of the Environment Technical Paper Series. Natural and Cultural Heritage.) Canberra: Department of the Environment. Hobson, John 2004 Learning to speak again: Towards the provision of appropriate training for the revitalisation of Indigenous Australian languages in New South Wales. In On the Margins of Nations: Endangered Languages and Linguistic Rights. Proceedings of the Eighth FEL Conference, Barcelona (Spain), Joan A. Argenter and R. McKenna Brown (eds.), 55–57. Bath: Foundation for Endangered Languages. Hosking, D., T. Lonsdale, Jakelyn Troy, and Michel Walsh 2000 Strong Language Strong Culture – New South Wales Strategic Language Study – Final Report and Strategy Action Plan. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. House of Representatives Standing Committee on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs 1992 Language and Culture – A Matter of Survival: Report of the Inquiry into Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Language Maintenance. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. IAD (Institute for Aboriginal Development) n.d. a Institute for Aboriginal Development: About IAD. [http://www. iad.edu. au/aboutus.htm, accessed 5 April 2006] n.d. b Institute for Aboriginal DevelopmentLanguage and Culture.. [http://www.iad.edu.au/language_culture.htm, accessed 5 April 2006] Indigenous Law Resources 1986 Questions of evidence and procedure Reconciliation and Social Justice Library Chapter 14. Australian Legal Information Institute. [http://beta. austlii.edu.au/au/other/ IndigLRes/1986/3/14.html, acc. 31 March 2006]
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ITC (Interpreting and Translating Centre) n.d. Interpreting and Translating Centre (ITC). [http://www.translate. sa.gov.au/about_us.htm, accessed 5 April 2006] Johnston, Elliott Q. C. 1991 Overview and Recommendations: National Report: Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Kaplan, Robert B. and Richard B. Baldauf, Jr. 2003 Language and Language-in-Education Planning in the Pacific Basin. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers KIS (Kimberley Interpreting Service) 2004a Discussion Paper: Indigenous Language Interpreting Services (Broome): Kimberley Interpreting Service. [http://www.dcita.gov. au/__data/assets/pdf_file/20450/Indigenous_language_interpreting _services.pdf, accessed 5 April 2006] 2004b Kimberley Interpreting Service: NAATI Interpreters for Aboriginal Languages (Home). [http://kimberleyinterpreting.org.au/main. htm, acc. 5 April 2006] Leitner, Gerhard 2004 Australia’s Many Voices: Ethnic Englishes, Indigenous and Migrant Languages. Policy and Education. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Lo Bianco, Joseph 1987 National Policy on Languages. Commonwealth Department of Education. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. 2001 From policy to anti-policy: How fear of language rights took policy-making out of community hands. In Australian Policy Activism in Language and Literacy, Joseph Lo Bianco and Rosie Wickert (eds.), 13–44. Melbourne: Language Australia. Lowe, Kevin n.d. The Need for Community Consultation to Assist in the Development of Aboriginal Language Programs in Schools: A Draft Discussion Paper. [http://www.fatsil.org/papers/research/ lowe-1.htm, acc. 8 September 2005] McConvell, Patrick, and Nicholas Thieberger 2001 State of Indigenous Languages in Australia – 2001, Australia State of the Environment Technical Paper Series (Natural and Cultural Heritage), Series 2, Department of the Environment and Heritage.
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[http://www.deh.gov.au/soe/techpapers/languages/main1.html#state, accessed 24 October 2005] McGroarty, M. 1997 Language policy in the USA: National values, local loyalties, pragmatic pressures. In Language Policy: Dominant English, Pluralist Challenges, William Eggington and Helen Wren (eds.), 67–90. Amsterdam: Benjamins. McKay, Graham 1985 Language issues in training for Northern Territory police: A linguist’s view Australian Review of Applied Linguistics Series S No. 2 32–43 1996 The Land Still Speaks: Review of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Language Maintenance and Development Needs and Activities. [National Board of Employment, Education and Training, Commissioned Report No. 44] Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. [http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/ training_skills/publications_resources/profiles/nbeet/allc/land_still _speaks_review_of_aboriginal_torres_strait.htm, accessed 28 March 2006] Ministerial Working Party on the Development of a Policy for the Teaching of Languages Other than English (LOTE) in Western Australian Schools 1988 Languages for Western Australians: Report of the Ministerial Working Party on the Development of a Policy for the Teaching of Languages Other than English (LOTE) in Western Australian Schools. Perth: Ministry of Education, Western Australia. Mildren Dean 1999 Redressing the imbalance: Aboriginal people in the criminal justice system. Forensic Linguistics 6 (1): 137–160. Ministry of Education Western Australia 1992 Framework for the Teaching of Aboriginal Languages in Primary Schools [Perth:] Ministry of Education Western Australia NathanDavid (ed.) 1999 Attack on Bilingual Education in the Northern Territory, 11 March 1999. [http://www.dnathan.com/ VL/alert.htm, acc. 13 December 2005] Newry, David and Keeley Palmer 2003 “Whose language is it anyway?” Rights to restrict access to endangered languages: A north-east Kimberley example. In Maintaining the Links: Language, Identity and the Land. Proceedings of the Seventh FEL Conference, Broome Joe Blythe
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and R. McKenna Brown (eds.), 101–106. Bath: Foundation for Endangered Languages. Northern Territory Department of Local Government, Housing and Sport 2006 About the Aboriginal Interpreter Service. [http://www.dcdsca.nt. gov.au/dcdsca/intranet.nsf/pages/AIS_AboutUs, accessed 15 April 2006] NSW Department of Aboriginal Affairs 2004 New South Wales Aboriginal Languages Policy. [http://www.daa. nsw.gov.au/ policies/langpolicy.html, accessed 24 October 2005] NSW Department of School Education 1996 Aboriginal Education Policy. [https://www.det.nsw.edu.au/ policies/curriculum/schools/aborig_edu/PD20050209.shtml, acc. 5 April 2006] Northern Territory Department of Education 1980 Handbook for Teachers in Bilingual Schools in the Northern Territory of Australia [3rd ed.] Darwin: Northern Territory Department of Education. Romaine, Suzanne 1991 Introduction. In Language in Australia, Suzanne Romaine (ed.), 1–24. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rumsey, Alan 1993 Language and territoriality in Aboriginal Australia. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh and Colin Yallop (eds.), 191–206. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Scarino, Angela, David Vale, Penny McKay, and John Clark 1988 Australian Language Levels Guidelines. (Books 1–4) Canberra: Curriculum Development Centre. Schmidt, Annette 1990 The Loss of Australia’s Aboriginal Language Heritage. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Senate Standing Committee on Education and the Arts 1984 Report on a National Language Policy. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Senior Secondary Assessment Board of South Australia 1996 Australian Indigenous Languages Framework. Adelaide: Senior Secondary Assessment Board of South Australia
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Walsh, Michael 2001 A case of language revitalisation in ‘settled’ Australia. Current Issues in Language Planning 2 (2 and 3): 251–258. 2003 Raising Babel: Language revitalisation in New South Wales, Australia. In Maintaining the Links: Language, Identity and the Land. Proceed-ings of the Seventh FEL Conference, Broome, Joe Blythe and R. McKenna Brown (eds.), 113–117. Bath: Foundation for Endangered Languages. 2005 Indigenous languages of Southeast Australia, Revitalization and the role of education. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 28 (2): 1–14. Zubrick, S. R., D. M. Lawrence, S. R. Silburn, E. Blair, H. Milroy, T. Wilkes, Diana Eades, H. D’Antoine, Alexander W. Read, P. Ishiguchi, S. Doyle. 2004 The Western Australian Aboriginal Child Health Survey: The Health of Aboriginal Children and Young People. Volume 1 Perth: Telethon Institute for Child Health Research, 2004. [http:// www.ichr.uwa.edu.au/research/divisions/pop/projects/waachs/, accessed 12 April 2005]
Linguistic responses to contact: Pidgins and creoles John Harris 1. Languages in contact Australia is often portrayed as a remote island whose isolation produced unique natural habitats and distinctive Indigenous languages but isolation is a relative term. While many language habitats in Australia have been seemingly undisturbed and stable over long periods of time, very different language habitats bordered the continent to the north and east. Australian speech communities were never totally isolated from each other nor from their northern and eastern neighbours. There was always the possibility of encountering people with whom communication was difficult. When people lacking a common language come into contact and wish to communicate, they intuitively engage in linguistic innovation, employing gestures, using single words, simplifying sentences, avoiding unnecessary words and enunciating carefully. If the contact is brief, the language ecology is not “disturbed” (Mühlhäusler 1996: 77) and the linguistic improvizations are short-lived. For new languages to arise, members of different language habitats must be in sustained contact. Human language habitats are highly complex and, like biological ecologies, become even more complex and unstable when they meet; when one language habitat suddenly finds itself in contact with another or when members of a different language habitat visit, invade or colonize another. It is in such disturbed language ecologies that what we loosely term contact languages have their genesis. Like their biological counterparts, these spontaneous responses to changed circumstances are difficult to predict and to describe. It is, however, a ‘useful myth’ that contact languages can be defined (Todd 1974: 1). As in the biological world, we are obliged to draw boundaries, even if they are fuzzy. We need to label and to categorize linguistic contact phenomena if we are to try to understand and to talk about them at all. Linguists did not themselves invent the labels they give to contact languages, borrowing from the rich vocabulary already coined to describe them (jargon, argot, flash, cant, pidgin, creole etc.). Thus we have both popular and scholarly usages of the same words. Pidgins and creoles are often wrongly presumed to be inferior, bastardized or “broken” versions of older, longer established, more powerful languages (Harris 1986a: 5, Mühlhäusler
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1996: 86) but for the past half-century linguists have tried to use these terms with precision and without any stigma attached to them. A pidgin is a marginal or supplementary language which develops to enable communication on restricted subjects between groups of people who do not share a common language, that is, who belong to different language ecologies. It is not the native or primary language of any of the speakers. It has a smaller lexicon and a simpler grammar than the languages from which it is derived but it is important to affirm that simplification and impoverishment are not the same thing. Simplification is optimization , mainly achieved by the loss of redundancies without any loss of meaning. Some pidgins arise peacefully, such as those that develop to enable seasonal trading between locals and foreigners but others are responses to aggressive colonization. We need to distinguish between origin and availability. Pidgins may spread beyond the context where they first arose and may become a lingua franca of a wide region. A creole is a language arising from the expansion of a pidgin into a full language capable of expressing the whole range of human experience. A creole typically becomes a new language of people from different language ecologies brought together because of rapid social change. Needing to communicate fully but sharing no language other than a pidgin lingua franca used for restricted communication with outsiders, they expand, develop and add to the pidgin in creative ways until it becomes the language of their everyday communicative needs. Creoles typically preserve some of the simplifications of their pidgin ancestors but this in no way reduces their expressive power. In the next generation a creole becomes the mother tongue of the new community of speakers but it can spread rapidly as an auxiliary or second language. In the disturbed language ecologies which give rise to pidgins and creoles, the socio-linguistic situation is far more complex and far more dynamic than these initial definitions indicate. Rather than engage further in theoretical discussion, we will allow an examination of the rise and development of the most important contact languages in Australia to inform our understanding of them and the way in which they are not only products of disturbed language ecologies but also instruments of that disturbance. 2. Pre-European language contact within Australia Traditional Australian language habitats were characterized by multilingualism. The early tendency among linguists to map and define Aboriginal languages as if they were coterminous with Aboriginal landholding units (the ‘dialectal tribe’), masked Aboriginal multilingualism and the way it solved
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many communication problems between different groups. A better attempt to acknowledge multilingualism and the fluidity of language boundaries is the notion of the “dialect chain” (Yallop 1982: 27–28) well exemplified in the Western Desert dialects: “Pintubi here, Kukatja at Balgo and Yulparitja at La Grange are all the one language” (reported in Hansen 1984: 1). The concept of “speech communities” is also helpful (Rigsby and Sutton 1982: 10). People spoke the languages/dialects of speech communities which overlapped with their own and, through them, could communicate with even more distant speech communities. But what happened beyond that? Was there ever a need to speak with groups so distant that there was no common language? Aboriginal people had lines of communication which stretched for remarkable distances. Trade routes criss-crossed the continent (Mulvaney 1976) such as the well-documented exchange of goods along a trade route extending from Spencer Gulf in the south of the continent to the Gulf of Carpentaria in the distant north. Not only material goods flowed back and forth along the trade routes but songs, dances, words and information. People too travelled the routes. Messengers travelled great distances along them, supplementing diminishing verbal communication resources with sign languages and message sticks. The trade routes made large ceremonial gatherings possible, bringing together people who lived far apart. Verbal interaction obviously took place on these occasions but little has ever been documented about it and now it is too late. But Australia clearly did not differ from anywhere else in the world where contact languages, such as Chinese Pidgin English, the Hiri trade pidgin of southern Papua or even the original Lingua Franca of the medieval Mediterranean world, enabled trading and other interaction between people whose speech communities were widely separated. Aboriginal people sometimes spoke of a language as if it had been a lingua franca and linguists have occasionally speculated about whether a particular language had originated or functioned as an Indigenous pidgin. We will never know much more than we now do about early contact languages in pre-European Aboriginal Australia but we must acknowledge the reality of communication over long distances and the inevitability that Aboriginal people would have learned to solve communication challenges in the same ways as people everywhere always have. 3. Language contacts with South-east Asia It is hardly surprising that both Asian and Australian traditions suggest a long association between the two regions. Aboriginal people of north-eastern
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Arnhem Land still tell of the golden-skinned Bayini, of the ships in which they arrived, their clothing and stone houses (Berndt, R. and C. 1954: 15). The Chinese knew the Australian coast as Lam-hai (Crawfurd 1820: 441). Wei Chu-Hsien claims that Confucius used data gathered by Chinese astronomers in Australia in 592/3 BCE (Mulvaney 1969: 30). But we can only speculate on language contacts with these Asian visitors until the commencement, around 300 years ago, of the long association between Aboriginal people of coastal North Australia and “Macassan” fishermen-traders of South-East Asia. The trepangers sailed to Australia (Marege’) on the north-west monsoons in large convoys of praus, each with a crew of about 30. Arriving in December, they spread out along the coast, gathering and bartering trepang (bêche-de-mer) in exchange for metal, glass, cloth, tobacco and alcohol, then returning north in April on the south-east trade winds (Macknight 1976). Aboriginal men often sailed to Macassar as crew. The term “Macassan” is a convenient label for the trepangers. Aboriginal people have always called them that. Many praus did come from Macassar (now Ujung Pandang) in Suluwesi but the crews and the trepangers’ camps were decidedly multicultural: “Australians of perhaps a dozen different tribes might be mixed up with the natives of Celebes and Sumbawa, Badjus of the coast of Borneo, Timorese and Javanese with an occasional sprinkling of New Guinea negroes” (Earl 1846: 240). The lingua franca of South-East Asia was Malay (Alisjahbana 1966: 57) although just what “Malay” meant is another question (Wang 1981: 108). When the Portuguese began in 1511 to take over the Asian-Arabic trading empire, the language of trade was an Arabic-Malay pidgin (Whinnom 1956: 5). This developed into a Portuguese-Malay pidgin (Urry and Walsh 1981: 93) or perhaps more accurately a “Portuguese-Arabic-Malay” pidgin (Harris 1986a: 91). A Macassan version this trade pidgin became the lingua franca of the trepang trade and was brought to North Australia. The traders expected to use the pidgin here as they did everywhere else. Coastal Aboriginal people learned and modified it, creating their own version, the “Macassan” Pidgin. The first European contact with “Macassan” Pidgin was at Port Essington, the third of the short-lived British settlements on the North Australian coast, between 1838 and 1849 (Spillett 1972). Fortunately the settlement included George Windsor Earl, traveller, linguist and authority on South-East Asia and its languages. Earl observed that Aboriginal people attempted to speak to the Europeans in what he sometimes termed “Malay” but he recognised that theirs was a simplified and locally adapted variety, “a shocking jargon of it” (Earl 1842: 140). He sometimes described the pidgin as being derived from “Macassarese”: “I am in the most ridiculous perplexity about them. After
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having collected many words, I found that I was making a horrid patois of the Macassar dialect: in fact, nearly all the words the natives use when speaking with us are Macassarese” (Earl 1842: 140). Significantly, Earl not only observed that the “Macassan” Pidgin was locally adapted but also that Port Essington people also used it to communicate with other Aboriginal people beyond their local speech community. A very considerable proportion of the coast natives have, from frequent intercourse with the Macassar trepang fishers, acquired considerable proficiency in their language… They never, indeed, speak it correctly, from their inability to pronounce the letter s, which occurs rather frequently in the Macassar language. Thus berasa becomes bereja, trusaan turulan, salat jala etc. They, however, contrive to make themselves well understood, not only by the Macassars but by the people of the tribes with whose peculiar dialect they may not be familiar (Earl 1846: 244).
Thus the “Macassan” pidgin developed from an existing South-East Asian trade pidgin which became available for adaptation and use in Australia, first to communicate with the “Macassans” but then for communication between Aboriginal people from distant speech communities who shared the same association with them. The “Macassan” Pidgin survived the arrival of the English language, continuing as the lingua franca of Aboriginal North Australia well into the 20th century for a generation after the Australian government formally ended the trade in 1907. Milingimbi storyteller Mahkarolla explained this in 1929 when recounting his experiences on a pearling lugger. There was [another] black man on board. He belonged to the tribe of Cape Don… He talked Macassar. We could talk Macassar too. We did not talk his language and he could not talk ours. Macassar was always the language the black man talked when they could not understand each other’s language (Warner 1958: 475).
The “Macassan” Pidgin also survived the onset of English and Englishbased pidgins. Aborigines at first tried to speak to Europeans in the “Macassan” Pidgin, presuming that foreigners would understand it, but learning their error, they rapidly acquired English words. In 1844, 300 kms inland from Port Essington, Aborigines tried to speak to the explorer Ludwig Leichhardt in a mixture of English and “Macassan” Pidgin. He could not understand them but recorded some of their words: perikot (very good), nokot (no good), Mankiterre lumbo nana (Macassans very far). Approaching Port Essington he progressively encountered more English until at 100 kms away he heard connected English pidgin sentences (Harris 1986b: 166).
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You no bread, no flour, no rice, no backi, you no good. Balanda plenty bread, plenty flour, plenty rice, plenty backi. Balanda very good (Leichhardt 1847: 495, 523).
The only “Macassan” Pidgin word in these sentences was Balanda ‘white people’ derived from the Malay adaptation of the Dutch Hollander and still the term for Europeans in Aboriginal languages of coastal Northern Territory. The “Macassan” Pidgin hugely influenced these Aboriginal languages, contributing hundreds of words in common use today (Walker and Zorc 1981). During the whole period in which the “Macassan” and English pidgins coexisted, Aboriginal people kept them separate as distinctly different components of their multilingualism: “These boys spoke good English, Macassar, and, of course, their own language. That is a good indication of their intelligence. I might mention that all the coast niggers to the eastward, from their long association with the Malays, spoke Macassar” (Searcy 1909: 36). In terms of the North Australian language habitat, the moment when it could be said that the Malay trade pidgin had intruded into or “disturbed” the linguistic ecology was long past when English speakers began to settle the north. By then it had become naturalized as the “Macassan” Pidgin. The coastal speech communities of the northern coast were then overlapping with the speech communities of South-East Asia. The “Macassan” Pidgin had become an Australian language. 4. Colonization by the English language The language habitat of Australia was not invaded by more distant outside languages until the British convict fleet arrived at Sydney Cove. Contact with Dampier, Cook and other European explorers had been fleeting but in 1788 the aggressive arrival of the English language set in process huge changes in the linguistic ecology. Colonized by English, many Indigenous languages would die out, but this linguistic invasion would also prompt the rise of contact languages. Gestures would give way to words, words would be joined into jargons and jargons would stabilize into pidgins. Most pidgins would disappear or English-based pidgins would become Aboriginal English without creolizing first. But some would survive, undergoing creolization to become the primary languages of new communities. Contact languages developed virtually everywhere colonists settled, in Sydney, Perth, Adelaide and other early white settlements. Occasionally a short-lived Indigenous jargon or pidgin arose, such as the jargon Kaurna of
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Adelaide (Simpson 1996) but most were English-based pidgins with a number of lexical items from the local language, as in this Darwin example: (1)
That one him mollinyu. That one, he’s a married man. (Parkhouse 1895: 641)
Some pidgins used in coastal industries, particularly pearling, contained Japanese, Malay or Filipino items where such groups were employed together with Aborigines as in Broome and Darwin. These pidgins died out when the context of their use ended, a few words surviving in the English dialect of the mixed-race descendants of the pearl divers. The most significant pidgin in Aboriginal Australia was the very early NSW English Pidgin which spread to form a family or chain of related pidgins throughout most of the continent. One of them eventually reached the Northern Territory and gained a new and enriched life, creolized as Northern Territory Kriol (which is simply creole in the modern orthography of the language). The story of NSW Pidgin and its long journey to Kriol will be fully treated in the remainder of this paper. The only other distinct creole language in Australia is Torres Strait Creole (Shnukal 1983; 1988; 1991), descended mostly from Pacific pidgins. Englishbased trade pidgins were used in coastal north Queensland and the Torres Strait from the mid-19th century, derived from the Pacific trade pidgins brought by trepangers and shell traders but the most intensive use of Pacific pidgins was during the ‘blackbirding’ era from 1864 to 1904 when 60,000 Melanesians were brought to Queensland to work, mainly in the sugar plantations (Mühlhäusler 1991). Many Melanesian labourers married Torres Strait Islanders. The children of these unions creolized the pidgin, particularly in the mission boarding schools. Torres Strait Creole has almost totally replaced traditional languages in the Torres Strait and is also widely spoken by Torres Strait Islanders living in mainland Queensland. It is closely related to Pacific creoles such as Tok Pisin and Bislama but not related to Northern Territory Kriol. Torres Strait Islanders are a distinct and important group of Indigenous Australians but they are self-consciously not Aboriginal and so any detailed discussion is outside the scope of this volume. 5. The NSW English Pidgin When the convict fleet arrived in January 1788, the first words Aborigines spoke to settlers were wuru wuru, ‘go away’, reinforced by unmistakable gestures such as the shaking of spears, but soon both Aborigines and colonists
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were anxious to communicate. In this classic case of “disturbed language ecology”, a contact language was bound to arise. The newcomers were technologically advanced and anxious to assert their authority over the locals who in turn were attracted to the foreigners’ goods and interesting ways. But their language habitats were so remote from each other that there was no existing lingua franca of any kind which could quickly be adapted for their use. Contact between the two groups was initially spasmodic. The first attempts at communication on both sides were combinations of gestures and repeated single words but as is normal in this type of contact situation, ‘interlanguage” develops as both sides try to learn a few of each other’s words. In 1791, David Collins (I, 1975: 122) wrote: Our knowledge of their language consisted at this time of only a few terms for such things as being visible could not be mistaken; but no one had yet attained words enough to convey an idea in connected terms.
In such situations people commonly try to facilitate communication by adopting the other side’s misuse of their language, so a year later Collins (I, 1975: 174) observed the rise of an Indigenous jargon: “…they conversed with us in a mutilated and incorrect language formed entirely on our imperfect knowledge and improper application of their words”. Interestingly, another intelligent and sympathetic observer, Watkin Tench, admitted that both sides found equal difficulty in pronouncing each other’s language: Not only their combinations, but some of their simple sounds, were difficult of pronunciation to mouths purely English: diphthongs often occur…The letter y frequently follows d in the same syllable…But if they sometimes put us to difficulty, many of our words were to them unutterable. The letters s and v they never could pronounce; the latter became w, and the former mocked all their efforts (Tench 1961: 292–293).
Some colonists tried to learn the Sydney Aboriginal Language, notably William Dawes but also John Hunter and even Governor Arthur Phillip himself. Some attempts were made to teach English to Aborigines like Arabanoo and Bennelong (see Leitner and Malcolm, this vol.). But the context was not conducive to people on either side becoming bilingual. It was far more likely that a contact language would arise and in this the local inhabitants seemed more adept: By slow degrees we began mutually to be pleased with, and to understand each other. Language, indeed, is out of the question; for at the time of writing this [1796] nothing but a barbarous mixture of English with the Port Jackson
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dialect is spoken by either party; and it must be added, that even in this the natives have the advantage, comprehending with much greater aptness than we can pretend to, everything they hear us say (Collins, I 1975: 451)
This mixed language could well be called the Sydney Jargon and despite Collins’ dismissive comments, the amount of ethnographic information which several interested colonists collected strongly suggests that communication was taking place on quite complex matters including Collins own comparison of Aboriginal and Christian religious beliefs (Collins I 1975: 454–455). It may even have become an incipient pidgin by 1796 but in any case there was clearly a substantial agreed lexicon even if there was still a high degree of variation. That lexicon included words derived from the Sydney language, from English and from engineered words or phrases used in innovative ways. Words derived from the Sydney Language included dyin, ‘woman’, nuwi, ‘canoe’, and budjari, ‘good’. Innovative or coined words engineered from the available resources, included djarraba, (fire stick), ‘musket’, namuru, (see path), ‘compass’, and marri nuwi, (big canoe), ‘ship’. Words derived from English included non-Aboriginal material items such as barat, ‘bread’, gandal, ‘candle’, and dyuga, ‘sugar’. The term English, however, implies a more linguistically homogeneous group than the newcomers actually were. Some convicts could not speak English, including those Welsh and Irish prisoners for whom the Bible Society obtained Bibles in Welsh and Irish Gaelic. There were also convicts who spoke only underworld argots or nautical cants: “A leading distinction, which marked the convicts on their outset in the colony was the use of what is called the flash or kiddy language. In some of our early courts of justice, an interpreter was frequently necessary…” (Tench 1961: 297). There were black ex-slaves from the West Indies among the convicts. As well, the ships’ crews were multicultural, including not only English sailors but other races such as Hawaiians and Native Americans, people who would have had prior experience with pidgins elsewhere. It is highly likely that they contributed to the Sydney Jargon those lexical items which are common to many world pidgins such as balagaman, ‘blackman’, wadyiman, ‘whiteman’, baimbai, ‘by and by’, ‘later’, and pikinini, ‘child’. As the colonists began to move north and south from Sydney they took this language with them, using it to establish communication with new groups of Aboriginal people. Even Sydney Aboriginal people accompanying settlers further afield used it with other Aboriginal people they encountered. It is impossible to say when the transition from jargon to pidgin occurred, to say when enough people were using the jargon often enough to expand its lexicon
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and agree through shared usage on a stable common grammar, but this adoption of the Sydney Jargon as the language of the colonial frontier certainly ensured that the transition would inevitably happen. The contact language matured from the period of initial development to the stage where it was available for use. The result was the NSW Pidgin. These examples are from the detailed analysis by Troy (1994): (2) (3) (4)
Wotfo yu laikit diswan yaraman? Why do you like this horse? Bail mi bin si-im tri. I did not see the tree. Ai bin lukaut-im nuwi. I was looking for a canoe.
The NSW Pidgin was the first English-based pidgin in Australia and the South Pacific. It became a significant component of the linguistic habitat of the whole region, influencing the development of South Pacific pidgins and thus their creole language descendants. It spread throughout Australia to eventually become creolized itself. Some of its words are now part of Australian English and thus words like wallaby, boomerang, wombat and waratah have entered the languages of the world (see Leitner, this vol.). 6. Northern Territory Pidgin English The major vehicle of colonial expansion in early 19th century Australia was the pastoral industry and its language was the NSW Pidgin. Once the route westward from Sydney had been opened, the moving pastoral frontier aggressively expanded west, encountering new Aboriginal groups at ever increasing distances from Sydney. By its very nature the frontier was a place where morality was suspended, “the bonds of custom are broken and unrestraint is triumphant” (Turner 1945: 38). Aboriginal people’s lives were at times considered of little worth. Those who resisted the invasion of their lands were shot. Their natural habitat was severely disturbed and so was their language habitat. L’extermination d’une langue, d’une culture et d’une people sont une seul et même chose. (The extermination of a language, a culture and a people are one and the same thing.) (Andersson and Boyer 1970: 48)
Those who cooperated had to learn the NSW Pidgin. This was not pidgin genesis. No doubt the Aborigines initially presumed they were learning the
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language of the invader but a fully-fledged pidgin was available and presented to them and if they wanted to survive in the new social context, they learned it: “The pidgin talk which is considered so essential for carrying on conversation with a blackfellow is mostly of very old origin…As the whites pushed on and on amongst new tribes, nothing was taken from the local dialects to add to the general pidgin stock, but the original was carried along” (Favenc 1904, cited in Baker 1966;313). The NSW Pidgin reached the Northern Territory in the 1870s but it was not the only pidgin there. The English-based pidgin which arose at Port Essington in the 1840s persisted along the north coast for communication with the increasing number of Europeans visiting the region or attempting to settle there. Permanent settlement of what is now Darwin was achieved by 1870. Gold was soon discovered in Darwin’s hinterland and by 1874 Chinese were arriving to work the goldfields. Pidgin English became the medium of communication between Europeans, Aborigines and Chinese in and around Darwin and along the coast but the linguistic ecology was very disturbed and unstable. The modest lexical data available strongly suggests that this Darwin pidgin was quite variable (Harris 1986a: 260–300; 1988: 77–99). The main source languages were the English language itself, Chinese Pidgin English and nautical jargons or other widely used jargons. This sentence was spoken in 1883: (5)
By and by plenty fella policeman tekem one piecee blackfella along bush. Later many policemen will take an Aboriginal into the bush. (Searcy 1912: 127)
In plenty fella, the prenominal suffix, fella, is derived from the very widespread “Southwestern” pidgin family of the South-west Pacific region while in one piecee, the prenominal suffix, piecee, is derived from Chinese Pidgin English. This variable use of alternate forms characterized the northern pidgin for many years. (Harris 1991: 198) At the same time as this pidgin was developing in the far north, the pastoral frontier was extending westwards into the Northern territory along the valleys of the Roper and Victoria River systems and on into the Kimberley region of Western Australia. These were violent years but the Europeans and their cattle were there to stay. Despite the valiant efforts of the Aboriginal people, their resistance was mercilessly put down and survival meant cooperation with the invaders. Important sites of pidgin development in the pastoral region were the frontier townships of Roper Bar, Katherine and
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Borroloola and the many cattle stations where Aborigines were “made quiet” (Merlan 1978): Then people come quiet now from after that feller bin get shot now…white man bin settlem down blackfeller now…might as well him bin just give up…and we might as well sit down…that when they bin havem that station. (Jess James Garalgnanjag and Maudie Mangui, in Read and Read 1978: 74)
The cattle stations were finally the most important sites for the “settling down” of Aboriginal people into institutionalized contact with Europeans so that communication became a daily fact of life. The cattle station pidgin of the 1880s and 1890s was immortalized in Jeannie Gunn’s books (1905; 1908). (6)
Him Maluka. Him track belong Maluka. Him bogey last night. That’s Maluka. Those are Maluka’s tracks. He bathed last night. (Gunn 1905: 78)
An interesting feature in this sentence is bogey, derived from the Sydney Language bugi, ‘swim’ or ‘wash’, via the NSW Pidgin. Historical studies of the extension of the pastoral frontier from NSW through inland Queensland and into the Northern Territory (Harris 1986a: 184–214), reinforced by lexical analyses (Harris 1986a: 260–300; 1988: 77–99), strongly indicate that the major lexical source of the pastoral industry pidgin was the NSW Pidgin, available to the colonists and presented as a fully-fledged pidgin to the Aboriginal people of the cattle stations. Over several decades the northern pidgins stabilized, converging towards a common standard which trend was typical of the whole Pacific region (Mühlhäusler 1985). Gold mining was short-lived and the cattle industry took over as the main activity of the Northern Territory. Thus the pastoral industry pidgin became more widespread and the pidgin of Darwin and the goldfields gave way to it. Another stabilizing factor was the increased mobility of a population which carried the pidgin with them. Stockmen, both black and white, moved from station to station; police and government officials were posted to different locations; Aborigines accompanied Europeans to distant places or spent time in Darwin at Fanny Bay Gaol. A widely-travelled and insightful observer, government surveyor Lionel Gee, was able to use Pidgin English wherever he went He was one of a number of authors who in later memoirs recorded the pidgin as it was spoken at the turn of the century (Gee 1926). Their writings clearly show that there was one widely understood lingua franca. This stable pidgin, largely based on the NSW Pidgin, was sufficiently distinct to now be labelled Northern
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Territory Pidgin English. Words peculiar to Chinese Pidgin English dropped out but it contained words like yaraman, ‘horse’, binji, ‘belly’ and gabara, ‘head’, which could only have come from the NSW Pidgin. It contained items now said to be typical either of “World” pidgins (piccaninny, savvy etc) or of “Southwestern” pidgins (belong, all together, fellow etc ) (Clark 1979; 1983) but for most if not all of them it is not necessary to propose an independent origin. They too were highly likely to have been derived from the mature NSW Pidgin as it had become by the time it reached the NT border a century after its genesis in Sydney Cove. Indeed many so-called “Southwestern” items in Pacific pidgins could themselves have originated from the NSW Pidgin or its predecessor, the Sydney Jargon. As the earliest contact language in the Pacific region, it was itself a lexical source for the Pacific pidgins. 7. Northern Territory Kriol In retrospect, with knowledge of aggressive colonialism and its damaging effects on the world’s linguistic ecologies, it seems obvious that creolization would inevitably occur in Australia. Given such severe social and linguistic disruption, there would inevitably somewhere be pressure for a new language to arise. The first place where sufficient pressure was placed on Northern Territory Pidgin English to become the primary language of a new community was the Church Missionary Society’s Roper River Mission (now Ngukurr) where creolization began in 1908 (Harris 1986a: 301–319). The cattle drives from NSW through Queensland passed through the Roper River valley where cattle stations were established in the 1870s and 1880s. The massacre of Aboriginal people in a ‘war of extermination’ was widespread and relentless. As one of the early missionaries, R. D. Joynt, wrote (1918: 7), hundreds had been “shot down like game”. The Aboriginal people gained themselves a reputation for fierce resistance and the abandonment of some cattle stations was attributed to their tactics. Any possibility, however, that they might have succeeded in preserving their cultural integrity ended drastically at the turn of the century when a huge London-based cattle consortium The Eastern and African Cold Storage Company acquired massive tracts of land to carve out a pastoral empire from the Roper River north into Arnhem Land. Purchasing all stocked and viable stations along the western Roper River, they began moving cattle eastward. Determined to put down all Aboriginal resistance, they employed gangs of up to 14 men to hunt down all inhabitants of the region and shoot them on sight. With police and other authorities maintaining a “conspiracy of silence”, they staged a systematic
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campaign of extermination against the Roper River peoples (Harris 1994: 695–700). They almost succeeded. This near-annihilation of Aborigines of the region produced the first condition necessary for the genesis of a creole: sudden and severe social change drastically damaging the linguistic ecology and preventing normal language transmission. The second required condition is a new community. Challenged by the plight of Aboriginal people the Anglican Church determined to establish a presence in the region, choosing a site on the Roper River itself (Cole 1968: 5). The Church Missionary Society (CMS) mission commenced in 1908, immediately perceived as a refuge by the scattered people of the region. By 1909, 200 people gathered there, remnants of the Mara, Wandarang, Alawa, Ngalakan and Ngandi peoples together with the easternmost Mangarayi and the southernmost Rembarrnga and Nunggubuyu peoples. As one of them later said, ‘if the missionaries had not come, my tribe would have been all shot down’ (see also Sandefur 1979: 13). The Roper River language habitat was highly complex with many overlapping speech communities. The eight groups of refugees spoke distinct languages. The multilingual adults had no significant communication problem in the new mission community. Had there been time, one of their languages might have become modified as a dominant community language or an indigenous pidgin could have emerged as has sometimes happened when different Aboriginal groups move into one community e.g. Pidgin Ngarluna in NW Australia (Dench 1998). But here, 70 children in the mission school suddenly found themselves thrust together with other children whose languages they had not yet had the opportunity to learn. They were the new community and they needed a primary language. Whereas their parents could communicate with people whose speech communities used to overlap their own, the children could not. What they had in common was the Northern Territory Pidgin English used between Aboriginal and European people and the Standard Australian English they were hearing in school. With this input, it was this younger generation on the mission who, in the course of their lifetime, created a creole, manipulating the lexical resources available to them and drawing on linguistic universals to create Kriol, or Roper Pidgin as it was then called, a language which catered for all their communicative needs. La Ngukurr melabat garrim eitbala langgus. Wen naja traib wandim tok la dis traib, dei tok mijalb garrim Kriol. Jad impotan langgus im Kriol. Olabat gan sabi bla wanim olabat toktok. (At Ngukurr we have eight languages. When another tribe wants to talk with this tribe, they talk to each other in Kriol. The important language is Kriol. They can understand what they are talking about.) (Dinggul n.d.: 1)
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That it was NSW Pidgin, which was initially creolized, is very evident. Key words of the old Sydney Language, no longer spoken in Sydney, are today preserved in Kriol including gula, ‘angry’, gabarra, ‘head’, yarraman, ‘horse’, nalanala, ‘club’, binji, ‘stomach’ and bogi, ‘swim’. Of course a large number of lexical items are derived from English like pitja, ‘picture’, reilwei, ‘railway’, dregli, ‘directly’, ‘soon’, and draibim, ‘drive’. Many items, however, are engineered from English resources but carry new meanings in Kriol such as atjamp (heart jump) ‘surprised’, jangidapwei (sun get up way) ‘easterly’, and dabulum mijelp, (double myself) ‘curl up’. There is also a significant corpus of words of Aboriginal origin in semantic fields where English was inadequate including ceremony, kinship and the natural world e.g. junggai, ‘ceremony leader’, gojok, ‘male skin group’, karrak-karrak, ‘cormorant’ and birlal, ‘water lily leaf’. For descriptions of Kriol, readers should consult the writings of John Sandefur (1979; 1986; 1991; etc). Significantly, Kriol contains no words which could have come only from Pacific pidgins such as he, bullamacow, and pigeon. A particularly noteworthy absence is the Melanesian marker kaikai, ‘food’. In Kriol food is daga derived from the NSW Pidgin (tucker). These absences invalidate theories that directly relate Kriol to Pacific pidgins. The missionaries tried to discourage the developing creole (CMS 1944: IV, 2; Harris 1998: 120) but they can be pardoned for not recognizing what was happening when, as recently as the 1960s, reputable linguists were still dismissing the creole as “corrupt English” (Wurm 1963: 4) or “ridiculous gibberish” (Baker 1966: 316) and indeed there are people still as dismissive of Kriol today. A creolization process occurred in other centres in North Australia but the resulting creoles have merged into one widely-understood language with regional variations. Kriol is now spoken in over 100 Aboriginal communities in the Top End of the Northern Territory, as well as in western Queensland and in the north of Western Australia. Kriol is the primary language of 15,000 people, a significant second language and lingua franca of a further 30,000 or more. Yet it remains controversial, denigrated by conservative and sometimes ill-informed non-Aboriginal purists, too often in positions of authority, and by some Aboriginal speakers of other, more “traditional” languages. This has a negative effect even on some of those for whom Kriol is their primary language who can still be made to feel ashamed of the accusation that they speak an inferior kind of bad English. Despite this, Kriol has a growing acceptance among those for whom it has become the language of home and the preferred language of education and community affairs.
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The Bible has now been translated into Kriol, most of it already published by the Bible Society. The complete Holi Baibul was published in 2006. It is ironic that what the early missionaries most wanted to make known is now expressed in the language they tried so hard to discourage (Harris 1998: 120). If any proof were needed that Kriol is a full language, capable of expressing everything its speakers want to express, one need look no further than the pages of the Bible as translated by first-language Kriol speakers. Here are some examples of theologically complex ideas drawn from Ephesians 1: 5– 10. (English Revised Standard Version and Kriol Holi Baibul) (7) (8) (9)
God destined us…to be his sons Longtaim God bin jinggabat blanga meigim wi san blanga im. (Long ago God thought about making us sons of his). In him [Jesus] we have redemption through his blood. Wen Jisas bin weistim im blad, imbin meigim wi fri (When Jesus shed his blood, he made us free). He has made known to us…the mystery of his will. Imbin shoum wi det plen blanga im…Nobodi bin sabi det plan basdaim, bat wi sabi na. (He showed us that plan of his…Nobody understood that plan before but we understand now).
8. Conclusions The nature of contact languages is to be dynamic rather than static, not due any inherent linguistic instability, but to being born into changing and damaged language habitats which may continue to change and to which they must adapt. They can respond, like the “Macassan” Pidgin, by dwindling away once the situation for which they were necessary no longer exists although even then their fossil remains can be found in the languages they influenced. However they can move through the so-called “pidgin and creole developmental continuum”. (Mühlhäusler 1979: 44). Where pidgins are in very close contact with their main lexical source language, they may absorb so much lexical content from that language that they become finally a dialect of it, like the English pidgins of settlements such as Perth or Adelaide or indeed the original Sydney Pidgin, all of which eventually became dialects of English without creolizing first. In severely damaged or uprooted ecologies, they may come under pressure to develop into full primary languages of new communities, as happened to Northern Territory Pidgin English, first at Roper River and then elsewhere.
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The ultimate future of Kriol is unclear. Some creoles elsewhere in the Pacific region such as Bislama have viable futures, especially where they have become the national languages of newly-independent nations. Other creoles are moving closer to their lexical source languages and becoming local dialects of them. Kriol has certainly been gaining an increased English content, especially among creole speakers who live in larger English-speaking urban communities such as Darwin. But in the more remote communities, like Ngukurr (Roper River) itself, there are now fewer white residents and less English spoken than there used to be. Furthermore, the use of Kriol in Church and school and a growing Kriol literature not only assure it a longer future but also assist Kriol speakers to separate Kriol and English as distinct languages. Kriol was once the price of survival of people whose very lives were threatened. Its development is a mirror of their history. But that very distinctiveness, and a growing pride in its use, may yet be the key to their future. References Alisjahbana, S. Takdir 1966 Indonesia: Social and Cultural Revolution. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press. Andersson, T. and M. Boyer 1970 Bilingual Schooling in the United States. Washington: US Government Printing Office. Baker, Sidney J. 1966 The Australian Language. Sydney: Currawong. Berndt, Ronald M. and Catherine H. Berndt 1954 Arnhem Land: Its History and Its People. Melbourne: Cheshire. Clark, Ross 1979 In search of Beach-la Mar: Towards a history of Pacific Pidgin English. Te Reo 22: 3–64. 1983 Social contexts of early South Pacific pidgins. In The Social Context of Creolisation, E. Woolford and W. Washabaugh (eds.), 10–27. Ann Arbor: Karoma. Church Missionary Society (CMS) 1944 Missions to Australian Aborigines, Constitution and Policy. Section IV (2).
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Cole, E. Keith 1968 Roper River Mission 1908–1968. Melbourne: CMS Historical Publications Trust. Collins, David 1975 An Account of the English Colony in New South Wales Vol I. London: Cadell and Davies. [orig. publ. 1798] Crawfurd, John 1820 History of the Indian Archipelago. Edinburgh: Archibald Constable and Co. Dench, Alan Charles 1998 A Pidgin Ngarluna: An Indigenous contact language in north western Australia. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Linguistics 13/1: 1–61. Dingul, Ralph n.d. Stories for Bilingual Situations. Batchelor, NT: School of Australian Linguistics. Earl, George Windsor 1842 Notes on Northern Australia and the neighbouring seas. Royal Geographical Society Journal 12: 139–141. 1846 On the Aboriginal tribes of the northern coast of Australia. Royal Geographical Society Journal 16: 239–251. Favenc, Ernest 1888 The History of Australian Exploration 1788 to 1888. Sydney: Turner and Henderson. GeeLionel 1926 Bush Tracks and Gold Fields. Adelaide: F.W. Preece and Sons. Gunn, Jeannie (Mrs Aeneas) 1905 The Little Black Princess. London: Alexander Moring. 1908 We of the Never Never. London: Hutchinson and Co. Hansen, Kenneth C. 1984 Communicability of Some Western Desert Communilects (Work Papers of SIL-AAB, Series B/11: 1–112.) Darwin: Summer Institute of Linguistics. Harris, John W. 1986a Northern Territory Pidgins and the Origin of Kriol (Pacific Linguistics C-89.) Canberra: Australian National University. 1986b Contact languages at the Northern Territory British military settlements, 1824–1849. Aboriginal History 9: 148–169.
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Harris, John W. 1988 Northern Territory Pidgin English – a lexical study. English Worldwide 9 (1): 77–99. 1991 Kriol – the creation of a new language. In Language in Australia, Romaine, Suzanne (ed), 195–203. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1994 One Blood: 200 Years of Aboriginal Encounter with Christianity (2nd ed.). Sutherland NSW: Albatross. 1998 We Wish We’d Done More: Ninety Years of CMS and Aboriginal Issues in North Australia. Adelaide: Open Book. Joynt, R. D. 1918 Ten Years at the Roper River Mission Station, Northern Territory, Australia. Melbourne: H. Hearne and Co. Leichhardt, Ludwig 1847 Journal of an Overland Expedition in Australia from Moreton Bay to Port Essington. London: T. and W. Boone. Macknight, C. C. 1976 The Voyage to Marege’. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press. Merlan, Francesca 1978 ‘Making people quiet’ in the pastoral north: Reminiscences of Elsey Station. Aboriginal History 2: 70–106. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1979 Remarks on the pidgin and creole situation in Australia. Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies Newsletter 12: 41–53 1985 The number of pidgin Englishes in the Pacific. Papers in Pidgin and Creole Linguistics 4: 25–51 (Pacific Linguistics A-72.). Canberra: Australian National University. 1991 Overview of the pidgin and creole languages of Australia. In Language in Australia, Romaine, Suzanne (ed.), 159–179. Cambridge; Cambridge University Press. 1996 Linguistic Ecology. Language Change and Linguistic Imperialism in the Pacific Region. London, New York: Routledge. Mulvaney, D. John 1969 The Prehistory of Australia. London: Thames and Hudson. 1976 The chain of connection. In Tribes and Boundaries in Australia, Petersen, Nicolas (ed.), 72–94. Canberra: Australian Institute for Aboriginal Studies.
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Parkhouse, T. A. 1895 Native tribes of Port Darwin and its neighbours, Australian Association for the Advancement of Science (Brisbane Conference Report), 638– 647. Read, Jay and Peter Read (eds.) 1978 Long Time, Olden Time: Aboriginal Accounts of Northern Territory History. Alice Springs, NT: Institute for Aboriginal Development. Rigsby, Bruce and Peter Sutton 1982 Speech communities in Aboriginal Australia. Anthropological Forum 5 (1): 8–23. Sandefur, John 1979 An Australian Creole in the Northern Territory: A Description of the Ngukurr-Bamyili Dialects. (Work Papers of SIL-AAB, Series B-3.). Darwin: Summer Institute of Linguistics. 1986 Kriol of North Australia: A Language Coming of Age (Work Papers of SIL-AAB, Series A-10.). Darwin: Summer Institute of Linguistics. 1991 A sketch of the structure of Kriol. In Language in Australia, Romaine, Suzanne (ed.), 204–212. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Searcy, Alfred 1912 By Flood and Field. London: G. Bell and Sons. Shnukal, Anna 1983 Torres Strait creole: The growth of a New Torres Strait language. Aboriginal History 7 (2): 173–185. 1988 Broken: An Introduction to the Creole Language of Torres Strait (Pacific Linguistics C-107.). Canberra: Australian National University. 1991 Torres Strait Creole. In Language in Australia, Romaine, Suzanne (ed.), 180–194. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Simpson, Jane 1996 Early language contact varieties in South Australia. Australian Journal of Linguistics 16: 169–207 Spillett, Peter G. 1972 Forsaken Settlement. Melbourne: Lansdowne. Tench, Watkin 1961 Sydney’s First Four Years. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. [orig. published 1789; 1793] Todd, Loreto 1974 Pidgins and Creoles. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
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Troy, Jakelin 1994 The Sydney Language. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. Turner, F. J. 1945 The Frontier in American History. New York: Henry Holt. Urry, James and Michael Walsh 1981 The lost ‘Macassar language’ of northern Australia. Aboriginal History 5/2: 90–108. Walker, Alan and R. David Zorc 1981 Austronesian loanwords in Yolngu-Matha of northeast Arnhem land. Aboriginal History 5 (2): 109–134. Wang, Gunwu 1981 Community and Nation. Singapore: Heinemann. Warner, W. Lloyd 1958 A Black Civilisation. Gloucester, Mass.: Peter Smith. Whinnom, Keith 1956 Spanish Contact Vernacular in the Phillipine Islands. Oxford and Hong Kong: Oxford and Hong Kong University Press. Wurm, Stephen A 1963 Some Remarks on the Role of Language in the Assimilation of Australian Aborigines. (Pacific Linguistics, A-1.) Canberra: Australian National University. Yallop Colin 1982 Australian Aboriginal Languages. London: Andre Deutsch.
Aboriginal English: Restructured variety for cultural maintenance Ian G. Malcolm and Ellen Grote 1. Introduction Aboriginal English is at once the product and the symbol of the maintenance of Indigenous identity in the face of linguistic and cultural domination by immigrant Australians. Ironically, it represents a colonization of the language brought by the immigrants in order to make it serve the purposes of Indigenous speakers. Like the habitat involuntarily shared by its original inhabitants with the newcomers, the language of the newcomers came to be shared for their own purposes by its new Indigenous speakers. In this chapter we will provide a brief, generalized, description of Aboriginal English followed by an account of the ways in which its speakers drew on introduced and Indigenous sources in the processes leading to its formation. We will then discuss the past and present functions the dialect has performed in the lives of its speakers, giving particular attention to the ways in which it has become stratified to enable the expression of regional, social and stylistic variation. 2. Aboriginal English: A distinctive variety For at least three quarters of the Aboriginal population of Australia English is the main language. For most of the remainder English is a part of their linguistic repertoire. Since public administration, law and education in Australia use Standard Australian English as the default form of communication, Aboriginal people are exposed to this form of English and a minority of them are able to use it fluently. The form of English maintained within the context of Aboriginal community life, however, differs markedly from Standard English at all levels of linguistic description. The term Aboriginal English refers to a continuum of varieties which, at their broadest, have much in common with creoles, and which, at the other extreme, share most of their features with informal Standard Australian English. Research on Aboriginal English is surveyed in Malcolm (2000; 2004 a/b) and (Leitner 2004) and descriptions of varieties used in various parts of the
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country are provided in Eades (1993), Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm (1982) and Harkins (1994). Arthur (1996) provides a culturally-organized dictionary based on historical sources. The description here will focus on some of the markers of more distinctive varieties of contemporary Aboriginal English. 2.1. Phonology Aboriginal English recognizes fewer vowel and consonant phonemes than Standard English. The vowels /i/, /e/, /a/, /o/ and /u/ are those most readily distinguished. The opposition between high front vowels /i/ and /I/ and the mid back vowels /Q/ and /O/ is reduced, such that these pairs may sometimes be used interchangeably; hence, /krIk/ ‘creek’; /dOg/ ‘dog’. The mid central vowel /3/ is not as consistently present as in Australian English, as seen in pronunciations like /f&s/ ‘first’ and the neutral short vowel /ԥ/ may be replaced by the mid central vowel /V/ or by the low central vowel /a/, as in /rQbat/ ‘Robert’. Most diphthongs are, to some extent (and more markedly than in Australian English) monophthongized; hence /dE:/ ‘there’; /lagrendj/ ‘La Grange’ and /ra:dԥr&Und/ ‘right around’. The consonants most likely to be pronounced distinctively by Aboriginal English speakers are the fricatives. Initial /h/ is variable in occurrence, often being added before an initial vowel where it is not required in Standard English, as in /handi/ ‘aunty’, and often being absent from words where it is always pronounced in Standard English, as in /Qladei/ ‘holiday’. Labio-dental fricatives /f/, /v/ may be replaced by corresponding bilabial stops /p/, /b/, as in /pInIS/ ‘finish’ and /dİbIl/ ‘devil’; interdental fricatives /ș/, /ð/ by corresponding alveolar stops /t/, /d/, as in /tIN/, ‘thing’ and /deI/ ‘they’, or, in the case of /ș/, by the sibilant /s/, as in /nVsIN/. Affricates /Í/ and /Ù/ are not strongly pronounced and may be replaced by the lamino-palatal /S/ , as in /SVk/, ‘chuck’, or reduced to /t/, as in /mVt/ ‘much’. The distinction between voiced and unvoiced consonants is not made as consistently as in Australian English, hence, for example, ‘bed’ may be pronounced /bİt/. Morphophonemic rules also differ between Aboriginal English and Australian English. There is a strong tendency towards consonant cluster simplification, as in, for example, /wail pig/ ‘wild fig’; /dİs/ ‘desk’, and /mita/ ‘mister’. This feature also often results in the loss of the final /s/, thus affecting the expression of plurality and the third person singular of the present tense verb. Elisions operate differently. Since the ‘will’ auxiliary is rarely used, such forms as I’ll go and they’d be are rare. However, the /w/ and following vowel may be elided from was, resulting in /wi(ԥ)z/ ‘we [wa]s’ or
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from want, resulting in /aint ԥ aiskrim/ ‘I want an icecream.’ /ð/ may be lost from ‘the’, resulting in forms such as /Ola/ ‘all the’, /Ona/ ‘on the’ and /ina/ ‘in the’. When two vowels come together, as in a egg, Aboriginal English does not change ‘a’ to ‘an’ to make a liaison. Similarly, the is pronounced the same way (/ðԥ/ or /ða/) before a following noun whether it commences with a vowel or a consonant. Aboriginal English has characteristic stress and intonation patterns. There is a preference for stress on the first syllable. Thus, for example, toyota ‘four wheel drive’ tends to be pronounced /’tOjԥda/, and kangaroo /’k&Ngru/. The rising question intonation is more generally used than in Australian English, since grammatical and morphological change are not as often used to mark the interrogative. There is also a characteristic falling intonation which accompanies a final tag (e.g. eh, inna, unna, inti) to invite corroboration of jointly held knowledge. A suspensory intonation, on a high, level pitch, is a distinctive device in oral narration. 2.2. Morphology Many morphological features which are obligatory in Standard English are optional, if present at all, in Aboriginal English. This may be seen in part as a carry-over of the processes of simplification from earlier contact varieties from which the dialect has evolved, but also the result of deliberate communicative strategies, as the users of the dialect tend to avoid explicitness and to expect a significant interpretive role on the part of the listener, taking due account of context. The noun may be unmarked for plural, as in I bin cutting dem cake, or I sawn two turkey, where the co-text provides sufficient indication of plurality. It may also carry the regular inflection for plural in cases where this is not required in Standard English, e.g. womans, sheeps, mens. Similarly, possessive may be marked in the noun with the Standard /s/ inflection, or it may be shown by juxtaposition, as in my mum mum ‘my maternal grandmother’ or by the use of a periphrastic possessive marker, as in he was for my sister husband ‘he was my sister’s husband’. The pronoun system of Aboriginal English is in some ways simplified with respect to Standard English, in that case differentiations are not necessarily observed in the third person, so that either (h)e or (h)im and either they/dey or them/dem is able to be used in subject position. Also, gender differentiation of the third person singular pronoun is not always observed, in that e may denote ‘he’, ‘she’ or ‘it’. However, the pronoun system, especially in areas more influenced by creole, introduces some differentiations which do not apply in
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Standard English. Dual forms you two, you-n-him (in South East Queensland), dattufela/distufela (in North West Queensland) minyu (in the Kimberley region of Western Australia) or me’nyou (in Alberton, South Australia) are distinguished from plural forms you mob (in South East Queensland), yupala (in the Kimberley) and yous (generally). The possessive pronoun his becomes hees and (in Alberton) mine becomes mines or mys, and the reflexive pronouns himself, themselves are modified to become hisself, theyself / theirself. The third person personal pronoun may function as a possessive pronoun, as in they all got they hat on. Adjectives may carry the –est suffix without the sense of superlative implied by this in Standard English. A biggest fish is a very big fish. Adverbial suffixes may also be applied to words from Aboriginal sources, as in winyarnest ‘very sad’ or ‘saddest’, which can be heard among Nyungars in the south west of Australia. Adjectives, especially when used predicatively, may be followed by nominalizing suffixes –one or –fella, as in juicy-one, same-one, cheeky-fella. The verb is not invariably inflected to show the third person in the simple present tense (hence, He still live in that house), nor does it necessarily carry past tense marking when the meaning is past (hence, on that night my dog jump on my head). With certain verbs (including see, do, come and run) that do not allow it in Standard English, the past participle form usually serves also to express simple past tense; other verbs have irregular past tense forms (e.g. brang, shined) formed by analogy with the inflections of other verbs. In many remote and rural areas, the verb is made past with the pre-verbal marker bin, as in We bin see one bird, flying one. Aboriginal English usually expresses future tense with gonna (sometimes, gotta) rather than with the modal auxiliary and rarely uses perfect tenses. Progressive aspect is signified by the use of the present participle, often not accompanied by the auxiliary, as in We just playing. Simple negation may be provided by not, never or, in some places, nomore before the verb. Double negatives are common, e.g. My father don’t shear no more, evidencing influence from dialect sources brought by the settlers (see, e.g. Andersson and Trudgill 1990: 175). In areas where creole influence remains strong, verbs in Aboriginal English are suffixed, usually with –im, to show transitivity, as in you can see im alla fish ‘you can see a lot of fish’ (cf. Harris, this vol.). The verb to be is much less prominent in Aboriginal English than in Standard English, since it is not usually used as a copula or as an auxiliary. It is rarely used in the present tense, and in the past tense its morphology is regularized, by the use of either was or bin for all persons. For existential and
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passive sentences, the verb get is preferred to the verb be, hence e got some sand there ‘there is some sand’; got kill ‘were killed’. Adverbs may not carry the –ly suffix which is normally required in Standard English, but they may be suffixed with –way or –time, depending on whether they are adverbs of manner or time, as in quick-way, north-way, longway, fast-way, dark-time, late-time. 2.3. Syntax Generally, Aboriginal English follows the subject-verb-object/extension or subject-verb-complement word order of Standard English. However it varies from this in that a number of elements of syntax which are required are either optional or require different exponents in Aboriginal English. A subject noun phrase which would require a determiner plus a noun may require only the noun, as in Man went hunting an e sawn a track an e followed to ees hole, ‘A man went hunting and he saw a track and he followed it to its hole’ or it may allow a different determiner, as in dat rain e bin fall down ‘the rain came down’, or one little boy trouser bin come down ‘a little boy’s trousers came down.’ Similarly, the verb phrase in the object or extension may have no determiner, as in I went to sandhill… ‘I went to the/a sandhill’. Where the verb slot would require an auxiliary and participle in Standard English it may be filled with the participle alone, as in dey diggin holes ‘they are digging holes’. Sometimes the word order may be reversed to thematize an element of importance, as in Only one they caught ‘They only caught one’; sometimes the subject may occur twice, as in My uncle he slept at the back of the car; very often the object may have an adjectival element appended, as in we get five sheeps fat one. Prepositions which would be required in Standard English are often unstated, as in she jus lays in er room where it’s all quiet [in the] morning, or long time ago when I was goin [to] Boulder School, or dis devil e’s drinking out [of] dis water hole; when prepositions are used, ‘in’, ‘at’ and ‘on’ may be interchanged, e.g. they went fishing at bush. In the case of the subject-verb-complement sentence pattern, the verb element is not required if there is no need to indicate past tense, hence, Dey poisonous ‘they are poisonous’. Similarly, when progressive aspect is being used there is no auxiliary, as in she crying ‘she is crying’, unless the tense is relevant, as in Dabid, e bin standin up ‘David was standing up’. Interrogative sentences are formed without the copula or auxiliary. Hence, What class you in, Kevin? ‘What class are you in, Kevin?’; Where they went fishing? ‘Where did they go fishing?’ How many fish you caught? ‘How
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many fish did you catch?’ You got dog? ‘Have you got a dog?’ Alternatively, questions can be formed with invariant tags appended to statements, as in He can walk to Newry, eh? ‘Can he walk to Newry?’ Sonia talks to one, unna? ‘Sonia talks to one, doesn’t she?’ 2.4. Lexico-semantics The basic lexicon of Aboriginal English is English or English-derived. However the speech community which uses the dialect draws on many community based sources (traditional and contemporary) for the interpretation of that lexicon. Distribution, denotation and connotation of terms often vary from usages of Standard or Australian English. Semantic extension is illustrated in terms such as head, which can mean ‘head and neck’, hand, which can mean ‘hand and arm’, learn, which incorporates the meaning ‘teach’, grannies, which can refer to either grandchildren or grandparents, and raw, which denotes both uncooked and unripe. Narrower semantic reference is illustrated with terms like language ‘Aboriginal language’, clever ‘with spiritual powers’, and police ‘police officer’. The number of semantic shifts of various kinds is substantial. A few examples are camp ‘sleep over’, too much ‘very much’, sing out ‘call out’, dinner out ‘meal in the open air’, stop ‘remain at a place for some time’, kill ‘hit or kill’, boss ‘very good’ ole girl, a respectful reference to a woman of an older generation. Many semantic shifts, are inversions, as in the case of deadly ‘excellent’, hungry ‘really desirable’, cruel ‘terrific’ and open ‘pathetic’. The distribution of the term pass away for ‘die’ is much wider in Aboriginal English than in Australian English, as is that of narrow and long, which can be applied to human referents with the senses of ‘thin’ and ‘tall’. The term big mob can be used adjectivally, as in big mob trailers, ‘a lot of trailers’, as can camping out, as in a camping out spot. Some terms which are no longer current in Australian English have been retained in Aboriginal English, e.g. supper ‘evening meal’, humbug ‘annoyance’, gammon ‘nonsense’, jar ‘scold’. Aboriginal English has developed (or, in some cases, borrowed from other varieties) many distinctive compounds, such as cousin brother ‘cousin who is a brother in Aboriginal terms’, ownlation ‘own relation’, foot track ‘walking track,’ as distinct from track, which can be a road, eye glasses ‘spectacles’, as distinct from glasses ‘pieces of glass’, mum mob ‘mother’s relations’. There are also many distinctive phrasal verbs, such as listen up, share up, make up ‘make’, learn up, go for ‘go (hunting) for’.
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As in all varieties, metaphor is an important factor in Aboriginal English expression. Metaphor often involves mapping from the domain of the natural environment onto the domain of human experience, as in emu ‘a person with thin legs and distinct Aboriginal ankles’, horse ‘great’, drop ‘strike a blow to prey or a person’, bony ‘thin’, in the ashes ‘in the context of Aboriginal life’, fish ‘tightwad’. Other metaphors draw, often ironically, on the contact experience, as in the case of behind bars ‘in an institution (not necessarily a prison)’, crown ‘really good’, cheeky ‘dangerous’, make im jump ‘frighten him into doing something’, demon ‘detective’. Other metaphors are drawn from various aspects of contemporary life, such as smash ‘fight’, charged up ‘drunk’, block up ‘fill up with food’. The Aboriginal English lexicon also incorporates many borrowings, or modified borrowings, from Aboriginal languages. In most cases such borrowings are restricted to particular regions in their occurrence. In the south-west of Western Australia, to take one example, people refer to themselves as Nyungars (a term with various spellings) and they commonly use such expressions as yorgas ‘women’, choo ‘shame’, nyorn ‘sorry’, wudachi ‘mischievous little spirit’, kat wara ‘stupid’, moordich ‘strong, healthy, good’, and many others. In Nunga English in Alberton, South Australia, the borrowing Nakun, from Ngarrindjeri, is commonly used with the sense of ‘look at’ (Wilson 1996: 78). 2.5. Discourse features Aboriginal English discourse incorporates a number of distinctive genres (see further Malcolm 1994; 2002; Malcolm and Rochecouste 2000; Rochecouste and Malcolm 2003). Oral narrative, especially in the form of the first person recount, is a pervasive practice and performs many important community functions, including child socialization, the maintenance of group identity, shaming of inappropriate behaviours, exemplifying appropriate behaviours and objectifying anxieties. The representation of experience is typically organized in relation to a number of preferred schemas, of which the most prominent, according to data studied in Western Australia (Malcolm 2002) were Hunting, Travel, Observing and “Scary Things”. Schemas are associated with recurrent key words and discourse features which have allusions not shared by non-Aboriginal speakers. For example, staring, or red eyes, or open window evoke the “scary things” schema; went along, long way (both accompanied by high level pitch) and stop evoke the travel schema; go for…, right (as in right in the head) and a paratactic sentence structure evoke the
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hunting schema. Often quite particularized schemas involving local knowledge are involved in the interpretation of narratives. The following extract from a boy about twelve years old from a town near the Western Desert region, can only be fully understood if the listener shares the local knowledge that it is a spiritual requirement to throw a stone into the waterhole before using its water: dis man.. e was leadin the way.. an e ad a spear an a boomerang.. an dat man. dat devil.. e was in a big waterhole dat devil e said.. um you want some water? An den … e just put a power.. power in e’s spear.. e put a power. because.. I think he was a law man, because you can put a power in you –. in anysing.. power in your spear.. a- and e jus frew- frow away an e ‘s got im in the hear(t) an e died in the waterhole.
Overall, Aboriginal English discourse is characterized by inexplicitness and heavy dependence on schemas shared among the communicators. (It would be possible to compare it, in this regard, to the “public language” which Bernstein (1973: 62) identified among working-class speakers in the U.K.). The distinctness of the dialect from Standard Australian English is preserved and the incongruity of Standard English in Aboriginal contexts is the underlying theme of much comic discourse in Aboriginal communities. (cf. Sharifian this vol., for a discussion of the conceptual dimension of Aboriginal English.) 2.6. Pragmatics Most speakers of Aboriginal English are in contact with Standard Australian English in certain situations and develop some degree of bidialectalism. The general rule with respect to dialect selection (see Malcolm 1997) is that Aboriginal English is spoken when all persons present are Aboriginal, especially when they are using Aboriginal narrative genres and dealing with topics related to Aboriginal life; Standard English, or some approximation to it, will be used for talking about the business of “white” society and impersonal matters, especially in institutional settings. Use of Standard English in an inappropriate context is open to censure for attempting to talk flash. Aboriginal children in school have often been found to be reticent in communicating with non-Aboriginal teachers, even to the point of maintaining complete silence for weeks after the beginning of the school year. This is understandable, not only on the basis of their perception of the dominance of non-Aboriginal culture, but also because of the completely different pragmatic assumptions of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Australian society.
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Aboriginal society is group-oriented and an individual’s communicative behaviour group-referenced. Communication takes place with a group as a whole, not on the basis of isolating an individual from a group. Thus, groupaddressed communication and group, rather than individual, responding are normal. There is no need or expectation of turn taking and no obligation of any individual to respond to any elicitation, unless they want to. The right to respond, the right not to respond and the right to take one’s own time in responding are equally respected. It is culturally inappropriate to address questions too directly to individuals. If one has to get information from another person, the appropriate way to facilitate this would be by sharing what information one already has and inviting confirmation or denial (Eades 1982). With group membership come group obligations, like the obligation not to promote oneself above the other group members (a form of behaviour which would almost certainly lead to getting shame) and the obligation to share. In the context of this obligation one can ask for what one wants, and receive it, without the need for the kinds of politeness strategies which apply in the individually-oriented wider society. There is also the obligation not to speak for others, but rather to claim ignorance or to refer an inquirer on to the appropriate person. In Nunga English the discourse particle derived from Pitjantjatjara, ngaa, preceded and/or followed by a lateral click, may be used to “distance the user from an act or utterance, or to signal that the act or utterance was in the spirit of a joke” (Wilson 1996: 80) The group and family orientation of Aboriginal society is built into communication in a range of address forms such as bro, cuz, kuda, aun(t)ie, unc(le). Terms like granny, mummy, and daddy can be used reciprocally between the generations. Aboriginal people, in many cases, do not like to be called Aboriginal, but rather prefer the name of the local or regional grouping, such as Nyungar, Yamatji, Wongi, Koori, etc. There are also regionally varying terms to use to refer to outsiders: gubbas, wadjelas, wajbelas, belandas, etc. (see further 5.1, below). 3. English restructured for the Indigenous habitat It will by now be apparent that the differences between Aboriginal English and Standard Australian English are pervasive and substantial, if often subtle. The differences represent a modification of English to meet the needs of a particular habitat and, within that habitat, a distinct group of speakers. We will now outline the processes of development we see as leading to the
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development of this variety. (For an extended and well-documented account of this development, see Leitner 2004: 110–154.) 3.1. Pidginization According to Mühlhäusler (1986), the kind of contact which has taken place between the languages of colonial powers and Indigenous groups in various parts of the world has often led to the evolution of new varieties by way of four main stages: jargon, stabilization, expansion and post-pidgin or postcreole. The first stage is that of random and largely individualized attempts on the part of speakers of the Indigenous (or ‘substrate’) language/s to express themselves through the language of the colonial power (the ‘superstrate’). The resultant jargon has no consistent structure and very limited functions. Where the need for communication persists, and there is no other option but to attempt to use the superstrate, social norms begin to develop with respect to the use of this language by the speakers of the substrate languages. The superstrate is pidginized and a new grammar emerges which enables a minimal vocabulary to be used to express an increasing, though limited, number of functions. This kind of stabilization (or pidginization) is what we consider occurred with respect to English in Aboriginal contexts in the early colonial years, and (as Troy 1990 has argued) it was favoured by the fact that increasing numbers of Aboriginal people were being displaced from their lands and having to communicate not only with the English speaking settlers but also with other displaced Aboriginal people with different language backgrounds. Thus, from quite early times in the colony, Aboriginal people had a need for a new variety which would enable them to communicate with one another, and the English-based pidgin provided them with this. New South Wales Pidgin, then, became an important part of the culture change which spread throughout Aboriginal communities as white settlement advanced. As it moved north, west and south from the Sydney area, it laid the foundation for a later English-based communication with and among Aboriginal people. 3.2. Creolization In some areas the foundation of the pidgin gave way directly to a variety of English used by Aboriginal people. In others (see Harris, this vol.), it, and possibly other pidgins originating elsewhere, went through the third of the stages outlined by Mühlhäusler (1986), expansion. Such expansion, elsewhere
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known as creolization, would have been called upon as the original pidgin/s came to be used by a generation of speakers as their first language. Where pidginization involves a simplification of morphology and syntax, creolization works in reverse, making the system complex enough to handle the full range of communicative needs of its speakers. This further complexification would have distanced the system further from the English which had been (at least lexically) its starting point. A number of creoles developed in the north. Two distinct varieties remain: Kriol, spoken mainly in the Northern Territory and the Kimberley region of Western Australia, and Torres Strait Creole, spoken in the Torres Strait Islands and coastal parts of North Queensland. 3.3. Restructuring The fourth stage described by Mühlhäusler is the post-pidgin or post-creole stage. This stage is reached where the pidgin or creole is spoken by communities who are in ongoing contact with the superstrate language from which these contact languages were originally derived. The pidgin or creole, in these circumstances, becomes increasingly influenced by the English system again and becomes modified in phonology, grammar and lexicon to become more like English. The process by which this occurs is a gradual one, described elsewhere by Mühlhäusler (1979) as a restructuring continuum, by contrast with the developmental continuum which describes the divergent development of the English-based pidgins and creoles. The developmental and restructuring processes are not completely sequential and, indeed, it is possible to see evidence of both processes at the same time in the form of English spoken within an Aboriginal community. The course of the developmental and restructuring continua is not determined only by linguistic but also by social and conceptual criteria, in that the linguistic choices made by the community are governed by the way in which they perceive themselves and their world. The Aboriginal English which prevails in Australia today has gone through a process of levelling to become recognizable across the continent, expressing social and conceptual commonalities shared by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people as a whole. 3.4. Superstrate influence in Aboriginal English Aboriginal English speakers consider themselves to be speaking English and their communication is recognized as English, albeit a stigmatized variety, by other English speakers. Clearly, there is a great deal of overlap between
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Aboriginal English and other Englishes. Processes of restructuring have brought the phonology, morphosyntax and lexicon within the bounds of acceptance as English, although, in some ways, this form of English is marked, in the Australian context, by its inheritance from varieties no longer current in Australia (in particular, certain lexical items and some morphological features which have their reflection in overseas non-standard dialects). However, it is possible to overstate the superstrate influence in Aboriginal English, in the light of the fact that Aboriginal students have greater difficulty than any other group in achieving literacy in Standard English at school, and that they consistently complain about the “big words” and even the “secret language” used by Standard English speakers. 3.5. Substrate influence in Aboriginal English The influence of Indigenous languages on Aboriginal English is both direct (through phonological modification and lexical and morphological borrowing, often varying from community to community) and indirect (through the way in which the processes of development and restructuring have operated, both at the linguistic and at the semantic level). Most of the morphological and syntactic divergencies between Aboriginal English and Standard Australian English represent features originally introduced through pidginization and/or creolization and maintained. The maintenance of these features, despite ongoing pressure to conform to Australian English norms, suggests the pervasive influence on the speakers of traditional patterns preserved first through the contact languages. Substrate influence is also seen in the preferred discourse patterns of Aboriginal English speakers, which, as we have seen, are heavily influenced by schemas which relate directly to the traditional habitat of the Aboriginal people and the meanings it holds for them. 4. Functions of Aboriginal English From its inception into the present, Aboriginal English has served a wide range of important social functions. Some of these include: 1) contact with Europeans; 2) communication in employment situations; 3) exchanges with Indigenous people from other language groups; 4) the indexation of Aboriginal identity; 5) the transmission of Aboriginal culture within families and communities; 6) and more recently, informing non-Indigenous people about Aboriginal culture and world view through language-based art forms (see also Malcolm 1995; 2002; 2001). It must also be noted that many Aboriginal
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people have perceived the function of Aboriginal English as carrying negative stigma in the wider society, and on this basis, have (at least by precept, if not by example) discouraged its use by children. (See e.g. Ngarritjin-Kessaris and Ford, this vol.; Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 237.) 4.1. Early contact As noted above (in section 3.), English-based jargons, pidgins, and creoles would have served as the initial contact language forms enabling communication between Aboriginal people and European sailors, explorers, convicts, and settlers. The development of Aboriginal English from New South Wales Pidgin and other sources occurred progressively over a period of time and not, for the most part, in the hearing of Standard Australian English speakers. In Western Australia it is likely that Aboriginal English would have been the main language for exchanges between Aboriginal people and Europeans in the south-west from at least 1829 into the early 20th Century (Malcolm 1995). 4.2. Employment After 1900 Aboriginal English served as the main language for communicating with non-Indigenous management and staff while working on sheep and cattle stations. In more multicultural employment situations in Western Australia, Aboriginal workers used Aboriginal English to communicate with Afghans in the camel industry and with Japanese and Malay divers in the pearling industry run largely by Europeans. 4.3. Inter-group communication While Aboriginal English provided a means of communicating with European Australians, it also operated as a lingua franca for Aboriginal people from different language groups. One example of this was its use at Rottnest Island, off the coast of Perth, where Aboriginal prisoners were held. Aboriginal English provided them with a practical means of communicating with each other during their internment, a practice which undoubtedly contributed to its spread across the state (Mühlhäusler and McGregor 1996). Another use among Aboriginal people would have been one similar to that of New South Wales Pidgin described by Troy (1990), that is, as a means of
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discussing with other Indigenous people their contact experiences with Europeans. Aboriginal English would have been useful for talking about material and conceptual elements new to their culture and way of living. Such exchanges would have enabled them to talk about the disruptions and transformations affecting their way of life. In the present day the use of Aboriginal English to communicate with other Aboriginal people is undoubtedly its primary function. 4.4. Marker of Aboriginal identity Contemporary understandings of the notion of identity view it as a social construction that emerges through discursive processes, one that is inherently multiple and shifting with respect to time and space (Ivanic 1998; Pavlenko and Blackledge 2004; Sunderland and Litosseliti 2002). The distinctive phonological, morphological, syntactical and lexico-semantic aspects of Aboriginal English make it easily recognisable to Aboriginal and nonAboriginal Australians alike (Gallois, Callan, and Johnstone 1984). Less salient to outsiders perhaps is its ability to express underlying Indigenous meanings and ways of viewing the world. In this sense Aboriginal English serves, not only as an identity marker, but also as a means of evoking a sense of solidarity among its speakers. Vic Hunter, a primary schoolteacher and bicultural member of an Aboriginal community in the Kimberley region who spoke both Standard English and Aboriginal English, pointed out that speaking Aboriginal English provided him with not only ‘a sense of identity’ but of ‘belonging’ (Eagleson, Kaldor, and Malcolm 1982: 237). The link between identity and language use is revisited in Section 5.3 below in the discussion on Aboriginal English and stylistic variation. 4.5. Language for transmitting culture Another important function of Aboriginal English is as a ‘language of enculturation’ (Malcolm 1995: 29, italics removed). For monolingual children who learn Aboriginal English as their home language, it is the medium through which they acquire an Indigenous understanding of the world. Research on the schemas and genres used by Aboriginal English speakers to guide their oral narratives demonstrates that they construct a view of the world that differs considerably from Western ways of understanding human experience (Malcom 2002; Malcolm and Rochecouste 2000; Rochecouste and Malcolm 2003; Sharifian 2000). Important aspects of this perspective include the all-pervasive
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concepts of family, spirituality, time, space, as well as ways of communicating, and therefore ways of learning and teaching about the world. 4.6. Language for creative expression Teaching non-Aboriginal people about Australian Indigenous culture, and concomitantly an Aboriginal perspective, is another important function of Aboriginal English. Because European Australians and Indigenous people tend to have limited contact with each other, Indigenous Australians have found that they can effectively communicate their point of view to a broader audience through literature, drama, and song lyrics. This use of Aboriginal English constitutes a more recently emergent function of Aboriginal English (see further Malcolm 2002). Since the 1970s there has been a proliferation of Australian Indigenous authors publishing their writing in English with representations of Aboriginal English. This corpus of literature includes autobiographical accounts (e.g. Ginibi 1994; Langford 1988; Morgan 1987; Ward 1987; 1991), fiction (e.g. Weller 1981), and poetry (e.g. Sabbioni, Schaffer, and Smith 1998; Taylor 1992; 1994). While editors have restricted the extent to which Aboriginal English is represented in many works (Langford Ginibi and Guy 1997), Ariss (1988) argues that the fictional literary works in recent years have created space for Aboriginal discourse and a means of challenging European representations of aboriginality in the post-colonial era. In addition to literary expression, dramatic theatre has provided a medium through which Aboriginal people can reach a broader audience. Jack Davis’s trilogy of plays The Dreamers (1982), No Sugar (1986), and Barungin (Smell the Wind) (1989) were performed before large audiences and are currently studied in Australian secondary schools. Mitch Torres’s One Day in ‘67, based on family experiences on the day the 1967 Referendum granting Indigenous people Australian citizenship was held, premiered at the 2002 Perth International Arts Festival. It was subsequently adapted into an award winning radio play for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Bran Nue Dae, the widely acclaimed musical written by Jimmy Chi and his band Kuckles, was performed in 1990 making Australian theatre history as the first Aboriginal musical. Aboriginal songwriters such as Ken Carmody, Ruby Hunter, and Archie Roach and the Yothu Yindi music group have also given voice to Aboriginal experience. Since the early development of Aboriginal English, its functions have been expanding in terms of the contexts in which it is used and the audiences it
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reaches. As Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people become aware of its legitimacy as a complete and functional language system, its recognition as a modern Aboriginal language is increasing (Sandefur 1983). It has been argued that that Aboriginal English has become one of the most dominant influences on Australian English (see further Leitner, this vol.). 5. Regional, social, and stylistic variation of Aboriginal English Data collected from Aboriginal English speakers across Australia support the understanding that Aboriginal English is not a single simplified language system, but rather a complex continuum of varieties that range from ‘heavy’ creoles to varieties approaching Standard English (Kaldor and Malcolm 1982). As a non-standard variety of English, Aboriginal English varies across and within geographical regions, according to social context, and within a single speaker’s own repertoire (Kaldor and Malcolm 1991). 5.1. Regional variation Aboriginal English has been shaped at various stages of its development through contact with speakers of standard and non-standard varieties of English as well as by the local Indigenous languages and English-based creoles and pidgins (Malcolm 1995). While varieties of Aboriginal English are mutually intelligible across Australia, the lexical, grammatical, and phonological differences between varieties reflect the influences within the local habitat. Borrowings from local Indigenous languages, pidgins, and creoles are responsible for many lexical differences across regions. This is evident in the terms used to refer to non-Aboriginal people mentioned above. The word wetjela and its variants are used by Aboriginal English speakers in the southwest and some northern parts of Western Australia (Kaldor and Malcolm 1982). (See 2.4, above, for some other terms common in the south-west); gadiya or kardia is used by some groups in the north-west (Hampton 1990; Kaldor and Malcolm 1991); and balanda is common in the Darwin area of the Northern Territory (Wignell 1997; see also Christie, this vol.). While gabah is in general use by many in New South Wales, some Bundjalung people prefer their own ‘language’ word yirili (Fraser-Knowles 1985). Variations in orthography reflect both the fact that Aboriginal languages (including Aboriginal English) are primarily spoken languages and that the terms are pronounced differently in localities within regions.
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Differences in English-based words communicating similar concepts include the use of allatime in South Australia (Sleep 1996) and alltime in Western Australia (Kaldor and Malcolm 1982), meaning ‘all the time’ or ‘always’. Two other variant forms that share the same Indigenous meaning are expressed as shame job in South Australia (Sleep 1996) and big shame in Western Australia (Kaldor and Malcolm 1982). The concept of shame and its use by Aboriginal English speakers is broader than the one encapsulated in the non-Indigenous use of the word. Among Indigenous people, the meaning of shame extends to include embarrassment resulting from situations that nonIndigenous people may not feel uncomfortable about. In addition, saying the word itself contributes in a way to alleviating the feeling (Kaldor and Malcolm 1982). (For a detailed analysis of this concept, see Harkins 1994). Some variations draw on different words to express similar meanings as in the case with Aboriginal English words used to refer to ‘pretending (to do something)’. In New South Wales gamin is used (Fraser-Knowles 1985: 190) while in northern Western Australia lie is preferred as in the expression we lie-don’t look meaning ‘We pretended not to look’ (Kaldor and Malcolm 1982: 98). Regional variation may also occur at the level of grammar, i.e. morphology and syntax. Grammatical variation is apparent across regions and communities. Variation also occurs within the repertoire of an individual who may draw on both non-standard and standard grammatical forms (Eagleson 1982; Kaldor and Malcolm 1982). It is also important to note that there is grammatical variability in the speech of children acquiring one or more varieties of English at the same time (Kaldor and Malcolm 1982; Malcolm 1996). When salient grammatical features occurring in data collected in Western Australia, the Northern Territory and Queensland were compared, only a few Western Australian features were not found in other areas; however, in the analysis it was noted that such discrepancies were not necessarily an indication that these features are not in use in the communities, but could be attributed to the ways in which data were collected (Kaldor and Malcolm 1982). Nonetheless, it is possible to generalize that features associated with creoles (e.g. dual personal pronouns and pronouns indicating inclusivity and exclusivity) are less common in areas with less exposure to creoles (Eagleson et al. 1982). The absence of some of the distinctive features in the speech of urban Aboriginal people, however, does not necessarily indicate an assimilation to a non-Indigenous worldview (Malcolm 2002; Malcolm et al. 1999). In addition to grammatical features, phonological aspects of Aboriginal English may vary. Phonological variation is apparent across communities due to the extent of exposure to Indigenous languages, pidgins, and creoles. Urban Aboriginal English speakers tend to show a closer alignment with the non-
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standard varieties spoken in the local non-Indigenous community (Eagleson 1982). In areas where the local variety of English has been strongly influenced by particular non-standard varieties of English transported at the time of settlement, some of these features have been retained in the Aboriginal English variety spoken in that area. This is the case in the Indigenous community of Cape Barren in Tasmania. The Aboriginal English spoken there displays characteristics that may be linked to dialects spoken in Scotland and in the Berkshire regions of south-western England at the time of settlement (Sutton 1975). One notable feature is the pronunciation of the final syllable of swallow and follow realized as /i/. The Aboriginal English spoken in the Adelaide area of South Australia is also distinctive from other varieties in northern and western part of the state in the retention of a postvocalic /r/ before consonants as in church and early (Sutton 1989). This feature is consistent with the dialects spoken by the Cornish miners, Scottish missionaries, and Americans who settled in the region. Sutton points out, however, that production of this feature also appears to vary according to social setting, i.e., the cultural background of the listeners, their relationship, and the formality of the situation. 5.2. Social variation Like most bidialectal and bilingual language users, Aboriginal English speakers are sensitive to social context and adjust their speech accordingly. Most Indigenous schoolchildren use at least two forms of English, one associated with home and community and another approaching the Standard English used in the classroom and with non-Indigenous people in other contexts. They are also quite skilled at adapting their speech for nonIndigenous hearers either to make their meanings clear or to intentionally conceal them from non-Aboriginal people, particularly those in authority (Malcolm et al. 2002). Bidialectal/bicultural Aboriginal adults who have mastered Standard Australian English use the dialect appropriate to the purpose of communication for a given audience. Vic Hunter, the primary schoolteacher mentioned above, explained that although he modelled Standard English in the classroom, when a student was having difficulty understanding an explanation in Standard English, he would use Aboriginal English to make his meaning clear (Eagleson et al. 1982). While most bidialectal speakers adjust their speech according to their audience, one highly respected Indigenous woman in the Alice Springs area who served as an interpreter acquired an
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‘acknowledged “right”’ (Harkins 1994: 17) to use Standard English on a regular basis. It should be noted, however, that she was careful to show deference to older community members by translating her English into ‘equally “flash” Arrernte’ (p. 17) or whatever other Indigenous languages were required to ensure that older members of her listening audience understood what she had to say. The adjustments that Aboriginal English speakers make to meet the needs of their audience may become somewhat problematic for researchers interested in collecting naturalistic oral language samples (Douglas 1976). There also may be some resistance on the part of the informants to share with outsiders what they see as their insider language. This can be mitigated somewhat by the involvement of Indigenous research assistants who are trusted by the community to conduct and record interviews, verify transcripts, and participate in ‘two way’ analyses of the data to gain emic interpretations of Indigenous meanings, i.e. understandings from the viewpoint of those inside the community (Malcolm et al.1999; Rochecouste and Malcolm 2003). 5.3. Stylistic variation Compared to linguistic variation (occurring across regions) and social variation (according to social contexts), stylistic variation has received less attention in sociolinguistic research until recently. Stylistic variation refers to ‘any intra-speaker variation that is not directly attributable to performance factors (in the strict sense) or to factors within the linguistic system’ (Rickford and Eckert 2001: 2). The ways in which speakers (and writers) selectively draw on the linguistic and semiotic resources available to them enable them to construct identities and affiliations to express social meanings (Eckert 2001). The performance of style through language use has parallels with the communication of style in the fashion industry in terms of distinctiveness (Irvine 2001). Irvine argues that styles are integral to a “system of distinction, in which a style contrasts with other possible styles, and the social meanings signified by the style contrasts with other social meanings” (2001: 22). In this sense stylistic variation provides the means through which individuals and groups can express social meanings and their alignment with ideologies associated with particular socio-cultural and/or sub-cultural groups. Speakers can express style and communicate particular identities through the use of particular words, expressions, intonation patterns and pronunciations (Eckert 2000). When an Alice Springs multilingual/multi-dialectal Indigenous speaker addressed politicians and other non-Indigenous listeners,
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he was known to insert carefully selected features derived from pidgin into his Standard English in order to remind his audience of his Indigenous identity and of the people he was representing (Harkins 1994). In written texts, the use of particular words, expressions, and discourse markers can also construct identities and affiliations. The communication of identities and affiliations was evident in two studies exploring the vernacular writing practices of urban Indigenous youth in the Perth area of Western Australia (Grote 2004; Malcolm et al. 2002). Because adolescents are in a stage of life in which they are particularly concerned with identity formation as they begin to see themselves in relation to the world beyond the social sphere of the family (Eckert 1989; 2003), examining the stylistic use of language in the vernacular writing of Aboriginal teenagers is particularly relevant. Although Aboriginal English is primarily a spoken language, and Indigenous students learn to read and write in Standard English, the vernacular writing of urban adolescents demonstrates their resourcefulness in their use of linguistic and semiotic features. Perhaps the most distinctive linguistic features to communicate style (and identities) in writing are words and expressions associated with Aboriginal English. In an email to a friend, ‘Ambryn’ complained about another girl’s behaviour, categorizing her as coonyey (Grote 2004: 271), an Aboriginal language word common in Western Australian Aboriginal English meaning ‘weak’ or ‘poor’. Its use in this case signalled, not only a shared cultural background, but also a sense of common values and understandings. The confirmatory tag unna, as in the phrase ‘SO IM [sic] DOING OK UNNA’ (Malcolm et al. 2002: 76) appeared repeatedly in a letter written by ‘Mandy’ to an Aboriginal friend. The use of this familiar feature enhancing reader involvement also drew attention to their cultural affiliation. While writers are unable to communicate style by using distinctive pronunciation, they can represent it semiotically through creative spelling (Grote 2004). As mentioned above (in Section 2.1), the th sound /ș/ is realized as [s] by some Aboriginal English speakers. Although the Aboriginal teenage girls in the study did not use this allophonic variant elsewhere, they did use it in the expression lovely sings ‘things’ in their speech and writing when referring to desirable boys. It appeared, for example, on classroom chalkboards as well as on the inside surface of Ambryn’s school bag in the inscription ‘Dan n’ Mike … LOVELY SINGS’ (Grote 2004: 205). While the expression ‘lovely things’ was also used by non-Indigenous teenagers at the school to refer to desirable boys or girls, the use of the sibilant as the initial consonant of ‘things’ was only applied by Aboriginal English speaking students. Another allophonic variant mentioned in Section 2.1 represented in the writing of Aboriginal teenage girls was the substitution of the voiced stop [d]
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for the voiced fricative /ð/. In a letter to a cousin, ‘Shauntay’ wrote ‘howz ya brothers and da rest of ya family going’ and later in the letter ‘I’ll be going out with the noongar girls for lunch dat’s good’ (Grote 2004: 261). While Shauntay might have been using this spelling to signal a shared Aboriginal cultural orientation with her cousin, it is also possible that she was simultaneously expressing an affiliation with African American hip hop culture. The allophonic variant is one that also occurs in the oral language of many African American Vernacular English speakers. The Indigenous adolescents in this study were avid fans of hip hop music. They covered their notebooks with pictures of hip hop celebrities downloaded from the Internet, talked about their music, accessed hip hop web sites for school research reports, and wrote about celebrities and their music in letters and graffiti. As consumers of popular culture, they were familiar with some of the phonological features of African American Vernacular English at least to the extent that they can be heard in music, music videos, films, radio and television interviews and as aspects of the language variety are represented in the lyrics printed on CD covers, hip hop websites, and teen magazines. While Shauntay’s use of phonological orthography might be somewhat ambiguous in terms of whether she was projecting an Aboriginal English identity, an affiliation with African American hip hop culture or both, other data provide evidence of styling the ‘Other’ (Cutler 1999). Styling the ‘Other’ or language crossing (Rampton 1995; 1999) refers to the phenomenon in which language users appropriate linguistic features associated with groups with whom the speakers or writers do not share ethnic, cultural, or historical links, but with whom they can make other socially meaningful connections and therefore desire to communicate an alignment. Further on in the letter mentioned above, Shauntay explained to her cousin that the boys in her neighbourhood were ‘all dogg ugly, well not all of ‘em’. The spelling of dogg with a double g is the same used by popular hip hop artist Snoop Dogg. Its use would have semiotically constructed an affiliation with hip hop culture, one that her cousin probably shared. As enthusiastic consumers of popular culture the girls incorporated words associated with hip hop culture into their writing. The clipping dis, meaning ‘disrespect’, appeared in a poem written by Ambryn in which she was expressing her anger when she wrote, ‘if you dis my family, you will have to answer to me’ (Grote 2004: 263; italics added). Variant forms of the greeting wassup? [what’s up?] common in hip hop lyrics appeared frequently in email and letters written by the girls to Aboriginal friends and age-peer cousins. The girls’ use of these and other stylistic features in their writing enabled them to construct and reconstruct multifaceted identities that affiliated them with
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socio-cultural groups with which they shared values, attitudes, and ways of understanding their lived experiences. Only time will tell whether or not these expressions will become part of Aboriginal English as these adolescent speakers mature into adulthood. Nonetheless, their use by these speakers highlights the fact that Aboriginal English is a dynamic language variety that can adapt to the changing needs of its contemporary speakers. 6. Conclusion Aboriginal English provides an example of a variety with a fairly well documented history which illustrates the way in which an Indigenous community can re-form an imported language to enable it to perform the functions required by their subordinated culture. The ongoing existence of Aboriginal English, and its progressive expansion of functions in a society where it has been either ignored or despised by the majority, demonstrate the significance of dialect in the assertion and preservation of cultural identity. References Andersson, Lars-Gunnar, and Peter Trudgill 1990 Bad Language. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Arthur, Jay M. 1996 Aboriginal English: A Cultural Study. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Ariss, Robert 1988 Writing black: The construction of an Aboriginal discourse. In Past, Present: The Construction of Aboriginality, Jeremy Beckett (ed.), 131– 145. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Bernstein, Basil 1973 Class, Codes and Control. Volume 1: Theoretical Studies Towards a Sociology of Language. St. Albans, Herts: Paladin. Cutler, Cecelia A. 1999 Yorkville Crossing: White teens, hip hop and African American English. Journal of Sociolinguistics 3 (4): 428–442. Davis, Jack 1982 The Dreamers. Sydney: Currency Press. 1986 No Sugar. Sydney: Currency Press. 1989 Barungin (Smell the Wind). Sydney: Currency Press.
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Delbridge, Arthur, John R. L. Bernard, David Blair, Susan Butler, Pam H. Peters, and Colin Yallop 1997 The Macquarie Dictionary (3rd ed.). Sydney: The Macquarie Library Pty. Douglas, Wilfred H. 1976 The Aboriginal Languages of the South-West of Australia (2nd ed.). Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Eades, Diana M. 1982 ‘You gotta know how to talk’...information seeking in South East Queensland Aboriginal Society. Australian Journal of Linguistics, 2(1):61–82 1993 Aboriginal English. Primary English Notes. 93. Newtown, New South Wales: Primary English Teaching Association. Eagleson, Robert D. 1982 Aboriginal English in an urban setting. In English and the Aboriginal Child, Robert D. Eagleson, Susan Kaldor, and Ian G. Malcolm (eds.), 113–162. Canberra: Curriculum Development Centre. Eagleson, Robert D, Kaldor, Susan, and Malcolm, Ian G. 1982 English and the Aboriginal Child. Canberra: Curriculum Development Centre. Eckert, Penelope 1989 Jocks and Burnouts: Social Categories and Identity in the High School. New York: Teachers College Press. 2000 Linguistic Variation as Social Practice. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers, Inc. 2001 Style and social meaning. In Style and Sociolinguistic Variation, Penelope Eckert and John R. Rickford (eds.), 119–126. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2003 Language and gender in adolescence. In The Handbook of Language and Gender, Janet Holmes and Miriam Meyerhoff (eds.), 381–400. Oxford: Blackwell. Fraser-Knowles, Jill 1985 A new Bundjalung language: Baryulgil square talk. In An Introduction to the Bundjalung Language and its Dialects (Armidale Papers 8), Margaret C. Sharpe (ed.), 174–204. Armidale, NSW: Armidale College of Advanced Education. Gallois, Cynthia, Victor J. Callan, and Michael Johnstone 1984 Personality judgements of Australian Aborigine and white speakers: Ethnicity, sex and context. Journal of Language and Social Psychology 3 (1): 39–57.
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Ginibi, Ruby Langford 1994 My Bundjalung People. St. Lucia, QLD: University of Queensland Press. Ginibi, Ruby Langford, and Elizabeth Guy 1997 Ruby Langford Ginibi in conversation with Elizabeth Guy. Westerly 42 (2): 9–17. Grote, Ellen 2004 An Ethnography of Writing: The Writing Practices of Female Australian Indigenous Adolescents at School. Edith Cowan University, Mount Lawley, Western Australia, Doctoral thesis. Hampton, Erica N. 1990 Aboriginal English/Standard English dialects. In Language: Maintenance, Power and Education in Australian Aboriginal Contexts, Christine Walton and William Eggington (eds.), 179–182. Darwin: Northern Territory University Press. Harkins, Jean 1994 Bridging Two Worlds: Aboriginal English and Cross-Cultural Understanding. St Lucia, Qld: University of Queensland Press. Irvine, Judith T. 2001 “Style” as distinctiveness: The culture and ideology of linguistic differentiation. In Style and Sociolinguistic Variation, Penelope Eckert and John R. Rickford (eds.), 21–43. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ivanic, Ros 1998 Writing and Identity: The Discoursal Construction of Identity in Academic Writing. Amsterdam/New York: Benjamins. Kaldor, Susan, and Ian G. Malcolm 1982 Aboriginal English in country and remote areas: A Western Australian perspective. In English and the Aboriginal Child, Robert D. Eagleson, Susan Kaldor and Ian G. Malcolm, 75–105. Canberra: Curriculum Development Centre. 1991 Aboriginal English – an overview. In Language in Australia, Suzanne Romaine (ed.), 67–83). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Langford, Ruby 1988 Don’t Take Your Love to Town. Ridgewood, Vic.: Penguin Books. Leitner, Gerhard 2004 Australia’s Many Voices. Australian English – Ethnic Englishes, Indigenous and Migrant Languages. Policy and Education. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.
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Malcolm, Ian G. 1994 Discourse and discourse strategies in Australian Aboriginal English. World Englishes 13 (3): 289–306. 1995 Language and Communication Enhancement for Two-Way Education. Report to the Department of Employment, Education and Training. Perth: Centre for Applied Language Research, Edith Cowan University. 1996 Observations on variability in the verb phrase in Aboriginal English. Australian Journal of Linguistics 16: 145–165. 1997 The pragmatics of bidialectal communication. Pragmatics and Language Learning 8: 55–78. 2000 Aboriginal English research: An Overview. Asian Englishes 3 (2): 9–31. 2001 Aboriginal English: Adopted code of a surviving culture. In English in Australia, David Blair and Peter Collins (eds.), 201–222. Amsterdam: Benjamins. 2002 Aboriginal English Genres in Perth. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Centre for Applied Language and Literacy Research and the Institute for the Service Professions, Edith Cowan University. 2004a Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: Phonetics and phonology. In A Handbook of Varieties of English. Volume 1: Phonology, Edgar Schneider, Kate Burridge, Bernd Kortmann, Rajend Mesthrie and Clive Upton (eds.), 656–670. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 2004b Australian creoles and Aboriginal English: Morphology and syntax. In A Handbook of Varieties of English. Volume 2: Morphology and Syntax, Bernd Kortmann, Kate Burridge, Rajend Mesthrie, Edgar Schneider and Clive Upton (eds.), 657–681. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Malcolm, Ian G., Yvonne Haig, Patricia Königsberg, Judith Rochecouste, Glenys Collard, Alison Hill 1999 Towards More User-Friendly Education for Speakers of Aboriginal English. Perth: Centre for Applied Language and Literacy Research, Edith Cowan University and Education Department of WA. Malcolm, Ian G., Patricia Königsberg,, Glenys Collard, Alison Hill, Ellen Grote Farzad Sharifian 2002 Umob Deadly: Recognized and Unrecognized Literacy Skills of Aboriginal Youth. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Centre for Applied Language and Literacy Research and Institute for the Service Professions, Edith Cowan University. Malcolm, Ian G., and Marek M. Koscielecki 1997 Aboriginality and English: Report to the Australian Research Council. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Centre for Applied Language Research, Edith Cowan University.
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Malcolm, Ian G., and Judith Rochecouste 2000 Event and story schemas in Australian Aboriginal English. English World-Wide 13 (3), 261–289. Morgan, Sally 1987 My Place. Fremantle, Western Australia: Fremantle Arts Centre Press. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1979 Remarks on the pidgin and creole situation in Australia. AIAS Newsletter 12: 41–51. 1986 Pidgin and Creole Linguistics. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Mühlhäusler, Peter and William McGregor 1996 Post-contact languages of Western Australia. In Atlas of Languages of Intercultural Communication in the Pacific, Asia and the Americas. Volume II.1. Texts, Stephen Wurm, Peter Mühlhäusler, and Darrell Tryon (eds.), 101–121. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Pavlenko, Aneta, and Adrian Blackledge 2004 Introduction: New theoretical approaches to the study of negotiation of identities in multilingual contexts. In Negotiation of Identities in Multilingual Contexts, Aneta Pavlenko and Adrian Blackledge (eds.), 1–33. Clevedon, England: Multilingual Matters, Ltd. Rampton, Ben 1995 Crossing: Language and Ethnicity Among Adolescents. London: Longman. 1999 Styling the other: Introduction. Journal of Sociolinguistics 3 (4): 421– 427. Rickford, John R., and Penelope Eckert 2001 Introduction. In Style and Sociolinguistic Variation, Penelope Eckert and John R. Rickford (eds.), 1–18. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rochecouste, Judith, and Ian G. Malcolm 2003 Aboriginal English Genres in the Yamatji Lands of Western Australia: A Report on the Findings of Research Funded by the Edith Cowan University Grant Scheme. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Centre for Applied Language and Literacy Research, Edith Cowan University. Sabbioni, Jennifer, Kay Schaffer, and Sidonie Smith (eds.) 1998 Indigenous Australian Voices: A Reader. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.
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Sandefur, John 1983 Modern Australian Aboriginal languages: The present state of knowledge. English World-Wide 4 (1): 43–68. Sharifian, Farzad 2000 On Societal Schemas in Australian Aboriginal People. (Paper Presented at the Australian Anthropological Society (AAS)), University of Western Australia, Perth. Sleep, Bronwyn M. 1996 Aboriginal Language Research of Aboriginal Students and Their Families of Crossways Lutheran School Ceduna South Australia. Ceduna, SA: Crossways Lutheran School. Sunderland, Jane, and Lia Litosseliti 2002 Gender identity and discourse analysis: Theoretical and empirical considerations. In Gender Identity and Discourse Analysis, Lia Litosseliti and Jane Sunderland (eds.), 3–39. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Sutton, Peter 1975 Cape Barren English. Linguistic Communications 13: 61–97. 1989 Postvocalic r in an Australian English dialect. Australian Journal of Linguistics 9: 161–163. Taylor, Alf 1992 Singer Songwriter. Broome, WA: Magabala Books. 1994 Winds. Broome, WA: Magabala Books. Troy, Jakelin 1990 Australian Aboriginal Contact with the English Language in New South Wales 1788 to 1845. Canberra: Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National University. Ward, Glenyse 1987 Wandering Girl. Broome: Magabala Books. 1991 Unna You Fullas. Broome: Magabala Books. Weller, Archie 1981 The Day of the Dog. St Leonards, NSW: Allen and Unwin. Wignell, Peter 1997 The influence of Aboriginal English. Australian Style: A National Bulletin 5 (2): 1, 3–4. Wilson, Greg 1996 “Only Nungas talk Nunga English”: A preliminary description of Aboriginal children’s English at Alberton. MLett. thesis, Department of Linguistics, University of New England, Armidale.xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Aboriginal language habitat and cultural continuity Farzad Sharifian 1. Introduction Human languages are largely a witness to the ways in which their speakers have conceptualized experience throughout the history of their existence. Conceptualized experience, though being the result of universal faculties, is of course far from being homogenous in all human beings. People across different cultures appear to employ similar cognitive faculties but may conceptualize their experience in culturally specific ways. These culturally constructed conceptualizations often motivate language structure differently. That is, differences in language structure, be it syntactic or semantic, may prove to be a result of differences in how speakers across different cultures conceptualize their experience. Methodologically, however, any exploration of language and cultural conceptualizations needs to explicate the two systems separately and then seek correspondences between the two. Reflection of cultural conceptualizations in linguistic structure is often most transparent to those who study languages and cultures that do not descend from the same protolanguages and ‘proto-cultures’. Such is often the case of non-Aboriginal anthropologists and linguists studying Aboriginal Australians, who have generally found Aboriginal languages to be rich repositories of the cultural experiences of Aboriginal people. What is of more interest from a cultural linguistics perspective is how Aboriginal people managed to continue to express their dynamic cultural conceptualizations in language varieties that developed as a result of their contact with European settlers. This chapter attempts to elaborate on these observations with a focus on exploring expressions of cultural conceptualizations of kinship in some Aboriginal languages and in contact varieties. As a preamble, the next section provides background to the notion of ‘cultural conceptualizations’. 2. Cultural conceptualizations I have employed the term cultural conceptualizations (Sharifian 2003) to refer, collectively, to conceptual structures such as schemas (e.g. D’Andrade
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1996; D’Andrade and Strauss 1992; Rumelhart 1980; Shore 1996; Strauss and Quinn 1997) and categories (e.g. Lakoff 1987; Roche 1987) that are culturally constructed. Although the locus of these conceptualizations appears to be the individual, they eventually emerge at the cultural level of cognition. In this sense cognition is viewed as a property of cultural groups and not just individuals (Sharifian forthc.). Cultural conceptualizations are constantly negotiated and renegotiated, either explicitly or implicitly, by the members of a cultural group across time and space and provide, among other things, underlying norms for thinking and behaviour. These conceptualizations may diachronically develop into complex systems that act as ideologies and even worldviews for human societies (e.g. van Dijk 1998). However, cultural conceptualizations are not equally imprinted in the minds of the members of a cultural group but are rather heterogeneously distributed across the minds in the group (Sharifian 2003; forthc.). Apart from their existence at an emergent level of cultural cognition, cultural conceptualizations may also be instantiated in various cultural artefacts including linguistic expression. Lexical items of human languages are indexes to conceptualizations that are largely derived from the cultural experience of their speakers. As mentioned earlier, these conceptualizations are constantly negotiated and renegotiated across generations, and as such are subject to change and expansion, even if the lexical forms remain the same. Many morphosyntactic features of human languages also appear to have been motivated by cultural conceptualizations of their speakers (e.g. Palmer 1996). The following section now returns to the issue of Aboriginal languages with regard to how they profile cultural conceptualizations of kinship within the small, dense, multiplex speech communities in which they occur. 2.1. Cultural conceptualizations of kinship in Aboriginal languages Perhaps the entrenchment of cultural conceptualizations in language is most evident in the area of lexical semantics, where lexical items provide an index to conceptualizations that are largely derived from the cultural experience of the users of a given language. The lexical systems of Aboriginal languages, for instance, appear to be pointers to conceptualizations rooted in worldview and in the historically rich cultural experience of Aboriginal people. A most striking set of Aboriginal conceptualizations that are encoded in the lexicon of many Aboriginal languages relate to kinship (Heath, Merlan, and Rumsey 1982). Kinship lends itself to very complex conceptualizations among most Aboriginal Australians in that it often involves systems of
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categorization that extend beyond one’s extended family. In fact, kin terms may be used by Aboriginal Australians to address all people – and even localities – with whom/which they come into contact (Heath, Merlan, and Rumsey 1982: 3). These authors observe that “most kin terms in Australia are classificatory, and are thus extended in such a way that everyone in the social universe is included within one of the terms” (1982: 5). Aboriginal people also operate on systems of kinship schemas that are largely distinctive, at least from the perspective of Western cultures (Sharifian 2003). These schemas embody norms and values that relate to various aspects of kinship, such as obligations, responsibilities, and respect. Kinship and family relationships are at the core of Aboriginal cultures and many norms of thought and behaviour in Aboriginal Australia revolve around the notions of family relationship (e.g. Keen 1988). Eades notes that “[w]hen people talk about being Aboriginal, they invariably talk about Aboriginal family relationship. Place of residence, travel, social networks, leisure activities, and personal loyalties all revolve in some way around one’s kin …” (1988: 98). In this context, what is more of interest from a linguistic perspective is how some Aboriginal languages encode Aboriginal cultural conceptualizations of kinship in morphosyntactic devices (e.g. Alpher 1982; Hale 1966). Hale, for example, noted that kinship principles of ‘agnation’ and ‘alternating generations’ were marked in the pronoun systems of several languages including Arandic languages of Central Australia. Agnatic kinship is relationship by tracing common descent exclusively through males from a founding male ancestor. Hale describes the principle of ‘alternating generations’ by using the notion of ‘harmony’ as follows: A person is harmonic with respect to members of his own generation and with respect to members of all even-numbered generations counting away from his own (e.g., his grandparents’ generation, his grandchildren’s generation, etc.) He is disharmonic with respect to members of all odd-numbered generations (e.g., that of his parents, that of his children, that of his great-grand-parents, etc.). (1966: 319)
Hale notes that these principles play a key role in determining the morphosyntactic characteristic of a sentence, such as the choice of pronouns, in languages such as Arandic. He gives the following examples from Lower Aranda dialect. (1)
ti-wul an-atir where-to you-dual ‘Where are you two going?’
li-ri-m go-dual-present
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(2)
ti-wul mpil-ak li-ri-m where-to you:dual-agnate:disharmonic go-dual-present ‘Where are you two going?’
(3)
ti-wul mpil-ant where-to you:dual-nonagnate ‘Where are you two going?’ (Hale 1966: 323–324)
li-ri-m go-dual-present
From the above sentences, (a) may be addressed to a man and his brother, (b) to a man and his father, and (c) to a man and his mother. This is because a) a man and his brother would be in a harmonic kinship, and in a disharmonic relationship with his father, and b) a man would be in an agnate kinship with his father, but not with his mother. These examples reveal how syntactic behaviour may be motivated and governed by cultural conceptualizations. In general, the pronoun systems of many Aboriginal languages codify certain culturally-constructed systems of categorizations. For instance, there are pronouns in many Aboriginal languages that mark moiety, generation level, and relationship. In Arabana, as an example, the pronoun arnanthara, which may be glossed into English as ‘kinship-we’, captures the following complex category: Arnanthara = we, who belong to the same matrilineal moiety, adjacent generation levels, and who are in the basic relationship of mother, or mothers’ brother and child. (Hercus 1994: 117)
In Arabana, this cultural categorization of kin groups is also marked on second plural kinship pronoun aranthara and third person plural kinship pronoun karananthara. These examples clearly reveal how cultural conceptualizations may be encoded in the grammatical system of a language. Murrinh-Patha has various second person pronouns including those which mark family members. These include nhi ‘you singular’, nanku ‘you two brothers and sisters’, and nanku ngintha ‘you two who are not brothers or sisters and one or both are female’ (Walsh 1993). It is noteworthy that the unmarked second person pronoun is the one which is used to address brothers and sisters, which again highlights the significance of kinship. Another reflection of kinship conceptualizations in the grammar of a number of Aboriginal languages is in the use of collective suffix forms (Dench 1987). The suffix is described as “a morpheme deriving a new verb lexeme which requires a nonsingular subject and has the added meaning that the activity is performed together by the participants denoted by the subject
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NP” (Dench 1987: 325). However, there appear to be cases where the collectiveness denoted by the suffix is more of a marker of kinship rather than any ‘collective activity’. Consider the following example: (4)
Nyiya karlpa-nyayi-ku wiya-larta panti-jangu karnti-ka –ku This climb-COLL-PRES see –FUT sit –REL tree-LOC-ACC ‘This one is climbing up to see that one sitting in the tree’ (Dench 1987: 326)
In this example, the activity of ‘climbing up’ does not appear to be ‘collective’, at least in the usual sense of the verb, and thus the collective suffix may perform a different function here. Dench maintains that in such cases “the appearance of the suffix indicates that the participants are in the same set of alternating generations [italics original]” (1987: 327). That is, the speaker who has uttered sentence (4) knows that the person climbing up the tree and the one to be seen are in the same set of alternating generations or in a harmonious kinship, as Hale would put it. It appears that collective suffix here is associated with certain cultural categories and schemas with regard to a division of labour between people in certain rituals. Dench notes …that the division into generation sets reflected in the grammar of the languages is an important principle also reflected in much social interaction within the speech community. During initiation business, the principle defines two groups who interact in a restrained manner but whose members operate as a collective. It is the perception of this contrast between open collective activity and relative restraint that reinforces the division between the two groups, rather than the abstract principle of generation harmony. For the collective suffix to be used to mark this contrast is thus not at all surprising. (1987: 333)
A corollary of having complex systems of kin categorization among Aboriginal people is the need for marking category membership, or nonmembership, when addressing interlocutors in a conversation. Due to considerations such as skin classification, a wrong categorization may lead to adverse consequences. The need for marking kin categorization is heightened by the fact that conversations among many Aboriginal people usually involve several interlocutors and each turn usually addresses more than one person. In other words, conversations between Aboriginal Australians are predominantly communal rather than dyadic (Walsh 1991). The presence of several interlocutors would naturally augment the need for making explicit kin categorizations.
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Category membership in many Aboriginal languages is reflected in the marking of inclusion/exclusion in their pronoun systems. Warlpiri, for example, makes use of a rather complex pronoun system which also marks inclusion and exclusion, as shown below: Ngaju Nyuntu Ngali Ngajarra Nyumpala Ngalipa Nganimpa Nyurrula
I you you and I we two (excl. you) you two you and I and other(s) we (more than 3, excl. you) you (more than 3) (Yallop 1993)
Another feature of some Aboriginal languages which reflects cultural conceptualizations attached to family ties is the use of dyadic terms (Merlan and Heath 1982). A dyadic term captures two or more kin concepts such as father and child. The need for such conceptualization is that the social reference point in traditional Aboriginal societies tends not to be the individual, as it is in many Western cultures. The minimal unit in any social domain is at least two family members, be it from the extended family or the nuclear family. In Arandic languages of Central Australia the dyadic terms are formed by adding the suffix -nhenge to a term that marks the kin relationship (Koch 2000). Example of this usage in Kaytetye is arlweye-nhenge ‘father and child’, where arlweye means ‘father’, and arrere-nhenge ‘elder sister and younger brother or sister’, where arrere means ‘elder sister’. Dench (1997) also has documented the use of dyadic and group kin terms in the Aboriginal languages of the Pilbara region of Western Australia. He notes that these terms not only specify the kin relationship that exists between the referents but may also specify the relationship that exists between the speaker and/or the referents. For example, in Panyjima, the word kurtarra is used to refer to two brothers who are in the same patrimoiety as the speaker. If the two brothers are in the opposite patrimoiety from the speaker, they are referred to as partangarra, if they are in the same alternating generation and yirtangkarra if they are in the opposite generation (Dench 1997: 110). The dyad maker suffix in these examples is –karra (garra). In addition to dyads, some Aboriginal languages have ‘group’ formative devices (e.g. Austin 1993). These may involve a particular suffix that would replace the dyad or a suffix that is added to the dyad suffix. In Panyjima, for example, the suffix –ngara is added to a dyad to make it a group term, as in the following from Dench (1997: 113):
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kumpali (cousin) kumpaliyarra (two cousins) kumpaliyarra-ngara (cousins)
It is to be noted that the pairs or sets captured in dyadic kin terms express unitary wholes closely bound by family ties into socially recognized units. Such bonding is of course characterized by mutual responsibility and obligation. It clearly reflects the spirit of togetherness which strongly characterizes Aboriginal cultures. O’Grady and Mooney note that the usage of the dyad terms that they studied may not even involve two people as such but may instead “denote unity rather than duality or plurality: a single individual with the property of possessing certain kin, or of being in company with certain kin” (1973: 9). For instance, they note that the dyad maker suffix was used in a compound to refer to a woman (singular) ‘after she has had a child’. 2.2. Aboriginal cultural conceptualizations in English Upon contact with Europeans in Australia, Aboriginal people adopted English as a means to communicate with each other as well as with the new settlers (see more in Malcolm and Koscielecki 1997). Soon Aboriginal people must have realized that the English language spoken by the white settlers did not provide them with all the tools that they needed to express their conceptualizations, such as marking inclusion/exclusion, the way they did in their own languages. However, Aboriginal people somehow managed to continue to express their cultural conceptualizations in language varieties that were developed out of their contact with Europeans (e.g., Malcolm and Rochecouste 2001; Malcolm and Sharifian 2002; 2005; Sharifian 2001; 2002, 2005; 2006; Sharifian and Malcolm 2003). These contact varieties include Aboriginal Creole varieties and Aboriginal English. Malcolm (2001: 217) observes that “AbE [Aboriginal English] is a symbol of cultural maintenance; it is the adopted code of a surviving culture.” Eades also notes that “[e]ven though English is the language spoken by Aboriginal people in many parts of Australia, social aspects of the way it is used reflect and help to maintain and create a culture which is Aboriginal and which shows continuities with traditional Aboriginal cultures” (1988: 104). This is of course not to suggest that Aboriginal cultures – or, for that matter, Aboriginal varieties of English – are static, but that Aboriginal English communicates the dynamic systems of cultural conceptualizations of Aboriginal people as they continue to evolve. It should also be noted here that Aboriginal cultural conceptualizations are not encoded in a uniform fashion in contact varieties. For example, some
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varieties continue to encode aspects of kinship in both lexicon and morphology while in some varieties kinship conceptualizations are mainly entrenched in the conceptual-semantic basis of the variety. This will further be elaborated and exemplified below. Koch (2000) observes that Australian Pidgin marked inclusion/exclusion on its system of pronouns. This includes pronouns such as mefella meaning ‘I and others excluding you’, mentwofella meaning ‘we two excluding you’, menyou meaning ‘you and I’. The pronoun menyou, or one of a number of variant forms of it, is also used today in many varieties of Aboriginal English. Eades also notes that in southeast Queensland Aboriginal English speakers use pronouns such as you-n-(h)im to mark second person dual (1988: 100). Such usages provide clear examples of how English forms may be used to encode certain Aboriginal conceptualizations related to kinship. The use of ‘dyadic kin terms’ has also been carried over into some varieties of Aboriginal English such as Central Australian Aboriginal English (CAAE). Speakers of CAAE have used -gether, a truncated from of English together, as a suffix to express dyadic kin concepts. The CAAE parallels of the dyadic terms discussed above are father-gether ‘father and child’ and sister-gether ‘elder sister and younger brother or sister’ (Koch 2000). In other varieties of Aboriginal English, as far as they have been studied, conceptualizations of kinship appear to be mainly embodied in the semantic and pragmatic components. There are, however, cases where an Aboriginal English word would reflect certain morphological processes at work. In Aboriginal English spoken in the South West of Western Australia, for example, the word ‘relation’ seems to have been truncated to ‘lation’ and has been attached to the word ‘own’ to make ‘ownlation’ meaning ‘one’s own relation’. Such simplifications might arise due to a heightened need to refer to relations, or to a need to express a concept that does not exactly fit into the English expressions. Another set of expressions in Aboriginal English that reflect Aboriginal cultural categories of kinship is the use of compounds such as ‘cousinbrother’ or ‘cousinsister’. These compounds may be used to refer to a cousin who is regarded as close as one’s brother or sister and are usually used with the children of one’s mother’s or father’s siblings. It is to be noted that the use of these terms as forms of address is also associated with schemas of mutual responsibilities and obligations. The word ‘cousin’ may also be employed in Aboriginal English to refer to a much wider range of people than it is in Australian English. It appears that this cultural category is based more on the generation level rather than the actual kinship. That is, Aboriginal people might call all the relatives of their
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own generation ‘cousin’. It should be noted again that such kin terms go beyond their usage as terms of address and are usually employed to evoke certain cultural schemas such as that of ‘solidarity’ in the conversants. In one case from the author’s experience, for example, the Aboriginal speaker explained that she used the word ‘cousin’ to express the fact that she was expecting protection and support from her ‘distant’ relative in a debating situation and also to make the others understand that she is in the company of her ‘mob’, which is also a term that is used to refer to one’s extended family. Eades notes that “[t]he use of the term of address ‘cuz’ in a meeting or a tutorial in a tertiary institution, for instance, both maintains and reminds Aboriginal participants of a speaker’s relationship to another participant and the accompanying rights and responsibilities” (1988: 102). Among other English terms of kinship that are used to instantiate Aboriginal cultural conceptualizations of kinship are ‘auntie’ and ‘uncle’. The word ‘uncle’ evokes a cultural category that goes beyond one’s parents’ brothers and includes people of an older generation that deserve special respect (Eades 1988). In fact, one’s parents’ brothers may often be called ‘father’ (Arthur 1996). Arthur notes that the term ‘Auntie’ is used to refer to “an older woman, often wise in traditional knowledge, having status within her community” (1996: 71). It is of course to be noted that words such as ‘status’ and ‘traditional knowledge’ are very likely to evoke schemas in nonAboriginal readers that are not in consonance with conceptualizations that are associated with these words in Aboriginal English. In Aboriginal English, the terms that are used with grandparents in Australian English may also be used to evoke certain Aboriginal conceptualizations. For instance, the words ‘grandfather’ and ‘grandmother’ may be used to refer to grandparents as well as great uncles and great aunts. The terms may also be used with some elderly people of the community (Arthur 1996). These terms are often more associated with schemas of wisdom and respect than with genealogical relations. Often in Aboriginal cultures the distinction between the mother’s side or father’s side becomes more important than whether the person is actually one’s ‘grandfather’ or his brother. Such distinctions may be expressed as reduplications such as ‘mum mum’. Aboriginal cultural conceptualizations of kinship are not just reflected in the use of kin terms in English but also extend to the usage of other devices such as modifiers and prepositions. Arthur notes that in northern Australia a kin relation may be modified as ‘little bit’ such as in the phrase ‘little bit fathers’. Here the modifier may denote a category that includes people from
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within a totem group who might have married one’s mother. Arthur notes that the use of such terms evokes kinship obligations (1996: 81). The word ‘near’, or ‘too near’, is also used in some varieties of Aboriginal English to mark certain conceptualizations, for example, if the person referred to as ‘mother’ is in fact a close relative. ‘Too near’ might imply that the kinship is such that it would forbid marriage between the two. Another usage of such devices in south west of Western Australia is where sections of a family, from about 40 to 150 people, may be referred to as ‘lots’ or ‘mobs’ (Birdsall 1988: 141). In some varieties of Aboriginal English, an ordinal number such as ‘second’ may be used to denote a category of people to whom one has obligations similar to those who would be called without the ordinal number (Arthur 1996: 85). Examples of such usage are ‘second father’ and ‘second mother’. At the level of discourse, in Aboriginal English, cultural conceptualizations of kinship may be reflected in how one opens a conversation by asking “What’s your family?” or “What’s your mob?”. This would in fact give the interlocutors a chance to locate each other in terms of kinship and might also evoke conceptualizations in interlocutors regarding how to behave, what to say, and what to do. The following is an excerpt from a conversation between several Aboriginal people. The excerpt clearly shows how conversations between Aboriginal people may take the direction of family orientation and trying to find kinship links. It is to be noted that in this session the Aboriginal speaker EH is some 400 kilometres away from her residential area but is still able to find family links. L: EH: M: EH: M: L: EH: M: EH: M: EH: M: EH: M:
Armadale you know all the streets an you know where to go? I’s It’s not like down the … too many big mob go that way I’ve got some um people live round Armadale In Armadale? Ah no not Armadale at Perth [Perth] In Perth, what’s the names down there? um Davises1 Oh yeah an Coles That’s on my Mum’s side, my Mum related to Coles Um do you know, do you know um, Shane Cole? Yeah that’s my cousin. Mum’s cousin I think We’ ah yeah, thas my brother, cousin brother
1. The names used in the text are pseudonyms.
Aboriginal language habitat and cultural continuity EH: M:
EH: M: EH: L: EH: L: EH: L: EH: L: EH: L: EH: L: EH: L: EH:
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Well there’s um there’s an older one as well isn’t there? Um Donny... and but they’re all sisters, um Marcia but we just call her Marce, Marcia Collins an um um Kate and um... um got some Davises um but only just um um from my niece, Jeanette Cole, she goes um horse riding every day um cos she lives with her Nan an Pop an her mother and father cos their mother an dad um lives with them, so she stays with them an, ‘cross the road there are these people who that um takes her horse riding Oh yeah Um like on a station, an she just goes with em to um- cos um they signed her in so she could go with em, bout every other- every day Yeah we- we were talking about Jim Paul (FAMOUS FOOTBALLER) and the boys said that’s your uncle, unna? mmm cos Jim’s my cousin … I got Elvis in there (laughs) they were saying that, someone was saying that Jim’s real name was Elvis (laughs) Well but e’s my uncle but I don’t know him, Alright He’s just know Dad an ‘e might be a second cousin or something What’s your Dad’s last name? Um Gordon Oh your Dad’s Gordon too what was your Dad’s first name Gavin Gordon, he was- Dad is um Ronnie Gordon and is brother is Ronnie and Nathan I know that, I know that name Do you know Cherie and Lindy, they Gordon, that’s my Dad’s sisters Alright. What cos my Dad’s related to old oh yeah, nah well my DadJim’s Mum and my Dad are like brother and sister, an my Dad he got no sisters an they all first cousins Well what’s ya last name? Um Haines (Y70, Yarning about Family)
The above conversation is a clear instantiation of an Aboriginal Family schema that encourages the speakers to initiate a conversation by locating themselves and others with regard to their possible kinship links. As mentioned above, this often seems to be necessary among many Aboriginal people in that it has implications regarding where they stand in relation to their interlocutor and what they should do or say. It can be seen that the two participants show a very detailed knowledge of their extended family. Note that an Aboriginal girl (L) refers to a person as ‘uncle’ and later mentions that “he might be a second cousin or something”. This supports the observation made earlier that cultural categories of kinship in Aboriginal cultures may extend well beyond those with whom these terms
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may be associated in Anglo Australian culture. Another instantiation of an Aboriginal cultural category in the above text is the use of cousinbrother by one of the interlocutors (M), which was discussed earlier in this chapter. 3. Conclusion The chapter began by putting forward the premise that human languages are largely, but not solely, grounded in human cultural experience. If this is a legitimate observation, it would not then be surprising to find parallels in the structure of different languages, in the general sense of the word ‘structure’, and cultural experiences of their speakers. In this chapter, I have tried to show first of all how certain features of a number of Aboriginal languages may reflect Aboriginal cultural conceptualizations of kinship. Further, I have provided examples from some contact varieties, mainly from Aboriginal English, which clearly reveal how Aboriginal people have employed various features of their English-based varieties to continue to instantiate their dynamic, cultural conceptualizations of kinship. Although a detailed investigation of the aims that are pursued in this chapter would perhaps require several books, I trust that the examples are enough to reveal my general contention about the relationship between language, culture and conceptualization, which may be summarized as language users largely employ various elements of their languages to instantiate their cultural conceptualizations. Acknowledgements The author wishes to thank Gerhard Leitner and Ian G. Malcolm for their helpful suggestions and comments on an earlier draft this chapter. The first draft of chapter was written while the author was under the financial support from an Australian Research Council Post-Doctoral Fellowship at the University of Western Australia. References Alpher, Barry 1982 Dalabon dual-subject prefixes, kinship categories, and generation skewing. In Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia (Oceania
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Linguistic Monographs 24.), Jeff Heath, Francesca Merlan, and Alan Rumsey (eds.), 19–30. Sydney: University of Sydney. Arthur, Jay 1996
Aboriginal English: A Cultural Study. Melbourne: Oxford University Press.
Austin, Peter 1993 A Reference Dictionary of Gamilaraay, Northern New South Wales. Bundoora, Vic: La Trobe University, Department of Linguistics. Birdsall, Chris 1988 All one family. In Being Black: Aboriginal Cultures in ‘Settled’ Australia, Ian Keen (ed.), 137–158. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. D’Andrade, Roy 1995 The Development of Cognitive Anthropology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. D’Andrade, Roy, and Claudia Strauss (eds.) 1992 Human Motives and Cultural Models. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dench, Alan Charles 1987 Kinship and collective activity in the Ngayarda languages of northwest Western Australia. Language in Society 16: 321–339. 1997 Where do complex kinterms come from? In Boundary Rider: Essays in Honour of Geoffrey O’Grady (Pacific Linguistics C-136.) Darrell Tryon and Michael Walsh (eds.), 107–132. Canberra: Australian National University. Eades, Diana M. 1988 They don’t speak an Aboriginal language, or do they? In Being Black: Aboriginal Cultures in Settled Australia, Ian Keen (ed.), 97–115. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Hale, Kenneth L. 1966 Kinship reflections in syntax: Some Australian languages. Word 22: 318–324. Heath, Jeffrey, Francesca Merlan, and Alan Rumsey (eds.) 1982 Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia. (Oceania Linguistic Monographs 24.) Sydney: University of Sydney. Hercus, Louise A. 1994 A Grammar of the Arabana-Wangkangurru Language Lake Eyre Basin, South Australia. (Pacific Linguistics C-128.) Canberra: Australian National University.
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Keen, Ian (ed.) 1988 Being Black: Aboriginal Cultures in ‘Settled’ Australia. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Koch, Harold 1984 The category of ‘associated motion’ in Kaytej. Language in Central Australia 1 (1): 23–34. 2000 Central Australian Aboriginal English: In comparison with the morphosyntactic categories of Kaytetye. Asian Englishes 3 (2): 32–59. Lakoff, George 1987 Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal About the Mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Malcolm, Ian G. 2001 Aboriginal English: Adopted code of a surviving culture. In English in Australia, David Blair and Peter Collins (eds.), 201–222. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Malcolm, Ian G., and Marek M. Koscielecki 1997 Aboriginality and English: Report to the Australian Research Council. Mt Lawley, WA: Edith Cowan University. Malcolm, Ian G., and Judith Rochecouste 2000 Event and story schemas in Australian Aboriginal English. English World-Wide 21 (2): 261–289. Malcolm, Ian G., and Farzad Sharifian 2002 Aspects of Aboriginal English oral discourse: An application of cultural schema theory. Discourse Studies 4 (2): 169–181. 2005 Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue: Aboriginal students’ schematic repertoire. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 26 (6): 512–532. Merlan, Francesca, and Jeffrey Heath 1982 Dyadic kinship terms. In Languages of Kinship in Aboriginal Australia (Oceania Linguistic Monograph 24.) Jeff Heath, Francesca Merlan, and Alan Rumsey (eds.), 107–124. Sydney: University of Sydney. O’Grady, Geoffrey N., and K. Mooney 1973 Nyangumarda kinship terminology. Anthropological Linguistics 15 (1): 1–23. Palmer, Gary B. 1996 Toward a Theory of Cultural Linguistics. Austin: University of Texas Press. Rosch, Eleanor 1978 Principles of categorization. In Cognition and Categorization, Eleanor Rosch and Barbara B. Lloyd (eds.), 27–48. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
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Rumelhart, David E. 1980 Schemata: The building blocks of cognition. In Theoretical Issues in Reading and Comprehension, Rand J. Spiro, Bertram C. Bruce, and William F. Brewer (eds.), 38–58. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum. Sharifian, Farzad 2001 Schema-based processing in Australian speakers of Aboriginal English. Language and Intercultural Communication 1 (2): 120–134. 2002 Chaos in Aboriginal English discourse. In Englishes in Asia: Communication, Identity, Power and Education, Andy Kirkpatrick (ed.), 125–141. Melbourne: Language Australia. 2003 On cultural conceptualizations. Journal of Cognition and Culture 3 (3): 187–207. 2005 Cultural conceptualizations in English words: A study of Aboriginal children in Perth. Language and Education 19 (1): 74–88. 2006 A cultural-conceptual approach and world Englishes: The case of Aboriginal English. World Englishes 25 (1): 11–22. forthc. Distributed, emergent cultural cognition, conceptualization, and language. In Body, Language, and Mind (Vol. 2): Sociocultural Situatedness, Roslyn M. Frank, Rene Dirven, Tom Ziemke and Enrique Bernárdez (eds.). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Sharifian, Farzad, and Ian G. Malcolm 2003 The use of pragmatic marker like in English teen talk: Australian Aboriginal usage. Pragmatics and Cognition 11 (2): 327–344. Shore, Brad 1996 Culture in Mind: Cognition, Culture, and the Problem of Meaning. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Strauss, Claudia, and Naomi Quinn 1997 A Cognitive Theory of Cultural Meaning. New York: Cambridge University Press. van Dijk, Teun 1998 Opinions and ideologies in the press. In Approaches to Media Discourse, Allan Bell and Peter Garrett (eds.), 21–63. Oxford: Blackwell. Walsh, Michael 1991 Conversational styles and intercultural communication: An example from northern Australia. Australian Journal of Communication 18 (1): 1–12. 1993 Classifying the world in an Aboriginal language. In Language and Culture in Aboriginal Australia, Michael Walsh and Colin Yallop (eds.), 107–122. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press.
The Aboriginal contribution to Australia’s language habitat Gerhard Leitner This chapter discusses the contribution that Aboriginal languages have made to English. Seen from a habitat approach, the theme of contact covers considerably more than the transfer of words to and the creation of concepts in a target language. It extends to the modification of a language habitat that sets (the varieties of) English in relation to Aboriginal languages as well as to migrant ones (which are not discussed here). To show the outcomes of such a broad view of contact, the paper turns to the language repertoires that groups of speakers have had at their disposal. They create an overarching Australian identity, while their exploitation by different groups of speakers helps to express distinct ethnic identities. 1. A habitat approach to contact and its implications When the First Fleet set anchor in Botany Bay in 1788, a few words from Aboriginal languages were already known. Captain James Cook and his scientific advisor Joseph Banks had collected a glossary at Endeavour River in Queensland where they had spent several weeks in 1770. The glossary contained words like kangaroo, quoll ‘native cat’ and others. It is a moot question whether they could count as a part of the English language before the First Fleet left since only a few words are attested, e.g. kangaroo in Boswell’s Life of Dr. Johnson (publ. 1791). What is certain is that the words were reexported. But they were not understood in Botany Bay. When contact was established, Aboriginal languages began to interact with English. As the colony expanded and the continent was being explored further during the 19th and early 20th centuries, contact involved Aboriginal contact languages. In order to understand the impact of contact better, one should take into account that contact had always been made for a purpose and was set within its socio-historical contexts. It may, e.g., have been made to learn something about the topography or fertility of the land; the nature and usefulness of the fauna and flora; about social practices and structures; about religion and beliefs; or the names for groups of people. It may have been concerned with trade and labour or been about informal socializing. The nature of the effects
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of contact depend on what outcomes had occurred at previous periods of time. Put more simply, transfer was unlikely to occur for things that had already got an established name. Now, English and other European languages were not without resources of their own to cope with novel situations, as those encountered in Australia. A history of exploration and colonization, the voyages in search of the terra australis had produced a ‘lexicon’ and a wide range of registers whose cognitive underpinning were continuously being sharpened by scientific progress and other factors. There was a lexical base that was used to start and maintain contact and to relate and interpret the experiences that were being had. It is against this background that the local effects of contact must be interpreted: The Aboriginal contribution altered, often minimally, the registers of the domains affected. If we add that the lexis of a language reflects a world view, which it supports and re-enacts, it follows that Aborigines have helped to recast that world view, giving it a local Australian and Aboriginal flavour. It was, to put it simply, an essential part in the rise of Australian forms of English. And it supported the growth of a comprehensive habitat that integrated (traditional and new) Aboriginal languages. The field of contact is thus much broader than the limited view of contact that is confined to lexical transfer and that has received a lot of attention. Lexicographers took an early interest. Morris’s (1898) dictionary of Austral English must count as the first achievement that includes the words of fauna and flora. Its data were used for the OED and, presumably, Webster’s Third (1900). A collector’s zeal can be seen in Baker’s (1945) The Australian Language. Baker’s (1953) additions were incorporated into the second edition of The Australian Language (1966). Research shifted to the academic world and was strong at various university centres such as The University of Sydney or Macquarie University. Australian dictionaries aimed to cover the field. The various editions of the Macquarie Dictionary are outstanding for their wide coverage. Other dictionaries such as the Oxford ones followed its lead. Worth noting is the Australian National Dictionary (AND 1988) for its (independent) historical approach. Dixon et al.’s (1990) Australian Aboriginal Words in English was integrated into revised editions of the AND and other dictionaries. Ramson’s (2002) history of the AND discusses the Aboriginal impact on mAusE and the way it was explored by the AND team. It highlights the ‘lexical images’ that the Aboriginal impact had given rise to. Interesting is his comparison with the situation in New Zealand where about 700 Maori words are attested (see Kennedy and Yamazaki 1999). Less well-known are nonAustralian studies that break new ground (see Görlach 1992). Leitner and Sieloff’s (1998) study investigates the extent to which Aboriginal loans and concepts are known and known ‘correctly’. Are Australians aware of the
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Aboriginal linguistic heritage? Leitner (2001) turns to the use of Aboriginal words and concepts in a 300-million word corpus of newspapers over a sixyear period. These studies have found that though Aboriginal words and concepts are little known and little used there is a widely known and used core. Leitner suggests that contact continues to have effects and contradicts Dixon et al.’s pessimistic view. Leitner’s (2004a) study translates the habitat perspective into practice and discusses contemporary data and their productivity. This paper moves forward. It begins with the historical socio-cultural context of contact (section 2), which promises a good basis to discuss outcomes and to relate them to shifts in social, economic or cultural policies after 1788. It compares what happened after 1788 with the pre-colonial base vocabulary and highlights the resulting changes, the ‘lexical images’ or world views (section 3.2). As much data has been collected on the period to the 1950s (section 3.1), I will add data on the under-researched recent period (section 3.2). And instead of elaborating on the nature of Australia’s habitat (Leitner 2004b), I will focus on its exploitation (section 4), as that marks the Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities as distinct groups and permits them to signal divergent identities. As there are speakers whose repertoires bridge those of the two sides and who can negotiate in-between, the question arises to what extent this two-way repertoire should be strengthened socially for both sides. A note in passing: the contact with Macassan fisherman, the rise of a Malay-Macassan pidgin that was widely used in contact with Aborigines and by them on the very first occasions of contact with white people in far north has been mentioned in Harris (this volume). It will be ignored here. The Macassan impact on Aboriginal languages was studied by Evans (1992), but a direct impact on English is uncertain, to say the least. 2. The social history of language contact The story of contact is, I have said, older than that of colonization and while it is a matter of political science a brief look at major periods reveals some background to the extent and nature of influence of traditional Aboriginal and contact languages on English. The story is best told in terms of five periods: 1. peripheral contact by explorers between the 17th and the early decades of the 19th c. 2. intensifying contact from first settlement to the 1840s without any explicit policies 3. policies of ‘protection’ and ‘segregation’ from the 1840s to the early decades of the 20th c.
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4. policies of assimilation and the segregation of mixed Aboriginal children to the mid-1960s 5. policies that have permitted limited self-development and self-control from the 1970s – with forerunners from the 1920s These periods do not imply a neat division of history. There has always been overlap; indeed some policies and approaches to contact continued to be practised well into the 20th century. The division into periods centres on shifting policies during British colonization and, after 1901, Australia’s policies. An Aboriginal perspective might emphasize the shift from Aborigines being objects of policies to being agents who asserted their aspirations and rights. It might amount to merging periods (a) to (c), where government policy increasingly favoured assimilation and the abolition of cultures. The other periods would highlight the growth of Aboriginal opposition, the signs of self-organization, self-determination and the acceptance of Aboriginal perspectives by the mainstream public. As early developments have been outlined in Leitner and Malcolm (this vol.; see also Leitner 2006), I can proceed at this point to a discussion of (3), the period of the policies of protection and segregation. The protection period began as a result of the atrocities that had been being practised at the time. They were discussed in British Parliament and measures were debated on how to prevent them. The way out was seen in establishing the Office of the Protector which would be in charge of the physical – soon after of the social – lives of Aborigines and of their relocation to reserves on land unusable for farming purposes, the so-called wasteland. The first Protector was created in South Australia in 1844, but by the 1880s all colonies had such an office. One who became particularly prominent was featured in the film Rabbit-Proof Fence by Phillip Noyce (2003). But Aborigines were re-located from one reserve to the next whenever the land was needed for one reason or another. They lost control of their lives: they could no longer move without a permit and were unable to carry out their duties for the land and to perform the necessary rites. Confined to government reserves and to missions, children and ‘half-castes’ were separated from their parents and forced to live apart. That context helped the spread of English, the expansion of pidgins and of Aboriginal English. A good example of the spread of English and the existence of an Aboriginal readership is pamphlets written by Aborigines and published with the permission of Protectors (see Rose 1996; Leitner 2004b). Here are two examples to illustrate the English used: (1)
My friends which are here now and my people is well off in Flinders Island the men which his now out hunting will come again....
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The Natives people his learning about God and learning to read and learning about Jesus Christ and the way that we should go to heaven when we dies and if we be bad men we will go down into everlasting burnings. (28th September 1837; fr. Rose 1996: 5)
This is AusE, by and large; note the hypercorrect insertion of /h/, the dialectal third person singular we dies, and the subjunctive be. Though Aboriginal English was spreading, it did not seem to be a source of transfer then (but see section 3.2.5). Concepts relating to patterns of life were mainly created in the range of varieties of AusE. Life in fringe settlements and work on cattle or farming stations were alternatives to the life on reserves and allowed, according to many experts, Aborigines some freedom to continue traditional lifestyles. That slowed down the loss of Indigenous languages, but promoted the growth and spread of pidgins and, towards the end of the 19th century, of creoles. It made the transfer from Indigenous languages to English less likely, but the input from pidgins cannot be underestimated. From the middle of the 19th century one can witness the emergence of developments that bore upon the nature of contact. Some came from outside the country; some were to be central to the next periods. The growth of scientific disciplines such as anthropology, biology, theology and sociology upset the intellectual underpinning of the discourse about and with Aborigines world-wide. The debates they generated in Australia between missionaryanthropologists, who were familiar with Aborigines, and those academic anthropologists, who came from the outside were to have immediate implications on how Aborigines were perceived. They are well covered in Veit (2004). Darwinism, anthropology and sociology created an interest in the social organization of Aborigines and cognitive culture. The emergence of Marxism, Leninism and communism along with the creation of socialist and labour parties was bound to have repercussions in Australia in light of labour conflicts and the economic development of the colonies at the time. The websites of the Labor Party and of the defunct communist party reflect the debates between European, American and Australian socialists. But none of these left-wing and working-class movements concerned itself with Aboriginal issues. Yet, these bodies were to become an avenue in the next period for Aboriginal activists to lobby for their cause. Aborigines enlisted during the South African War (1899–1902) and World War One (1914–1918) and participated in the mainstream society’s concerns. When atrocities renewed after these wars, it disappointed those Aborigines who had hoped for improvement. The rise of organized opposition
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movements was thus a matter of time and Australian Aborigines followed the pattern of opposition in Britain’s Asian and African colonies. A crucial role was, one suspects, played by the League of Nations and the International Labour Office, which were both founded after the war. They would become vehicles that could transport Aboriginal issues. It is hard to establish a causal link between these (global) institutions and the growth of organized opposition. But the fact remains that Aboriginal associations were founded in the 1920s and they may well have been inspired by their briefs. The Australian Aborigines Progressive Association (1924) was the first one and was followed by others. Aborigines joined trade unions, the Labor Party and lobbied in Parliament. On the occasion of Australia’s 150th anniversary in 1938 Aborigines called for the Day of Mourning. Young Australians organized the famous Freedom Ride against discrimination in 1965. Aboriginal issues had now reached the mainstream political agenda. Despite on-going hostilities, activities helped create a political and public climate of opinion amongst white people that was more tolerant of Aborigines. They received citizenship in 1972 and attained the rights of all citizens. They were now able to move and to live where they wished to do. At that time, too, land rights issues came up in the north, leading to the famous Mabo claim in the 1970s and the decision by the High Court in 1992. While these developments are, I said, a matter of political history, they help understand the impact on mAusE and on the entire habitat. That is the theme of the next section. 3. The Aboriginal impact on AusE and mAusE I can now turn to the linguistic outcomes of contact during these five phases. English and other European languages had, I have said, had a vocabulary to cope with the new and unexpected. It was flexible and was being adapted, drawing on several resources. The base was the language of exploration, colonization and of the growth of scientific disciplines. In the context of Australia, it might be called Imperial English. Most of it was shared with other European languages. The second source was AmE, which time and again introduced words into (m)AusE. The third was Aboriginal languages. The number of loans from them is small and the domains which benefited exclude some likely ones. To understand that, one might compare the Australian situation with that in New Zealand or India. New Zealand was quite different in this respect, Ramson (2002) argues. The Terra Nullius hypothesis, for instance, was never an issue there (just as it
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never was in North America or elsewhere). Australia stands out as a solitary example that denied Aborigines ownership of their land. Secondly, the New Zealand Maoris responded differently to the invaders. They were more belligerent, which created respect. Aborigines had been described as ‘cowards’ by Banks in 1770, writes Kenny (1995: 119): “Banks did not record details of his first impressions, but on the fifth day of their stay he said that he was ‘now quite void of fear as our neighbours have turned out such rank cowards.” Furthermore, Maoris lived in village-like settlements, spoke one language, as against the many in Australia. They were willing to negotiate and adapt to the inevitable. As a result, contact was slightly more balanced. It was, if not as between equals, at least as between somewhat respected partners. India was known in Europe since antiquity; it had an unchallenged high culture and respected languages. Only at the end of the 18th century was there a sectarian political movement in Britain that denied India its culture and called for full-scale Anglicization. Britain tried to avoid getting involved in religious and other controversies. Moreover English was not only imposed but adopted by Indians on a large scale; it thus was quite open to transfer from local languages, especially in the domains of culture, religion, philosophy, government, discourse and the informal domain. Nothing like that occurred in Australia – with the exception of the very recent past (section 3.2). Why the language contact situation was so different seems to have to do with the underlying responses to ‘other’ people, their cultures and ways of life. Put differently, the expectation of what kind of people one is likely to deal with, viz. equals or very inferior partners, framed contact and co-determined what outcomes there were likely to occur. Dixon et al. (1990) found a small number of loans from Aboriginal languages in Australia and in only a small range of (mainly material) domains. Yet, that heritage, they say, is quite symbolic: “[i]t would be wrong to think that the Aboriginal contribution to Australian English, because relatively small, was insignificant. In fact it provides the most distinctively Australian words of all.” (1990: 219). While that observation is true of loans like didgeridoo, one soon notices that the impact is larger when one widens the concept of influence to items such as these:
– – – – –
loanwords (or direct transfer) from Aboriginal languages loanwords (or direct transfer) from contact languages loanwords from (varieties of) Aboriginal English loan translations and hybrids in English expressions for Aboriginal concepts or meanings that are coined in English or words that have undergone semantic shift
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The sections to follow rest on that definition (Dixon et al. 1990; Leitner 2004a). Breaking new ground, I will show how contact has recast the ‘lexical images’ of the original vocabulary. 3.1. The Aboriginal contribution to English This section surveys the (direct) loans from traditional and contact languages on the basis of the available literature. I will begin with a caution: One cannot always be certain of the etymology of a word as many languages have disappeared or have survived in an impoverished form. Cook, for instance, cited kangaroo as a word from the Endeavour River area but the word could not be elicited in a later survey by Captain Philip King in 1820 in that region (Ramson 2002: 126). Since Aboriginal languages are close to one another lexically, several languages might be donors and historical data on contact cannot always clarify the situation. Turning to loans for which clear etymologies can be given, they tended to come from the languages close to settlements. About sixty loans, for instance, are from Dharuk, the Sydney language. They include dingo, boomerang and corroboree ‘a ritual ceremony’. Nyungar, a language that stretches from Geraldton in the northwest of the southern corner of Western Australia down to Perth and Albany on the southern coastline, contributed fifty loans, such as quokka ‘short-tailed wallaby’ and mia-mia ‘temporary shelter’. Wiradhuri, a language south of Sydney, gave kookaburra ‘several species of kingfishers’ and ganggang ‘grey cockatoo’. Brolga ‘a large bird ...; often called native companion’ and galah ‘grey-backed, pink-breasted cockatoo’ are from Kamilaroi and Yuwaalaraay, two Queensland languages. Today it is the languages of the remote north and of the Centre that provide loans as they have been maintained better and carry a level of prestige. In most urbanized areas languages have disappeared and can, at best, be documented. If the total number of (direct) loans is small, its relevance diminishes further if one considers that different languages contributed words for much the same referents. Gunyah and mia-mia, for instance, both refer to a ‘temporary shelter’. For the dingo warrigal and native dog had been used. For budgerigar ‘small green and yellow parrot’ lovebird, shell, zebra parrot and warbling grass parakeet were common. Overlexicalization is generally resented and variant words are discarded, become regionalisms or stylistic variants. Hence a number of words have fallen into disuse such as warrigal and zebra parrot. Often variants carry different connotations such as the colloquial budgie that contrasts with the neutral budgerigar. One might,
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however, argue that some loans started out as quasi-dialectal words and have not become part of the wider language. There is indeed evidence that the Aboriginal heritage still is a marker of regional variation in mAusE (Leitner 2004a). Hybrids are often felt to be more transparent and preferred. Koalas are thus called koala bears (1917–). Monkey bear is attested between 1880 and 1980, native bear between 1889 and 1916 (Leitner 2004a: 155).1 Overlexicalization is thus generally reduced. But whether or not reduction occurs depends on whether the words in question are indeed (more or less) synonymous. If they carry contribute more than their cognitive or referential meaning, they may survive (for some time). Cases in point are dreaming, dreamtime, alchuringa, and tjukurrpa. They show the diversity of Aboriginal cultures today and are maintained. I will come to that in section 3.2. Returning to the Aboriginal heritage, Fig. 1 breaks down loans by onomasiological domains and periods of loaning (Leitner 2004b: 155).
Figure 1. Periods of loans and domains
Loans clearly cluster in some domains and the significance of those clusters changes over time. Overall, flora and fauna account for 281 loans or 63.7 per cent. Social organization, which will be discussed in section 3.2, accounts for 1. Interestingly, there is evidence of the existence of these loans in French (see Dyer 2005). Though not directly quoting, he uses waddie ‘a form of a club’ [his paraphrase, GL] and gunyer ‘temporary hut’ from the British writer Robert Dawson (Dyer 2005: 75). As French explorations were taking place throughout that period, there is little doubt that the French must have used such loans.
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114 loans or a quarter (25.8 per cent); topography and environment for 17 (3.8 per cent) (Leitner 2004a; section 3.3.1). Fig. 1 above shows that society has two peaks in 1800 and 1860. But 1920 and 1950, too, have produced a number of loans, as I will show presently. 3.2. Some onomasiological domains through time The picture presented thus far changes if one uses the wide definition of what counts as an Aboriginal contribution and links the analysis to the registers of particular domains. However, as there are no domain-specific corpora available that are large enough to identify the inputs from BrE, AmE and AusE, I will focus on those domains that are crucial in today’s debates and permit a number of inferences. The sources I use are the OED, the AND, research on the subject and countless books, newspapers and websites, I have excerpted. Dyer (2005) is useful in relation to the French use of words. 3.2.1. Naming of social units or groups of people As I have said repeatedly, English and other European languages had words to refer to and describe the people whose physiognomy and social patterns were unknown. The terms derived from past usage, the Age of Exploration and early colonization. Unsurprisingly, such terms came to be used in Australia. Their referential adequacy was debated there (as elsewhere) and, as a result, shifts occurred. The emerging disciplines of anthropology, sociology, etc. and the work of missionary-ethnographers led to further changes that made the lexis more adequate to the Australian situation. Aboriginal languages and concepts have played a minor role in the process of ‘localization’. I will discuss words for large units and ignore those for units smaller than tribes. The following table lists in (4) on the following pages selected items in chronological order of attestation in the relevant dictionaries and literature. A few words only had a unique local reference in Australia such as New Hollander, Diemenslander and Australian. They can be found in the reports of Dampier, Cook and of French explorers like Marion du Fresne or Baudin:2: (3)
The Diemlanders, seeing them acting thus [two sailors went ashore naked, GL], put their spears on the ground and with several
2. Cook reported expressions like warra warra wai and halu halu mae ‘come hither’ (Kenny 1995: 117; 122). Dyer (2005) reports on French explorers from the late 18th c.
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gestures which marked their joy, came leaping to meet them. (fr. Kenny 1995: 117) (4) Lexeme New Hollander Australian
Terms for people year Details 1699 similar terms: Van Diemen’s Lander
native
1766 for ‘all people’ in the Australasian region; 1814 for Abor’s; 1824 for ‘white settlers’ 1770 any native people; 1553 in America, West Indies; 16th c. India; 1697 Philippines; 1769 NZ 1770 for Abor’s [after 1806 also for ‘white settlers’]
savage black myall aborigine
1792 1795 1798 1803
coloured sable Papuan
1816 1823 1833
Koori negro half-caste dark nigger
1834 1834 1836 1838 1845
warrigal
1847
wild
1848
Indian
1588 ‘rough people’; attested 1760 US; 1838 SthAfr. [and compounds] for any dark people: 17th c. US fr. Dharuk ‘stranger; from another tribe; later ‘an Aborigine’ [in pl.; later: aboriginal, etc.]; 1610 for Britons; 19th c. in any colony 1611; attested in South Africa; 1866 AmE literary epithet for Aborigines 1619 for ‘dark-skinned people in SE Asia’ ; an uncertainty of classification throughout the 19th c. [in a glossary; used as a technical word to 1960] mid-16th c. for Africans, then black Americans 1789 India etc. [similar to coloured]; common worldwide various collocations such as nigger country, 1915 later; early 19th c. AmE fr. Dharuk an Aborigine; other meanings e.g. ‘dingo’; ‘untamed horse’ [(no negative connotations) Abor’s]; any kind of native people; ref. to the ‘noble savage’ (OED)
Péron, a companion of Baudin in 1801, for instance, spoke of “our good Diemenese” (transl.; Dyer 2005: 127), which was ‘Diéménois’ in French. The words Australian and native were used at first for Aborigines but were claimed by the intruders later, especially by those of the second generation of immigrants. As Ramson (2002: 95) believes that Australian had been used for Aborigines from 1814 and for white settlers from 1822, there must have been a period of dual reference. That situation is well attested in this quote from D’Urville in 1826 that “life must be difficult for the Australians; these unfortunate people must turn to the coasts…” (fr. Dyer 2005: 130). Its continued use in AusE is attested in the title of L.E. Threlkeld’s Australian Gram-
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mar (1834). It has become a technical term and occurs, e.g., in Australian linguistics, which refers to the ‘linguistics of Aboriginal languages’. The most common words during the early period appear to be native (as noun and adjective), Indian, savage, black and aborigine.3 Native and Indian are used abundantly in Cook’s and Banks’ reports: (5)
(6) (7)
... and myself [Cook] put off in the yawl and pull’d in for the land to a place where we saw four or five of the natives who took to the woods as we approached.... (on the first approach in Botany Bay 1770; fr. Kenny 1995: 115) Our boat proceeded along the shore and the Indians followed her at a distance. (same event; fr. Kenny 1995: 115) The savages did not appear at all astonished
While native is neutral, the others compare the physiognomy of Aborigines with that of the ‘known’ races. Cook and Banks write extensively about the problem of whether the people were of a similar race to American or African ‘negroes’. Kaffir, for instance, occurs in the report by Marion du Fresne, who came to Tasmania in 1772 (Kenny 1995: 133). The word Hotten-tot, too, was used in pre-colonial explorations (Kenny 1995). Papuan had been coined early in the 17th century for the people of the Philippines and New Guinea. Once it was established that the races had no similarity with Aborigines, it should have been discarded but was used till the end of the 19th century. It also occurred in German (Schneider 1882; Kotze n.y.: 56). Its use marks, says Ramson (2002: 129), an uncertainty of the classification of people. A term that referred to the African and north American races was negro. Its history goes back to the mid-16th century and was, according to the OED, a poetic word in BrE and used, amongst others, by Burns and Byron in 1786 and 1811. Negro and nigger came to be used around the beginning of the protection period. Negro is attested in 1834, nigger in 1845. They spread after 1875 (see Fritz 2004: 43). Whether it expressed racial contempt is uncertain: (8)
I consider myself a match for thirty or more niggers.
Neger also occurred in German descriptions of travel experiences in Australia (Kotze n.y.: 17; 39). Though often used to compare the physiognomy of Aborigines with known races, terms like Indian, negro and others entered common parlance and acquired racial connotations. They too should have been discarded quickly for factual reasons but were not, which shows that language use did not always follow academic debate. Words referring to 3. The French used natif throughout and aborigène after 1831 (see Dyer 2005: xi).
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racial purity like three-quarter caste emerged late in the 19th century. At that time the segregation of ‘pure race’ from ‘mixed race’ Aborigines became a politically sensitive issue and an influence from AmE cannot be ruled out. As Aborigines were being integrated into the discursive representations of ‘native’ peoples from the late 18th century, naming was done from several angles. The metaphorics of ‘wildness’ and ‘uncivilized’ can be seen in savage, wild and in the literary epithet sable, none of which were necessarily pejorative. Savage was common in all languages as a result of the philosophical debates about the nature of ‘primitive man’. In French it was sauvage, in German die Wilden (pl.), etc. In French one would find les naturels, which is untranslatable into English, as here:4 (9)
Vous avez déjà sans doute une foule de descriptions où les naturels de l’Australie sont dépeints dans les plus tristes couleurs (by de Costella; fr. Charton 1861: 98)
In German the word for F naturels was Naturkinder ‘children of nature’ (e.g., Schneider 1882). Racial purity or mixing was foregrounded at the beginning of the protection period when rape and a sort of legal partnership had led to many half-caste children. Civilized, in contrast to uncivilized or savage, is attested from the 1840s, often in phrases like civilized natives. The word aborigine (with lower case ‘a’) was used sparingly from 1803. Its use goes back to 1610, when it could refer to Britons. It must have become prominent in 1830 when Robert Dawson, a British travel writer, used it in the title of his book The Present State of Australia; a Description...of Its Aboriginal Inhabitants. It was a general term for native peoples, but was soon the near-sole expression for Aborigines. Contemporary dictionaries mark it as ‘Australian’. Abo, first attested in 1904, may have had a different origin than is generally believed. The AND entry suggests it derived from a column in the Bulletin. Its current sense is attested in 1908 and 1911. When it became offensive, is not known. The word blackfellow goes back to the early colonial period (attested in 1798; 1800) but has acquired racist connotations so that it is disused. Blackfellow and whitefella can be used by Aboriginal speakers. The words discussed so far were used in BrE and AmE but had wide currency in European languages, which reflects their background in European political and cultural history. There were few Aboriginal loans. Here is one: (10)
the blackfellow who accompanied me became so frightened of the Warrigals, or wild blacks, that he tried to leave
4. Travelogues in French, German or English have not been studied from a linguistic perspective though they have attracted interest in literature and cultural studies.
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This quotation is dated 1853 and Fritz (2004: 42) has more from around that period. Myall, which was applied by the Dharuk to the neighbouring Kamilaroi, was similarly peripheral. It was borrowed with the meaning of ‘stranger’. By a semantic shift it was applied to ‘Aborigines living a traditional way of life’ (Dixon et al. 1990: 83f, 172). These uses have continued and in 1932 warrigal was attested figuratively with reference to white people. The climate of opinion in the 1960s led to the politicization of some words. Aborigine acquired such connotations in the 1960s and was superseded by Aboriginal loans that referred to geographically defined groups (Leitner 2004a).5 Koori, which is one of those loans, was attested early. The AND has an entry from L.E. Threlkeld’s Austral. Grammar in 1834 and another, more informative one in 1845: “They informed me that the Bellengen corees (black fellows), were belcoula (not angry)”. Another quotation is from 1892. According to Ramson (2002: 130), it became a technical, anthropological word and was used in this way up to the 1960s. It then politicized and was the chosen word by and for Aborigines in the southeast of Australia. Murry, too, was attested early, in 1884, and became the chosen term in Queensland. A shift from non-Aboriginal to self-selected words was thus a matter of the 1960s, as Aborigines became agents. Though self-chosen designations are being accepted, usage is often imprecise and vague, as these examples show: (11)
(12)
I like the Koori flag and admire what it stands for – the aspirations of a people. Like almost everybody ..., I was thrilled to bits when Cathy Freemann carted the thing around the track of the Commonwealth Games. (The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 July 1995) A month later, the Magpies hosted North Melbourne [Victorian AFL teams, GL], whose team included Adrian McAdam, an Aborigine from Alice Springs. Fluttering in the breeze among the banners of the North Melbourne cheer squad that day was the Aboriginal flag. (The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 May 1995, p 41)
The flag in question is the same. The AmE indigenous made inroads at about the same time to reflect ‘political correctness’; it too is of Latin origin. 3.2.2. Names relating to land and ownership I have said that Aborigines were disowned of their group identity by the words that were used to refer to them. Land is an even more obvious domain 5. For Aboriginal (sg. noun), Aborigines (pl.) and spelling see Leitner (2004a).
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to show that disappropriation. During Cook’s voyage in 1770, Banks observed that “[W]e saw indeed only the coast: what the immense tract inland country may produce is to us totally unknown: we may have liberty to conjecture however that they are totally uninhabited.” (fr. Kenny 1995: 125). The sea seemed to have been the main source of food; the land would not be enough support throughout the year. He added: I do not remember to have read of any inland nation who did not cultivate the ground more or less, even the North Americans who were so well versd in hunting sowd their Maize. But should a people live inland who supported themselves by cultivation these inhabitants of the sea coast must certainly have learn’d to imitate them in some degree at least, otherwise their reason must be supposd to hold a rank little superior to that of monkies. (fr. Kenny 1995: 125)
Note in passing, the use of the words nation and people, which have both become prominent in recent decades. Cook did not elaborate on the implication of the possible primitiveness of the people. But the implication was there. Cook reported that the land was unused for any form of agricultural activity; that he found no habitations of a stable kind, and that tribes merely roamed the land. He concluded that the land was uninhabited. The Terra Nullius hypothesis may not have seemed so insensible when the British government adopted it. There do not seem to have been discussions about Aboriginal land ownership. The fact that Aborigines observed geographical limits in their movements and that they fulfilled caring functions for the land went unnoticed. They were seen as hunters and gatherers, no more. There do not seem to have been any special words for the land they used. When land was specifically referred to later, it was described as ‘a stretch of land’ or a run as late as 1838. But run had been a designation for agricultural land of settlers in 1804. The compound hunting ground is attested in 1830 and was closer to the purpose of using land but that did not imply permanency. Since Cook reported on a ‘tribe’ “with which we had connections” (fr. Kenny 1995: 125), one would presume that compounds like tribal land could have occurred. Words like tribal land or tribal territory are attested in 1882 (AND), tribal boundary in 1890. In other words, it was during the fourth period that such words were coined in the context of anthropological and missionary interest in the analysis of social structures. In contrast, an extensive vocabulary had emerged in English for land and land divisions for white settlers, witness section, block, allotment and others. The Terra Nullius hypothesis remained unchallenged until the 1960s, i.e. the fifth period that made Aborigines agents rather than subjects of politics.
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The Commonwealth passed a law for the Northern Territory in 1976 that permitted land claims to be made and regulated on the principles that had to be observed. There were a few widely discussed cases, as in Arnhem Land, but the real test began when Eddie Mabo and four co-complainants sued the Queensland government for their land in the Torres Strait. The dispute ended with the famous Mabo decision in 1992. The Native Title Act was passed in 1993; amendments were added later. In between that struggle land rights agreements began to be practised widely. The reason why all of this background is relevant is that a distinction had been made early between crown land and wasteland. Crown land, a Canadian English loan, is attested in 1789 and had several related senses. It could either be land reserved for the Crown or held in the name of the Crown; it could be alienated or not. Wasteland was used first in 1804 for land not, or barely, usable for agricultural purposes, but it need not have remained wasteland forever and Aborigines were removed whenever some tract of land became usable. Both terms had legal force especially during the protection period when land was used to settle Aborigines. The South Australian Wasteland Act of 1842 was the first such act to regulate Aboriginal settlements. The Mabo decision defined the concept of Crown Land, in the sense of ‘land held in the name of the Crown’, more narrowly so that it did not rule out a continuity of prior (Aboriginal) ownership, provided a cultural tradition could be proven. Prominent contributions during the early decades of the 19th century and the beginning of the protection period were words that expressed the special nature of wasteland or land reserved for Aborigines. Reserve and station were attested in 1815 and 1816, respectively. They had different senses at first. A reserve was (also) land set aside for a public purpose or for a future individual occupant. Both senses had an AmE origin. The use as ‘land set aside for the exclusive use of Aborigines’ (AND) was attested first in 1839. Station referred to ‘an outpost of colonial government’ first and was used then to refer to ‘a tract of land recognized as being occupied by Aborigines; a reserve for Aborigines’ (1825; AND). That period also illustrates an understanding of Aboriginal settlement. The following quotations refer to traditional tribal land: (13) (14)
They are divided into tribes, each tribe having its own district of country or hunting ground (1843; AND) The aboriginal will speak to this Being ... ‘Do not touch me. I belong to this country.’ (1897; AND)
In (13) country (in the phrase ‘district of country’) projects an outsider’s perspective, in (14) it more clearly refers to the spiritual association of the people with the(ir) land. The word was and remained a technical term and
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appeared mainly in quotes about what Aborigines were heard to say. There was hardly any borrowing from Aboriginal languages; an exception is towri, which is attested in 1872 with the meaning of ‘country’ (AND): (15)
The native tribes had made their ‘towri’ here
While these decades increased the knowledge about social structures, significant change in naming practices does not seem to have occurred before the 1960s. They have to do with the land rights issues, native title and developments that were just mentioned. One can now find a range of words, as these ones: (16)
Among the various English expressions referring to a primary country connection are ‘main-place’, ‘number one country’, and the statement that certain people are ‘boss for’, ‘come in front of’ or are ‘longa [in the] lead for’ a certain country. (Sutton 2003: 11)
Apart from the land, the mythological relationship with it, which is based on dreaming, was an area that was not given much attention during the 19th century. The word country mentioned in (13) is a rare exception. That relationship has been foregrounded only in the very recent past. ‘Land’ is framed within the concept of ‘motherhood’ or in ways that make reference to dreaming. Many expressions are from Aboriginal English and Aboriginal languages: (17) (18) (19)
We really know the land. We were born on the Manta, born on the Earth. And never mind our country is in the desert, that’s where we belong, in the beautiful desert country. (Elders 2003: 18) Clean this land. This is our Mother. She gives us everything we need. (Elders 2003: 19–20) Our job is to care for the country. (Elders 2003: 23)
The word country expressed some dependency on its owners. Aboriginal land is in principle inalienable. The theme of ownership and how ownership could be claimed has come up in the Native Title context. ‘Ownership’ was lexicalized in Aboriginal English, Kriol and sometimes in Aboriginal languages, as these examples show: (20)
The patrifilial category, called kirda, mangaya, gidjan, nimarringki, etc, depending on the language, is often translated into English as ‘owner’ or ‘boss’. The term for the complementary (and often, but not only, matrifilial) category of kurdungurlu, kulyungkulyungpi, jungkayi etc, is often translated as ‘policeman’, ‘worker’, or ‘manager’. (Sutton 2003: 195)
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(21) (22)
A woman’s patrifilial interests may also be passed down to her son’s sons, the latter being known as ‘secondary kurdungurlu’. (Sutton 2003: 195) Ritual and secular rights in land are also acquired at the place where a particular Tjukurrpa enters an unborn child (called Tjarrinpa or their conception site) (Cane 2002: 65)
The Aboriginal examples imply genealogical relationships, which are absent in the English expressions. Longa in (16) is from Kriol and is used, possibly, in northern Aboriginal English. Sutton mentions terms for different kinds of ownership such as ngurraritja, ngurrara (built on the word for ‘land’ in the Western Desert). A suffix meaning ‘native to’ such as –wardingki (Warlpiri), –wartingi (Warlmanpa), etc., may be attached to a place-name (Sutton 2003: 11). Of course, Sutton’s coverage of the field is set in the technical context of the Native Title and is, as a consequence, similar to a glossary. He quotes words but does not show the actual use in non-technical contexts in mAusE. It may well be that such words occur in the legal framework and could count as signal of the register of Native Title language in Australia. The word traditional occurs often with a unique reference to Aboriginal issues. Traditional owner, traditional language, etc., are cases in point; the word language is often used in this sense without article. Let me turn to related areas. Aborigines barely had a ‘home’ Naked as these people are when abroad they are scarce at all better defended from the injuries of the weather when at home, if that name can with propriety be given to their homes ... which are framd with less art or rather less industry than any habitations of human beings probably that the world can shew. (fr. Kenny 1995: 128)
Homes were described in various ways, such as these: (23) (24)
‘Their huts’, he [M. Quoy, companion of D’Urville] wrote, ‘are tree branches bent over into a curve and covered with dry grasstree leaves’. (fr. Dyer 2005: 74) ... the Englishman Robert Dawson had been obliged to spend a night in the bush, where his native companions soon made him ‘one of their gunyers (bark huts) and,’ he declared, ‘I slept as well as if I had been in a palace.’ (fr. Dyer 2005: 75)
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They were referred to as huts, in French habitations or villages. 6 In contemporary contexts, such as Native Title, other terms have come to be used which do not imply a sort of construction but the area owned, see (16). To conclude, up to the mid-19th century, Aboriginal land, land ownership, the claiming of land and possessions were not recognized in lexis. These areas were referred to, e.g., as temporarily used land or in relation to locations given them by the colonial governments. That situation only changed in the fifth period, again in the context of Native Title. 3.2.3. Expressions for kinship and social relations Another area where there was no trace of borrowing until recently is relationships inside the units referred to as tribes or families. Words like chief, chieftain and others occurred in the late 18th century or even during the Age of Exploration. A shift occurred in the fifth period so that there is now a number of loans in mAusE, Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English and, depending on the region, in Kriol. The most prominent word today is elder; it is neutral with regard to particular functions inside a group. Here are examples of other terms used for social relations: (25)
(26)
(27)
Maari Ma Health Service [headline]... The Maari Ma model is really working with other people, and in fact that’s the name, that’s what Maari Ma means. It’s a Paakantyi word meaning ‘people working together’. (ABC AM, 23 June 2004, 8am) [the speaker is an Aboriginal man] In northeast Arnhem Land, Gary Daywarru Dhurrkay – another former AFL star – wrote: ‘Great studd Wawa (brother), you’re a champion in all levels of life.’ (The Australian, 26 Nov 2004) [about former AFL star Michael Long on his protest march to Prime Minister Howard; quoted from an Aboriginal man] The parallel/cross distinction mainly emerges in a land claims context when the distinction between parallel cousins and cross cousins is made. Basically, a parallel cousin is one’s FBC or MZC, while a cross-cousin is one’s FZC or MBC [letters used to describe generations and filiation]. Cross cousins and parallel cousins are indicated by different kin terms in most Aboriginal languages. The parallel cousin terms are usually the same as the
6. E.g. furniture was used in Cook’s and Banks’ accounts. The word referred to items of domestic belongings. The word must soon have disappeared (Kenny 1995: 128).
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(28)
sibling terms. Thus in Aboriginal English it is common, although not universal, for cross-cousins to be referred to as cousins and be addressed as ‘cousin’, ‘cuz’, ‘cussie’ etc, and for parallel cousins to be referred to as ‘cousin-sister’, ‘cousin-brother’, or simply as a sibling (brother, sister = and addressed as ‘brother’, ‘sister’, ‘brud’, ‘bruz’, ‘sis’, ‘sissie’, etc. (Sutton 2003) They recognise constructive cross-cultural relations as a two-way street as ngapartji ngapartji, literally meaning ‘in return in return’. (Cane 2002: 38)
Some of these terms have acquired a usage outside anthropological or other registers and can be found in the press and fiction. But even there they are typically used by Aboriginal speakers and writers. The words in (27) can be used more loosely and then mark friendship and solidarity, rather than specific kin relations. Sutton (2003: 216) adds that there is barely a word for English ‘friend’ in any Aboriginal language. The Western Desert, he says, is one of the few to have a word which comes close. It is malpa that can be used with non-kin people. Other languages use words for ‘cross-cousin’, ‘(sleeping) companion’, etc. Sutton (2003: 227) adds to the words that can be used with non-kin: (29)
Other kin terms may be used widely with non-kin; for instance, if people are close in years and friendly they may use ‘sis’ (sister), ‘tidda’ (sister), ‘bruz’ (brother) or ‘cuz’ (cousin) as terms of address with each other.
There is, he notes, a shift from kinship to friendship expressions. The ‘twoway’ metaphor in (28) turns up in a large range of domains to signal a particular view of interethnic relations (see Malcolm 1999). NgarritjinKessaris and Ford (this vol.) use numerous loan words for clan or, more generally, intra-group relationships. 3.2.4. Religious beliefs, social practices and law Religion, ceremonies, rites and social structure were not a prominent theme up to the end of the 19th century. Indeed, it had been argued that Aborigines had no religion and that they were barely human, if that. Dyer’s (2005) study of the reports of French explorers, for instance, has little to say about social practices, let alone beliefs. Neither does Marchant’s (1998) book on the French role in the exploration of Australia or Kenny’s (1995) study of precolonial explorations. To the extent that Aborigines were granted to have a
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religion, it was thought to be a primitive belief in supernatural beings, a Naturreligion or a Geisterreligion. Corrobories and the belief in totems were firm proof of that. Corrobories brought together Aborigines from afar who painted themselves with earth colours, danced and celebrated rites. It is likely that early explorers had observed them, but they were soon after colonization.7 The AND has a first attestation of the word by W. Dawson in 1790, who described it as ‘another mode of dancing’. Aborigines must have performed them to the pleasure of settlers, so that their performance on Sundays was forbidden by the Protector in South Australia around 1847. Missionaries had little understanding of their spiritual and social significance and reacted with extreme preconceptions. This excerpt shows the reaction of the Moravian missionary Hagenauer: (30)
The picture changes fast, night falls and the wildest corroboree with its abominable excesses begins. The missionary cannot stop himself, he rushes to the scene from where the devilish noise is coming from, commands peace and calls out he has to tell them something. The dancers stop, but the women keep screaming, the beat becomes louder, and the wild dance starts anew. Deeply shaken, Hagenauer retreats, rests on a tree trunk and prays for those who are blind. (my transl.; Schneider 1882: 108)
The word made it into German, where it is still used, as internet sites easily show. It has made it into other languages. Its meaning was little understood and it must have been used in a non-Aboriginal sense from the beginning. If the existence of religion was denied, missionaries soon discovered patterns of behaviour that pointed to moral codes. These codes, let alone what was later translated as dreamtime, were often little understood and had not been investigated to the end of the 19th century (Charlesworth 1998). As a result there was no need for an extensive register. The most well-known word today for mythical or magical beliefs, dreamtime, was first attested in 1878 in an anthropological work. It is a loan translation of alcheringa of Warlpiri in Central Australia. The related term dreaming occurred later, according to the AND (though it may not be trustworthy here), in 1943, in a book on social practices. What other words there may have been during the third and fourth period I cannot tell in the absence of detailed studies of the relevant literature. But there is a large number of words for ‘dreaming’ today which reflect the interest in religion, law and other aspects of social organization. That interest 7. Kenny (1995: 113) shows that the Dutch Jean Etienne Gonzal and his crew may have seen one in 1756.
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has intensified because of the controversies between missionaryanthropologists and secular anthropologists in the 1890s (Veit 2004). One can notice an abundance of loans and a high level of overlexicalization. Here are examples from a study of the Spinifex by Cane (2002) and other studies: (31)
‘Dreamtime’ and concepts relating to dreamtime figures Lai Lai wunggud
‘creation time’, ‘Wandjina’ (Bell 1998: 17) ‘source of energy of Creation; also ‘intent of Creation’ (Bell 1998: 41) tjukurrpa ‘creation time’, (Cane 2002: 32f) Wuudu Time ‘dusk’ (Bell 1998: 50) Mamu Tjuta (‘Many Spirits’) Minyma Tjuta (‘seven Sisters’) Wat Kutjurra (‘Two Men’) Wati Kulparu ‘Magpie Men’, from Spinifex mythology (Cane 2002: 56ff)8 One cannot fail to note the desire to pay tribute to the differences between tribes and to show to a wide readership that differences are important. One cannot fail to see either the desire of Aborigines to reflect the internal diversity of Aboriginality.9 The area of general social practices was slightly more extensive, as the statistics derived from Dixon et al. (1990) show. The domain of ‘society’ contained some 114 loans, as I said in section 3.1, though many words referred to material culture like weaponry and hunting tools. Few loans from the social sphere have become prominent so they would be used outside their original domain. Corroborie is one, to point the bone at, a loan translation, another. It referred to the lawmen’s act of punishing misdemeanour. The curse was a serious punishment and could end in death. Here are few examples of recent usage that shows its trivialization: (32)
(33)
... suspended ATSIC chairman Geoff Clark persuaded his second (female) cousin to point the bone at Prime Minister Howard. ... according to relative Len Clark, bone-pointing by females can simply ‘turn the spirits right back on you’! (The Canberra Times, 23 June 2004) ... This fails to point the bone at the root source, viz. the remote communities themselves (The Canberra Times, 23 June 2004)
8. See esp. Cane (2002: 61) for name-giving and Pitjantjatjara words. 9. Tjurunga, e.g., was used by Carl Strehlow in 1908 (see Veit 2004: 108).
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Recently traditional practices such as the purification of places were noticed. Smoking is now a widely used word: (34)
(35)
The evidence is that maintaining places of importance involves low-impact activities such as visiting, checking for damage, smoking, speaking to the andjina and repainting. (The Sydney Morning Herald, 9 Dec 2003) A traditional smoking ceremony held to rid WA’s Aboriginal health service of bad spirits ... has created more division in the Aboriginal community.... After the building was “smoked”, Kulbardi dancers performed a kangaroo dance (The West Australian, 14 Oct 2003)
Equally important are words for law practices when international conventions enforced the recognition of traditional law practices: (36)
(37)
the magistrate recommended Cowen to attend a circle sentencing court, in which indigenous offenders are sentenced by a “circle” of at least three local elders, a magistrate, a prosecutor, family members and victims. (The Sydney Morning Herald, 1 Sep 2003) Mr Webb ... also claims there are at least three scar trees within the tenement. (The West Australian, 14 Oct 2003)
Payback is a typical word for traditional punishment; it may imply very severe forms of punishments. There is an alternative term, get-back, as here: (38)
If the man dies, we were to take extra care in our movements and security because the incident could provoke a bout of “get-back”, an avenging violence that ... could become very serious. (Bell 1998: 108)
Though not central to the legal register, I will quote Sutton (2003), who describes the embeddedness of ‘law’ in the daily lives of Aborigines and its descendency from dreamtime: Kenneth Maddock has published a brief review of such concepts, using ... the term julubidi in the Mardu region of Western Australia and the term djugaruru among the Warlpiri of north-central Northern Territory. These terms typically refer to a body of designs for conduct, and range widely from religious acts such as ‘going through the rules’ (being initiated), to marriage rules, kinship etiquettes, the butchering of game, the making of fire and even forms of animal behaviour, for example. Land law falls under the same rubric. This should not be taken to suggest that indigenous terms for Aboriginal Law are vague or nebulous. Where well-documented they are polysemous, that is, they have several related but distinct senses of different scopes, context
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indicating which one is in use. For example, the relevant term in Kayardild (Gulf of Carpentaria) is birrjilka, defined by Nicholas Evans as ‘1. Time, occasion; 2. Way, manner, pace; 3. “Law”, way, custom; 4. Morals, way of living; 5. Something (event)’.
In the Flinders Island language of Cape York Peninsula, Sutton says, the term for law is epiy-abiya, literally ‘from father and from father’s father’. Some of the recent concepts mentioned above such as payback, get-back or smoking have acquired a wide usage in mAusE and must be seen in this context. It will be interesting to see if any of the technical terms in books like Sutton’s will make it outside their narrow register in mAusE. Closely related to the legal domain are reduplicated words like milli milli ‘documents’ since they point to the bureaucracy involved in law: (39)
He will have to live in two worlds, Whitefella and Blackfella. He must be able to read Whitefella milli milli (documents). (Bell 1998: 172)
A few other concepts are worth closing with. Secret-sacred (with a range of spelling variants and reversed order in sacred-secret) is widely used today to refer to knowledge associated with sacred sites and the secret stories (reserved to selected men or women) (see Leitner 2004a). Its first attestation is unknown but it appeared presumably in anthropological writings such as Berndt and Berndt’s first edition (1964). 3.2.5. The informal domain The language of informal conversation was not well developed. Sign language dominated during the exploration period and was not good enough to enable French and British explorers to collect adequate information on languages. Typically, Europeans felt the unwillingness of Aborigines to interact and their preference to be left alone. Often communication was embroiled in hostilities but it was of a social nature with humour and friendliness, at times (Dyer 2005; Kenny 1995). As the situation changed, a ‘broken’ English developed. Some of the informal loans come from there or have at least been carried into English through it. Let me mention the discourse particle budgeree ‘good’ from the Sydney pidgin (1790); it is an archaic colloquialism now (see Macquarie Dictionary). As the colonies extended, localized pidgin words were transferred. Borak ‘no’, for instance, is from the Geelong region (1839), while baal ‘no’ is from the Sydney region (1828). Both bung ‘dead’ and yohi ‘yes’ are from Brisbane (1841 and 1859, respectively). Yabber ‘to talk
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incessantly’ has become a common word in non-standard mAusE; it is from the border area between New South Wales and Queensland (1841). Gibber meant ‘a stone, rock, mass of stone; a boulder’, according to Dixon et al. (1990: 192); its meaning widened so that it now refers to ‘a stone any size’. It comes from Dharuk. Cooee ‘a call for attention’ is hardly noticeable as a loan today. Some of these expressions have become iconic of non-standard mAusE. Thus, to poke borak at means ‘to make fun of sb’; within cooee ‘within earshot’, etc. Some loans had a technical meaning but shifted into colloquial mAusE. To point the bone at ‘to punish someone severely’ and corroboree mentioned above are cases in point. (40) (41) (42)
A corroboree of manners and mores (headline of a book review, The Sydney Morning Herald, 2 October 1993) Keating is actually proposing to continue our constitutional monarchy – even if it is an elected bunyip version. Vic says he was never one for school, except for “acting the galah”
Corroboree in (40) has a non-ceremonial meaning. A bunyip is a mythical animal and lends itself to facetious uses as in (41). Acting like a galah, finally, means ‘to act stupidly’ and exploits connotations derived from the bird’s behaviour. Clips such as budgie, kanga or roo typically carry colloquial or slang connotations. English compounds with business that refer to Aboriginal concepts or the adjective sorry in phrases like ‘sad and sorry’ have acquired transferred uses and are often used humorously, if not derogatorily. Cases in point are women’s business ‘secret knowledge held by (selected) women’, the use of sorry on its own or in phrases and the verb to bone, as these examples show: (43)
(44)
... the word ‘business’ ... has been bandied around a bit about the Hindmarsh Island and so on. But some of the things that I’ve seen written or spoken about it seems to me don’t understand the Aboriginal connotations of business. They talk about women’s business in the same way as that’s my business, that’s your business but they don’t understand that it’s got sort of secret, sacred meaning in Aboriginal English and so the Aboriginal people I know use the word business to mean ‘ceremony’ (my own data, GL) I am sad and sorry that my political career is coming to such a sad and sorry end. And while in melancholy mood and reflective frame of mind, I’ve decided to say sorry for various sins of
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(45)
commission and omission. First of all, I’m sorry for not saying sorry. That’s the big sorry. The capital-S sorry. The sorry to the Aborigines.... I’m sorry my department issued statements that denied the existence of a stolen generation, and I’m particularly sorry for my recent treatment of Lowitja O’Donoghue in my attempts to split hairs between “stolen” and “removed”. But I was trying to steal a few right-wing votes from One Nation. (The Australian, 24 March 2001) Mr McGuire’s intervention comes amid attempts to bolster confidence in Today show co-host Jessica Rowe, who Mr McGuire claims is the target of a “vilification campaign”. The network boss has declined to comment on reports that he was so unhappy with Rowe’s performance that he wanted to “bone” (sack) her. (“Nine chief settles bill to ease damage”, The Australian, 30 June 2006)
The last example, which uses to bone, is very recent and suggests that the verb is uncommon – an innovation perhaps. Such data show that the informal style of mAusE has been, and keeps being, enriched by the Aboriginal heritage. Apart from borrowing colloquial words directly, it is the shift of words to a style of a domain outside their source that is worth noting. Such words then express a local, Australian identity. Technically, this is referred to as institutionalization. The Aboriginal languages of today do not lend themselves to such transferred colloquial uses easily. But Aboriginal English affects any variety of mAusE where its demographic base is large enough and where there is reasonably intensive contact. Aboriginal English has a sort of covert prestige in such situations, Wignell noted in Darwin that Darwin is a culturally diverse place, with people from all over the place living here. Many people, however, like myself, migrate here as adults.... After a time here ... I began to test myself by trying to guess who was “from here” and who was from somewhere else. Upon reflection I found myself basing my guesses on words and expressions that, being originally from “down south”, I would usually have considered to be Aboriginal English. (1997: 1)
He studied the late teens to mid-twenties and found some expressions of Aboriginal English to be quite common: Two typical examples are the words deadly and flash. Deadly, said with lengthened vowels and an exaggerated rising/falling intonation contour is typically used to say something is good or desirable: it has a positive effect... It appears that deadly is used to refer to situations or events while flash is used to
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refer to objects. The word proper is also used to show positive evaluation of something, with things being referred to as proper one or sometimes as a proper job good one. (1997: 3)
Wignell thought that this is part of ‘unconscious playground English’. But such expressions could be used by adolescents with exactly the same range of meaning as in Aboriginal English. The Aboriginal English bruz, for instance, translates as ‘cousin-brother’ and expresses in-group solidarity remotely similar to mate. Technically, it is a blend between bro (< brother) and cuz (< cousin). Most colloquial expressions today are taken from Aboriginal English or, depending on the region, Kriol. Would it be wrong to say that codeswitches between mAusE and Aboriginal English or Kriol (or the pidgins of the more distant past) serve the purpose of marking an informal level of communication? Here are some examples: (46) (47)
The song of the ancestral Harvest Spiritmen greeted this fine, early cold-season day. Knock-em-down rains had recently flattened the metres-tall spear grasses... (Bell 1998: 68) For months since the knock-down rains heralded the bountiful beautiful, cool season ... (Bell 1998: 86)
Knock-(em)-down rains betrays its origin in Kriol (and the earlier pidgins) where the –em suffix marked transitive verbs. (46) is more traditional than (47), where –em is deleted, while the expression as such is retained. Clearly, such examples create a sense of realism in books and print media. They are typical of Aboriginal English and resented in non-Aboriginal English. 4. Exploiting Australia’s language resources Authenticity and realism are a transition point to look at the texture of language habitats and how they are exploited by the choices people make for communicative purposes. Such an approach embeds contact in communicative settings at specific socio-cultural periods. It looks at how it has helped create a novel habitat where Aboriginal traditional and contact languages have found a place and complement mAusE – and the migrant languages, which are not discussed here. The new habitat did not result by consensus, but by the pressure of Aborigines and the willingness of a more enlightened public. In such a climate of opinion these languages could be defined as Aboriginal. Aboriginal English, for instance, is now seen as a social, ethnic dialect of AusE; Kriol and pidgins are widely accepted as
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daughter languages; and support is given to traditional languages. The development of that habitat is described in detail in Leitner (2004b). I will illustrate the ways Australians of Aboriginal background exploit it in communicative settings and argue that their language repertoires typically differ from those of mainstream (and migrant) Australians. As a result both sides can signal identities unavailable to the other. I will illustrate what that means with a few examples. The first text is from a collection of interviews on the pastoral station of Moola Bulla in eastern Western Australia where people still speak traditional languages. The narrator and interviewer uses Kriol, while the interviewee draws on Kriol and his native language Jaru. The interview is printed along with an English paraphrase: (48)
‘Watjin dem ol pipul’ [‘Watching the old people’] (N=narrator, Q=questioner) (Kimberley Language Research Centre 1996: 17)
1 N: La rokol gan.gani rokol deya seikrid N: At the rockhole down there is a pleis, darrugu Ø pleis ... sacred men’s place 2 Q: Yu reken pipul bin libinran deya bifo, Q: You say people were living round there a long time ago? 3 longtaim? 4 A: Murlagarra! Ngalu murla-garra A: All around! They lived all round there. 5 nyinagurra Q: It was a camping area, a big 6 Q: Kempin eriya, big kempin eriya. camping area? 7 A: Ye. Murlagarra ngamungamu, ngalu A: Yeah. They used to hunt goannas all over that country... jarrambayi bila manin-yurra.... Det Ngunkuwa yustu bi karraborri The Ngunjuwa Rockhole used to be kemp, en olidei kemp. Desda bigpleis a corroboree camp, a holiday camp. Ngunjuwa, dijan iya, rokol. Dets Ngunjuwa was an important place. weya da pipul bin fait wananaja deya. People used to fight one another there. 8 Q: Wot mit brom ebripleis? Q: People used to meet from 9 everywhere? A: Ebripleis brom oloba .... A: Everywhere, from all over 10 Q: Yubela bin gedim frait? Q: You [kids] got frightened? 11 A: Yan.garnu ngarnalu burija A: We ran and hid behind trees.... maninyurra burnungga….
For simplification italicized passages show the use of Kriol, bold ones that of Jaru. Kriol is the appropriate language in this interview that was to be transcribed and published for an ethnically mixed readership. It is the language known to both participants, creates solidarity between them and is the language that mediates to the outside. The narrator, in contrast, switches into
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and out of Jaru, which is known to the interviewer, to signal his involvement in his child’s experiences that he is narrating. Jaru marks him as ‘someone from the region’ and someone whose identity comes from there. Texts like this reflect a pattern of the north, unavailable in the rest of the continent. The second illustration is from Paddy Roe, a prominent Aborigine in northwestern Western Australia. Roe tells traditional stories of the region to Stephen Muecke, a white linguist (Muecke 1983). The passage below uses Aboriginal English, Kriol, an Aboriginal language and AusE: (49)
“Mirdinan” (various segments of the story) (a) “I know what’s goin’ on – so never mind” he said “Tha’s all right – never worry” – say “Come on yunme better go – we go this way bush – ” (p 4f) (b) they wen’ Ø bush – oh ‘long the beach you know very close to beach – “You bin goin’ round with that Malay bloke tha’s right?” he tell-im – (p 5) (c) everybody bin ringin’ up – this man gotta get hanged today – telephone – taliii minma means he tell-im everybody you know – just like he talk little bit in English too – (p 14)
Passages in the Aboriginal language are in bold, Aboriginal English and Kriol ones are italicized. English is in standard letters. As in (48) one finds bin to signal past tense. As in (46), (47), the suffix -im marks transitive verbs where the object follows or is understood, witness passage (b). The adverb of direction ‘to’ in (a) is expressed by this way. And yunme in (a) is the dual personal pronoun. These characteristics straddle Kriol and (very broad) Aboriginal English and cannot be attributed without further analysis. Code-switching marks the speaker’s regional belonging and creates a sense of authenticity. The third story from Central Australia narrates a problem between an Aboriginal man and a white farmer. The story clearly demarcates the different personae; the rainmaker uses Kriol and Aboriginal English, the farmer Aboriginal English and broad mAusE (fr. Mattingley and Hampton 1992): (50)
‘The Rainmaker Story’ (N=narrator, B=Billy, T=Taggart)
(a) N: An’ ol’ McTaggart went down there .... and he said, ‘Ol’ man, you’ve got too many dogs. You’ve got to get rid of ‘em’. B: ‘No. I can’t do that....’
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T: ‘Ah well, if you don’t, I’ll shoot ‘em’. B: ‘Na. You can’t shoot ‘em. You shoot ‘em your sheep all die.’ ....
N: Anyway he [i.e. McTaggart] chuck ‘em all in the buggy and took ‘em and shoot ‘em... An’ the ol’ fella cried. He [McTaggart] came up. T: ‘I shoot ‘em all, ol’ man.’ B: (i) What (ii) you done shoot ‘em for? They (iii) not harm to you.’ (b) B: ‘... Look, I’ll give you two, three months... After three months the country wouldn’t hold any sheep.’ T: ‘Hm, hm. You can’t do nothin’, old McTaggart said... B: ‘Why? You want see ‘em? ... You go away. You’ll see it.... Ø North wind gonna blow every day. He’ll stop sundown.... When he start warming up he’s gonna blow Ø north wind. This passage poses similar problems to (49): it is hard to assign it uniquely to one of the three varieties used (see Leitner 2004b) as they are often unrecognizable at the level of expression. Both characters, for instance, delete dental fricatives in them (> em), both use shoot to refer to past time. Taggart uses double negation, which is common in non-standard mAusE and Aboriginal English. Billy, in contrast, has preverbal negation in ‘They not harm to you’ and a paratactic construction to express conditionality in “You shoot ‘em your sheep all die”; he uses done to signal past time in “What you done shoot em for” in (a). Such constructions occur in both broad Aboriginal English and Kriol. Yet, it makes sense to assume that the participants and interlocutors will know the languages they use and that the conflict between the main characters is asserted through the choices of language. The next example is from an Aboriginal soap opera. Its humour rests on the differences between the English of a middle-aged Aboriginal woman, who applies for a job, and a young Aboriginal girl who works as a secretary. The woman has to wait a little till the boss arrives for the job interview and this short dialogue between the two women shows the language of ‘conflict’: (51)
Aboriginal soap opera (ABC TV 1996) S1-01: Excuse me, uhm I’ve got an appointment with the administrator... S2-01: Take a seat. I’ll buzz Hector when he gets in.... S1-02: Listen, have you got anywhere I can powder my nose. It’s real hot outside and I rushed all the way here, eh. S2-02 Well I usually powder my nose right here. So unless you want to sit on my lap, you can do it right there where you are. I’m sure no one would mind.
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S1-03
You know sister girl it’s funny, but after all I’ve been through I nearly always manage to be the perfect lady. There are only a few things in my lifetime that have broken me temporarily from my normal quiet self.... S1-03 ... Injustice, that’s another one. Can’t stand by and watch that, eh, the unwanted advances ... and disrespectful smart-asses and nobodies like you.... All I want is a bit of respect and an even break especially from a young girl like you. You got me? S1-05: Now I am going to the toilet to powder my nose. You will buzz me when Hec gets in, won’t you?
Language plays a key role. The woman uses a light form of Aboriginal English, which can be seen in the bolded and italicized passages. There is one strong sign of Aboriginal English, viz. sister-girl which expresses a social hierarchy and by implication social distance. The shift in relationship comes out more strongly when the older women uses the standard mAusE question tag won’t you instead of the Aboriginal English tag eh. A particular stylistic feature is the use of, what must count as old-fashioned, English expressions like powder my nose for ‘going to the restroom’, which the girl cheekily takes literally. Her speech has no trace of Aboriginal English; it’s standard mAusE. Newspapers normally use mAusE but they can include, expressions from any of the source domains or, as in this case, code-switching between mAusE and an Aboriginal language – to show the authenticity of the passage: (52)
A newspaper report Kelsey Straeek-Barker’s sweet voice sings out strange words to the popular children’s ditty, the Hockey pokey. ‘Nginda dhina way, Nginda dhina dhuwimay’ in the Yuwaalaraay language means ‘You put your foot in, you take your foot out’. (The Sydney Morning Herald, 27 March 2004)
The article reports on innovatory steps taken to revive Aboriginal languages. In the case of Yuwaalaraay, a CD has been produced with popular, modern songs in that language. Yuwaalaraay expresses authenticity. The goal of authenticity, of realism, and of identifying someone as ‘from the region’, as marking a communicative conflict (e.g. (50) are central communicative intents. Beyond that, they show the speech repertoires of black and white Australians to differ. They need not differ much at the level of linguistic expressions as in (50), (51) or (52), and even where linguistic expressions are similar, there may still be deeper, cultural differences as in narrative style that Malcolm (2002) had investigated in detail. But it is the resources they can draw on that mark them as members of different ethnic
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groups. Aborigines can exploit Aboriginal languages, Kriol, (a range of) Aboriginal English, (broad) mAusE or higher social varieties, depending on the region they live and individual linguistic skills. White speakers, in contrast, are more limited. They work within the social varieties of mAusE. They can mark identities, but cannot step outside (in the typical case) mainstream AusE. However, depending on skill and experience, they have better access to the resources of English worldwide, of AmE and of the migrant or foreign languages they are familiar with. While texts like the ones used here mark ethnic groups as diverse in terms of their language repertoires, one should not overlook the fact that they can be understood across groups and that there are speakers on both sides that have access to, at least, parts of the repertoires of the other group. Language marks identities and can also create a pan-Australian identification. 5. Conclusion Using a habitat approach to contact, I argued, the study of language contact cannot be reduced to that of lexical items. There are three areas, viz. lexical transfer, the structure of the habitat and its exploitation that mark different identities. A little reflection will show that this approach has further implications. One is that it is similar to cultural (linguistic) history. Seen from that angle, it is not new. Wächtler (1984), for instance, is a study of what Americanisms tell us about the development of American society in the 19th century. Fig. 2 below attempts to map the historical dimension in Australia. The cylinders embrace the languages of either party, i.e. those with an English background and those with an Aboriginal one. (Those of a nonEnglish migrant background would be marked like those with an Aboriginal background.) The cylinders are slightly tilted so as to indicate the mutual accommodation that can be observed between speakers on either side. There are two ways of looking at this figure. If seen as focusing on social codes or languages, one might look at Aboriginal English as a transitional variety close to non-standard mAusE. Aboriginal English would be moved outside the Aboriginal code to a position between the two communities. If, however, the figure is taken to highlight expressions (only), one might note in some way the osmotic possibilities of marking transitional steps, as they came out in (50) and (51). What cannot be shown is that the languages inside each cylinder have been interacting in ways unknown before colonization so that the paths of contact outcomes are, at times, hard to reconstruct, as I noted in section 3.1.
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Importantly, the major periods of contact that I postulated in section 2 have turned out to be crucial to relate outcomes to political history. To make that point clearer still, one might argue that the near-sole use of Aborigine from the 1950s marks progress: Older terms such as native, wild or black had been eclipsed. Aborigine had remained and was considered acceptable even by the Aboriginal Senator Bonner in the 1970s as this quote from Leitner shows. Two years later (...) [in 1979; GL] the Minister for Aboriginal Affairs argued that the old ruling [using a capital “A”; GL] should be incorporated into the Australian Government Style Manual, “[f]or only in this way can the Aborigines of Australia truly feel unique...” Good usage debates ceded to concerns with Aboriginal identity. That twist of the argument was acceptable even to the first Aboriginal Senator, Senator Bonner.... The theme of language and its ideological load could no longer be dodged. SCOSE [the language committee of the ABC] was aware of the potentially discriminatory implications of Aborigine, and ... held that a phrase Aboriginal People (...) would be more appropriate and in harmony with multiculturalism. (Leitner 2004a: 310)
Figure 2. The main interacting types of languages (AborE = Aboriginal English)
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The political climate, though, had already moved forward, showing the conservativeness of Bonner’s view. Koori and other terms were now to be used. But progress had been being made towards a non-discriminatory public style. The historical background highlights the period when Aborigines became agents and ceased to act as mere ‘passive’ donors. One can clearly see contact outcomes acquired a new quality during the period four:
– Native Title has caused an enormous concern with social history of
Aboriginal communities and have led to numerous loans and the creation of concepts in mAusE and Aboriginal English that reflect traditional cultures – the domains of religion, social organization and philosophy have created concepts in mAusE, transfer from Aboriginal languages and from Aboriginal English – education, the arts and crafts, possibly tourism have increased the impact – fauna and flora though, in contrast, have declined to near-zero; things have been named long ago; but it will be interesting to see if nutrition, ecology and medicine will lead to transfer (see Leitner 2006 for further detail)
There is little transfer from Kriol in the south, east and west of the continent, though it abundant in the regions where it is a strong language. Transfer from Aboriginal English occurs abundantly at the level of both technical and informal English. Yet, even where Aborigines take the initiative concepts are mainly coined in mAusE. An early example was Mourning Day, which was a name to protest against the festivities on the occasion of Australia’s 150th anniversary. Modern ones are secret-sacred or sorry. As I have said, the transfer from Aboriginal languages has got a new lease of life in a range of domains and the mention of modern Aboriginal languages in above is to emphasize that fact. One might infer that this renewal of influence of the Aboriginal linguistic heritage is a welcome contribution to and a symbol of a more accentuated discussion of Aboriginal-white history, which is so visible in the so-called history wars and elsewhere (Leitner 2006). It would also signal a renewed ‘localization’, Australianization and Aboriginalization of mAusE and of the overall language habitat – within a global discourse that supports the role of Indigenous perspectives. But the steps taken by white and Aboriginal linguists or anthropologists may do no more than suggest a recognition of Aboriginal perspectives, languages and cultures. The words they transfer into their discourses often remain unexplained and amount to little more than window-dressing. True understanding requires translation, explanation and mediation for words to transcend academia and jargon.
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A habitat approach to contact and to linguistic and cultural history, then, is an approach worth developing. Apart from the insights it permits into the cultural history of contact, it is akin to corpus linguistics and open to interdisciplinary studies that include literature, stylistics and text linguistics. It opens up an avenue to the study of the European base that developed from the Age of Exploration as a result of European, not merely English explorations. The changes that occurred as a result of the growth of academic disciplines like anthropology, sociology, religion or the arts and crafts have changed the discourse about Aborigines but were and remained European until they became ‘global’. Research needs to be done on non-English European sources to note the force of the European discourse that made it hard to find local, Australian solutions. And yet, examples like (43), (44) and (45) show they dynamics of the ongoing interaction, some of which remains local. References [AND] Australian National Dictionary, The 1988 Edited by W. S. Ramson. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Baker, Sidney 1945 The Australian Language. Sydney: Angus and Robertson. [19662 ed.] 1953 Australia Speaks. A Supplement to “The Australian Language”. Sydney: Shakespeare Head Press. Bell, Diane 1998 Aboriginal women and the religious experience, In Religious Business, Max Charlesworth (ed.), 46–71. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Berndt, Ronald M., and Catherine H. Berndt 1996 The World of the First Australians. Aboriginal Traditional Life: Past and Present. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press [3rd ed.] Cane, Scott 2002 Pila Nguru. The Spinifex People. Freemantle, WA.: Freemantle Arts Press. Charlesworth, Max (ed.) 1998 Religious Business. Essays on Australian Aboriginal Spirituality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Charton, Édouard (ed.) 1861 Le tour du monde. Nouveau journal des voyages [etc.]. Paris: Librairie Hachette.
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Dixon, Robert M. W., William Ramson, and Mandy Thomas 1990 Australian Aboriginal Words in English: Their Origin and Meaning. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Dyer, Colin 2005 The French Explorers and the Aboriginal Australians. 1772–1839. St. Lucia, Qld: Queensland University Press. Elders. Wisdom from Australia’s Indigenous Leaders 2003 Photographed and recorded by Peter McConchie. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Evans, Nicholas 1992 Macassan loanwords in Top End languages. Australian Journal of Linguistics 12 (1): 45–91. Fritz, Clemens 2004 From English in Australia to Australian English. 1788–1900. Ph.D. Thesis, Institut fü englische Philologie. Freie Universität Berlin. Görlach, Manfred 1992 Review of Dixon et al., Australian Aboriginal Words in English, 1990. English World-Wide 13 (1). Kennedy, Graeme, and Shunji Yamazaki 1999 The influence of Maori on the New Zealand English lexicon. In Corpora Galore: Analyses and Techniques in Describing English, John Kirk (ed.), 33–44. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Kenny, John 1995 Before the First Fleet. The European Discovery of Australia. 1606– 1777. Kenthurst NSW 2156: Kangaroo Press. Kimberley Language Resource Centre (ed.) 1996 Moola Bulla: In the Shadow of the Mountain. Broome, Western Australia: Magabala Books. Kotze, Stefan von n.y. Im australischen Busch. Skizzen von Stefan von Kotze. Cöln am Rhein: Herrman und Friedrich Schaffstein. [The book appeared as vol. 16 of the “Grünen Bändchen” at the end of the 19th century] Leitner, Gerhard 2001 Lexical frequencies in a 300 million word corpus of Australian newspapers: Analysis and interpretation. International Journal of Corpus Linguistics 5 (2): 2000: 1–32.
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Leitner, Gerhard 2004a Australia’s Many Voices. Australian English – the National Language. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 2004b Australia’s Many Voices. Australian English – Ethnic Englishes, Indigenous and Migrant Languages. Policy and Education. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. 2006 Die Aborigines Australiens. München: C.H. Beck Verlag. Leitner, Gerhard, and Inke Sieloff, 1998 Aboriginal words and concepts in Australian English, World Englishes 17 (2): 153–169. Leitner, Gerhard, Clemens Fritz, and Brian Taylor (eds.) 2006 Language in Australia and New Zealand. A Bibliography. 1788–2005. On-line and CD-ROM. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. [http://www.ausbib. mouton-content.com/, accessed 17 July 2006] [HRA] Library Committe of the Commonwealth Parliament, The 1914 Historical Records of Australia (Series I, Volume 1, 1788–1796, etc.). Commonwealth of Australia. Macquarie Dictionary 19973 Macquarie University: The Macquarie Library. [1st ed. 1981] Malcolm, Ian G. 2002 Aboriginal Genres in Perth. Centre for Applied Language and Literacy Research, Edith Cowan University, Mount Lawley Campus, WA. Malcolm, Ian G., et al. 1999 Two-Way English. Towards More User-friendly Education for Speakers of Aboriginal English. East Perth: Education Department of Western Australia. Marchant, Leslie R. 1998 France Australe. The French in Search for the Southland and Subsequent Explorations and Plans to Found a Penal Colony and Strategic Base in South Western Australia 1503–1826. Perth: Scott Four Colour Print. Mattingley, Christobel, and Ken Hampton (eds.) 1992 Survival in Our Own Land. ‘Aboriginal’ Experiences in ‘South Australia’ Since 1836, Told by Nungas and Others. Sydney: Hoddon and Stoughton.
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Moore, Bruce 2001 Australian English and indigenous voices. In English in Australia, David Blair, and Peter Collins (eds.), 133–149. Amsterdam: Benjamins Morris, E. E. 1898 Austral English. A Dictionary of Australasian Words, Phrases and Usages, with Those Aboriginal-Australian and Maori Words Which Have Become Incorporated in the Language and the Commoner Scientific Words That Have Had Their Origin in Australasia. London: Macmillan. Muecke, Stephen, in collaboration with Paddy Roe 1983 Gullarabulu. Fremantle, WA.: Fremantle Arts Centre Press. [OED] Oxford English Dictionary (on CD-ROM) 2004 Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ramson, William S. 1988 The Currency of Aboriginal Words in Australian English [Occasional Paper 3]. The University of Sydney, Australian Language Research Centre, Sydney. 2002 Lexical Images. The Story of the Australian National Dictionary. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Rose, Michael (ed.) 1996 For the Record. 160 Years of Aboriginal Print Journalism. St. Leonards, NSW: Allen and Unwin. Schneider, H.G. 1882 Missionsarbeit der Brüdergemeine in Australien. Gnadau: Verlag der Unitäts-Buchhandlung. Sutton, Peter 2003 Native Title in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Veit, Walter (ed.) 2004 The Struggle for Souls and Science. Constructing the Fifth Continent: German Missionaries and Scientists in Australia. [Occasional Paper Number 3, Strehlow Research Centre]. Northern Territory Government, Alice Springs. Wächtler, Kurt 1984 Sprachbezogene Amerikakunde im Englischunterricht. München: Langenscheidt.
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Webster’s Third International Dictionary, Australasian Edition 1900 Springfield, Mass.: Gand Merriam and Co. [contains a Supplement of some 25,000 words from Australasia]. Wignell, Peter 1997 The influence of Aboriginal English. Australian Style. A National Bulletin 5 (2): 1 and 3–4.
Issues and policies in school education Gary Partington and Ann Galloway 1. The multiple obstacles to success for Indigenous students Compared with non-Indigenous students, relatively few Indigenous students experience school success, particularly in the Northern Territory and Western Australia. There are many reasons for this, some of which have their roots directly in the history of invasion and colonization of Australia, others in more recent issues in society generally and education policy more specifically. These matters are the focus of this chapter. Before addressing the reasons for Indigenous students’ lack of success in education, an overview of the current picture of Indigenous education achievement is relevant by way of background. Table 1 below compares the proportions of Indigenous students and non-Indigenous students completing secondary school. It can be seen that Indigenous students demonstrate considerably poorer retention than their non-Indigenous counterparts do. Table 1. Indigenous and non-Indigenous apparent retention rates, Australia; 1999– 2003 (Department of Education Science and Training 2005: 29) Year 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003
NonInd. Ind. Year 7/8–10 82.0% 97.9% 83.0% 98.0% 85.7% 98.4% 86.4% 98.5% 87.2% 98.9%
NonInd. Ind. Year 7/8–11 56.0% 86.4% 53.6% 86.2% 56.1% 87.6% 59.1% 88.6% 61.4% 89.5%
NonInd. Ind. Year 7/8–12 34.7% 73.2% 36.4% 73.3% 35.7% 74.5% 38.0% 76.3% 39.1% 76.5%
NonInd. Ind. Year 10–Year 12 43.1% 75.0% 43.8% 75.2% 43.6% 76.2% 45.8% 77.8% 45.7% 77.7%
In addition, while at school, Indigenous students perform considerably more poorly than non-Indigenous students, as evidenced by outcomes on national benchmark testing, and their performance deteriorates with age. Australian students are assessed regularly for their performance in literacy and numeracy by means of standardized tests. These tests are conducted in Years 3, 5, 7 and 9 and are a measure of the standards being achieved in schools. Table 2 provides the results in Years 3 and 5. Although there is evidence of
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change in the relative performance of Aboriginal students, they are clearly well behind the results for non-Aboriginal students. In many schools Aboriginal students were three or more times more likely than non-Aboriginal students to absent themselves from the tests. Consequently, the results obtained may be skewed positively as it is likely that those who stayed away would have been lower achievers on the tests. (See further on this subject Malcolm and Königsberg, this vol.) Table 2. Year 3 and year 5 benchmark results in reading, writing and numeracy, Indigenous and all students, Australia, 1999–2001 (Ministerial Council on Education Employment Training and Youth Affairs 2005a) Year
Year 3 Percentage of Indigenous students meeting the benchmarka
Reading 1999 73.4±6.2 2000 76.9±6.5 2001 72.0±4.8 Writing 1999 66.9±4.8 2000 65.0±5.4 2001 67.8±4.9 Numeracy 2000 73.7±7.1 2001 80.2±3.9
Year 5
Percentage of Indigenous students meeting the benchmarka
Percentage of Indigenous students meeting the benchmarka
Percentage of Indigenous studetns meeting the benchmarka
89.7±2.5 92.5±2.2 90.3±2.0
58.7±4.2 62.0±4.8 66.9±3.6
85.6±2.0 87.4±2.1 89.8±1.3
91.9±1.8 90.0±2.6 89.5±2.3
74.6±3.6 74.3±3.7 79.9±3.3
93.0±1.1 92.5±1.3 94.0±1.0
92.7±2.0 93.9±1.2
62.8±4.5 63.2±3.7
89.6±1.7 89.6±1.3
(a) The achievement percentages in this table include 95% confidence intervals, for example, 73.4±6.2%.
2. Historical factors influencing the pattern of Indigenous education In considering the historical factors that have influenced Indigenous education, it is necessary to provide a comparative outline of the different approaches to education of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, and a diachronic overview of theories regarding achievement.
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For Indigenous people, the education provided by Western institutions supplanted the educational processes that operated during pre-contact times. This earlier education was situated within a milieu of autonomy and powerful spiritual, social and environmental pursuits. During childhood, education was informal (Hamilton 1981; Harris 1980), and it was only when initiation commenced for boys that formal instruction was introduced. Indigenous children acquired their knowledge as a part of family life, learning the day to day social and physical skills needed for successful participation in the life of the clan. Because their education was immersed in daily living, there was no urgency in its acquisition: children learnt by observation and imitation from others, and gradually came to acquire the necessary skills in a process that was similar to the acquisition of language. Nevertheless, this process was not random. Harris (1980) reported that specific relatives were responsible for the education of the young in specific areas. These individual adults “owned” the knowledge and it was their responsibility to preserve it and pass it on. Unlike Western knowledge which, for the most part, is regarded as accessible to anyone, Indigenous knowledge is restricted. Harris (1980) identified several key strategies that were used for learning among the Milingimbi people of Arnhem Land. In the following list, these are compared with the strategies that dominate the classroom setting in Western schooling: Table 3. (Harris, cited in Partington and McCudden 1992) Milingimbi (Aboriginal) observation and imitation trial and error learning real life performance context-specific learning person orientation
Western verbal instruction planned instruction, demonstration and practice practice in contrived settings learning of generalizable, context-free principles task orientation
European invasion had a twofold effect on the education of Indigenous children. Firstly, it destroyed the existing educational processes so that children no longer acquired the knowledge that previous generations had learned. Secondly, for much of the subsequent history of Australia, the conquerors failed to provide an alternative form of education for most children and as a result they did not acquire the skills and knowledge necessary in Western society.
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Conflict between the Europeans and Aboriginals continued for over 100 years, as the frontier moved with European occupation from the south east corner to the rest of the continent. The final frontier was in the far north of the country in the first half of the 20th century, when the last massacres occurred. Invasion had a number of consequences that impacted on education. Indigenous society was disrupted so that the educational processes that had formerly been practised were no longer possible; genocide and disease decimated populations so that their body of knowledge and much of the language was lost; prohibitions were placed on the use of Indigenous languages and the rituals of the communities; and communities were dispersed or amalgamated with other language groups, with the result that previous practices were no longer possible. Once conquest was completed, a process of rationalization commenced, with Aboriginal people being denigrated as “savages” who did not deserve to have the continent, and Europeans being lauded as noble pioneers (Broome 1994) who would make proper use of the resources of the land by farming and grazing. Accompanying this was the effort to civilize and Christianize Aboriginal people in what Attwood described as the second invasion, “which sought to change and reshape their minds and hearts, making them anew” (Attwood 1989: 1). Because it was too difficult to change the adults, the missionaries who carried out this work focused on the children. Part of the focus on the children involved eliminating parental influence by removing children from their families, housing them in dormitories and regulating their lives closely. In the 19th century, this removal had to be carried out through threat and bribery but by the beginning of the 20th century most States had in place legislation that empowered protection boards to remove mixed descent children from their parents so that they could be resocialized as whites (National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families 1997). It was believed that mixed descent children should be “merged” into the non-Indigenous population and so removal from their Indigenous families and communities was deemed necessary. The increasing numbers of mixed descent Aboriginals led to a national consensus in 1937 that a policy of assimilation should be adopted for the education of Aboriginals. Powers to remove children were extended and more homes established to take them. Despite the intention of the governments, assimilation failed, largely because those who were removed continued to be alienated by the dominant white society (Partington 1998). Children who were taken away were not allowed to use their Indigenous language in the homes: “Y’know, I can remember we used to just talk lingo. [In the Home] they used
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to tell us not to talk that language, that it’s devil’s language. And they’d wash our mouths with soap. We sorta had to sit down with Bible language all the time. So it sorta wiped out all our language that we knew” (National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families 1997: 154). For many children, however, language loss was not accompanied by an equivalent acquisition of English and they were limited in their ability to communicate in their first language and in English (Vaszolyi 1977). Difficulties in the acquisition of Standard Australian English (SAE) have persisted and many Aboriginal children do not show the same progress in literacy as other students.1 As a result, they often demonstrate poor performance at school. Responses to Indigenous education failure have varied according to prevailing theories regarding achievement. In the 19th century, a strongly held societal view was that Aboriginals were mentally inferior and unable to perform as well as Europeans because of evolutionary processes that put Europeans at the “top of the tree” in terms of cognitive abilities. During the 1960s, the influence of Jensen and the behaviourists in the US (Deutsch, Katz, and Jensen 1968) resulted in an emphasis on genetic explanations. For example, in Australia, de Lemos attributed the poor performance of Aboriginal children on Piagetian tasks to genetic factors (Partington and McCudden 1992). Such an explanation places responsibility for Aboriginal children’s failure at their own feet and exonerates teachers from any responsibility. It also ignores the influence of a multitude of other factors related to dispossession, poverty, culture and alienation. An alternative explanation for the poor performance of Indigenous students, based on cultural differences, emerged in the 1970s, paralleling the work of cultural psychologists such as Cole (1975). Harris’s (1980) landmark study of traditional Aboriginal education practices had a profound influence on subsequent schooling of Aboriginal children. Instead of explaining Aboriginal school failure as a consequence of genetic influences or dysfunctional culture, Harris posited differences in cultural background as a major influence on children’s success. This change in perception was accompanied by the introduction of new methods of instruction and content that focused on cultural relevance. Teachers used methods that would allow observation and imitation, trial and error learning, real life performance, and context specific learning (Harris 1980). While this was beneficial as a response to the negativity of beliefs in cultural deprivation and genetic inferiority, it led to neglect of the formal 1. This matter is pursued in more detail in Malcolm and Königsberg, this vol.
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teaching of skills utilized by non-Indigenous students in learning. Rather than teaching Aboriginal students the skills of classroom learning, they were left with skills that were useful in traditional contexts but inappropriate for classroom contexts. In the 1980s, a reaction to the cultural theory of instruction resulted in a more critical approach to teaching methods, with emphasis being given to issues of alienation, oppression and racism (Nicholls, Crowley, and Watt 1996). According to this view, Indigenous students’ lack of success is due to repressive school structures, alienating teachers and curriculum content, and inadequate skill preparation to cope with the demands of mainstream schooling. Despite the rhetoric, this approach has had little success in changing the methods used by teachers in most schools. A mixture of mainstream education coupled, sometimes, with modifications based on culturally relevant schooling, has dominated. The development of a critical understanding of the importance of the control of Indigenous knowledge and its transmission to students has resulted in the development of more schools specifically for Indigenous students such as the KODE schools (Koori Open Door Education) in Victoria, and Indigenous state and independent schools in other states. In these schools the focus is on:
– Clarifying and meeting the needs of [the] school community whilst operating within [Department of Education and Training] guidelines and accountabilities. – Developing a culturally sensitive and responsive school framework, which was able to respond to the past, present and future on an individual, family and community level. – A holistic approach, which essentially would give context, purpose and direction to the school, yet was flexible and responsive to innovation. – The implementation of cutting-edge best education practice and the development of community capacity building within a legitimate and wellresearched framework (Modoo 2004).
In many respects, the KODE schools represent the integration of the cultural model within a critical framework that is designed to promote successful schooling that incorporates community knowledge and aspirations with the demands of the non-Indigenous world. There is a strong focus on empowering the community in management of the schools along with the incorporation of relevant cultural material.
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3. Policies influencing the pattern of Indigenous education Major advances in Aboriginal education were made during the 1970s (cf. McKay, this vol.). In 1972, a Labor government was elected for the first time in 13 years and one of its first actions was to appoint a committee to conduct an inquiry into schooling. Subsequently, the Schools Commission was established and conducted a second inquiry, the report of which was published in 1975 (Schools Commission 1975). The report devoted a chapter to Aboriginal education and the actions instituted by the Commission, and the recommendations it made to the Government established the foundations of Aboriginal education for the next 30 years. The Commission indicated that it would establish a Standing Committee on Aboriginal Education to continue the work of the existing Consultative Group and advise the Commission on policies and their implementation, as well as provide advice to other agencies. This action was the genesis of the National Aboriginal Education Committee (NAEC) which was established in 1977 to provide informed Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander advice to the Commonwealth Minister for Education and to monitor existing policy and programs. The Commission also stated that it would fund the training of Aboriginal social workers to liaise between home and school; fund the operation of consultative groups in each State; and encourage the development of improved Aboriginal curriculum materials. Further, it recommended to the Australian Government that a review be conducted into the health, nutrition and welfare of Aboriginal children and that the government fully fund Aboriginal schools in the states (Schools Commission 1975) In 1980, following three years’ consultation and debate, the National Aboriginal Education Committee (NAEC) published the Rationale, Aims and Objectives in Aboriginal Education. This document was to provide guidance to the Committee when giving advice to Government. Aboriginal knowledge of, and pride in, their cultural heritage were central to the policy which also promoted the acquisition of academic and technological skills. A key aim of the policy was that “Aboriginal people must be given responsibility for the implementation of policies, funding and the administration of programs in Aboriginal education” (National Aboriginal Education Committee 1980: 6), which reflects a clear understanding of the importance of control in policy implementation. The document also stressed the importance of teaching Aboriginal studies to all Australian students. The NAEC represented all states and the Northern Territory and the Australian Capital Territory and gave a national voice to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. Following its demise in 1988, it was succeeded by the
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National Federation of Aboriginal Education Consultative Groups which was established by the various Consultative Groups around Australia. This federation ceased its operations in 1996 and since then there has been no national organization to represent Indigenous people in educational matters (Victorian Aboriginal Education Association Inc. 2004). However, each state has its own Aboriginal education consultative group that advises the state minister for education. In Western Australia, for example, the Aboriginal Education and Training Council is responsible for the development and monitoring of a three year rolling strategic plan for Aboriginal education and training. Its membership includes Aboriginal community members as well as chief executives of primary, secondary, and tertiary education providers across all sectors. The National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy (NAEP) was announced in 1989, following a series of reports on Indigenous education and a summative report by a task force chaired by Paul Hughes that drew together the main findings of the reports and recommended the development of a national policy (Department of Employment Education and Training 1989). The policy incorporated the diverse expectations of Indigenous people in relation to education, encompassing the aims of the original 1980 policy but going beyond this to set targets for improvements as well as itemizing the administrative machinery and financial arrangements for implementation of the policy. The 21 long term goals of the policy have been summed up in the following seven broad goals (Ministerial Council on Eduction Employment Training and Youth Affairs 1995: 1): 1. to establish effective arrangements for the participation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in educational decision-making; 2. to increase the number of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples employed in education and training; 3. to ensure equitable access for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students to education and training services; 4. to ensure participation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students in education and training; 5. to ensure equitable and appropriate educational achievement for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students; 6. to promote, maintain and support the teaching of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander studies, cultures and languages to all Indigenous and non-Indigenous students; and
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7. to provide community development training services including proficiency in English literacy and numeracy for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander adults Although governments had provided support for Indigenous students prior to the implementation of the NAEP, since its introduction there has been a continuing focus on the need for improved outcomes for Indigenous students, with a range of programs designed to accomplish these. At an individual level, students are eligible for assistance with their studies, including funding support and tutorial assistance. For high achieving students, scholarships and awards are provided to encourage success. Indigenous students in secondary and tertiary education may be eligible for Abstudy (The Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Study Assistance Scheme) payments that provide a living allowance, rent assistance and ancillary payments for additional costs of study such as a remote area allowance for students whose expenses are higher due to living in a remote area, payments for school fees and incidental expenses and travel expenses. Abstudy is funded by the Australian Government and means testing applies to some of these payments, but the intention is to facilitate Indigenous retention at school and so significant payments are not means tested (Department of Education Science and Training 2005a). For tertiary education students, Indigenous study centres are funded at each of the universities. In these centres, services such as tutor assistance, course advice and support are provided. Centre and student funding are based on the achievement of outcomes within specified time limits. Since the introduction of these limits, the number of Indigenous students has declined. 4. Social factors influencing the pattern of Indigenous education There is a range of social factors that impact on Indigenous education, and as already indicated, these are inter-related with historical and policy issues. An important insight into the often devastating consequences of the interplay of these forces for Indigenous people is provided in the report of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (RCIADIC) (1991). RCIADIC identified a number of negative influences on the lives of Indigenous people. History was regarded as a principal influence, with dispossession, loss of livelihood and culture, incarceration in reserves, forced removal of mixed-descent children from mothers, then efforts at assimilation and, later, integration also involved. In all of this, Indigenous languages were discouraged, and in missions and schools children were punished for using
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their language. The processes at work destroyed people’s culture, identity and will. The Commission concluded: “The damage to Aboriginal society was devastating. In some places, it totally destroyed population. In others, dependency, despair, alcohol, total loss of heart wrought decimation of culture. So it was on the Aboriginal side” (Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody 1991: Para 1.4.7). The Commission noted also that the non-Aboriginal population developed a perception of superiority over Aboriginal people. As a consequence, “Aboriginal people were never treated as equals and certainly relations between the two groups were conducted on the basis of inequality and control” (RCIADIC 1991: Para 1.4.14). For many Aboriginal people, at least partially as a consequence of history and policy, their background is poverty, extensive alcoholism, family dysfunction, poor health and nutrition, low aspirations and powerlessness. Aboriginal people occupy the lowest levels of income, education and health in Australian society and their children are severely disadvantaged at school because of this status. They experience low levels of literacy in the home, are likely to have poor health and nutrition, and find school an alien environment in which they are unsuccessful. This situation is exacerbated by high levels of absenteeism, often throughout all years of school and particularly in high school, culminating in early school leaving. Even if Indigenous children want to get an education and break the cycle, schools are often very uninviting places for them and they choose instead to leave, often before the minimum age. Limited schooling has drastic consequences for Indigenous students. It is difficult enough at any time for them to get employment due to widespread discrimination regarding the employment of Indigenous people. It is made more difficult if the applicants have limited education and no qualifications. This was clearly evident from RCIADIC, which showed that most of those who died in custody had limited education, as Table 4 below shows. Of the 99 Indigenous people included in the Report who died in custody, only two had completed secondary school, two had completed TAFE, and of the remainder, 40 had only a primary education at best. The relationship between education and custody is not a clear one. Howver, lack of education is an indication of the distressed lives of the people who died in custody. Because of a multitude of factors, they were not in a position to share in the benefits of membership of the wider society. As a consequence, they were vulnerable to a range of factors that contributed to them being taken into custody. One can only wonder at what might have been, had they received a sound education and grounding in a potential career through schooling.
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Health is another significant factor affecting Indigenous people’s educational experiences. Many of the things that impact on Indigenous people’s health are common to any population, for example, socio-economic status; lack of access to health care for reasons of poverty or distance; and specific health risk factors (e.g., smoking, substance misuse). Others are more specific to Indigenous people, for example, “social and cultural factors (including the effects of dispossession, dislocation, isolation and discrimination) and lack of access to good quality health care that is relevant and appropriate to Indigenous people” (Healthway 2004). Even though Aboriginal young people are generally the healthiest of any age group of Aboriginal people, overall, the proportion of Aboriginal students with health problems is often greater than the proportion of non-Aboriginal students with health problems. Further, in some contexts, Aboriginal students may have diseases that are now rare in the non-Aboriginal population (Thomson et al. 2004). The Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs (2001) identified nine health issues critical for Indigenous people: “lower life expectancy at birth; low birth weight and failure to thrive; poor quality diet; high disease rates, especially chronic ear and respiratory infections; social and emotional wellbeing; substance misuse; childhood trauma; and childhood injuries” (The Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs 2001: 15, 17). These social and physical factors are inter-related and impact negatively on education, because “Indigenous children who are unwell, tired, hungry or emotionally insecure have less capacity to take advantage of available opportunities to learn” (The Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs 2001: 3). Table 4. Highest education level attained by those who died in custody (Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody 1991: Para 2.2.7) Education Level No formal schooling Some primary Completed primary Some secondary Completed secondary Some TAFE Completed TAFE Not known Total
NSW 1 1 10 1 1 1 15
Vic 1 1 1 3
Qld WA SA Tas NT Total 2 3 1 2 8 9 2 4 3 20 6 2 1 1 12 9 23 5 3 50 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 4 27 32 12 1 9 99
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One of the most significant problems for many Indigenous children is otitis media (middle ear disease) and its consequence, conductive hearing loss. Otitis media is not unique to Indigenous populations, but episodes occur earlier, more frequently, and last longer in Indigenous populations than in nonIndigenous populations worldwide (Boswell 1997; Higgins 1997; Kelly and Weeks 1991; W. A. Otitis Media Group 1993). Three or more episodes of otitis media before the age of three years seriously hinders language development. Hearing loss in the preschool years will mean that the child lacks an adequate framework of his or her own language on which to build when acquiring written literacy, and hence will struggle to gain adequate skills (Higgins 1997). These difficulties are compounded when written literacy is being acquired in a second language, as is the case for most Indigenous children. Among Australian Indigenous children, the prevalence of otitis media is one of the highest in the world (McPherson and Knox 1992), with levels being higher in more remote communities where children are at greater risk of the disease than in urban areas (Couzos, Metcalf, and Murray 2001; Thomson et al. 2004). On average, up to 70% of children are likely to be afflicted by otitis media (Couzos, Metcalf, and Murray 2001), with estimates of incidence varying from 25%, to almost 100% in some remote communities, and 40%-70% incidence considered common (Howard 2004; Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs 2001; National Aboriginal Community Controlled Health Organization 2003; Senate Employment, Workplace Relations and Education References and Legislation Committees 2000). Otitis media is most common in early childhood, but is not confined to that age group. Medical intervention may cure the disease, but it cannot reverse the consequences of otitis media, its educational and social effects, which can be lifelong, impacting not only on social life, but also on employment and community participation (Howard 2005a/b).
5. School factors influencing the pattern of Indigenous education 5.1. Rates of attendance Across Australia, Indigenous attendance rates are much lower than for nonIndigenous students. In 2003 in Western Australia, for example, average primary school attendance rates for Aboriginal students were 82.4 per cent, compared with 94.9 per cent for non-Aboriginal students, and, in the lower secondary years, the gap was considerably wider (69 per cent, compared with
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91.1 per cent). In some states the gap was less, but overall Indigenous students attended less regularly than non-Indigenous students. This means that for the ten years of compulsory schooling in Western Australia, Indigenous students, on average, miss nearly two years of schooling. This has a major effect on their success. 5.2. Reasons for alienation from school For many children, the nature of their extended family environment can compound the school level misunderstanding of the cultural, social and environmental factors complicating regular patterns of school attendance and achievement. The more sensitive issues relating to abuse of girls, teenage pregnancy and family responsibilities expected of Aboriginal girls emphasizes the extremely complex dynamic currently operating to produce alienation from school (Gray and Beresford 2001: 26).
There is a wide range of potential causes of non-attendance and issues related to family background, outlined earlier in this chapter, are clearly relevant to students’ absenteeism. In a report on attendance (Ministry of Education 1993), unfavourable social background and unfavourable educational background were identified as the two principal factors likely to place students at risk of non-attendance. Among the factors identified under unfavourable social background were poor health, transience, parental absence, living with other relatives, and poverty. Educational factors included low achievement, discipline, low IQ, lack of interest in school and ignorance of the school system. An associated factor is that Indigenous students form a very small minority in schools, and in many cases they are an invisible minority whose special needs are ignored by schools that fail to access resources that might address their needs (Gray and Partington 2003). The 1993 Ministry of Education report also identified institutional factors as contributing to non-attendance, stating, “changing the atmosphere or management of the school and classroom will probably be the most effective way to correct the problem” (Ministry of Education 1993: 22). It is likely that much absenteeism could be alleviated by more suitable strategies to attract students to school. The report noted the negative impact of irrelevant curricula, courses that were not interesting, and a lack of care on the part of school staff. Institutional factors contribute to student resistance, which is likely to lead to non-attendance. Of special importance for Indigenous students is the impact of school discipline policies (Partington 2001; Partington, Waugh, and Forrest 2001). These tend to have an unduly harsh
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impact on Indigenous students who are more likely to be suspended and excluded than other students. Indigenous adults attribute this imbalance to a mix of culture and racism that leads to resistance by the students and results in teachers penalizing them (Partington and Gray 2003). Allied with racism on the part of non-Indigenous students and teachers, the attraction of the peer group (which for potential non-attenders is likely to consist of students who also are truanting from school) results in attendance at school becoming problematic for a significant number of Indigenous students. 5.3. Language Another significant factor contributing to student alienation from school noted in the Ministry of Education report (1993) was the absence of Aboriginal languages and Aboriginal studies from the curriculum, and the presentation of Aboriginal culture in negative ways in schools. (See also Malcolm and Königsberg, this vol.) In a national inquiry into attendance of Indigenous students, Bourke, Rigby, and Burden (2000) identified a number of factors that needed to be addressed by schools. Among these, the following were directly related to language issues:
– recognition of the fact that Standard Australian English is not the mother tongue of most Indigenous students;
– respect for Aboriginal languages, and recognition of the validity of, and respect for, Aboriginal English and Kriol (Creole), which many Indigenous students bring with them into the classroom; – recognition of the benefits of an explicit teaching/learning approach and early intervention strategies to ensure the adequate acquisition of literacy skills in the early years of schooling; – recognition of Indigenous patterns of discourse, minimizing misunderstandings between teacher and student in the classroom (Bourke, Rigby, and Burden 2000: 48).
As with the Ministry of Education report, Bourke et al. (2000) gave priority to changes in schooling and in particular to professional development of teachers so that they were more aware of and sensitive “to the history, culture, contemporary lifestyle and enduring characteristics of their Indigenous students” (Bourke, Rigby, and Burden 2000: 48). In particular, an awareness of language needs of Indigenous students appears central to success at school. This involves not only recognizing and appreciating that the SAE of mainstream society, including schools, is a second dialect or language for
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most Indigenous students, but also that differences between it and the student’s first language need to be explicitly taught. Further, awareness of language needs also involves appreciating that the pragmatics and semantics (e.g., interaction styles, and content schemas) that underlay the language used are different for Indigenous and non-Indigenous students (see, for example, Galloway 2003a/b; Sharifian et al. 2004). Where this does not occur, Indigenous students’ motivation for school may be reduced, and they may receive lower marks for performance when their cultural knowledge is not being recognized or accepted in the classroom. For nearly 80 per cent of Indigenous students from urban, rural and remote areas (Department of Education, Science and Training 2003), their home language is Aboriginal English, which is “A range of varieties of English spoken by many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and some others in close contact with them which differ in systematic ways from Standard Australian English at all levels of linguistic structure and which are used for distinctive speech acts, speech events and genres” (Malcolm 1995: 19; see further Malcolm and Grote, this vol.). For a smaller number, mainly in remote areas of Australia, their home language is an Indigenous language. In the Northern Territory about 65 per cent of Indigenous people speak an Indigenous language; in Western Australia and South Australia the proportion is 15–16 per cent (Department of Education, Science and Training 2003); but in New South Wales, only one per cent of Indigenous people speak an Indigenous language (Senate Employment, Workplace Relations and Education References and Legislation Committees 2000). Some of these people may also speak one or two other Indigenous languages, as well as Kriol or Aboriginal English Therefore, most Aboriginal students will be unfamiliar with SAE and so when they come to school will have difficulty in understanding their teachers. Sadly, some teachers will devalue students’ home language, which will exacerbate the communication problems (Malcolm et al. 1999), rather than recognizing it as a rich and valuable foundation on which to build. In recent years, there has been a concerted effort on the part of governments and education providers to improve the school language environment for Indigenous students. One initiative has been the English as a Second Language for Indigenous Language Speaking Students (ESL–ILLS) program funded by the Australian government. This enables education providers to implement intensive English language tuition for Indigenous students commencing formal schooling whose home language is an Indigenous language, and who do not have the skills in SAE to cope in a mainstream classroom (Department of Education, Science and Training 2005a).
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Another initiative has been raising teachers’ awareness of Aboriginal English and Kriol, and its relationship to SAE. One significant initiative is the implementation of two-way bidialectal approaches to education, which aims to “[uphold] the values embedded in Aboriginal English and enabling (rather than assuming) standard English to be an effective mediator of new knowledge for all students” (Malcolm et al. 1999: vii). Much of the leadership in two-way education has come from Western Australia, through the Kimberley Catholic Education Office and its Making the Jump (Berry and Hudson 1997) and other related resources associated with the FELIKS program (Fostering English Language in Kimberley Schools), and the Western Australian Department of Education and Training’s Solid English (Department of Education 1999) and ABC of Two-Way Literacy and Learning Project (Department of Education 2002). For at least the past two decades, the importance of languages other than SAE has been officially recognized. The National Policy on Languages (NPL), published in 1987 (Lo Bianco 1987), set out recommendations and implementation strategies for English and English as a Second Language (ESL) teaching, languages other than English (LOTE), Aboriginal languages, languages in the media and libraries, and research and curriculum development. It proposed a strategy for maintaining or developing bilingualism among all Australians. In 1991 the Australian Languages and Literacy Policy followed. This Policy included among its aims that “those Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander languages which are still transmitted should be maintained and developed, and those that are not should be recorded where appropriate” (Erebus Consulting Partners 2002: 10). Indigenous languages were made a priority under this policy. Support for Indigenous languages in schools has again been affirmed through the recently released National Statement for Languages in Education in Australian Schools, 2005–2008 (Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs 2005b). Empowerment through education is a high priority for many communities as they seek to develop capacity for self-sustainability and retention of culture. One of the important means of doing this is language maintenance through the operation of language centres. Many language groups operate language centres with the intention of preserving and disseminating their language. However, children often choose to use English instead, particularly if they live in towns. A solution to this is the development of bilingual schooling (The Spoken Word: Keeping the Aboriginal Language Strong 2005). However, the termination of support for two-way schooling in the Northern Territory for several years limited the opportunities for language retention in many com-
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munities. Thankfully, the Northern Territory government is reinstating bilingual education as part of the Territory’s Indigenous Education Strategic Plan. The need for Indigenous language speakers to be trained as teachers is also being recognized as essential to ensure Aboriginal children can commence their education in their home language (no author 2005). The provision of bilingual education in Australian schools commenced in 1973 in five government schools in the Northern Territory (Lo Bianco 1987; c.f. McKay, this vol.). Instruction in English commenced after students had become proficient in reading and writing in the Indigenous language. In a survey conducted in 2001 (McConvell and Thieberger 2001), only two states and the Northern Territory reported the existence of Indigenous language programs for Indigenous students. In the main, information was sketchy at best but programs appear to be offered in some states, as shown in Table 5. Table 5. Numbers of school Indigenous language programs by state (2001) (http://www.deh.gov.au/soe/techpapers/languages/indicator9d.html) Languages Programs Sites
NSW/ACT 13? 13 16
NT 17 37 35
QLD ?5 ?5 ?
SA 9 62 51
TAS 0 0 0
VIC ?1 1 1
WA ?20 ?40 ?40
Most states operated Indigenous language programs, the exception being Tasmania; and Victoria appears to have only one language program. South Australia had the greatest offerings, with 62 programs operating for 9 languages at 51 sites. In 2002, 4277 students were studying Aboriginal languages in South Australia (Erebus Consulting Partners 2002). The Northern Territory received IESIP funding for 31 programs in the government sector. However, it has reduced its support for Indigenous language programs and may no longer offer the 14 State school programs that operated under the Two Way Learning program. In Western Australia, 66 schools offered Aboriginal languages to 4813 students in 2003–4 (Western Australian Department of Education and Training 2004), but it is uncertain how many of these students were first language speakers of the language being taught. One of the strongest factors facilitating Indigenous language learning is Aboriginal community support (Erebus Consulting Partners 2002). Because they belong to the local communities, the languages “are seen to be relevant and pertinent components of the curriculum” (Erebus Consulting Partners 2002: 120). However, the lack of qualified teachers of the language in the communities is an inhibiting factor. Also, many languages have lost signific-
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ant amounts of linguistic and cultural knowledge and may not be used on a daily basis. Despite this, language revival is being carried out by many groups.2 The Federation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages is an association that supports this process. It provides advice on issues relating to languages to government and non-government agencies, and enables information sharing among groups involved with Indigenous languages (Federation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages 2004). In some states, curriculum development for teaching Indigenous languages has been under way for some time. In New South Wales, the Aboriginal Curriculum Unit of the Office of the Board of Studies has developed a curriculum framework for teaching Indigenous languages for which material is available, such as Bundjalung, Wiradjuri, Gumbaynggirr, Paakantji, Wangaaybuwan and Gamilaraay/Yuwaalaraay (New South Wales Board of Studies 2003). Extensive grammars and dictionaries or wordlists exist for these languages. However, limited materials exist for many other languages and considerable work would be needed to introduce them into schools. South Australia has a similar program in operation for the revival and maintenance of the Kaurna language. In Western Australia, the teaching of Indigenous languages is being extended to the final years of secondary school, with the development of the Australian Indigenous Languages Course of Study. Once developed, the course will enable students to study an Indigenous language at a level that would allow entry to tertiary language courses. The challenges associated with such courses, however, include the availability of suitably qualified staff to deliver them, and ensuring the long-term viability of such courses so that students are able to continue to study the language throughout their secondary school careers. Despite these efforts, there are many endangered languages that are not being taught in schools. There is no national policy to protect and teach Indigenous languages, and many languages that have been strong are not being passed onto the younger generation (Talk My Talk: Indigenous Language Survival and Revival 2004). There is no pressure on schools from governments to teach Indigenous languages and they make their own decisions on this. While remote communities where language is strong are more likely to have a language program, in urban areas few programs exist. Despite this, there is growing pressure from Indigenous communities and the Federation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages Corporation for the inclusion of Indigenous languages in the curriculum.
2. See further chapters by Amery and McKay, this vol.
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6. Improving outcomes The foregoing overview presents a very depressing picture of the state of Indigenous education in Australia. Certainly, there are many barriers to Indigenous students achieving comparable outcomes to those of nonIndigenous ones. Nevertheless, there are also examples of programs that have contributed, or are contributing, to improving educational outcomes for Indigenous students, although there is still the barrier of adequate funding levels to allow them to run long-term. A program that aimed to improve the success of Indigenous students is the National Indigenous English Literacy and Numeracy Strategy which was introduced in 2000. This program acknowledges the complexity of the task confronting educators in achieving success for Indigenous students. The Strategy is based upon the assumption that, to cope with life in Australia, these students need to be literate and numerate, and pathways to success in these areas are identified. NIELNS arose from the Strategic Results Program of 1998–1999, in which a select group of schools demonstrated that it was possible to make a difference in Indigenous schooling outcomes through a focused approach to change. The purpose of NIELNS was to achieve literacy and numeracy outcomes for Indigenous students comparable to those achieved by other students. The program operated from 2001 to 2004 and, according to a review, improvements were noted in most initiatives: 94% of the initiatives in the preschool sector showed improving outcomes; in the school sector 70% of initiatives demonstrated improving outcomes although in the Vocational Education and Training sector only just over 40% showed improving outcomes (Hugh Watson Consulting 2003). NIELNS adopted a multi-faceted approach to improving literacy and numeracy outcomes by taking a holistic approach to six main areas that impact negatively on Indigenous student achievement: attendance rates; hearing, health and nutrition problems; inadequate preschool experiences; effective teachers for Indigenous students; using the best teaching methods; and instituting transparent measures of success in addressing accountability of the strategy. The holistic approach of NIELNS meant that rather than just one agency working individually on an issue such as attendance, the intention was that all agencies with a stake in the issue – schools, juvenile justice, family and community services, health, housing and parents, for example – be involved in a cross portfolio exercise to coordinate efforts to make a change. In practice, this integration of services proved difficult, and at times impossible.
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The outcomes of the NIELNS initiatives indicate that long term programs are more effective than shorter programs: “The generally better results for ongoing initiatives demonstrates that achieving improved literacy and numeracy is a long term process, requiring sustained support and use of strategies that have been shown to be successful” (Hugh Watson Consulting 2003: 7). Even though the review of the programs funded under NIELNS confirmed the success of most programs in achieving improved outcomes, its four year life, and the limited implementation of programs (only in some schools in each State), does not bode well for the longevity of programs that were implemented under the Strategy. However, it is likely that replication and adaptation will occur in various forms. Already, there are new programs being implemented in State schools that reflect the attendance strategies supported under NIELNS. For example, in Western Australia, attendance strategies derived from NIELNS initiatives are under way. The extension of Departments of Education into the health arena has occurred in recent years but this is a debatable change in direction. Even though such initiatives were posited in the MCEETYA Task Force on Indigenous Education (Ministerial Council on Education Employment Training and Youth Affairs 2000), it can be safely argued that the responsibility for health initiatives rests with Departments of Health rather than Departments of Education, and the Indigenous Reference Group that reviewed the work of the evaluation of NIELNS questioned the value of education funds being spent on health issues. A program that is helping to improve literacy outcomes in some remote area schools is the University of Canberra’s Programme for Advanced Literacy Development Scaffolding Literacy Programme with Indigenous Children in School (Cresswell et al. 2002). The “scaffolding” methodology aims to enable students to work at a level approximately comparable to their age level, and enjoy equivalent success in literacy to their mainstream counterparts. The program links with elements of the NIELNS strategy. It has been trialled successfully in independent Aboriginal schools in Western Australia and is now being extended to the Northern Territory. Many Indigenous students fail to complete secondary schooling, and thus have limited employment opportunities. Others aspire to further education, but for a range of personal, social and financial reasons may not be able to continue their education. Several Australian states have implemented programs for aspirant students, which aim to provide resources such as additional tutoring in school subjects, study skills, career guidance, and personal and cultural development activities that will provide the support and skills needed to enable students to successfully complete Year 12 and
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continue on to further education or training. One example is the Northern Territory’s Aboriginal and Islander Tertiary Aspiration Program (AITAP) (Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs Ministerial Subcommittee on Young People’s Transitions c2002). Another is the “Follow the Dream” strategy developed by the Aboriginal Education Directorate in Western Australia for tertiary aspirant students. These and other like programs are already making a difference to students’ lives, as well as, in the longer term, to those of their families and communities. 7. TAFE initiatives for Indigenous school students Job training initiatives for Indigenous students are carried out by the Technical and Further Education (TAFE) sector. In Western Australia, the Department of Education and Training through the TAFE sector manages training that has been negotiated by Indigenous communities in relation to native title agreements with mining companies and other industries. The training that is provided depends upon the local needs, but training in business, retail, construction, horticulture and tourism, clothing production, information and communication technologies and business are available. Schools have relationships with TAFE institutions so that students are able to undertake job training while still at school. A limited number of places are allocated to high schools so that students combine study at school, TAFE and on the job in industries such as automotive, electrical, hairdressing and food technologies. In addition, students are able to undertake work preparation at school through courses that provide job readiness skills. Local community partnerships are formed by a consortium of the local community, schools, business and industry. In such partnerships, programs are developed that are culturally appropriate, meet the needs of the community, provide intensive support for students, and allow students to earn money through part time work (Department of Education Science and Training 2004). 8. Teacher education One of the barriers to effective instruction for Indigenous students is the lack of knowledge and skills on the part of teachers who teach them. Although many universities offer units on Indigenous education within their teacher education programs3, these units are not always available for all courses and 3. See further Amery (this vol.).
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they are not always compulsory. Despite having no knowledge of the special needs of Indigenous students, graduating teachers may be appointed to schools with large numbers of these students. Professional development of serving teachers is in a worse state than preservice teacher education. In an survey conducted in 2000, it was found that only 20% of responding teachers in schools with Indigenous students had engaged in professional development on Indigenous education in the previous three years (Department of Education Science and Training 2001). Only 7.8% of respondents had engaged in professional development that was more than one day’s duration in the preceding three years and only 18.6% of teachers in schools with Indigenous students regarded such professional development as a priority. It is little wonder that Indigenous education is in such a parlous state. 9. Indigenous teachers and support staff Indigenous support staff, known as Aboriginal and Islander Education Workers or Officers (AIEOs) in the government schools and Aboriginal Teaching Assistants (ATAs) in the non-government sector, provide assistance to classroom teachers and carry out community liaison functions. AIEOs do not require formal qualifications to be appointed but must be Indigenous, although training courses are available and AIEOs are encouraged to take them. The AIEO role includes curriculum development work and classroom management assistance. They may also provide assistance with Indigenous language, literacy and cultural awareness activities in the school. Not all schools with Indigenous students have AIEOs. They are usually allocated on the basis of student numbers and only schools with large populations of Indigenous students are eligible for them. This means that many Indigenous students do not have the benefit of their support. The effectiveness of their role in the school depends on the efforts of the school administration and teachers. If they are unfamiliar with the skills of the AIEO, or are not aware of the extent of their responsibilities, the AIEO may not be able to work to his or her full capacity. In 2003 in Australia, there were 1456 Indigenous teachers in government schools and a further 72 in Catholic schools. As a proportion of all teachers, this represented 0.84% for government schools and 0.16% for Catholic schools. The representation of support staff was markedly better, with 1181 Indigenous administrative and clerical staff – who would be mainly Aboriginal and Islander Education Workers – in government schools (representing 3.64% of all administrative and clerical staff) and 298 in
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Catholic schools, representing 2.66%. Given that 4.9% of students in Australian schools are Indigenous, neither system is ensuring an equivalent representation of Indigenous teachers or support staff in schools. AIEOs are in a position to facilitate the induction of new teachers into teaching Indigenous students, assisting in the presentation of language lessons, particularly in the mediation of SAE and the teaching of Indigenous languages, and promoting Indigenous culture in the school. However, their status in many schools is quite low and they are usually not in a position to implement such training themselves. If their potential contribution is unknown by the teachers, or if there is no interest in implementing the skills among staff, the absence of appropriate curriculum will alienate Indigenous students. 10. Conclusion The changes that have occurred in Indigenous education policies are a reflection of the underlying societal values that produce them. The present wide diversity of policies in the field indicates that there are many different values influencing Indigenous education. This is evident in the demise of twoway schooling in the Northern Territory at the same time as Indigenous languages are being introduced in South Australia and the Australian government is promoting the National Indigenous English Literacy and Numeracy Strategy. This diversity also is an indication of the wide range of views held by Indigenous people on education, particularly in the provision of language education. While some communities struggle to retain their language by having it taught in schools, others seek to have their children taught SAE at school because there are not enough bilingual teachers and insufficient resources for bilingual education (Senate Employment, Workplace Relations and Education References and Legislation Committees 2000). The press for assimilation in the mid-20th century has never entirely been lost in relation to Indigenous education. In many of the programs, the tension between assimilation to English and other elements of non-Indigenous life and the retention of Indigenous ways of knowing and doing is ever-present. A diversity of influences constantly bears upon the provision of Indigenous education, which is evidenced by the multiplicity of programs being offered. The tension between assimilation on the one hand and retention or renewal of culture on the other is only one of the issues that need to be resolved in Indigenous education. These are not simple issues. Health, poverty, racism, alienation, language and school achievement all need to be addressed simultaneously if the situation of Indigenous people is to improve. School admin-
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istrators, in particular, have an important role to play in implementing strategies that address these issues. Through the provision of effective professional development, they need to ensure teachers can recognize the potential of Indigenous students and implement programs that address their needs. References Attwood, Bain 1989 The Making of the Aborigines. Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Berry, Rosalind, and Hudson, Joyce 1985 Making the Jump. Broome, WA: Catholic Education Office, Kimberley Region. Boswell, Judith 1997 Presentation of early otitis media in “Top End” Aboriginal infants. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Public Health 21 (1): 100–102. Bourke, Colin, Ken Rigby and Jennifer Burden 2000 Better Practice in School Attendance: Improving the School Attendance of Indigenous Students. Melbourne: Monash University, for Department of Education, Training and Youth Affairs. Broome, Richard 1994 Aboriginal Australians (2nd ed.). St. Leonards, NSW: Allen and Unwin. Cole, Michael 1975 An ethnographic psychology of cognition. In Cross-cultural Perspectives on Learning, Richard W. Brislin, Stephen Bochner and Walter J. Lonner (eds.), 157–176. New York: John Wiley and Sons. Couzos, Sophie, Sue Metcalf, and Richard B. Murray 2001 Systematic Review of Existing Evidence and Primary Care Guidelines on the Management of Otitis Media in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Populations. Canberra: Office for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Health. Cresswell, John, Catherine Underwood, Graeme Withers, and Isabelle Adams 2002 Evaluation of the University of Canberra Programme for Advanced Literacy Development Scaffolding Literacy Programme with Indigenous Children in School. Melbourne: ACER. [http://www.acer.edu.au/ research/special_topics/ind_edu/documents/ScaffoldingLiteracyReport.pdf] Department of Education 1999 Solid English. East Perth, WA: Department of Education.
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Department of Education 2000 The ABC of Two-Way Literacy and Learning. East Perth, WA: Department of Education. Department of Education, Science and Training 1989 National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy. Canberra: Department of Employment, Education and Training. 2001 PD 2000 Australia: A National Mapping of School Teacher Professional Development.. [http://www.dest.gov.au/NR/rdonlyres/3A8 BCE77-73DB-4C23-A5FF-4B48F28A8006/1543/2000.pdf, 12 Oct. 05] 2003 National Report to Parliament on Indigenous Education and Training, 2002: Revised Edition. [http://www.dest.gov.au/NR/rdonlyres/ 36FB10BB-BD9F-4B99-A90C-A76E01CF89C/1157/reportcontent.rtf, accessed 14 October 2005] 2004 Appendix B: Guidelines for the Structured Workplace Learning (SWL) Programme 1 January 2005–31 December 2005. [http://www.dest.gov. au/sectors/career_development/programmes_funding/programme_cate gories/key_career_priorities/Structured_Workplace_Learning/default.ht m, accessed 3 October 2005] 2005a Indigenous Education Programs and Funding. [http://www.dest.gov. au/sectors/indigenous_education/programmes_funding/, accc 3 Oct. 05] 2005b National Report to Parliament on Indigenous Education and Training, 2003. [http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/indigenous_education/publications_resources/profiles/national_report_indigenous_education_and_trai ning_2003_part1.htm, accessed 11 October 2005] Department of Employment Education and Training 1989 National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy. Canberra: Department of Employment, Education and Training. Deutsch, Martin, Irwin Katz, and Arthur R. Jensen 1968 Social Class, Race, and Psychological Development. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston. Erebus Consulting Partners 2002 Review of the Commonwealth Languages Other Than English Programme. A Report to the Commonwealth Department of Education, Science and Training. [http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/school_ education/publications_resources/profiles/review_lote.htm, accessed 6 October 2005] Federation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages 2004 About FATSIL. [http://www.fatsil.org/about.htm, acc. 9 October 2005]
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Galloway, Ann 2003a Questions: Help or hindrance? Teachers’ use of questions with Indigenous students with conductive hearing loss. The Australian Journal of Teacher Education 27 (2): 25–38. 2003b Responding to responses: Interaction between Indigenous Australian students and their non-Indigenous teachers. (Paper presented at the New Zealand Association for Research in Education and the Australian Association for Research in Education Conference, Auckland, New Zealand, Dec. 2003). [http://www.aare.edu.au/03pap/gal03580. pdf] Gray, Jan, and Quentin Beresford 2001 Alienation from School Among Aboriginal Students. Mt Lawley, WA: Institute for the Service Professions, Edith Cowan University. Gray, Jan, and Gary Partington 2003 Attendance and non-attendance at School. In Reform and Resistance in Aboriginal Education: The Australian Experience, Quentin Beresford and Gary Partington (eds.), 133–163. Crawley, WA: University of Western Australia Press. Hamilton, Annette 1981 Nature and Nurture: Aboriginal Child Rearing in North-Central Arnhem Land. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Harris, Stephen 1980 Culture and Learning: Tradition and Education in Northeast Arnhem Land. Darwin: Professional Services Branch, Northern Territory Department of Education. Healthway c. 2004 Healthway’s Position on Indigenous Health. [http:www1.healthway. wa.gov.au/upload/1456114801/docs/Hways_Position_on_Indigenous_ Health.pdf, accessed 12 October 2005] Higgins, Andrew 1997 Addressing the Health and Educational Consequences of Otitis Media Among Young Rural School-Aged Children. Townsville, QLD: Australian Rural Education Research Association (Inc). [http://www .nexus.edu.au/TeachStud/arera/Otitis/contents.html, acc. 2 Dec 2000] Howard, Damien 2004 Why we need more Aboriginal adults working with Aboriginal students. The Australian Journal of Teacher Education 29 (1): 14–22. 2005a Communication, Listening and Governance. A Presentation to the “Indigenous Governance Seminar Series”, Darwin, NT, 17 Aug. 2005.
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Howard, Damien 2005b Scoping Project: Indigenous New Apprentices’ Hearing Impairment and its Impact on their Participation and Retention in New Apprenticeships. Darwin, NT: Phoenix Consulting. Hugh Watson Consulting 2003 Final Report of the National Evaluation of National Indigenous English Literacy and Numeracy Strategy (NIELNS). [http://www.dest.gov.au/ sectors/indigenous_education/publications_resources/profiles/final_rep ort_nielns.htm#version, accessed 3 October 2005] Kelly, Heath and Sharon Weeks 1991 Ear disease in three Aboriginal communities in Western Australia. The Medical Journal of Australia 154 (February 18): 240–245, 278. Lo Bianco, Joseph 1987 National Policy on Languages. Canberra: Commonwealth Department of Education. Malcolm, Ian G. 1995 Language and Communication Enhancement for Two-Way Education. Perth: Edith Cowan University. Malcolm, Ian G., Yvonne Haig, Patricia Konigsberg, Judith Rochecouste, Glenys Collard, Alison Hill, and Rosemary Cahill 1999 Two-Way English: Towards more User-Friendly Education for Speakers of Aboriginal English. East Perth, WA: Education Department of Western Australia. McConvell, Patrick, and Nick Thieberger 2001 State of Indigenous languages in Australia – 2001. Australia State of the Environment Technical Paper Series (Natural and Cultural Heritage, Series 2). [http://www.deh.gov.au/soe/techpapers/languages/ indicator9d.html, accessed 23 September 2005] McPherson, Bradley, and Elizabeth Knox 1992 Hearing loss in urban Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander school children. Australian Aboriginal Studies 1992 (2): 60–70. Ministerial Council on Education Employment Training and Youth Affairs 1995 A National Strategy for the Education of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples 1996–2002. Canberra: MCEETYA Taskforce for the Education of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples. 2000 Report of MCEETYA Taskforce on Indigenous Education. Canberra: MCEETYA. 2001 Solid Foundations: Health and Education Partnership for Indigenous Children Aged 0–8 years – MCEETYA Task Force on Indigenous
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Education: A Discussion Paper. [http://www.mceetya.edu.au/pdf/ solidfoundations_healthed08.pdf, accessed 12 October 2005] Ministerial Council on Education Employment Training and Youth Affairs c. 2002 Stepping Forward – Sharing What Works: An Overview of Initiatives. (Ministerial Subcommittee on Young People’s Transitions). [http:// www.mceetya.edu.au/stepping/projects/18/rec18-nt.htm; 14 Oct. 2005] 2005a National Report on Schooling 2003. [http://cms.curriculum.edu.au/ anr2002/ch10_iesip.htm, accessed 8 October 2005] 2005b National Statement for Languages Education in Australian Schools National Statement for Languages Education in Australian Schools: National Plan for Languages Education in Australian Schools 2005– 2008.[http://www.mceetya.edu.au/verve/_resources/languageeducation _file.pdf, accessed 13 July 2006] Ministry of Education 1993 Aboriginal Attendance: Some Practical Strategies. Perth: Ministry of Education. Modoo, Karen 2004 Mildura Koorie Open Door Education Campus – Matters of the Heart, Mind and Hand: Developing a Sustainable Future. [http://cms. curriculum.edu.au/mindmatters/vic/training/ mildura.htm] National Aboriginal Community Controlled Health Organization 2003 NACCHO Ear Trail and School Attendance Project: Final Report from the National Aboriginal Community Controlled Health Organization to the Commonwealth Department of Education, Science and Training. Canberra: NACCHO. National Aboriginal Education Committee 1980 Rationale, Aims and Objectives in Aboriginal Education. Woden, ACT: National Aboriginal Education Committee. National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families 1997 Bringing them Home. Sydney: Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission. New South Wales Board of Studies 2003 Aboriginal language K-10 syllabus. [http://www.boardofstudies.nsw. edu.au/writing_briefs/, accessed 9 October 2005] Nicholls, Christine, Vicki Crowley, and Ron Watt 1996 Theorizing Aboriginal education: Surely it’s time to move on? Education Australia 33: 6–9.
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Northern Territory government reinstates bilingual education, The FATSIL Newsletter 31: 6–7. Partington, Gary 1998 “In those days it was that rough.” Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander history and education. In Perspectives on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education. Gary Partington (ed.), 27–54. Wentworth Falls: Social Science Press. 2001 Student suspensions: The influence on students and their parents. The Australian Journal of Education 45 (3), 323–340. Partington, Gary, Russell Waugh, and Simon Forrest 2001 Interpretations of classroom discipline practices by teachers and Indigenous students in a Western Australian secondary school. Education Research and Perspectives 28 (2): 51–82. Partington, Gary, and Jan Gray 2003 Classroom management and Aboriginal students. In Reform and Resistance in Aboriginal Education: The Australian Experience, Quentin Beresford and Gary Partington (eds.), 164–184). Crawley, WA: University of Western Australia Press. Partington, Gary, and Vincent McCudden 1992 Ethnicity and Education. Wentworth Falls: Social Science Press. Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (RCIADC) 1991 National Report. [http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/special/rsjproject/ rsjlibrary/rciadic/national/ vol1/35.html] Schools Commission 1975 Report for the Triennium 1976–1978. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Senate Employment, Workplace Relations and Education References and Legislation Committees 2000 Katu Kalpa – Report on the Iinto the Effectiveness of Education and Training Programs for Indigenous Australians. [http://www.aph.gov. au/senate/committee/eet_ctte/completed_inquiries/1999-02/indiged/ report/contents.htm, accessed 2 October 2005] Sharifian, Farzad, Judith Rochecouste, Ian G. Malcolm, Patricia Königsberg, and Glenys Collard 2004 Improving Understanding of Aboriginal Literacy: Factors in Text Comprehension. Perth: Department of Education and Training. The Spoken Word: Keeping the Aboriginal Language Strong 2005 [http://www.bri.net.au/spokenword.html, accessed 2 October 2005]
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Talk my Talk: Indigenous Language Survival and Revival 2004 ATSIC News (June 2004): 32–37. Thomson, Neil, Jane Burns, Sam Burrow, and Ellie Kirov 2004 Overview of Australian Indigenous Health 2004. [http://www. healthinfonet.ecu.edu.au/html/html_overviews/overviews_our_index.ht m, accessed 14 October 2005] Vaszolyi, Eric G. 1977 The Kimberleys: A linguistic view. In Language Problems and Aboriginal Education, Ed Brumby and Eric G. Vászolyi, (eds), 19–24. Mt Lawley, WA: Aboriginal Teacher Education Program, Mt Lawley College of Advanced Education. Victorian Aboriginal Education Association Inc. 2004 Timeline 1975–1979. [http://www.vaeai.org.au/ timeline/1975.html, accessed 3 October 2005] W.A. Otitis Media Group 1993 Otitis Media in Childhood: Issues, Consequences and Management. Perth, WA: WA Otitis Media Group (Inc.). Western Australian Department of Education and Training 2004 Annual Report 2003–2004. Perth: Department of Education and Training.
Bridging the language gap in education Ian G. Malcolm and Patricia Königsberg Our own unique ways of knowing, teaching and learning are firmly grounded in the context of our ways of being. And yet we are thrust into the clothes of another system designed for different bodies and we are fed ideologies which serve the interests of other peoples. (Prof. Mick Dodson from his Frank Archibald Memorial Lecture, University of New England, 1994, cited in Clayton and Gale 1996: 11).
1. Introduction Neither education nor language is value-free, and since, in mainstream education in Australia, both are under mainstream political and bureaucratic control, they often fail to resonate with the very small percentage of the population which is of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander descent. To be treated as “Standard” English speakers and to be taught what mainstream Australians consider to be important knowledge is, for many Indigenous learners, to be “thrust into clothes… designed for different bodies.” Indigenous Australians are separated from non-Indigenous Australians by different social and linguistic traditions which have roots in separate cultural origins and a history of more than two hundred years of incomplete participation in the same society. The fact of this separation rarely enters into the consciousness of most non-Indigenous Australians, yet it is a part of daily experience on the part of Indigenous Australians. The hegemonic language and the values which, to the non-Indigenous Australian, seem to be perfectly transparent often carry a cultural loading which continually reinforces for the Indigenous person the sense of differentness and exclusion. Education, then, is a domain where Indigenous identity is often contested and it attracts an ambivalent response from Indigenous people, who want the outcomes it offers, but are not willing to invest themselves unreservedly in the process required in order to achieve those outcomes. There are, indeed, two gaps which need to be overcome if the Indigenous learner is to succeed in the education system, describable in the terms used by Dodson: a linguistic gap, corresponding to how the learner is being “clothed”, and a content gap, corresponding to what the learner is being “fed”.
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Indigenous learners are members of a speech community which overlaps with, but does not correspond to, that of mainstream Australia. Their education needs to come to terms with this gap, both in the way in which it recognizes the learner’s prior knowledge and in the way in which it “clothes” the education which is given. Equally importantly, Indigenous learners have an agenda within the Australian society which is not identical to that of nonIndigenous learners. Unilaterally prescribed educational outcomes are not likely to be identified with, or achievable by, many Indigenous learners. In this chapter we will attempt to elaborate on the two gaps which have been alluded to here and then we will look at different ways in which programs for Indigenous speakers of various backgrounds have been developed. Finally, we will address the fundamental area of debate between those who favour the recognition of cultural diversity in education and those who consider it is more important to focus on the development by all students of Standard English as the language of empowerment, and we shall look towards an Indigenous way of resolving the issue. 2. The gap between Indigenous and mainstream speech communities A speech community is defined in terms of its members’ common access to at least one speech variety and its associated speech use conventions (Hymes 1977: 51). It is possible, then, to see a speech community comprising “a village, a region, [or] a nation” (Richards, Platt and Weber 1985: 266). Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians comprise a speech community (or a number of speech communities) by virtue of their common access to an Aboriginal variety, whether an Indigenous language, a creole or Aboriginal English; they also form a part of a wider speech community by virtue of their (albeit less secure) access to Australian English. As Wardhaugh (1978: 121) has noted, “An individual…belongs to various speech communities at the same time, but on any particular occasion will identify with only one of them, the particular identification depending on what is especially important or contrastive in the circumstances.” But there may be limits to the level of identification Aboriginal speakers may have with the wider Australian English speech community. As Hymes has pointed out (1977: 50–51) the question of “membership” of a speech community is not a straightforward matter, and one may participate in speech communities of which one is not necessarily recognized as (or does not recognize oneself as) a member. While the membership of Aboriginal Australians in one or more of the various Indigenous speech communities is secure, their participation in the Australian
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English speech community does not, at least for some, imply the same level of membership, particularly at the “standard” end of the continuum of Australian English varieties. The matter is further complicated by the fact that, as Eades (1988: 97) has demonstrated, the use (even exclusively) of English by Aboriginal speakers does not imply a lack of identification with speakers of Indigenous languages, since there are “important continuities” between the ways in which Aboriginal English and its predecessor vernaculars are used. These continuities exist at the level of social and cultural context (Eades 1988: 97; Malcolm 1987), but also at the level of conceptualization (Sharifian 2003). The nature of the differences between Aboriginal English and Standard Australian English will be discussed further in section 4. 1 For speakers of Indigenous languages, the gap which separates them from English is, of course, less ambiguous. However, Australia has a long (and continuing) tradition of defensiveness against the use of languages other than English (see e.g. Moore 2000) and policies of “protection” and assimilation, lasting until the second half of the 20th century contributed to declining use of Aboriginal languages already weakened by “a post-contact history of demoralization, cultural genocide and drastic social change” (Schmidt 1990: 11). Thus, before the end of the 20th century it was estimated that only 20 languages out of an original 250 were being passed on to the next generation (Schmidt 1990: 1). Indigenous languages have been variously affected by their changing habitat, experiencing, in different contexts, shift to English, to other Indigenous languages and to creoles (Schmidt 1990: 117). Heavy interference from other languages has, in some cases, led, on the part of some speakers, to significant divergence from the norms of the traditional languages, which tends to lead in turn to stigmatization and further accelerates language loss (see further Schmidt 1990: 118–121). However, even in communities such as southeast Queensland, where language shift is well advanced, Indigenous languages are still used for some limited social functions by the elderly sub-group who still have access to them (Eades 1988: 101). In Gumbaynggir Country, New South Wales, in the face of almost complete language shift to English, the remaining few hundred speakers of Gumbaynggir have helped to develop a revival of interest in the language through carrying out a range of language recovery and maintenance activities through a local Aboriginal Language and Culture Cooperative (McKay 1996: 47). In areas of the Barkly Tableland in the Northern Territory language shift has occurred from local Indigenous languages to Aboriginal English and Kriol 1. Except where indicated otherwise, the term Aboriginal, is used with a generic Australian sense, that is, with reference inclusive of Torres Strait Islander peoples.
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but there is strong community support for the teaching of traditional Aboriginal language and culture in schools (McKay 1996: 31). There are other cases where Indigenous languages are already strongly maintained in the community and where this community support is reflected in educational programmes, such as in the case of the Yolngu language of the Northern Territory, which is used in two-way2 bilingual education at Yirrkala school and taught in short courses at university (McKay 1996: 152), the Warlpiri language of the central desert region, which is taught in Yuendemu and also in Melbourne (McKay 1996: 153) and the Ngaanyatjatjarra language of the Western Desert in which literacy skills are being taught by telematics (McKay 1996: 128). There are, then, many diverse speech communities in which Indigenous languages are part of the linguistic repertoire, ranging from those where the Indigenous language is in the process of reclamation to those where it is used for a wide range of community and educational functions. The “gap” between the Indigenous language and mainstream speech community, then, needs to be redefined on the basis of the local circumstances in each speech community. More pervasive in Indigenous communities than any single traditional language are creoles, of which the two predominant ones (with upwards of 15,000 speakers each) are Kriol, spoken across the Northern Territory and extending into north west Queensland and the Kimberley region of Western Australia and Torres Strait Creole (also called Broken), spoken in the Torres Strait Islands and parts of Cape York. The convenience of the creoles for communication across language barriers has favoured their rapid dissemination, sometimes at the expense of the local Indigenous languages (Hudson 1982: 1). They derive from both Indigenous and non-Indigenous sources drawing heavily on the English superstrate for their lexicon but exhibiting many non-English features as a result of the influence of the Indigenous substrates and of the processes of restructuring which they have undergone in the course of their development (see further Harris, this vol.). Like English, the creoles have a basic SVO word order; they use a vocabulary which is to some extent recognizable to English speakers (although deceptive because of semantic shift), and they employ many grammatical processes which have their counterparts in English; yet their differences from English are profound. They do not use the English system of auxiliaries and copulas and thus have novel ways of expressing tense, aspect and existence; they significantly modify the English pronoun system by introducing discrimin2. The term “two-way” here refers to the incorporation of both Indigenous and Western linguistic and cultural content in the curriculum. It is also used with other meanings and discussed further in section 4.
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ations of dual number and inclusive versus exclusive reference; they have distinctive suffixes for transitive verbs, adjectives and numerals; they have different processes for the formation of questions and for negation. For Indigenous speakers the similarities between Kriol or Torres Strait Creole and English sometimes lead to the assumption that the creole is English, yet, though there is some intercomprehensibility between creoles and Aboriginal English (in its ‘heaviest’ varieties) there is virtually none between the creoles and Standard Australian English. The language gap between creole and the English of the school system is, then, just as significant as that between traditional Indigenous languages and English. 3. Educational policy and the gap in Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal performance Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people have frequently expressed their awareness of the dilemma they face in seeking an education for their children which will give them access to the benefits of European-based learning while not alienating themselves from their cultural origins (see, e.g., Massey 1979). Aboriginal advocates have argued for a curriculum which develops “common ground” between cultures (Crawford 1979: 25) and for Aboriginal teachers who will act as “in-between” people with a footing in both school and community. Australian education has, on the whole, been slow to move in these directions although the latter part of the twentieth century saw some growth in awareness. Recent Commonwealth Government policy on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander education has been influenced significantly by the report of the Aboriginal Education Task Force, chaired by Dr Paul Hughes, which was submitted to both the Minister for Employment, Education and Training, John Dawkins, and the Minister for Aboriginal Affairs, Gerry Hand, in 1988 (DEET 1988). Like many which had preceded it, this report documented and lamented the serious deficiencies in Aboriginal education, including the facts that 13% of school-age (5–15 year old) Aboriginal children did not attend school, 17% of Aboriginal students (compared with 48.7% in the overall population) continued secondary education to year 12 and Aboriginal participation in technical and further education (TAFE) and higher education was well below that of the rest of the population. Unlike previous reports, it actually set targets for change to be achieved by the end of the century and it provided 59 recommendations to assist in achieving this change. The report set as the overall objective of Aboriginal education policy: “to achieve equity
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between Aboriginal people and other Australians in participation at all stages of education by the turn of the century” (DEET 1988: 17). Most significantly, the report recognized that part of the reason for the failure of educational policies for Aboriginal students had been the lack of coordination between the efforts of the States and Territories (which have the responsibility for primary and secondary education) and those of the Commonwealth, which takes additional initiatives to improve Aboriginal schooling. In particular, the Task Force report recognized that education was not being delivered in a way which met the needs of Aboriginal people (DEET 1988: 1) and that a more culturally accommodating form of education was needed: Perhaps the most challenging issue of all is to ensure education is available to all Aboriginal people in a manner that reinforces rather than suppresses their unique cultural identity. The imposition on Aboriginal people of an education system developed to meet the needs of the majority cultural group does not achieve this. (DEET 1988: 2).
The report advocated increased attention to bilingual/bicultural programs and of the recognition of Aboriginal English as “a legitimate and real form of communication” (DEET 1988: 46). It was, then, supportive both of the recognition of Aboriginal language and cultural expression and of the achievement of equity in educational participation and achievement between Aboriginal people and other Australians. These two objectives have continued to remain in tension in subsequent policy and practice. The influence of the 1988 Task Force Report could be seen in the development by the Department of Employment, Education and Training in 1989 of a National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy which had endorsement from not only the Commonwealth but also all State and Territory governments. This policy took up the Task Force objective of achieving “broad equity between Aboriginal people and other Australians in access, participation and outcomes in all forms of education by the turn of the century” (DEET 1989: 7). Heavily emphasized in the National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy (henceforth, National Policy) were coordination, nationally and across levels and systems, parental and community involvement, feedback on performance and “giving greater attention to outcomes than inputs” (DEET 1989: 12). Under the National Policy, States and Territories agreed to formulate triennial strategic and operational plans, to be reviewed annually, and progressive periods for the achievement of stated objectives were set over the period leading up to the 21st century.
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For the second triennium of the National Policy (1993–1995) the national priorities included a National Aboriginal Languages and Literacy Policy with two components: The Aboriginal Literacy Strategy – an intensification of efforts to improve literacy among Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander school children and adults with limited experience of school; and the Aboriginal Languages Education Strategy – to promote and facilitate the teaching of Aboriginal and Torres Strait languages in schools, to develop bi-lingual or bi-cultural education programs, and to move towards the teaching of Aboriginal languages in TAFE [= Technical and Further Education] and higher education” (DEET 1993: 7).
The National Aboriginal Languages and Literacy Policy was an outcome of initiatives in language planning which had been in progress over the previous decade and which are outlined in Lo Bianco 1990. These initiatives had attempted to rectify the fact that hitherto, as Lo Bianco puts it, “Australia ha[d] ‘planned’ for monolingualism based on southern English norms” (Lo Bianco 1990: 52), leading to stigmatization or neglect of forms of language which departed from these norms. The ongoing implementation of the National Aboriginal Languages and Literacy Policy (as of the National Language and Literacy Policy) was facilitated by the National Languages and Literacy Institute of Australia (NLLIA), which, from 1992, was progressively to foster the development of bandscales to guide the teaching of English as a Second Language to students of diverse linguistic backgrounds. In 1994 the Department of Employment, Education and Training published the findings of a National Review of Education for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples. This review had been carried out under a reference group chaired by a well-known Aboriginal educator, Mandaway Yunupingu. Unlike most previous reports, it gave recognition to the “vigour and creativity of Indigenous Australians” (DEET 1994: 1) in the endeavours they had made to improve education for their people. In documenting the 170 written submissions and numerous hearings it had conducted, it claimed that there was “no doubt that the educational experiences of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders ha[d] improved” over the previous five years” (DEET 1994: 2), yet it saw the goal of equity as still unreached. The 1994 National Review endorsed the National Policy despite recognition that some had seen it as over-biased towards “mainstream” rather than community educational objectives (DEET 1994: 6). Addressing itself to the “gaps” in participation among 3 to 5 year olds, it noted that between 1986 and 1991 they had narrowed, while still remaining significant (DEET 1994: 21). Year 12 retention rates among Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander
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students were seen as what they had been for the population as a whole twenty years previously (DEET 1994: 23). The review acknowledged that there was “a good deal of support” (DEET 1994: 32) for recognizing different outcomes for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students, but it argued instead that mainstream objectives could be achieved by such students, but in a different way. In particular, it recognized, in Recommendation 25, the need for support of students whose first language was not Standard English: That education providers identify those Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander preschool, primary and secondary school students whose first language is Aboriginal English, a Kriol [sic] or an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander language and ensure that they are provided with at least the same levels of literacy and English as a second language support and assistance provided to non-indigenous students whose first language is not English (DEET 1994: 34).
This recommendation, while well-intentioned, seemed to show a lack of recognition of the positive role of the mother tongue in achieving the bicultural objectives which had been set in the National Policy’s priorities for the second triennium. In 1993 the Council of Australian Governments, chaired by the Prime Minister, merged a number of ministerial committees to create the Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs (MCEETYA) which was to meet at least annually. This top level Council exists to coordinate strategic policy at the national level and to negotiate and develop national agreements in relevant areas. In 1995 a Task Force was set up by MCEETYA under Dr Paul Hughes to draw up a National Strategy for the Education of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples 1996–2002. This drew on the operational plans and strategies of the states and territories and on the recommendations of the National Review (DEET 1994) and set in place a collaborative plan based on seven priorities (MCEETYA 1995: 1), which are listed in full in Partington and Galloway (this vol.). The Taskforce spelled out, with respect to each priority, outcomes and strategies to be achieved at each educational level (early childhood, schooling, vocational education and training, and higher education) and set achievement targets for the years 1996, 1997 and 2002. Of particular relevance to the focus of this chapter is priority 5. In referring to “equitable and appropriate educational achievement for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students” it immediately returns us to the tension we have commented on between culturally appropriate education and equity of outcomes with other Australian students. Some attempt was made, in the
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wording of the outcomes, to accommodate both concerns. The outcomes for “Early Childhood Education” are: 1. The proficiency of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children in Standard Australian English and numeracy will increase in early childhood years. The foundation for further literacy development will be the home language of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children including Aboriginal English, Kriol and traditional Aboriginal languages. (MCEETYA 1995: 53) 2. The achievement levels of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students will improve in key learning areas in the early childhood years. (MCEETYA 1995: 54) The outcomes for “Schooling” are essentially the same as these, but applied to the compulsory years of schooling, and including, in addition: 3. Increased numbers of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students will successfully complete year 12 or equivalent. (MCEETYA 1995: 56) There is, then, in the National Strategy, an attempt to provide for a coordinated effort to meet agreed objectives which foregrounds the need of Aboriginal students to achieve the same literacy and numeracy outcomes as other students but also to have appropriate recognition of their linguistic and cultural inheritance. The strategy provides direction and monitoring of outcomes but it is non-prescriptive with respect to the ways in which these outcomes will be achieved. A report on Meeting the Educational Needs of Aboriginal Adolescents commissioned by the National Board of Employment, Education and Training and published in 1995 provided client confirmation of the appropriateness of this kind of policy. Dr Paul Hughes, on behalf of the Management Committee, noted: The consultation…confirmed that the policy now in place that emphasizes the need for Aboriginal cultural affirmation for Aboriginal students needs to be maintained and developed. However, all students understand that they are individuals who are also participating in a more global world… although they do have a distinctive sense of identity as Aboriginal people, these adolescents share the aspirations and world-views of their non-Aboriginal peers and have to pass through the same stages of development. (Groome and Hamilton 1995: iii)
It could reasonably be argued, though, that national educational authorities have been rather more concerned with monitoring the success of Aboriginal
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students in the achievement of outcomes common to the mainstream than in achieving outcomes relating to cultural affirmation and the maintenance of Aboriginal identity. This reflects overall educational strategy in Australia. A ministerial agreement in 1996 that “every child leaving primary school should be numerate, and able to read, write and spell at an appropriate level” (Curriculum Corporation 2005) led to the decision to develop literacy and numeracy benchmarks which would enable minimum acceptable standards of literacy and numeracy to be reported in a standard way across the nation. The benchmarks were developed by a Curriculum Council led taskforce and approved by MCEETYA in 2000. They consist of summary statements and work samples showing what every student should be able to do at three successive stages of primary education: Year 3, Year 5 and Year 7 (Curriculum Council 2000). In 2001 MCEETYA established a Taskforce on Performance Measurement and Reporting which reports to each meeting of MCEETYA on student learning outcomes and how they are being reported within school systems. Student outcomes data are reported annually in the National Report on Schooling in Australia. Not surprisingly, when the Year 3 and Year 5 national benchmark results on Reading, Writing and Numeracy were reported in the National Report on Schooling in Australia for 2001, a “large gap” (MCEETYA 2001: 22) was shown up on both reading and writing between the performance of Indigenous and non-Indigenous students. It was noted, in reporting the findings, that “non-achievement of the benchmark represents an indication that the student will experience extreme difficulty with schooling” (MCEETYA 2001: 8). In 2003, in the context of a report to the Council of Australian Governments on the overcoming of Indigenous disadvantage, two of the areas of focus were “early school engagement and performance (preschool to year 3)” and “positive childhood and transition to adulthood” (SCRGSP 2003: chapters 6 and 7). Yet again, the report observed that Indigenous Australians experience “marked and widespread disadvantage” (SCRGSP: v). Both in early childhood and at year 5, Indigenous students in the years 1998 to 2002 were below national benchmarks in literacy and numeracy, and school retention rates, although improving slightly, were about half those of nonIndigenous students. It is important to interpret the findings on Indigenous students’ performance on the literacy benchmarks with due regard to the selective nature of the testing processes. Quite apart from the fact, acknowledged in the reports (MYCEETYA 2001: 5; SCRGSP 2003: section 6.2), that there is room for measurement error in the methods by which Indigenous students
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have been identified and in the sampling procedures employed, the tests have focused on only one aspect of the language education in which the students should have been involved. The national outcome statements for literacy at both early childhood education and schooling level, as we have noted above, stipulated that there were two essential elements: the foundational element which was the home language component and the overlaid element which was the proficiency in Standard Australian English literacy. The way in which the benchmarks have been used, lumping together non-Indigenous learners, for the majority of whom the foundational element is essentially linguistically the same as the overlaid element, with Indigenous learners, for the majority of whom it is both linguistically and culturally distinct, leads to findings which show, for one group, the cumulative competency of home language and overlaid literacy achievement and for the other the literacy performance in a second language or dialect without regard to home language competence on which it is supposed to be founded. The performance of the Indigenous students is shown as inferior because, for them, in contrast with the nonIndigenous students, the measure is taking no account of their foundational linguistic competence. The problem derives from the fact that the National Policy, on the one hand, is sensitive to the recognition of the home language as a foundation for literacy but the MCEETYA Performance Measurement and Reporting regime, on the other, is not. The benchmarks were developed indeed on the basis of consultation, but not on the basis of relevant linguistic information. They are monocultural and monodialectal benchmarks, used to judge performance in what is purportedly a bicultural system of education (DEET 1988: 46; DEET 1993: 7). From the point of view of a speaker of Aboriginal English (the default form of communication in most Aboriginal communities), the benchmarks, even at the Year 3 level, are based on assumptions about English which are not shared. For example, the writing benchmark requires stories to be composed which are structured in the pattern of “beginning, middle and end,” yet this is not customary in the commonest Aboriginal English oral narratives; the spelling benchmark requires “frequently used and readily recognized words” to be spelled correctly and lists among the examples “saw” and “was”, which are not frequently used in all varieties of Aboriginal English, and “went” and “you”, which often take a different form in Aboriginal English. The reading benchmark expects students to be able to read texts with “predictable text and sentence structures,” but the predictability of text and sentence structures differs considerably between Standard Australian English and Aboriginal English.
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There is, then, a bias against the recognition of Aboriginal linguistic competence in the ways in which Aboriginal student literacy is currently being measured, and consequently in the way in which Aboriginal students are being categorized within the Australian schooling system. The “gap” in achievement is a product not only of the way in which education is provided to Aboriginal students but also a product of the way in which achievement is assessed. 4. Approaches to bridging the educational gap We observed at the beginning of this chapter (section 1.0) that there were two gaps which need to be bridged: a linguistic gap and a content gap. The linguistic gap is that which separates the language of education from the language of the learner; the content gap is that which separates the assumptions and aspirations of non-Aboriginal Australians from those of Aboriginal Australians. The gaps are, of course, interrelated. What we have to say here will address primarily the first gap but will indirectly relate to the second gap as well. We will also limit the scope of our discussion in this section to some developments which have been taking place in Western Australia and which are broadly representative of wider developments. It is possible to conceive of curriculum in terms of inputs to be delivered or in terms of outcomes to be achieved. Since the 1980s in Australia there has been a growing consensus that it is the outcomes which should be specified by educational authorities, and ultimately by governments, and that it is up to teachers (with support) to determine the inputs which will most readily achieve the specified outcomes. The move towards the development of nationally agreed outcomes in education began with a meeting of State, Territory and Commonwealth Ministers of Education in Hobart in 1989. An initial ten goals for schooling were agreed on and the Curriculum Council of Australia was established to facilitate national collaboration on curriculum in all relevant areas of learning. By 1991 such a National Curriculum had been developed and specified, by means of Statements of essential knowledge, skills and processes, Outcomes and Profiles (showing progress through the compulsory years of schooling), the requirements for each learning area. On the basis of this agreed national curriculum, the States and Territories developed and trialled their own statements of student outcomes in each area. In Western Australia an Interim Curriculum Council was established in 1995 (confirmed under the Curriculum Council Act in 1997) and it led the
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development locally of a Curriculum Framework. On the basis of local consultation, ongoing work proceeded to refine outcomes in each curriculum area and subsequently to draft progress maps detailing, in terms of eight levels, the anticipated progress of students from Kindergarten to Year 12. The interests of Indigenous learners were taken account of both by the establishment of an Indigenous Reference Group and by the incorporation of a requirement of Inclusivity (defined as “accommodating and valuing all students”) into the curriculum development process. Of the eight learning areas two were concerned with language (English and Languages Other than English) and the consultation process enabled the needs of speakers of Aboriginal English, Kriol and Aboriginal languages to be kept in view, although initially these varieties did not receive specific mention. Once the curriculum for the K-10 years of schooling was in place, attention was given to the 15 to 19 Year Old Strategy (Year 11 and Year 12). A state-wide review of senior secondary education began in 1998 and directions for change were endorsed by the Western Australian Government in 2002. Among the changes were the introduction of some fifty new broad courses of study, including English as a Second Language/[Standard] English as a Second Dialect – ESL/ESD, recently renamed English as an Additional Language / [Standard] English as an Additional dialect (EAL/EAD) – and Australian Indigenous Languages. The recognition of the needs of Aboriginal English speakers by the incorporation of “ESD” or “EAD” into the “ESL” or “EAL” curriculum was an innovation of potentially far-reaching implications for the status of the dialect and the support of its speakers. The proposal of an Australian Indigenous Languages course of study (for introduction by 2008)3 was an ambitious one, in view of the fact that there are many Indigenous languages spoken in Western Australia, of which no one is dominant, and also the fact that the requirements of the course would need to be met by the students taking it (both Indigenous and non-Indigenous) within two years. It was decided to make the Australian Indigenous Languages Course of Study applicable to the entire diversity of communities and language situations in Western Australia and hence a framework within which any local language selected by a Western Australian community could be taught, so long as competent teachers were available. The objective in developing the course was to make it accessible to all students, whether Indigenous or nonIndigenous and to stimulate pride in the existing Indigenous language heritage 3. A significant South Australian initiative in the teaching of Indigenous languages in secondary school which predates this one is discussed in Amery (this vol.).
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and a sense of responsibility for language maintenance. It was, however, primarily oriented to learning the language and learning outcomes were specified in detail under the same core objectives applying to other courses in languages other than English:
– – – – –
listening and responding, and speaking viewing, reading and responding producing/generating print texts An additional core objective was specific to this Course of Study traditional and contemporary Australian Indigenous Languages.
It was intended that the content of the course would be embedded in authentic learning tasks. These are elaborated in three areas: Language Knowledge and Use, Cultural Understanding and Learning and Communication Strategies. The course is expressed in assessable outcomes ranging from senior secondary beginner (level 4) to advanced (level 8) and it is articulated with requirements of study in Vocational Education and Training. The Australian Indigenous Languages Course of Study represents one way in which the gap between the language background of the Indigenous speaker and the English-based learning of the school system can be bridged. It is a “two-way” initiative, in that it attempts not only to recognize and enhance the skills of the learner whose community uses the language but also to initiate the non-Indigenous learner to that language and the other languages and cultural practices with which it is associated. It is a course which can only be implemented by drawing on the community-based skills of Indigenous people as teachers and resource persons. Attention aimed at bridging the language gap is also being directed at the curriculum in English as a Second Language (ESL). It was noted above (3.0) that the National Languages and Literacy Institute of Australia (NLLIA) had initiated the development of bandscales to help teachers to plot in detail the progress of students of English as a Second Language along successive levels of competence. Recognizing that the needs of ESL teachers in predominantly Aboriginal classrooms are distinctive, and that, with the assistance of Aboriginal/Islander Education Officers, the home language (HL) can be incorporated to a significant extent in such classrooms, a team of educators based in the Kimberley Education District (in the far north of Western Australia)4 adapted the junior primary NLLIA Bandscales to make them 4. This was one of a number of similar initiatives taken by groups of educators in different parts of Australia.
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appropriate for Aboriginal learners. In this adaptation of the Bandscales the wider outcomes remained the same but changes were made to link in aspects of the West Australian English Progress Maps and significant detail was added to alert teachers to the kinds of response to anticipate from Aboriginal children at each level, and the kind of strategies to which they might best respond. In relation to Listening and Speaking, e.g., one of the aspects is: Students select from a repertoire of processes and strategies when speaking and listening by reflecting on their understanding of the way oral language works.
In the adapted Kimberley Bandscales (level 1) this is expanded as follows: L1.4: This will be evident when the student, for example:
– Attempts to use some SAE language in daily classroom routines – Indicates when something is not understood through the use of gestures, avoidance tactics or facial expression
– Responds to peer/L1 adults through use of intonation, facial expression relevant to L1. (e.g. understands that intonation expresses a question in Kriol and Aboriginal English) – Demonstrates understanding of spoken text with gestures or facial expressions from L1 (e.g. lip pointing, shrugging) – Misses or does not understand teacher non-verbal SAE cues – Continues to be reliant on peers in SAE contexts rather than developing independent listening skills (Buist et al. 2002).
Thus, behaviours typical of Aboriginal learners, such as avoidance tactics, lip pointing, peer-orientation and reliance on intonation to discern the mood of an utterance are built into the teacher’s expectations. Similarly, in relation to Writing, the Contextual Understandings Aspect stipulates that: Students develop a critical awareness of the ways language varies according to the context and how language affects the ways students view themselves and the world in which they live. The adapted Bandscales (level 2) offer the teacher strategies as to how to work towards the achievement of this outcome: Teaching Strategies
– Provide opportunities for students to share their writing experiences with classmates in HL and teacher in SAE.
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– Value the HL and the meanings conveyed in HL as very important. Model writing in HL as well as its ‘translation’ to SAE.
– Where students have attempted to write a message for their picture, accept the HL explanation but provide the SAE translation, whilst explaining the process of translating, e.g. “In Kriol we say ‘One dog, five dog’. In SAE we say, ‘One dog, five dogs’.” (See Making the Jump, p.73.) – Where students tell a story about their picture telling in HL, value attempts in HL. Don’t interrupt or translate until the child has finished or is ready, thus enabling development in HL as a means of developing SAE and selfesteem. – Provide opportunities for many re-readings by a variety of readers to see that written messages stay the same. – Use language separation activities, e.g. Develop two-way charts with children, e.g. ‘bin go’ –’ went’. (See ‘Making the Jump’, p 33.)” (Buist et al. 2002)
Teachers are given detailed guidance which will help them to see how the HL can be drawn on in ESL instruction in a way which will lead to improved learning by Aboriginal students. A more recent initiative carried out by the Western Australian Department of Education and Training concerns the development of an ESL/ESD progress map to help teachers to monitor students’ progress in acquiring Standard Australian English, whether in ELS/ESD or mainstream English programs. This progress map will replace the use of the ESL Bandscales in Western Australia and make specific links to the English Outcomes and Standards Framework. In 1998 the Commonwealth Government provided funding to support over eighty projects under an Indigenous Education Strategic Initiatives Programme. These projects were intended as a form of experimentation to find out what would achieve improved outcomes for Indigenous students. The results, published in 2000 (McRae et al. 2000), while not systematically analysed, were described as “confirming ideas and strategies which have now become conventional for improving achievement among Indigenous students” (McRae et al 2000: 1). Five of the projects concerned with the development of literacy skills were reported on. Strategies adopted included the provision of intensive learning support in class, using videoconferencing between schools, increasing community contact, excursions, shared reading, reducing class size, increasing individual support and scaffolded literacy practices. Problems encountered included the inexperience of teachers working in remote locations, the difficulty of recruiting assistants from the community, irregular student attendance and students’ hearing difficulties. The report states that
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“[o]nly one of these projects achieved its specified targets during their 12month span, but all achieved a great deal” (McRae et al: 83). This seems to suggest that, even with significant resources, marked changes in literacy achievement cannot be achieved in the short term. However, it should be noted that most of the projects described showed little awareness of the importance of mother tongue support in acquiring language and literacy in Standard Australian English. This problem is illustrated in the following comment coming from the report on one of the projects: “Young Kriolspeaking students have several steps to take to acquire SAE. Firstly they must realize that the language of the school is different from their own. Secondly, they must have the desire to use that language. Thirdly, they must learn the structures of the new language” (McRae et al: 59). In this oversimplification, no account is taken of the fact that the learner already has a viable Australian language which is a fundamental part of his/her identity and life in the community and that unless this is safeguarded the other “steps” are likely to be taken in vain. The most longstanding and widespread program in Western Australia attempting to bridge the language gap between Aboriginal students and their teachers is a project entitled The ABC of Two Way Literacy and Learning. Supported by Commonwealth Government funding and by ongoing linguistic research at Edith Cowan University over some ten years, the project has set out to change teacher perceptions of Aboriginal English and, on the basis of this changed perception, to introduce “two-way” pedagogical strategies. The term two-way is by no means new. It was first observed by the linguist Patrick McConvell to be in use by the Gurindji people of Wattie Creek in the Northern Territory in 1974 (McConvell 1982). It arose from the people’s own troubled experience of ‘one-way,’ or only the Western, non-Aboriginal way, education. Recently, this term has been adopted widely in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander research and education and has come to mean:
– A system in which both non Aboriginal and Aboriginal cultures are to be taught
– An exchange between the Aboriginal and European non-Aboriginal based
cultures, i.e., Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people make an effort to learn and understand the aims and methods of Anglo-European programs and non-Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander teachers in turn, make an effort to learn about the language, culture and aspirations of their Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students.
The two-way concept incorporates Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander participation and decision making, the establishment of exchange of know-
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ledge which goes both ways and an emphasis on preserving the continuity of Aboriginal cultural transmission. An essential contributor to the recognition of culture is the recognition and sensitive nurturing of the language variety which embodies this culture so that the emphasis in two-way education is on a need for bi- or multi-culturalism/ bi- or multi-lingualism and/or bidialectalism. This entails a sharing of knowledge and the power linked in with that knowledge in terms of what is taught and how it is taught. It means Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander community members need to be involved actively in the education process for themselves and for their children. Working within this framework of understanding, it is recognized that Aboriginal languages, creoles and Aboriginal English are the carriers of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Island world views and provide Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people with the means of enculturation into Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander ways of thinking. It follows from this that if teachers of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students are to make the most of their students’ learning, they must learn from, link in with and incorporate Aboriginal ways of conceptualization into the teaching and learning programs. This can only be done using a two-way process. The Department of Education and Training’s ABC of Two-Way Literacy (A for acceptance of Aboriginal English, B for bridging to standard Australian English and C for cultivating Aboriginal ways of approaching experience and knowledge) Program has adopted an additional dimension to two-way which has not previously been emphasized enough and that is the deprivation that is suffered by non-Aboriginal students when Aboriginal ways of interpreting knowledge and experience are denied to the wider school community. The incorporation and analysis of the language and/or dialect spoken by the Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander students is a vehicle to provide all students with a thorough understanding of how Indigenous Australian people use language differently. On a wider scale, it allows all students to investigate the relationship of language, its social and cultural contexts and the dynamic and social process associated with it. It allows reflection and analysis on the importance to all people of their own linguistic heritage. The incorporation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander languages and/or dialect can be used as the seed that provides students with a broader view of communication within a global context, thus fostering cross-cultural tolerance and understanding. Specifically this involves
– students developing pragmatic, organizational, strategic competence in Standard Australian English (SAE) in a two-way culturally and linguistic appropriate manner.
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– teacher awareness of the goals of second language/second dialect acquisition and of the principles of Aboriginal ESL/ESD5 Education. – thorough understanding by school staff of how culture carries a language and affects linguistic and conceptual processes.
Particular attention is paid to the conceptual level, which embodies the values, the beliefs and attitudes that influence many of the other levels of linguistic patterning. For example, at the pragmatic level, varieties of creole and Aboriginal English do not have an equivalent to ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ in words. Rather the system of family obligations ensures people are adequately acknowledged and responded to appropriately. At the semantic level, “old girl” is a term of respect for Aboriginal speakers. When the students’ dialect is analysed in this way, it becomes apparent why the learning and teaching of Standard Australian English becomes such a complex issue in Aboriginal education. Potential for misunderstanding and miscommunication between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal speakers are based on all levels, the linguistic, the cultural and the schematic. Intensive and ongoing workshopping with two-way teams (pairs comprising one Aboriginal and one non-Aboriginal educator from the same school) has enabled a two-way bidialectal methodology to be developed and practised, based on eight key principles (adapted from Malcolm 2004): Principle 1: Affirmation – receptiveness to the Aboriginal English used by students – positive evaluation of Aboriginal English as a linguistic/discourse system on the basis of selected features, as they arise – observation of features in which Aboriginal English and Standard Australian English are in contrast, as they arise – observation of the indebtedness of Standard Australian English to Aboriginal languages and Aboriginal English in vocabulary and idiom – observation of the ways in which Aboriginal English has links with the historical and dialectal development of English which go beyond Standard Australian English
5. The term ESL/ESD is used in Department of Education and Training in Western Australia to refer to English as a second language and English as a second dialect (more correctly, Standard English as a second dialect). ESD in Western Australia is a local development on bidialectal education as developed in USA in the mid20th century, and draws not only on sociolinguistic but also on cognitive linguistic research (see further Malcolm, forthc.).
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– development of awareness of the social dimension of dialect and register variation, so that students can appreciate and practice code switching, as appropriate – provision of opportunities for appropriate use of Aboriginal English by Aboriginal students Principle 2: Co-leadership – development of teaching procedures which involve Aboriginal and nonAboriginal staff in interacting with learning materials, thus providing a model for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal student interaction and mutual comprehension – involvement of Aboriginal and Islander Education Officers in assessment processes – engagement of Aboriginal and Islander Education Officers to provide Aboriginal perspectives on content and language of instruction – use of interaction between teacher and Aboriginal and Islander Education Officer to demonstrate code-switching – collaborative reporting to parents of Aboriginal students Principle 3: Curriculum Resources – evaluation of existing materials for Aboriginal English compatibility – identification of existing materials which require deletion, modification or modified use – development of modified practices to enable students’ Aboriginal English to be properly acknowledged in using existing materials – development or procurement of new materials which give due recognition to the English and conceptualizations of Aboriginal people – development of handout material based on the principle of two-way learning Principle 4: Example – the Aboriginal/Islander Education Worker should provide a model of bidialectal competence – local Indigenous people should be invited to come into the class and share with groups – still on a small group and not a whole-class basis – Indigenous role models should be identified and brought into the classroom by way of video, audio or printed material Principle 5: Structures – organization of the class so that there is no expectation of teacher led whole-class discussion
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reduced dependence on question-and-answer techniques regular use of small groups regular one-on-one work with Indigenous students use of informal learning situations wherever possible inclusion of themes where Indigenous knowledge is drawn on
Principle 6: Staging – provision, at all levels, of a period in which students will express themselves freely in verbal or graphic form purely for their own satisfaction – recognition of students’ authority over what they do with their own selfexpression, allowing for some to keep it to themselves and for others to share it with class members – “free writing” by teacher as well as class – gradual introduction of students to ways in which they can modify the expression of their own ideas to reach a wider audience – recognition of the need for a staged process of progression between the first dialect (Aboriginal English) and the second (Standard Australian English) – giving recognition to the genres the student is already capable of using (at least orally) before expecting him/her to acquire new genres Principle 7: Evaluation – development of bidialectal outcomes appropriate to curriculum areas – identification of community-based literacy practices in which Aboriginal English speakers’ skills can be recognized and built upon – development of assessment procedures which enable functional and formal differentiation of dialects – assessment of students on the basis of bidialectal outcomes – development of reporting procedures which give due regard to progress made by bidialectal students and the way of reporting this to caregivers Principle 8: Reflection – following each day’s instruction with a period of reflection in which the teacher and the Aboriginal/Islander Education Officer review the pedagogical experience and the student response – maintaining a diary on the basis of these reflections – planning for the next day’s instruction on the basis of modified processes based on reflections made on previous experience – providing for opportunities for sharing reflections on pedagogical experiences with colleagues in two-way school and district teams
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The ABC of Two-Way Literacy and Learning project represents the most thoroughgoing attempt to incorporate linguistically informed information about the English dialect of Aboriginal speakers, its cultural context and its conceptualizations into the learning process. It represents, perhaps, the best attempt yet to make the language education of Aboriginal people relevant to their habitat. 5. The contrasting agendas of diversity and the dominant culture It has been argued by Corson (1998) that one of the features of postmodernity in society has been to bring into opposition two trends: one which favours “things like centralization, mass production, specialization, and mass consumption, including the standardized school systems that used to be the norm” (Corson 1998: 2) and the other that favours the expression of diverse sociocultural identities and the values of groups that are, or have been, dispossessed. This trend impacts on education, in that “wherever the values and interests of schools are linked tightly into that marketplace, students and teachers from diverse backgrounds find that their interests are still missing from education” (Corson 1998: 3). Although many Australian educators would see themselves as occupying the middle ground, Indigenous education in Australia continues to be influenced by pressures from these two directions. There is the move towards diversity which is expressed in support for initiatives such as community control of schools, maintenance models of bilingual education, vernacular literacy, cultural studies programmes, diversified outcomes and the development of culturally responsive curricula. On the other hand, there is the move towards reining Indigenous education in to the objectives of the society as a whole, as expressed in nationally determined curricula, benchmarks in literacy and numeracy, standardized testing, a Standard-English-only focus and the use of direct instruction to bring the outcomes for Indigenous students into line with those of mainstream students, in the interests of improving national productivity. There is both Indigenous and non-Indigenous support for both approaches. The principle of “accommodation” (McConaghy 1993) of Indigenous perspectives is widely supported and a number of Indigenous educators have expressed discomfort with book learning (e.g. Irrluma 1988: 109) and have favoured listening and observing as the preferred mode of learning (Hughes 1987; Naylor 1998: 17). However others have taken exception to the assumption that Indigenous learners cannot learn on the same basis as
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mainstream Australian learners (e.g. Ellis 1997: 81; Christensen and Lilley 1997). One outspoken advocate of mainstream approaches to the education of Indigenous people is the Torres Strait Islander academic Martin Nakata, who has attacked what he calls the “cultural agenda” (i.e., the “diversity” emphasis) whereby, as he sees it, “the teaching of English is geared down, down to functional purposes, because that is all we are seen to need it for, and the arguments for teaching of traditional languages are in the ascendancy because linguists and anthropologists tell us we won’t have an identity without it” (Nakata 1999: 17). To Nakata, the maintenance of the cultural capital of Indigenous communities is something which should be left to the communities themselves rather than to the education system. He advocates, instead, “political approaches to English language teaching in Indigenous contexts” (Nakata 1999: 22) which will focus on equipping Indigenous people with Standard English as a tool to help them in their fight for social justice. It is apparent, as Corson (1998: 3–4) has observed, that “real sociocultural identities have little value in the marketplace” and it is understandable that many members of Indigenous communities share the concern expressed by Nakata that the major obligation of the wider society to their children is to give them competence in Standard English to improve their prospects for future advancement. Thus, despite the well-documented positive outcomes achieved by the bilingual programme in schools of the Northern Territory over more than 20 years (Nicholls 1994), it was for years the subject of ongoing debate (McKay 1996: 113–117) and some communities were not in favour of its continuation, which helped to contribute to its closure from 1999 and replacement by “two-way” education with a greater attention to English literacy. On the other hand, there is substantial documentation from other parts of the world (Siegel 1997a/b; 1999a/b, 2006) which shows that the learning of a standard language is not impaired but rather enhanced by the use of the learner’s vernacular language or pidgin as part of the learning process and there is increasing evidence from studies of Aboriginal English that the first language or dialect of the learner is inseparable not only from culture but also from conceptualization (Malcolm 2002a; 2002b) and can therefore only be excluded from the education process at the peril of the Indigenous learner. In Australia, as has been noted by Leitner (2004: 241), there is an apparent opposition between approaches to English literacy which require an immediate switch on the part of Aboriginal English speakers to Standard English and those which recognize Aboriginal English as a part of the educational process by using a bidialectal approach. The former approach tends towards what we
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have called the “dominant culture” tradition and the latter towards what we have called the “diversity” tradition. The work of Brian Gray and associates (Gray 1990; Rose, Gray and Cowey 1999), coming within the “dominant culture” tradition, seeks to induct Indigenous students into the culture of literacy and for this it is seen as necessary to accept “text [i.e., the texts of the dominant culture] as a closed system” (Gray 1990: 111). Learning is seen as primarily “a social process and … teaching strategies must begin with social experiences as the basis from which they are conceived and implemented” (Gray 1990: 115). Such social experiences come from shared language experiences in which, following Vygotskian principles, students are helped towards the mastery of Standard English forms by “modelling, scaffolding and direct instruction” (Gray 1990: 124, emph. removed; see also Partington and Galloway, this vol.). Learning is also supported by focused instruction on text, in which, at the reading stage, texts are deconstructed to show how the writer’s intention has been encoded, and then, at the writing stage, reconstructed, to enable the student’s writing intention to be encoded (Rose, Gray, and Cowey 1999: 33). It is argued that this focused attention to the literacy of the wider society will lead to empowerment for Aboriginal people (Gray 1990). The contrasting approach within the “diversity” tradition, which may be illustrated by the work of Malcolm and associates (Malcolm 1995; Malcolm et al. 1999), sees it as necessary to base school language learning on the learner’s existing linguistic competence and experience and, in the case of speakers of Aboriginal English, to recognize the validity and significance of the home dialect and to make its points of contrast with Standard English (phonologically, lexically, grammatically and conceptually) the starting points for instruction in the dialect being introduced. Essential to this approach is the sharing of instruction by Indigenous and non-Indigenous educators and the adoption of the “two-way” principle whereby there is an expectation not only that Aboriginal learners (along with their non-Aboriginal classmates) will develop competency in Standard Australian English but also that nonAboriginal learners will become more bicultural through being made more aware of the linguistic and cultural accomplishments of their Aboriginal classmates. In seeking to achieve standard English literacy outcomes for Aboriginal learners Gray’s approach is deliberately “direct” whereas Malcolm is deliberately “indirect.” It follows that the two approaches have not only different pedagogies but different testing implications and require evaluation in different ways. Like Gray, Malcolm would claim to be leading towards empowerment for Aboriginal people, but in the sense in which the term is used by Cummins (1986: 25), who sees it as achieved by the incorporation of the minority culture and its values within the curriculum.
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6. Conclusion: Bridging the gap It has been argued here that there is an ongoing language gap between Indigenous Australians and mainstream Australians and that this gap has implications for education. The gap exists at two levels. First, it separates speech communities which, though entering into interaction with one another, are oriented towards the use of different varieties. The major Indigenous varieties, traditional languages, creoles and Aboriginal English, though not equally remote, linguistically, from the Australian English of the majority population, all carry different meanings which inevitably impact on education and require specialized provision. Secondly, the gap is between a bidialectal/bilingual and a monodialectal educational outcome. For most Australians Standard Australian English is able to serve as the all-purpose vehicle of communication and the expression of educational outcomes in monodialectal terms is no problem. Indigenous Australians, however, are the custodians of more than one Australian linguistic system and can reasonably expect to see this reflected in the kind of educational outcomes an Australian education sets before them. There is, as we have recognized, a tension in modern society between the demands of a global economic system for standardized linguistic skills in a language of wider communication (i.e., for Australians, Standard English) and the demands of cultural maintenance for diversified and locally meaningful linguistic skills. The needs of Indigenous students are differently interpreted by different educators and for the majority of these students school education is an unsatisfying and unproductive experience. The gaps between the Indigenous person’s lived experience and the community’s aspirations for them as the equals of other Australians are still inadequately bridged and there are basic ideological differences between educators as to how they should be bridged. Perhaps the strongest call coming from Indigenous communities today is for self-determination. One of the locations where this has been closest to being achieved is Yirrkala School in Arnhem Land where Aboriginal teachers work alongside non-Aboriginal teachers with equal pay and recognition, under the governance of the principal who is a member of a communitycontrolled school council and where a principle of “two-way” (Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal) learning applies which is intended to deliver to the students “double power” (Yunupingu 1999). The former Aboriginal principal of the school has described the education it gives as “[d]ifferent threads…woven together and then put out into the world as a finished product that is something new and different…not putting two cultures up against each other but
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bringing them together” (Yunupingu 1999: 1). If we change the metaphor, perhaps this kind of community-inspired rapprochement is the most effective way to bridge the language gap and, potentially, it could embrace the two alternative approaches which have been described above. References Buist, Julie, Rachel Monamy, Helen Richardson, Linda Dawson, Beth Aitken, Jenny Evans, Lis Alden, Simone Munckton, Tanya Truman, Denise Shillinglaw, Paul Read, Penne Metcalf, Ruth Webb-Smith, Darren Entwistle, and Maggie Conrad 2002 Kimberley Bandscales for Aboriginal ESL/D Students. Broome: Kimberley District Education Office. (CD Rom). Christensen, Peter, and Ian Lilley 1997 The Road Forward? Alternative Assessment for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Students at the Tertiary Level. Canberra: Evaluations and Investigations Program, Higher Education Division, Department of Employment, Education, Training and Youth. Clayton, Jean and Gale, Mary-Anne 1996 Themes in the literature. In Desert Schools. Volume 3. Jean Clayton (comp.) 9–65. Canberra: Department of Education, Training and Youth Affairs. Corson, David 1998 Changing Education for Diversity. Buckingham: Open University Press. Crawford, L. 1979 Aboriginal children and school. In Aboriginal Statements on Education, David Massey (ed.), 18–27. St Lucia: Schonell Educational Research Centre, University of Queensland. Cummins, Jim 1986 Empowering minority students: A framework for intervention. Harvard Educational Review 56 (1): 18–36. Curriculum Corporation 2000 Literacy Benchmarks: Years 3, 5 and 7 Writing, Spelling and Reading. Melbourne: Curriculum Corporation. 2005 Literacy and Numeracy Benchmarks. [http://www.curriculum.edu. au/projects/ numbench.php, accessed 27 June 2005]
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Department of Employment, Education and Training (DEET) 1988 Report of the Aboriginal Education Task Force. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. 1989 National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy. Joint Policy Statement. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. 1993 Overview: National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy. Second Triennium 1993–1995. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. 1994 National Review of Education for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples. Summary and Recommendations. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Eades, Diana M. 1988 They don’t speak any Aboriginal languages, or do they? In Being Black: Aboriginal Cultures in Settled Australia, Ian Keen (ed.), 97–113. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Ellis, Bronwyn J. 1997 Institutional influences on the participation of Aboriginal students in higher education in South Australia. Master of Education Research Paper. Deakin University. Gray, Brian 1990 Natural language learning in Aboriginal classrooms: Reflections on teaching and learning style for empowerment in English. In Language: Maintenance, Power and Education in Australian Aboriginal Contexts, Christine Walton and William Eggington (eds.), 105–139. Darwin: Northern Territory University Press. Groome, Howard, and Arthur Hamilton 1995 Meeting the Needs of Aboriginal Adolescents. (Commissioned Report 35. National Board of Employment, Education and Training). Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Hudson, Joyce 1982 Grammatical and Semantic Aspects of Fitzroy Valley Kriol. MA thesis, Australian National University, Canberra. Hughes, Paul 1987 Aboriginal Culture and Learning Styles – A Challenge for Academics in Higher Education Institutions. (The Second Frank Archibald Memorial Lecture). Armidale: University of New England.
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Hymes, Dell 1972 Introduction. In Functions of Language in the Classroom, Courtney B. Cazden, Vera P. John and Dell Hymes (eds.), xi–lvii. New York: Teachers College Press. 1977 Foundations in Sociolinguistics: an Ethnographic Approach. London: Tavistock. Irrluma (A. Isaac Brown) 1988 An aspect of Nyoongah world view of knowledge. In Learning My Way, Barbara Harvey and Suzanne McGinty (eds.), 106–113. Perth: Western Australian College of Advanced Education. Leitner, Gerhard 2004 Australia’s Many Voices. Ethnic Englishes, Indigenous and Migrant Languages. Policy and Education. (Contributions to the Sociology of Language 92.2) Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter Lo Bianco, Joseph 1990 Making language policy: Australia’s experience. In Language Planning and Education in Australasia and the South Pacific, Richard B. Baldauf, Jr. and Allan Luke (eds.), 47–49. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Malcolm, Ian G. 1987 Continuities in communicative patterns in cross-cultural classrooms. In Communication and Learning in the Classroom Community, B. K. Das (ed.). Singapore: SEAMEO Regional Language Centre. 1995 Language and Communication Enhancement for Two-Way Education. Mount Lawley, Western Australia: Edith Cowan University. 2002a Now you see it, now you don’t. In Ways of Being Ways of Talk, Patricia Königsberg and Glenys Collard (eds.), 106–124. Perth: Department of Education, Western Australia. 2002b Indigenous imperatives in navigating language and culture. International Journal of Learning 9: 25–44. 2004 What the second dialect speaker needs. Presentation to the ABC of twoway literacy and learning train the trainer workshop, Department of Education and Training, Western Australia, 19th–22nd July. forthc. Cultural linguistics and bidialectal education. In Applied Cultural Linguistics: Second Language Learning/Teaching and Intercultural Communication, Sharifian, Farzad and Gary B. Palmer (eds.), 129–154. Amsterdam: Benjamins.
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Malcolm, Ian G, Yvonne Haig, Patricia Königsberg, Judith Rochecouste, Glenys Collard, Alison Hill and Rosemary Cahill 1999 Two-Way English: Towards More User-Friendly Education for Speakers of Aboriginal English. East Perth: Education Department of Western Australia. Massey, David (ed.) 1979 Aboriginal Statements on Education. St Lucia: Schonell Educational Research Centre, University of Queensland. McConaghy, Cathryn 1993 Access higher education: A case study of Indigenous higher education policy. In Higher Education in Transition: Working Papers of the Higher Education Policy Project. Canberra: AEI-AIATSIS. McConvell, Patrick 1982 Supporting the two-way school. In Language planning for Australian Aboriginal languages, Jeanie Bell (ed.), 60–76. Alice Springs: Institute for Aboriginal Development. McKay, Graham 1996 The Land Still Speaks: Review of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Language Maintenance and Development Needs and Activities. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. McRae, David, Geoff Ainsworth, Jim Cumming, Paul Hughes, Tony Mackay, Kaye Price, Mike Rowland, Joan Warhurst, Davina Woods, and Vic Zbar 2000 What Works? Explorations in Improving Outcomes for Indigenous Students. Canberra: Australian Curriculum Studies Association. Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs (MCEETYA) 1995 A National Strategy for the Education of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples 1996–2002. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. 2001 National Report on Schooling in Australia 2001. [http://www. mceetya.edu.au/ pdf/2001_benchmarks.pdf, accessed 27 June 2005] Moore, Helen 2000 Language policies as virtual realities: Two Australian examples. In Ideology, Politics and Language Policies: Focus on English, Thomas Ricento (ed.), 25–47. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: Benjamins. Nakata, Martin 1999 History, cultural diversity and English language teaching. In Double Power: English Literacy and Indigenous Education, Peter Wignell (ed.), 5–22. Melbourne: Language Australia.
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Naylor, Tonia 1998 Teaching Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander University Students. Perth: Kurongkurl Katitjin School of Indigenous Australian Studies, Edith Cowan University. Nicholls, Christine E. 1994 Vernacular language programs and bilingual education programs in Aboriginal Australia. Issues and ideologies. In Aboriginal Languages in Education, Deborah Hartman and Jean. Henderson (eds.), 214–234. Alice Springs: IAD Press. Richards, Jack, John Platt, and Heidi Weber 1985 Longman Dictionary of Applied Linguistics. Harlow, Essex: Longman. Rogers, K. 1979 The Yolngu teacher. In Aboriginal Statements on Education, David Massey (ed.), 3–7. St Lucia: Schonell Educational Research Centre, University of Queensland. Rose, David, Brian Gray, and Wendy Cowey 1999 Scaffolding reading and writing for Indigenous children in school. In Double Power: English Literacy and Indigenous Education, Peter Wignell (ed.), 23–60. Melbourne: Language Australia. Schmidt, Annette 1990 The Loss of Australia’s Aboriginal Language Heritage. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Sharifian, Farzad 2003 On cultural conceptualizations. Journal of Cognition and Culture 3 (3): 187–207. Siegel, Jeff 1997a Using a Pidgin language in formal education: Help or hindrance? Applied Linguistics 18 (1): 86–100. 1997b Formal vs. non-formal vernacular education: The Education reform in Papua New Guinea. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 18 (3): 206–222. 1999a Stigmatized and standardized varieties in the classroom: Interference or separation? TESOL Quarterly 33 (4): 701–728. 1999b Creoles and Minority Dialects in Education: An Overview. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development 20 (6): 508–531. 2006 Keeping creoles and dialects out of the classroom: is it justified? In Dialects, Englishes, Creoles and Education, Shondel Nero (ed.), 39–67. Mahwah, N.J.: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
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Steering Committee for the Review of Government Service Provision (SCRGSP) 2003 Overcoming Indigenous Disadvantage. Key Indicators 2003. Canberra: Department of Communications, IT and the Arts. Wardhaugh, Ronald 1998 An Introduction to Sociolinguistics (3rd ed.). Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Yunupingu, Mandaway 1999 Double power. In Double Power: English Literacy and Indigenous Education, Peter Wignell (ed.), 1–4. Melbourne: Language Australia.
Aboriginal English in the criminal justice system1 Diana Eades 1. Aboriginal participation in the legal system The participation of Aboriginal people in the criminal justice system in Australia has been one of considerable public discourse and concern over the past fifteen years, with Aboriginal people being greatly overrepresented in police custody and prison. Concerns over this situation contributed to the establishment of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody between 1987–1991, which made over 300 recommendations, addressing issues ranging from conditions in prisons, to far-reaching social, educational and health matters (RCIADC 1991). In 1992, the national government allocated $400 million to federal agencies to support implementation of the recommendations. But still, the rate at which Aboriginal people are taken into police custody and imprisoned remains alarmingly high throughout the country. The Australian Bureau of Statistics (2004) reported that as of 30 June 2004, the national imprisonment rate for Indigenous people was 11 times the rate for non-Indigenous people2. Further, while being overrepresented in police custody and prison, Aboriginal people are almost invisible in the legal profession. The legal areas of greatest Aboriginal participation are the areas of criminal justice and the tribunals which deal with Aboriginal land claims and, more recently, native title claims. In the more remote regions of Australia, “traditional” Aboriginal languages play an important role in both of these areas of law. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to address issues affecting those who use traditional Aboriginal languages. (Readers are directed to important work by Cooke (1995a/b/c; 1996; 1998; 2002; 2004), Goldflam (1995), Henderson and Nash (2002), Mildren (1999), Neate (2003), and Walsh (1994). 1. This chapter draws on a number of previously published publications by the author, including Eades (1992; 1994; 1995; 1996; 2000; 2002; 2003; 2004a–b). 2. The term “indigenous Australians” refers to descendants of the original inhabitants, both Aboriginal people, whose ancestry comes from throughout the whole country, and Torres Strait Islanders, from the islands between Queensland and Papua New Guinea. This paper focuses on Aboriginal people, who number many more than Torres Strait Islanders, and who have assumed the greatest prominence in court cases involving indigenous people (CJC 1996: xi).
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In most of the country, Aboriginal participation in the legal system involves the use of varieties of English, and it is Aboriginal English in the criminal justice system which is the main focus of this chapter. Readers are referred to Malcolm and Grote (this vol.) in this book about Aboriginal English generally. The current chapter discusses issues affecting Aboriginal English speakers in the criminal justice system, drawing on two sources: research and specific legal cases. 2. Aboriginal English and fabricated confessions It appears that the first attention to Aboriginal English in the legal system was in two criminal cases – separated by almost 30 years – in which linguistic evidence about the kind of English spoken by an Aboriginal man was part of the defence in his murder trial. In the first of these two cases, that of Rupert Max Stuart in 1959, linguistic evidence was not accepted. In the second case, that of Kelvin Condren in the mid–late 1980s, linguistic evidence was ruled inadmissible by the highest court in Queensland, but this ruling was overturned by the High Court, and ultimately accepted. The next two sections will briefly recount the way in which Aboriginal English was important in these two cases. 2.1. The Stuart case Rupert Max Stuart was an Aboriginal man from Central Australia, whose first language was Aranda and who spoke what would now be termed Aboriginal English in many interactions, including his police interview and courtroom hearings. In 1959, while he was in Ceduna in South Australia, he was convicted of the gruesome murder of a nine-year old girl, and sentenced to be hanged. The murder conviction was made on the basis of a signed “confession”, which Stuart alleged was fabricated by the police. The linguist T G H Strehlow gave expert linguistic evidence to show that the language patterns in the answers attributed to Stuart in the “confession” were not consistent with the way that he spoke English. The case proceeded through every possible criminal court in Australia, and even to the Privy Council in London (which until the 1980s was the highest appeal court for Australian state cases). Four successive appeals – all in 1959 – were unsuccessful: to the Full Court of the Supreme Court of South Australia in May, to the High Court in June, to the Executive Council of the South Australian Government in July for commutation of his death penalty, and to the Judicial Committee of the
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Privy Council in London later in July. Amid all the public and media pressure the South Australian Government appointed a Royal Commission which sat from August till October, concluding in December that the verdict against Stuart was wholly justified. However, the South Australian Cabinet had decided in October to recommend to the Governor that Stuart’s death sentence be commuted to life. Strehlow’s linguistic evidence was given first in an affidavit to the High Court in June, and then in a more detailed letter to the Attorney-General, and finally in evidence to the Royal Commission, but it was rejected in all instances. After serving his life sentence, Stuart was released from prison, and returned to Central Australia, where he has become actively involved in Aboriginal organizations. He recently held the position of Chairman of the Central Land Council. His case was the subject of a documentary film titled Broken English (1993, directed by Ned Lander), and more recently the feature film Black and White (2002, directed by Craig Lahiff). Strehlow’s linguistic evidence in Stuart’s case was the first time that a linguist had described features of any Aboriginal English variety. Using the term “Northern Territory English” (NTE)3, Strehlow outlined linguistic features found in the allegedly verbatim “confession”, which were very different from the way that Stuart spoke (for details, see Eades 1995). To support his assertion that Stuart did not speak the kind of English which was attributed to him in the “confession”, Strehlow tape-recorded a backtranslation session with Stuart. This involved Strehlow translating the “confession” into Aranda (Stuart’s first language, which Strehlow also spoke fluently). He read this backtranslated Aranda version to Stuart clause by clause, as Stuart translated it into English. Strehlow expected this reproduction would contain more Standard English than the original confession, but in fact it contained less. For example, one feature that Strehlow described as characteristic of NTE was the use of masculine third person pronoun (he or him) to refer to female as well as male referents. Stuart’s allegedly verbatim “confession” included these examples of the Standard English third person feminine pronoun4: 3. In his earlier affidavit to the Attorney-General, Strehlow had referred to Stuart’s English as “pidgin English”. But his evidence to the Royal Commission used the more linguistically accurate and non-stigmatized label “Northern Territory English” (see Eades 1995: 154, 162–3). It must be remembered that Strehlow’s analysis in this case predates any linguistic work on Aboriginal English, and indeed on other ethnic varieties of English, such as African American Vernacular English. 4. All examples from the Stuart and Condren cases are taken from Eades (1995). The numbering is from the original transcripts.
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64. She was standing in a pool of water playing. 77. She went unconscious.
But, in the backtranslation exercise Stuart used expressions much more characteristic of NTE, namely: 64. ‘E’s … e was playin’ … side on the water. 77. ‘E went out.
The grammatical features of NTE that Strehlow reported on (which he found lacking in the “confession”) are features that have since been found in studies of Aboriginal English varieties throughout Australia (see for example Kaldor and Malcolm 1991 for Western Australia, Eades 1992 for Queensland, and Sharpe 1977 for the Northern Territory). While Strehlow limited his description to the English spoken by Aboriginal people in the Northern Territory, it is clear that the variety spoken by Stuart is consistent with varieties now known as Aboriginal English. Strehlow also isolated some lexical items in the “confession” that he says would not have been used by Stuart, including unconscious, awoke, raped, and stared. And the following sentences in the confession were singled out by Strehlow as implausible: 17. 23-4. 36. I 38-9.
The Show was situated at the Ceduna oval. The three of us sat down and drank a flagon of wine. put the half flagon in a sugar bag. I left the bag with the flagon in it down behind the Picture Show wall.
Stuart’s actual backtranslated “equivalents” were: 17. 23-4. 36. 38-9.
That show was in Cedoona Opal. Tree of us sit down, we drank a flagon O’ wine. I put that ‘alf flagon in the sugar-bak. I left that … bag wid the flagon, uh, behind that pitcher-pitcher wall.
The Stuart case was widely known because of its role in the abolition of the death penalty in South Australia. It is also an important case for Aboriginal English in the legal system, but unfortunately, little was known about Strehlow’s work in this case until after an eerily similar case in Queensland in the mid-1980s, namely Kelvin Condren’s case (see below). Strehlow’s work in this case on what he termed Northern Territory English, though never published in any academic forum, was groundbreaking. Judicial reactions revealed the view that speakers of English have the expertise required to make
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decisions about kinds of English, and that linguistic evidence was not required. Further these reactions showed a deficit view common to 1950s discourse about language: they rebutted Strehlow’s claims that Stuart spoke a different variety of English, on the basis that Stuart appeared to be fluent, and thus not a deficient speaker of English (see Eades 1997 for discussion of the judicial reaction to Strehlow’s evidence in this case). 2.2. The Condren case Like Stuart, Kelvin Condren was convicted of a brutal murder on the basis of a signed “confession” which he alleged was fabricated. His case took much longer than Stuart’s, with a committal hearing in 1983, Supreme Court trial in 1984, appeal in the Queensland Court of Criminal Appeal (CCA) in 1987, High Court appeal in 1989, and second appeal in the Queensland CCA in 1990. This final appeal resulted in the quashing of his conviction and he was released from prison in 1990, after serving seven years of a life sentence. In 1995, Condren was awarded $400,000 by the Queensland Government as compensation for his wrongful imprisonment. Although there were a number of parallels between Stuart’s and Condren’s cases, there were also differences (for details, see Eades 1995; 1997). Stuart’s “confession” was in the form of an allegedly dictated 850-word narrative statement, while Condren’s “confession” was in the form of answers to 155 questions. And while Stuart spoke Aboriginal English as a second (or possibly third or fourth) language, for Condren it was his first language. Also, Condren’s variety of Aboriginal English was lighter than Stuart’s, showing less distinctiveness from general Australian English. The linguistic analysis of the answers attributed to Condren in his alleged “confession” focused on two main areas of discrepancy: answers to Yes/No questions, and answers which gave quantifiable specification. Yes/No questions are those that can logically be answered by either yes or no, and in the “confession” a large number of these contain an unsupported verbal auxiliary, as for example in the answer Yes, I did. Such grammatical structures are generally uncharacteristic of many varieties of Aboriginal English, and specifically were almost non-existent in other interviews with Condren in legal settings. Thus the police interview contains allegedly verbatim answers such as: Q52: A: Q74: A:
When you hit her with the steel picket, did you aim for her head? Yes, I did. Was Patricia bleeding when you walked away? Yes, she was.
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But in other (taperecorded) interviews with Condren in legal settings he does not use such grammatical structures. While the answers he gives in these interviews are not limited to Aboriginal varieties of English, they do not use the unsupported verbal auxiliary structure attributed to him in the confession. This is important, because, as explained above, this grammatical structure is uncharacteristic of many varieties of Aboriginal English, and was almost nonexistent in the other interviews with Condren. The following two examples come from Condren’s evidence to the Supreme Court during his trial: Q18: A: Q53: A:
Were they all Boydie’s Special? Yes, all Boydie’s Special. When you were hit in the mouth, did it do anything to you? Yes.
But the grammatical structure with unsupported verbal auxiliary, which was found in a large number of Condren’s “confession” answers – is frequently found in some formal Australian English speech in interviews, such as the courtroom evidence of police officers. In addition to these discrepancies in answer to Yes/No questions, there is a remarkable discrepancy in answer to many Wh-questions (the why, where, when, what type questions). The answers attributed to Condren in many of these questions are characterized by considerable definiteness, frequent quantifiable specification (such as numbers), and frequent lack of the hesitation, qualification or approximation which characterized his answers to such questions in other legal interviews. For example, Question 61 in the police interview asked about a brutal attack on the victim: Q61: What time did you do this? A: Quarter past four.
This contrasts with a widespread Aboriginal English pattern of giving such information in relational, rather than quantifiable terms, as seen in the following example. This comes from an interview carried out by this author and a lawyer, in which Condren was being asked questions about a recent nonhabitual event in the prison. (A recent accident which Condren had witnessed in the prison laundry.) Q174: What day did this happen? A: I don’t know. Q: 176 What time did it happen?
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I don’t know really, I know we’s working – but I don’t know – morning or in the afternoon.
As with Stuart’s case some three decades earlier, the linguistic evidence in Condren’s case concluded that the allegedly verbatim “confession” could not have been an accurate transcription of exactly what had been said. There were too many glaring inconsistencies between the “confession” on the one hand and the Aboriginal English speech patterns of the accused on the other, as found in other legal interviews with him, and as consistent with Aboriginal English generally. But also, as with Stuart’s case, initial judicial reaction to the linguistic evidence was negative, with the appeal court judges refusing to accept that there could be a specialized field of knowledge that could analyse the English of Aboriginal people. These judgments also revealed a lack of understanding of the social basis of language acquisition, insisting that because Condren’s mother did not appear to have a very dark skin, then evidence about Aboriginal ways of using English could not be relevant to his case (see Eades 1997 for a discussion of these judgments). The Stuart and Condren cases focused legal attention on the way in which a linguistic analysis of differences between Aboriginal English and Standard Australian English can help to provide clues about the fabrication of the confessions of Aboriginal people. It is impossible to know the extent of such fabrication, although there have been many allegations, and not only by Aboriginal defendants. But since the 1991 High Court ruling in McKinney and Judge v The Queen it is quite difficult for a confession to a serious crime to be admissible in an Australian court, unless it has been electronically re-corded (see Eades 1997). Thus, this effectively removes the opportunity for police to fabricate a confession. However, I am aware of some instances where recording equipment has reportedly malfunctioned, but police have carried out an unrecorded interview and produced a confession. Linguistic evidence about Aboriginal English has been used in recent years in at least two such cases (Ian Malcolm pc; Amanda Lissarague pc), but in these cases it has not been successful in having the confession disallowed as evidence in the trial. 3. Intercultural communication in the legal process While the issue in the Stuart and Condren and related cases concerns police malpractice in relation to confessions, the linguistic issues which affect most of the Aboriginal participants in the legal process relate more generally to intercultural communication, or more specifically, intercultural miscom-
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munication. Given that success in any legal matter depends centrally on language use, then even small differences in language use have the potential to dramatically affect a person’s fate in the legal process, as we will see. The first published work to address intercultural communication with Aboriginal speakers of English in the legal process was not related to the criminal justice system, but to land claim hearings. This was the work of Harold Koch (1985; 1991) in the Northern Territory, which drew attention to a number of problems in communication which stem from differences – often unrecognized – in grammar, accent and word choice and meaning. Koch’s (1985) study reports on the English used in land claim hearings by “native speakers of Australian Aboriginal languages” (1985: 177), speaking some “form of nonstandard English” in the land claim hearings. A similar study in 1991 includes a range of speakers, comprising some speakers of an interlanguage, some speakers of Kriol, and others who “may have been native speakers of Aboriginal English” (Koch 1991: 96)5. In Koch’s research, the main evidence of miscommunication lies in the official typewritten courtroom transcript, which contains a number of discrepancies6. Thus for example, when an Aboriginal witness said “Charcoal Jack properly his father”, meaning “Charcoal Jack is his real father”, it was heard (and transcribed) as “… probably his father” (1985: 180). This example shows the difficulties which can arise from both accent difference – as many Aboriginal English speakers do not distinguish the sounds b and p – and from lexical difference – as the term “properly” is used to mean “genuine” in some Aboriginal English varieties. A small example such as this is just the tip of the iceberg of potential miscommunication between related varieties of English. It should be noted that this particular example could be quite important on its own, given the central role of establishing kin networks and genealogies, as well as knowledge of these, to the land claim process. Thus, the fact that participants in the legal process all appear to be speaking the same language belies the fact that seemingly small differences between varieties of the same language can cause considerable communication difficulties.
5. Interlanguage refers to the linguistic system of language learners, which in such regions would include some English and some indigenous language forms and structures. It is not a stable, rule-governed language variety, and in this way is quite different from Aboriginal English and Kriol. Kriol is a full language, related to both the indigenous languages and Aboriginal English (see also Harris, this vol.). 6. See Walsh (1999) for a more detailed analysis of the processes involved in the production of transcripts of land claim hearings in northern Australia.
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Since Koch’s work with Northern Territory land claims, most of the research on Aboriginal English in the legal system has been carried out in Queensland and New South Wales, with speakers of light varieties of Aboriginal English, in the criminal justice system. As this research has been with speakers whose grammar, accent and vocabulary is quite similar to speakers of general Australian English, it has focused on pragmatic differences, that is differences in communicative style. It is important to point out that this research is only a beginning: much more research is needed, particularly with speakers of heavy varieties of Aboriginal English, where not only pragmatics, but also accent, grammar and vocabulary are likely to be important. Based largely on ethnography of communication research in Queensland in the 1980s, this author published several articles and book chapters in the 1990s about features of Aboriginal English pragmatics likely to cause problems in the participation of Aboriginal people in the legal process (e.g. Eades 1994). I will briefly summarize some key pragmatic features of Aboriginal English which are important in legal contexts (see this was also the topic of the handbook for lawyers, published in 1992 by the Queensland Law Society; Eades 19927). Interviews are widespread speech events in Western societies, and they are central to the legal process, from police interviews, to lawyer-client interviews, and the whole of the courtroom procedure, both examination-inchief and cross-examination. But just as corroborrees are not events found in Western societies (resembling aspects similar to Western religious services, theatrical performances and parties, and yet not quite like any or all of these in detail), so too, interviews have not been part of the experience of Aboriginal societies until the last several decades. Of course, we have to be careful not to overgeneralize about the experiences of Aboriginal people, or to assume that there is only one Aboriginal culture or that it is static and not open to change. But for many Aboriginal societies around Australia, information seeking is typically much less direct, more time-consuming and involves much more reciprocality than one-sided interviews. This cultural difference in information seeking strategies is undoubtedly a major factor in the widespread Aboriginal difficulty with interviews, and in the hesitation, silence and dysfluency which typifies much Aboriginal participation in interviews. Thus it is hardly surprising that for many Aboriginal people, participation in the legal process is quite difficult. Further, it seems most likely that the Aboriginal people with 7. Part of the impetus for writing this handbook was provided by the problematic views on Aboriginal English which were revealed in the appeal court’s judgment in Condren's case.
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least experience and success in bicultural communication are the most likely to be involved in the criminal justice system. Thus, a major problem for intercultural communication in the legal process results from the disjunction between interviews on the one hand, and typical Aboriginal ways of finding information on the other. Specifically, there are three major general sources of misunderstanding which can often arise when Aboriginal English speakers participate in the legal system: Firstly, typical responses to legal questions may be misinterpreted, especially where the questioner does not recognize aspects of Aboriginal culture and mistakenly assumes that the Aborigine is speaking Standard English. For example a common Aboriginal response to inappropriate non-Aboriginal questioning is I don’t know, or I don’t remember. Often this is not a state-ment concerning the speaker’s knowledge or memory, but a comment on the communicative strategy, and would translate into Standard English as some-thing like: “This is not an appropriate way for me to provide information of this nature”. This intercultural misinterpretation can have serious implications for an Aboriginal person’s admissions concerning the seriousness of a crime. Secondly, silence is an important and positively valued part of many Aboriginal conversations. Silence often indicates a participant’s desire to think, or simply to enjoy the presence of others in a non-verbal way.8 This is a difficult matter for non-Aboriginal people to recognize and learn, because in Western societies silence is so often negatively valued in conversations. For example, between people who are not close friends or family, silence in conversations, or interviews, is frequently an indication of some kind of communication breakdown. This difference has serious implications for police, lawyer, and courtroom interviews of Aboriginal people. Silence in these settings can easily be interpreted as evasion, ignorance, confusion, insolence, or even guilt. According to law, silence should not be taken as admission of guilt, but it is difficult for police officers, legal professionals or jurors to set aside strong cultural intuitions about the meaning of silence, especially when they are not aware of cultural differences in the use and interpretation of silence. Further, a misunderstanding of Aboriginal ways of using silence can lead to lawyers interrupting an Aboriginal person’s answer. Of course, we customarily define interruption as involving a second person starting to talk before the first speaker has finished talking. But if we accept that the first part of an Aboriginal answer can start with silence, then to start the next question before the Aboriginal 8. Similarities can be noted with the use of silence in Native American societies (Basso 1970; Philips 1976).
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interviewee has had the time to speak is in effect to interrupt the first part of the answer. Thirdly, possibly the most serious disadvantage experienced by Aboriginal English speakers is caused by the very common Aboriginal conversational pattern of freely agreeing to propositions put to them in Yes-No questions, regardless of their actual agreement, or even their understanding of the question. This interactional feature, which is found in Aboriginal conversations throughout Australia, has been named “gratuitous concurrence” by Liberman (e.g. 1981; 1985), who explains it as a strategy of accommodation [that Aboriginal people have developed] to protect themselves in their interaction with Anglo Australians. Aborigines have found that the easiest method to deal with White people is to agree with whatever it is that the Anglo-Australians want and then to continue on with their own business. Frequently, one will find Aboriginal people agreeing with Anglo Australians even when they do not comprehend what it is they are agreeing with (Liberman 1981: 248–9).
This phenomenon has long been recognized by people working with Aborigines (see for example Strehlow 1936: 334; Elkin 1947: 17; Lester 1974; Coldrey 1987: 83–5; CJC 1996). One reason that this pragmatic feature is particularly prevalent in Aboriginal societies, relates to the widespread cultural norm that harmony and agreement should be preserved at an immediate level, and differences can be worked out in due time. But the use of gratuitous concurrence in legal contexts can be very problematic for Aboriginal interviewees. Once a person has agreed to a proposition in a context such as a police interview, it can have life-changing consequences. It is likely that this feature, which has been observed in intercultural communication for decades, is also found in many other intercultural communication situations around the world (Gibbons 2003; Berk-Seligson 2002). Further, it is more prevalent in situations of power asymmetry, which characterize interactions in the legal process. In my experience this strategy is particularly common where a considerable number of questions are being asked, the situation with both police and courtroom interviews. Undoubtedly, there are now a number of legal professionals who are aware of this Aboriginal strategy of “gratuitous concurrence”, and who exploit this strategy in their questioning of Aboriginal witnesses. Thus it is possible for this strategy to work even more strongly, either in favour of, or against, the Aboriginal witness. The importance of an understanding of Aboriginal ways of using English to the effective functioning of the justice system is highlighted in the Queensland case of Robyn Kina, as the following section will demonstrate.
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3.1. The Kina case Robyn Kina was an Aboriginal woman from southeast Queensland, who was found guilty in 1988 of the stabbing murder of her de facto husband in Brisbane, and was sentenced to life imprisonment. In her trial, no evidence was given, by Kina or by any other person, about the horrific circumstances which led to her stabbing the victim in self-defence and reaction to provocation. In 1993 Kina successfully appealed against the conviction, on the grounds that her lawyers did not find out the necessary information from her to run her defence. Her conviction was quashed and she was released from prison (having served the equivalent of the sentence she would be likely to receive for manslaughter). In Kina’s 1993 appeal, there were three types of expert evidence: from a psychiatrist on the issue of repressed memory, from a social worker on the “battered woman syndrome”, and from a sociolinguist (this author) about misunderstanding between Kina and her lawyers. The sociolinguistic evidence (which is discussed in detail in Eades 1996) showed how Kina’s lawyers, who were not aware of Aboriginal English ways of speaking, lacked sufficient intercultural communication ability to find out her story and to adequately represent her at her trial. For example, not recognizing that answers to questions often begin with considerable silence, the lawyers had been unsuccessful in their attempts to elicit her story. They reported that she had been very difficult to communicate with, and she reported that they had asked her questions, and not waited for the answers! As a result of this serious miscommunication, the jury at her trial had convicted her of murder in the absence of important evidence which should have been used in her defence. While we do not have taped or transcript data from her interviews with lawyers, we can deduce from a number of sources9 that there was also a misunderstanding about the meaning of her yes answers to their questions and suggestions about the way she should proceed. That is, they mistakenly interpreted her answers of gratuitous concurrence as her agreement to their suggestions, for example, that she should not give evidence. In finding that Kina’s trial (in 1988) had involved a miscarriage of justice, the appeal court (in 1993) cited “cultural, psychological and personal factors” which “presented exceptional difficulties of communication between her legal representatives and the appellant” (R v Kina 35–6). In effect, the court 9. These sources include discussions with lawyers about their interview processes and pressures, observation of other lawyer interviews, affidavits from the lawyers involved, and Kina’s comments and memories.
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accepted the sociolinguistic argument that Kina and her lawyers had suffered serious misunderstanding, which resulted in her wrongful murder conviction. This misunderstanding, it had been argued, was rooted in cultural differences in their uses of English, for example in the use of silence. One of the shocking things about the wrongful conviction in Kina’s case is that it was her own lawyers who failed her – it was not skilful manipulation of her evidence by an aggressive cross-examination. In fact she had given no evidence in her own defence, as her lawyers had not managed to find out her story, finding her “extremely difficult to communicate with” (Eades 1996: 219). It must be remembered that the trial had taken place in 1988, some years before the lawyers’ handbook was written. Indeed, the judgments in Kina’s 1993 appeal, pointed out that none of her lawyers “received any training or instructions concerning how to communicate or deal effectively with Aborigines” (R v Kina: 17). 3.2. Intercultural communication awareness for legal professionals In discussing the implications of Kina’s case on the day following the decision to quash her conviction, the state Attorney-General spoke about “the need for the legal system to have knowledge of the problem of cross-cultural communication and be sensitive to it” (7.30 Report, ABC TV, 30 Nov. 1993). This need has been addressed in a number of ways since then, for example in workshops for legal professionals, as well as articles in professional journals. The lawyers’ handbook is reportedly widely used, in law schools and in offices of Aboriginal Legal Services and other lawyers who work with Aboriginal clients. It has been cited in judgments (e.g. R v Aubrey 1995), and extensively drawn on by the Queensland Criminal Justice Commission in its report on Aboriginal witnesses in criminal courts (CJC 1996). In 2000 it was adapted by the Queensland Department of Justice to form the basis of its Aboriginal English in the Courts handbook, and it is the source for the section titled “Dealing with Aboriginal Children” (pp 9–11) in that Department’s guide for legal practitioners about juvenile justice (1997). Although based on Queensland research, and written for legal practitioners in that state, it has been cited as helpful and relevant to lawyers in Northern Australia (Lavery 1992: 13), and to the native title process nationally (Ritter and Garnett 1999: 3). Further, much of the chapter on “Language and communication” (ch. 5) of the “Aboriginal Benchbook” published by the Australian Institute of Judicial Administration (Fryer-Smith 2002) for West Australian judiciary is drawn from the lawyer’s handbook.
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In my experience, many legal professionals have been excited to learn about intercultural communication generally, and Aboriginal English specifically. A clear example of this comes from a 1992 hearing of the Queensland Criminal Justice Commission (CJC). This hearing was part of an investigation of an allegation of police misconduct, and I was asked to appear as an expert witness. In addition to explaining some of the subtle ways in which communication patterns differ between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal speakers of English, I was asked to advise the Commission specifically on more effective ways of hearing the evidence of Aboriginal witnesses to this tribunal. As part of this process, I listened to an Aboriginal woman being questioned by lawyers. This woman had originally approached the Commission wanting to tell her story (related to her witnessing of police misconduct in the matter under investigation), and no disadvantage could occur to her as a result of her evidence. However, under questioning by the lawyers, she provided very little information. The lawyers asked her questions, and she appeared unable to provide answers. I was then asked to advise the Commission about communication with this witness, in her absence. I recommended that the lawyers should wait after each question, until the witness answered. I explained that this means asking a question and then “shutting up”. Given the uncomfortable feeling that this leaves with many (non-Aboriginal) people, I suggested that the interviewing lawyer could shuffle papers, or say something like “there’s no need to rush”. In answer to the Commission’s question about “how long should we wait?’ I replied, “until after the answer”. Following a short adjournment, the witness was asked to return to the witness stand, and this revised style of questioning took place, with remarkable results. The same witness who had earlier that day appeared shy, difficult to communicate with, and of little help to the Commission’s investigation, was now an articulate witness with a clear and important story to tell the Commission. The only significant change was that the interviewing lawyers allowed time for the silence which began quite a few of her answers to their questions. 4. Intercultural communication awareness and the delivery of justice? The cases of Rupert Max Stuart, Kelvin Condren and Robyn Kina show that linguistic factors can play a key role in judicial outcomes. It appears that the early 1990s represented a turning point in some ways in the recognition of Aboriginal English in the legal system, and the understanding of its significance for the delivery of justice to Aboriginal people. But, the rate of Aboriginal over-imprisonment remains high, as we have seen. Of course,
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there are multiple and complex factors involved in this (RCIADC 1991; Cunneen 2001). But if we focus on the role of Aboriginal English in the legal system, we can ask whether the apparent increase in awareness about Aboriginal ways of using English is resulting in a more equal delivery of justice to Aboriginal people. The answer to this question requires much more research, but we can already glimpse some developments which suggest that the answer might be summarized as “only sometimes”. 4.1. The Mapletown study In the mid-1990s, the author carried out research in the District (intermediate) Court of a country town in New South Wales, referred to by the pseudonym of Mapletown (Eades 2000). Aboriginal people in this area speak a very light variety of Aboriginal English, and the study found few instances of miscommunication which could be attributed to dialectal differences in accent, grammar, vocabulary, or communicative style. What was striking about the Aboriginal evidence in these cases was both how little was said by the witnesses, and the ways in which they were silenced in direct examination. The study found that some lawyers seemed to have a good understanding of some Aboriginal ways of using English. For example, some lawyers used their knowledge of the positive Aboriginal use of silence to the advantage of their clients. The example below comes from a sentencing hearing in the case of an Aboriginal defendant who has pleaded guilty to assault. In answering questions which can help to establish grounds for minimizing the severity of his sentence, he is invited by his lawyer to show remorse for his actions to the judge10: 10. The following standard transcription conventions are used: – underlining indicates utterance emphasis – CAPITALS indicate raised volume – (p) before an utterance indicates that it is spoken in a low volume – = indicates latched utterances, ie no pause between the end of one utterance and the start of the next – a number in parentheses indicates the length of a pause in seconds, eg (3.2) – a dash – indicates a very short untimed pause within an utterance – a square bracket [ indicates both the start of an interruption and the utterance which is interrupted – the following abbreviations are also used in the transcripts: DC = defence counsel M = magistrate P = prosecutor W = witness
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29. DC: And do you tell His Honour that you know you shouldn’t- and that you’re sorry for having done that? 30. W: Uh well- yeah- I am- sorry (6.7) when we’re not – oh sorry – when we’re not drinkin’ you know- we don’t even fight or nothin’ – you know – when we’re drinking it’s a bit of a problem – it’s one of them things – drinking.
The witness answers with a formulaic apology, and the very long 6.7 second silence which follows would not be allowed by many lawyers. But the power of the witness’s silence, which is not interrupted by the lawyer (or judge), is evident, as it is followed by a personal, honest-sounding explanation which can be helpful to a typical defence strategy of suggesting that the most appropriate sentencing should include alcohol rehabilitation rather than a prison sentence. But the study also found a number of instances in which Aboriginal witnesses were not allowed to tell their story by their own lawyer, and in some cases by the judge. This silencing of witnesses was brought about sometimes by interruption of the witness, and at other times by metalinguistic comments about how to answer a particular question, such as “I don’t think it’s an answer to the question”. Perhaps the most important finding of this study related to the central role of Aboriginal culture in communication, as the silencing of Aboriginal witnesses appeared to occur particularly in situations where legal professionals (whether lawyer or judge) were seriously ignorant about fundamental aspects of the everyday cultural values and practices of Aboriginal people. Readers are referred to Eades (2000) for discussion of examples which illustrate this point. That paper demonstrates how lawyers and judges are overly preoccupied with courtroom procedure, which is bound by rigid discourse patterns. It is the individual answers to questions which are the focus of the courtroom interaction, rather than the story which a witness is trying to present to the court. And the paper shows how an obsession with the question-answer discourse structure prevents lawyers and judges from realizing how much they fail to understand about some of the Aboriginal witnesses and their evidence. This lack of understanding results not primarily from linguistic difference, but from cultural difference, compounded by limiting linguistic (discourse) practices. The Mapletown study focused on the questioning of Aboriginal witnesses by their own lawyers in direct examination, or by the judge. The finding that All personal names in this paper are pseudonyms, with the exception of Robyn Kina, Kelvin Condren and Rupert Max Stuart whose cases have been widely discussed in the media.
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witnesses were often silenced corresponded to a widespread feeling in the Aboriginal community that “the court doesn’t really want to hear what people have to say” (Eades 2000: 168). It was impossible to determine the impact of this silencing on the judicial outcomes for Aboriginal defendants. It may be possible that while disempowering Aboriginal defendants in terms of having their voice heard in court, such silencing strategies actually work positively in terms of judicial outcomes11. That is, there may be strategic advantages for Aboriginal witnesses in saying very little in court in sentencing hearings, despite the frustrations at not being heard12. 4.2. The Pinkenba case But what about the way that Aboriginal witnesses are treated in crossexamination, by lawyers for the opposing side? While there is no research that has addressed this question to date, serious concerns have been raised by a 1995 Queensland case, known as the Pinkenba case. Before discussing Aboriginal English in this case, we need a summary of the incident involved: Some time after midnight on 10 May 1994, three Aboriginal boys aged 12, 13 and 14 were walking around a shopping mall near the Brisbane downtown area. The boys were approached by six armed police officers who told them to get into three separate vehicles. They were then driven 14 kilometers out of town and abandoned in an industrial wasteland in Pinkenba near the mouth of the Brisbane River, from where they had to find their own way back. The boys were not charged with any offence, nor were they taken to any police station, and they were not (legally) in custody or under arrest. According to police, the young people were “taken down to Pinkenba to reflect on their misdemeanours” (ABC Four Corners, 8 March 1996). Following the boys’ complaint to the Aboriginal Legal Service, an investigation was conducted by the Criminal Justice Commission. This investigation recommended that criminal charges be laid against the six police officers. As a result, the police 11. This dilemma is not unlike that discussed in Trinch's (2003) book about the transformations made by lawyers to the stories of Latina women in domestic violence cases in the United States. 12. Such frustration is of course not limited to Australian Aboriginal witnesses. Based on extensive ethnography of courtroom discourse in the United States over more than two decades, Conley and O’Barr (1990: 172) conclude that “Perhaps the most common complaints of litigants at all levels of the legal process are that they did not get a proper opportunity to tell their story and that the judge did not get to the real facts in their case”.
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officers were charged that they had unlawfully deprived each of the boys of “his personal liberty by carrying him away in a motor vehicle against his will”. In February 1995, the boys were prosecution witnesses in the committal hearing, which was the first stage in the trial process against the police officers13. Most of the four day hearing consisted of evidence from the three boys, which included lengthy cross-examination by each of the two defence counsel who represented three of the police officers. The case centered on the issue of whether or not the boys had got into and traveled in the police cars against their will: no doubt was ever raised that they were approached and told to get in the police cars, and that they were taken to the industrial wasteland and abandoned there. The defence case was that the boys “gave up their liberty” and that “there’s no offence of allowing a person to give up his liberty”14.
This, then, was a very serious and highly contested hearing, in which the only evidence against the police officers was that of the three Aboriginal boys, the victim-witnesses in the case. Although they were legally children, they had no protection or support such as is offered in Children’s Court, because they were not defendants, but witnesses in an adult court. The crossexamination of the boys was devastating: these three young Aboriginal parttime street kids, with minimal successful participation in mainstream Australian institutions, such as education, were pitted against the two most highly paid and experienced criminal barristers in the state. It is hardly surprising that the boys were unable to maintain a consistent story under the barrage of cross-examination, which involved so much shouting at times that many legal professionals in the public gallery were amazed that the lawyers were not restrained or disallowed from using this haranguing behavior. Elsewhere (Eades 2002; 2003), I have written about the linguistic strategies used by these two defence counsel to manipulate and misconstrue the evidence of the three boys. These strategies succeeded in the magistrate accepting defence counsels’ construction of these victim-witnesses as criminals with “no regard for the community”, and the reinterpretation of the alleged abduction as the boys voluntarily giving up their liberty while the
13. Crawford v Venardos & Ors, Brisbane Magistrates’ Court, 24 February 1995, unreported. 14. Quotations from this hearing are based on my transcription of official taperecordings. It should also be pointed out that I was in court for most of the hearing, and was able to observe the event, as well as work with the tape-recording.
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police took them for a ride15. As a result, the charges against the police officers were dropped. The manipulation of Aboriginal ways of using English was central to this defence strategy, particularly the use of gratuitous concurrence and of silence (see Eades 2002; 2003). The extract below provides a glimpse at the lawyers’ exploitation of the Aboriginal tendency to gratuitous concurrence. This example is part of the successful strategy of constructing Barry (a pseudonym) as an unreliable witness, as a result of his being easily and skilfully pressured into conflicting answers by defence counsel (DC) on the central point of the whole hearing. 1. DC: And you knew (1.4) when you spoke to these six police in the Valley that you didn’t have to go anywhere with them if you didn’t want to, didn’t you? 2. BARRY: (1.3) No. 3. DC: You knew that, Mr (1.2) Coley I’d suggest to you, PLEASE DO NOT LIE. YOU KNEW THAT YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO GO ANYWHERE if you didn’t want to, didn’t you? (2.2) DIDN’T YOU? (2.2) DIDN’T YOU, MR COLEY? 4. BARRY: (1.3) Yeh. 5. DC: WHY DID YOU JUST LIE TO ME? WHY DID YOU JUST SAY “NO” MR COLEY (4.4)? YOU WANT ME TO SUGGEST A REASON TO YOU MR COLEY? THE REASON WAS THIS, THAT YOU WANTED THIS COURT TO BELIEVE (2.1) THAT YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD TO GO WITH POLICE, ISN’T THAT SO? 6. BARRY: (1.2) Yeh. 7. DC: AND YOU LIED TO THE COURT, TRYING TO, TO (1.2) YOU LIED TO THE COURT TRYING TO PUT ONE OVER THE COURT, DIDN’T YOU? 8. BARRY: (1.8) (p) No. 9. DC: THAT WAS YOUR REASON, MR COLEY WASN’T IT? (3.1) WASN’T IT? (3.2) WASN’T IT, MR COLEY? 10. BARRY: (1.9) Yeh= 11. DC: =YES. (2.9) BECAUSE YOU WANTED THE COURT TO THINK THAT YOU DIDN’T KNOW THAT YOU COULD TELL THESE POLICE YOU WEREN’T GOING ANYWHERE WITH THEM. THAT WAS THE REASON, WASN’T IT? (1.5) WASN’T IT? 12. BARRY: (0.6) Yes= 13. DC: =Yes.
This excerpt occurs after Barry (who is sarcastically addressed by this defence counsel as “Mr Coley”) has been on the witness stand for over 90 minutes on two consecutive days, most of it being cross-examination. Turn 1 15. Arguably they were taken for a ride both literally and metaphorically.
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in this example puts the proposition central to the defence argument: that the witness knew he did not have to go in the police car. The witness’s answer of No (Turn 2) is not accepted by defence counsel, so he is harassed in Turn 3 until he does agree (in Turn 4). Of course, we cannot know what is in the witness’s mind, but we can see the ideal situation for gratuitous concurrence, increased when defence counsel begins shouting angrily in Turn 3. The contradictory answers given by the witness in Turns 2 and 8 on the one hand, and Turns 4, 6, 10 and 12 on the other hand, are interpreted literally by defence counsel, to provide clear evidence that the witness is a liar (emphasized for the court with the theme of “Why did you lie?”, a frequently repeated “chorus” throughout the cross-examination of all three boys). The linguistic strategies of the cross-examining lawyers, which included the exploitation of Aboriginal English ways of communicating, in relation to gratuitous concurrence and silence for example, were very overt and effective. In deciding to drop the charges against the police officers, the magistrate’s 450-word decision primarily amounted to a criticism of the boys, including the statement that they “have no regard for members of the community, their property or even the justice system”. This criticism was largely based on their minimal answers to the cross-examination questions, many of which were haranguing, as we have seen above. The magistrate’s decision caused a public outcry: it seemed to give the support of the legal system to the police removal of Aboriginal young people who were not charged with any crime and thus not under arrest. As a result of the appeal by the boys’ families against the magistrate’s decision, a judicial review was held: a judge read all of the evidence and decided that the magistrate’s decision should be upheld. Indeed, the legal process did give legitimacy to the right of the police to remove Aboriginal young people in circumstances which were undeniably intimidatory, and a denial of liberty in ordinary terms, if not in legal terms. And in this legitimization of police removal of Aboriginal young people, the exploitation of Aboriginal English ways of communicating played a key role, as the example above demonstrates. It was disturbing to find out that the two defence counsel had at the Bar table a copy of the handbook for lawyers (Eades 1992). The handbook had been written to assist lawyers in more effective communication with Aboriginal witnesses. But, in the Pinkenba case, it appears to have been used upside-down, as it were. The provision of intercultural awareness for lawyers seems to have been used to make things worse in terms of intercultural communication. An understanding of Aboriginal ways of using English, such as the tendency to use gratuitous concurrence, appeared to provide the defence counsel with a powerful tool in the manipulation the evidence of the Aboriginal boys.
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Elsewhere I have discussed the implications of this case for our understanding of Aboriginal English in the legal system (e.g. Eades 2004a; 2004b). To briefly summarize this discussion, this case shows that there is much more involved in intercultural communication than differences in language varieties and their usage. Following Fairclough (1989), we need to go beyond the immediate situation of the courtroom, to the wider institutional and societal contexts, in order to understand the power relations that were operating within the courtroom. Indeed, this case highlights the importance of power relations in intercultural communication, representing, as it does, a climax in the 200-year struggle between the state and the Aboriginal community over the rights of police officers to remove Aboriginal young people. To briefly summarize this: since British invasion in the late 1700s, the police force has been used to control the movements of Aboriginal young people. Until the 1960s, this included the now widely known process of forcibly removing children from their families, as part of successive government attempts to deal with “the Aboriginal problem”. Although this practice is no longer carried out, it is clear from the work of criminologists that current policing practices construct Aboriginal young people as a “law and order problem” (e.g. Cunneen 2001). Through selective policing, they are detained with much greater frequency than their non-Aboriginal counterparts. There has been increasing opposition from Aboriginal communities about the overpolicing of their young people, and the struggle between Aboriginal people and the police force is increasingly volatile. Specifically in the city of Brisbane where the Pinkenba incident took place, there were several episodes in this struggle in the year preceding, including a street riot outside the police headquarters (for details see Eades 2004a; 2004b). Arguably, the Pinkenba committal hearing, in which the boys gave evidence, was charged with enormous political significance. The struggle between the police force and the Aboriginal community had moved from the streets to the courtroom, where language is a crucial weapon. Of course, it can be argued that this was an extreme case, but it is important to point out that that it happened, and it was allowed to happen. The cross-examination of the three boys was taken as “due process” and the proper functioning of the justice system, and indeed it was legitimized by the judicial review. Criminologists such as Cunneen (e.g. 2001) have argued that the state continues to exercise neocolonial control over the movements of Aboriginal young people. The Pinkenba case highlights the central role of language practices in this process. Linguistic strategies, such as exploitation of the Aboriginal tendency to use gratuitous concurrence, have effects far more
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wide-reaching than just the courtroom interaction. They are central to the functioning of the criminal justice system, which, as we have seen, legitimizes this control over the movements of Aboriginal young people. It is clear that differences between Aboriginal English and general Australian English are important in way in which the criminal justice system functions. And criminologists continue to raise concerns about the fairness of this system: Far from providing Indigenous Australians with a just and respected means of social control and protection, appropriate to their needs, the Australian criminal justice system remains an alien and discriminatory instrument of oppression, through which Indigenous people are harassed, subjected to unfair legal procedures, needlessly gaoled, and all too often die whilst in legal custody. (McRae, Nettheim, and Beacroft 1997: 342).
5. Conclusion This examination of Aboriginal English in the criminal justice system will conclude with a brief summary, followed by an outline of some of the important issues that remain to be addressed. Firstly, the summary: 1. Aboriginal English is an important language variety in the Australian legal system: it is being used around the country by a considerable number of Aboriginal people, whose experience of the criminal justice system remains one of disadvantage, if not discrimination. 2. Success in legal proceedings depends to a significant extent on skilful manipulation of language. Given that the language of the law is general Australian English, and that many non-Aboriginal Australians are unaware of differences between general Australian English and Aboriginal English, Aboriginal English speakers are clearly linguistically disadvantaged in legal contexts. 3. The recognition of Aboriginal English and an understanding of ways in which it differs from general Australian English can play a significant role in the delivery of justice, as we have seen in the Kina case. 4. In comparison, the cases of Stuart and Condren highlight the need for the education of legal professionals about Aboriginal English. 5. But the Pinkenba case demonstrates that education of legal professionals about Aboriginal English is not enough. The participation of Aboriginal people in the criminal justice system
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cannot be separated from socio-political issues involved in race relations in Australia. Secondly, much remains to be researched about Aboriginal English in the legal system. We have seen that much of the research on this topic to date has focused on pragmatic aspects of light varieties of Aboriginal English. What about heavy varieties of Aboriginal English? What particular aspects of grammatical structures, accent and vocabulary, in addition to pragmatics, are likely to cause miscommunication in the legal process? Recent research focused on educational settings has highlighted the ways in which the semantic system of Aboriginal English is deeply rooted in Aboriginal cultures (e.g. Sharifian 2001; this vol.). What is the significance of this work for the ways in which Aboriginal English is used in the legal system? Further, the work of Sharifian and Malcolm and their colleagues shows that the ways in which Aboriginal English speakers tell stories may be very different from non-Aboriginal narrative organization. “Aboriginal English speakers may not rely very much on the chronological sequencing of the events in their narratives. Instead in Aboriginal English narratives, events may be ordered according to their importance among the schemas in the mind of the speaker” (in Sharifian et al. 2004). Again, what is the significance of this work for the ways in which Aboriginal English is used in the legal system? Another important issue relates to Aboriginal comprehension in police interviews. The availability of video- or tape-recorded police interviews makes it possible for defence lawyers to carefully search for any evidence to suggest that their client did not fully comprehend their rights, and thus that their participation in a police interview was not completely voluntary. Several linguists have examined this issue in specific cases, involving speakers of traditional Aboriginal languages (e.g. Michael Cooke pc), Kriol (R v Rankin), and Aboriginal English speakers (Ian Malcolm pc). Much more work is warranted on this complex and important area. Addressing questions and concerns such as these will not be a simple matter – like all language varieties, Aboriginal English is in the process of change. Further, it is likely that increasing numbers of Aboriginal English speakers are bidialectal to varying extents. That is, these people, may have the linguistic ability to use general Australian English in their dealings with the law, while using Aboriginal English in many other contexts. But, it can not be assumed that this is true of all speakers of Aboriginal English, especially those with little successful participation in general Australian society, for example through formal education or employment. It is clear that Aboriginal English will continue to play an important role in the legal process, and it is hoped that further research and communication
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with the legal profession can play a role in bringing a more equitable justice system to Aboriginal people. 6. Cases cited Crawford v Venardos and Ors. 1995. Unreported, Brisbane Magistrates’ Court, 24 February 1995. R v Aubrey. 1995. Unreported, Queensland Court of Appeal 148, 28 April 1995. R v Condren. 1987. 28 Australian Criminal Reports 261–299 (Queensland Court of Criminal Appeal). R v Kina. 1993. Unreported, Queensland Court of Appeal (CA No 221 of 1993), 29 November 1993. R v Rankin. Unreported, Northern Territory Supreme Court (NTSC, 4 December 1998) Mc Kinney and Judge v The Queen Unreported, High Court of Australia, 1991.
References Australian Broadcasting Commission (ABC) 1993 7.30 Report. ABC TV current affairs program 30 November. 1996 Black and Blue. Documentary on “Four Corners”, ABC TV; 8 March. Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) 2004 Prisoners in Australia. [http://www.abs.gov.au/Ausstats/
[email protected]/ lookupMF/8D5807D8074A7A5BCA256A6800811054, acc. 19 Jan. 2005] Basso, Kenneth. H. 1970 “To give up on words”: Silence in Apache culture. Southwest Journal of Anthropology 26 (3): 213–30. Berk-Seligson, Susan 2002 Does every yeah mean yes in a police interrogation. (Paper Presented to the Annual Meeting of the American Association of Applied Linguistics, Salt Lake City, Utah.) CJC (Criminal Justice Commission) 1996 Aboriginal Witnesses in Queensland’s Criminal Courts. Brisbane: Criminal Justice Commission. Coldrey, John 1987 Aboriginals and the criminal courts. In Ivory Scales: Black Australia and the Law, Kayleen Hazlehurst (ed.), 81–92. Sydney: NSW University Press.
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Conley, John, and William M. O’Barr 1990 Rules versus Relationships: The Ethnography of Legal Discourse. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Cooke, Michael 1995a Aboriginal evidence in the cross-cultural courtroom. In Language in Evidence: Issues Confronting Aboriginal and Multicultural Australia, Diana Eades (ed.), 55–96. Sydney University of New South Wales Press. 1995b Interpreting in a cross-cultural cross-examination: An Aboriginal case study. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 113: 99–111. 1995c Understood by all concerned? Anglo/Aboriginal legal translation. In Translation and the Law, Marshall Morris (ed.), 37–66. Amsterdam: Benjamins. 1996 A different story: Narrative versus “question and answer” in Aboriginal evidence. Forensic Linguistics 3 (2): 273–88. 1998 Anglo/Yolngu Communication in the Criminal Justice System. PhD Thesis, University of New England, Australia. [available from author:
[email protected]] 2002 Indigenous Interpreting Issues for the Courts. Carlton, Victoria: Australian Institute of Judicial Administration Incorporated. 2004 Caught in the Middle: Indigenous Interpreters and Customary Law. Perth: Law Reform Commission of Western Australia. Cunneen, Chris 2001 Conflict, Politics and Crime: Aboriginal Communities and the Police. Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Eades, Diana M. 1992 Aboriginal English and the Law: Communicating with Aboriginal English Speaking Clients: A Handbook for Legal Practitioners. Brisbane: Queensland Law Society. 1994 A case of communicative clash: Aboriginal English and the legal system. In Language and the Law, John Gibbons (ed.), 234–264. London: Longman. 1995 Aboriginal English on trial: The case for Stuart and Condren. In Language in Evidence: Issues Confronting Aboriginal and Multicultural Australia, Diana Eades (ed.), 147–174. University of New South Wales Press. 1996 Legal recognition of cultural differences in communication: The case of Robyn Kina. Language and Communication 16 (3): 215–227. 1997 The acceptance of linguistic evidence about Indigenous Australians. Australian Aboriginal Studies 1997 (1): 15–27.
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Eades, Diana M. 2000 “I don’t think it’s an answer to the question”: Silencing Aboriginal witnesses in court. Language in Society 29 (2): 161–196. 2002 “Evidence given in unequivocal terms”: Gaining consent of Aboriginal kids in court. In Language in the Legal Process, Janet Cotterill (ed.), 162–179. Hampshire: Palgrave. 2003 The politics of misunderstanding in the legal process: Aboriginal English in Queensland. In Misunderstanding in Spoken Discourse, Juliane House, Gabriele Kasper and Steven Ross (eds.), 196–223. London: Longman. 2004a Understanding Aboriginal English in the legal system: A critical sociolinguistics approach. Applied Linguistics 25 (4): 491–512. 2004b Beyond difference and domination?: Intercultural communication in legal contexts. In Intercultural Discourse and Communication: The Essential Readings, Christina Paulston and Scott Kiesling (eds.), 304– 316. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Elkin, Adolphus 1947 Aboriginal evidence and justice in North Australia. Oceania 17: 173–210. Fairclough, Norman 1989 Language and Power. London: Longman. Fryer-Smith, Stephanie 2002 Aboriginal Cultural Awareness Benchbook for Western Australian Courts. Perth: Australian Institute of Judicial Administration. Gibbons, John 2003 Forensic Linguistics. Oxford: Blackwell. Goldflam, Russell 1995 Silence in court! Problems and prospects in Aboriginal legal interpreting. In Language in Evidence: Issues Confronting Aboriginal and Multicultural Australia, Diana Eades (ed.), 28–54. University of Sydney: New South Wales Press. Henderson, John, and David Nash (eds.) 2002 Language in Native Title. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander Studies. Kaldor, Susan, and Ian G. Malcolm 1991 Aboriginal English – an overview. In Language in Australia, Suzanne Romaine (ed.), 94–103. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
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Koch, Harold 1985 Nonstandard English in an Aboriginal land claim. In Cross-Cultural Encounters: Communication and Miscommunication, John Pride (ed.), 176–195. Melbourne: River Seine Publications. Kriewaldt, M. 1960 Application of the criminal code to the Aborigines of the Northern Territory in Australia. Law Review of Western Australia 1–50. Lavery, Daniel 1992 Review of Aboriginal English and the Law. Aboriginal Law Bulletin 2 (59): 13. Lester, Yami 1974 Aborigines and the Courts and Interpreting in Court. Alice Springs: Institute for Aboriginal Development. Liberman, Kenneth 1981 Understanding Aborigines in Australian courts of law. Human Organization 40: 247–255. 1985 Understanding Interaction in Central Australia: An Ehnomethodological Study of Australian Aboriginal People. Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul. McRae, Heather, Garth Nettheim, and Laura Beacroft 1997 Indigenous Legal Issues. Sydney: Law Book Company. (1st ed. 1991, titled Aboriginal Legal Issues: Commentary and Materials). Mildren, Dean 1999 Redressing the imbalance: Aboriginal people in the criminal justice system. Forensic Linguistics 6 (1): 137–160. Neate, Graeme 2003 Land, law and language: Some issues in the resolution of Indigenous land claims in Australia. (Paper delivered to the conference of the International Association of Forensic Linguists. Sydney, Australia.) [http://www.nntt.gov.au/metacard/files/iafl/Neates_IAFL_speech_July_ 2003.pdf, accessed 22 Jun 2006] Philips, Susan 1976 Some sources of cultural variability in the regulation of talk. Language in Society 5: 81–95. Queensland Department of Justice 1997 Juvenile Justice: A Legal Practitioner’s Guide. (2nd ed.). Brisbane: Department of Justice.
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Queensland Department of Justice 2000 Aboriginal English in the Courts: A Handbook. Brisbane: Department of Justice. Ritter, David, and Merrilee Garnett 1999 Building the perfect beast: Native Title lawyers and the practise of Native Title lawyering, Land, Rights, Laws: Issues of Native Title (Issues Paper No 30). Canberra: AIATSIS Native Title Research Unit. [http://ntru.aiatsis.gov.au/ntpapers/ip30web.pdf, acc. 22 June 2006] RCIADC (Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody) 1991 National Report. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Sharifian, Farzad 2001 Schema-based processing in Australian speakers of Aboriginal English. Language and Intercultural Communication 1 (2): 120–134. Sharifian, Farzad, Judith Rochecouste, and Ian G. Malcolm 2004 “But it was all a bit confusing …”: Comprehending Aboriginal English texts. Language, Culture and Communication 17 (3): 203–228. Sharpe, Margaret C. 1977 Alice Springs Aboriginal English. In Language Problems and Aboriginal Education, Ed Brumby and Eric Vaszolyi (eds.), 45–50. Mt. Lawley WA: Mt Lawley College of Advanced Education. Strehlow, T. G. H. 1936 Notes on native evidence and its value. Oceania 6: 323–335. Trinch, Shonna 2003 Latinas’ Narratives of Domestic Abuse: Discrepant Versions of Violence. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Walsh, Michael 1994 Interactional styles in the courtroom: An example from Northern Australia. In Language and the Law, J. Gibbons (ed.), 217–233. London: Longman. Walsh, Michael 1999 Interpreting for the transcript: Problems in recording Aboriginal land claim Proceedings in Northern Australia. Forensic Linguistics 6 (1): 161–195.
Aboriginal language habitat in research and tertiary education Rob Amery 1. Introduction The study and teaching of Australian Indigenous languages occupies a very small niche within the tertiary education sector, reflecting the marginal status of these languages within Australian society generally and within pre-tertiary education specifically. Indigenous languages are much more significant as the object of research than they are as the subject matter for language learning courses. Unlike in New Zealand and Hawaii, Indigenous languages have no place whatsoever in Australian tertiary institutions as a medium of instruction. Unlike in New Zealand and Hawaii, Australian Indigenous languages have no official status. Those who study Australian languages are widely dispersed across Australia and beyond, though there are several stronger research concentrations. Whilst geographically dispersed, most researchers of Australian languages are known to each other. There is a reasonably close network of Australianists, i.e. researchers of Australian languages, brought together in conferences and workshops, an electronic discussion list (Australian Linguistics List), e-mail and the internet. The world-wide web provides researchers and teachers of Australian Indigenous languages with a means to disseminate discussion papers and resource materials more readily. Particularly good sites for information on Australian languages are pages posted by David Nash (http://www.anu. edu.au/linguistics/nash/aust/) and David Nathan (http://www.dnathan.com). The Australian Institute for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS) hosts the Aboriginal Studies Electronic Data Archive (ASEDA) and a comprehensive collection of materials on or about Australian Aboriginal languages. In the 1970s ANU emerged as the premier centre for the study of Australian Indigenous languages under the leadership of Prof. R.M.W. Dixon and a number of other staff members also conducted research in Australian languages. Many postgraduate students wrote grammars of Australian languages under Dixon’s supervision, and a number are now heads of linguistics departments or staff at other Australian universities (e.g. Cliff
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Goddard at the University of New England, Nick Evans at Melbourne University and Alan Dench at the University of Western Australia). Some have moved further afield (e.g. the late Terry Crowley was at Waikato University in New Zealand; Peter Austin heads up the Endangered Languages Documentation Project in the School of Oriental and African Studies at London University and David Wilkins is working in psycholinguistics in California) but still maintain a keen interest in research into Indigenous languages. Past government policies and practices denigrated Aboriginal languages and children were punished for speaking Aboriginal languages. Under the assimilation policies, within certain jurisdictions (e.g. in NSW) overhearing a child speaking an Indigenous language was reason enough for welfare agencies to remove that child from their family, as this was a sure sign that they were not assimilating to white-Australian society. Despite promising beginnings in the nineteenth century where some languages, such as Kaurna (1840–45), were employed as the medium of instruction in certain mission schools (especially Lutheran schools) and children were taught to read and write in these languages, Aboriginal languages essentially had no place within schooling in the assimilation era, except for a few mission schools in remote areas, such as Ernabella Mission which initiated schooling in the vernacular, Pitjantjatjara, in 1940 (Gale 1997: 83) In the 1970s, with the introduction of bilingual education programs into Northern Territory schools, Aboriginal languages gained a recognized place within the school system (see Gale 1990). Aboriginal language programs began to be introduced into certain South Australian schools in Port Augusta and Adelaide during the early 1980s. In the late 1980s, as the result of Lo Bianco’s (1987) work towards an Australian language policy, the federal government for the first time allocated funds to support community-based Indigenous language programs through the National Aboriginal Languages Program (NALP) scheme, subsequently replaced by the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages Initiatives Scheme (ATSILIP). Funding for community-based programs has steadily increased from an initial $1million per year to $8.5million per year, allocated now through the Department for Communication, Information Technology and the Arts (DCITA). Federal funding over the years has supported some 150 different Indigenous languages nationally (Commonwealth of Australia 2004: 43). It wasn’t until 1994 that one could study an Australian language at senior secondary level in an accredited program, with the introduction of the Australian Indigenous Languages Framework (SSABSA 1996; Mercurio and
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Amery 1996). Whilst the national framework is there and endorsed by a number of state education authorities, there are relatively few school programs in Indigenous languages taught at senior secondary level. These programs are difficult to implement for various reasons including:
– a lack of suitably qualified teachers and language specialists – a lack of language resources and curriculum materials – competing curriculum demands and timetabling issues To address these concerns, a team approach, consisting of a language and culture specialist (i.e. an Indigenous person who is a speaker of the language or at least knowledgeable of the language and its culture), teacher and linguist, has been adopted. However, this team approach is expensive. Because of duty of care considerations and education department regulations, a teacher is required in the classroom at all times, even though the actual teaching is done by the language and culture specialist and perhaps some aspects are taught by the linguist. Schools are often not in a position to offer these ‘expensive’ programs without top-up funding from another source. The marginal status of Indigenous languages in the school sector and the wider community has implications for demand for courses in Indigenous languages within the tertiary sector. 2. Aboriginal language as the object of research In order to understand the ecology of research into Indigenous languages within the tertiary sector, it is worth looking briefly at the history of this research. For a detailed analysis of the history of research on Australian languages, see McGregor (forthc.) and Koch (this. vol.). Some efforts were made by colonial officials (e.g. Colonel William Dawes and Sir George Grey), missionaries (e.g. Lancelot Edward Threlkeld, Johan Georg Reuter), pastoralists (e.g. Edward Micklethwaite Curr), and numerous others to record Aboriginal languages from the earliest years of exploration and colonization. Blake and Dixon (1991: 3–5) refer to this period from 1770 to 1913 as the “amateur period” when “linguistic research in Australia is entirely the work of educated amateurs without any specific linguistic training”. During the early part of the twentieth century, anthropologists, such as Tindale and the Berndts, also collected voluminous records on Australian languages across the continent, primarily vocabulary in Tindale’s case (see
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Tindale 1974) and partly analysed texts by the Berndts (see, for instance, Berndt and Berndt 1993). The serious linguistic documentation of Aboriginal languages in Australia came rather late, by comparison with the United States for instance. The first trained linguist to research Australian languages was probably Gerhard Laves from Chicago, who over a two year period (Aug. 1929 to Aug. 1931) investigated six languages including Bardi, Karajarri and Nyungar in Western Australia, Matngela and Ngan’gimerri from Daly River, Northern Territory, and Gumbaynggirr in NSW (Nash 1993). Research into Australian Aboriginal languages received a boost with the establishment of the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies (AIAS) in 1961, renamed the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS) in 1990. In the 1970s AIAS supported a significant amount of linguistic research. The first linguistics departments were also being established in Australian universities at about this time (Blake and Dixon 1991: 6). According to Blake and Dixon: By the early seventies descriptions of Australian languages were being published, most of these grammars being the theses of postgraduate students. […] . The ethos behind this activity was a desire to record and preserve and a desire to gather data which would serve as the basis for reconstruction in an attempt to unravel some of the history of the languages and trace genetic relations within Australia and ultimately if possible beyond Australia. In the sixties and early seventies Aboriginal people played no part and were hardly ever consulted about what should be studied. Gradually the picture changed. By the mid-seventies part of the linguistic effort was being devoted to establishing bilingual education programs in Aboriginal schools, mainly in the Northern Territory. (1991: 6)
Research into Australian Indigenous languages has tended to focus on linguistic description, language typology and comparative linguistics. Research into the teaching of Aboriginal languages and other more applied areas has taken a much lower profile, a fact recognized by McNamara in his history of the Applied Linguistics Association of Australia (ALAA): Although important work on applied linguistics in relation to the language education of Aboriginal children in particular was carried out by McKay, Malcolm and others, this work was more done through the organization of the Linguistics Society of Australia, where it could be discussed with anthropological linguists working on indigenous languages, than in the Applied Linguistics Association. The area of indigenous languages is not a
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centrally important site for the evolution of Australian Applied Linguistics. (2001: 23)
ALAA conferences feature relatively few presentations on Aboriginal languages and related topics, whilst they figure strongly at Australian Linguistics Society (ALS) meetings. However, a few researchers, notably Graham McKay, Ian Malcolm and Paul Black, have consistently worked through both societies and pursued both pure and applied topics. By contrast to the 2003 conference in Brisbane where Indigenous languages had no presence, at the most recent ALAA conference in Adelaide in 2004, a number of presentations on Indigenous languages were given, mostly by local researchers and practitioners in South Australia. An entire day was devoted to Indigenous languages research and Indigenous languages issues. Beyond the regular ALS, ALAA and Australex conferences, workshops have been convened to discuss research findings or work in progress. Nash lists 17 workshops held over the past decade (see http://www.anu.edu.au/ linguistics/nash/aust/). This list does not include a number of smaller localized workshops, such as the sporadic meetings of the Top End Linguistic Circle or the Adelaide workshop on orthographies held in 2003. In recent years Melbourne seems to have emerged as a major centre for research on Australian languages, even though it is far removed from where the majority of speakers of Australian languages reside. Over the last few years 3day workshops on Australian languages have been held at Blackwood, Vic., under the auspices of the University of Melbourne. These workshops, focussed on topics related to description and analysis of Australian languages, have drawn Australianists from across Australia (see http://www.anu.edu.au/ linguistics/nash/aust/blackwood/html for details). Previously, a series of International Workshops on Aboriginal languages were held at the University of Melbourne in 1997, at the Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguistics at Nijmegen, the Netherlands, in 1998 and at Aarhus University, Denmark, in 2002. The Leipzig Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology has been active and researchers based there or connected with it have, e.g., edited the World Atlas of Language Structures (WALS) (Haspelmath et al. 2005), which has information on some 20 languages. Some workshops have been specialized, such as the 2000 and 2002 ones on prosody in Australian languages, the 2000 workshop on Gerhard Laves or the 1999 and 2004 ones on the use of linguistic and lexicographic software.
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3. Shifting focus of research In the 1960s and early 1970s, as noted by Blake and Dixon (1991: 6), research into Indigenous Australian languages was focussed almost exclusively on linguistic description and subgrouping within historical and comparative linguistics. This is still a strong preoccupation of most Australianists. Over the last few decades, however, there has been a significant diversification of research interests in response to developments within education and in response to the wishes and concerns of Indigenous peoples. Much teaching and research conducted by linguists in the Northern Territory, especially those at the School of Australian Linguistics (SAL), which is now called Centre for Australian Languages and Linguistics (CALL), and at Darwin Institute of Technology (later to become Northern Territory University and then Charles Darwin University) was aimed at supporting the implementation of bilingual education and later English language education (in response to the move against bilingual education by the NT government in 1998). Whilst there had been some previous work, studies of child language acquisition began in earnest with work conducted in Warlpiri by Edith Bavin and Tim Shopen in the mid-1980s. More recently Gillian Wigglesworth, Patrick McConvell, Samantha Disbray and others have been conducting studies of child language acquisition in a number of languages in the Northern Territory, including Warrumungu and Gurindji. Code-switching and language mixing emerged as a contentious topic in the late 1980s with an ongoing debate between Stephen Harris (1990) and Patrick McConvell (1991). Mary-Anne Gale (1993) has also discussed codeswitching in Yolngu languages. John Haviland and David Wilkins have been researching aspects of language and cognition, including the encoding of spatial relationships. See, for instance, Haviland (1993) and Wilkins (1999). Research into Aboriginal English and Aboriginal ways of speaking emerged as a significant area of concern with work by Diana Eades in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Ian Malcolm (see Malcolm and Grote this vol.) at Mt Lawley College of Advanced Education (CAE), which is now Edith Cowan University) and Jean Harkins (Newcastle University) have also carried out significant studies. (See also Harkins 1994.) Language and the law emerged out of Diana Eades work on Aboriginal English (see Eades 1995) and issues arising from land claim hearings, work in which many linguists are involved (see Henderson and Nash 2002). Michael Cooke undertook an in-depth analysis of the coronial inquest into the shooting
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of a Yolngu man at Galiwin’ku in the Northern Territory in 1990. This formed the basis of his doctorate, later published as Cooke (1995). Some work has been conducted into language and health (see Cass et al. 2002; Lowell 2001; Amery 1986; Glass and Hackett 1979), but given the devastating state of Indigenous health in remote areas, much more needs to be done in this area (see Trudgen 2000). A major focus on the use of Aboriginal words in Australian English was undertaken by Dixon and others in response to the Australian National Dictionary project at ANU in the 1980s (see Dixon et al. 1990). More recently Gerhard Leitner (2004; 2001; 2000a–b; this vol.) and Leitner and Sieloff (1998) have investigated the extent to which Aboriginal words are actually used and understood by speakers of Australian English. A focus on Indigenous placenames emerged through the National Placenames Project at Macquarie University with input from a wide range of linguists across the country. Three workshops have been held on Aboriginal placenames in 1999; 2000 and 2002, with the proceedings of the first two published in (Hercus et al. 2002). Language endangerment, maintenance and revival has emerged as a major topic of investigation and discussion. In the 1980s linguists working at SAL began writing about language maintenance. Nick Thieberger completed an M.A. on the topic at LaTrobe University in 1988 under the supervision of Barry Blake. Graham McKay from Edith Cowan University undertook a major review of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander language maintenance and revival activity for the National Board of Employment, Education and Training (McKay 1996). Many researchers have written about endangered languages including R.M.W. Dixon at LaTrobe (Dixon 1991), Peter Mühlhäusler at the University of Adelaide (Mühlhäusler 1996), David and Maya Bradley at LaTrobe (Bradley and Bradley 2002), Margaret Florey at Monash and Michael Walsh at the University of Sydney (Walsh forthc.). These issues are now of major concern to most, if not all, linguists working with Australian languages. In 2003, the Foundation for Endangered Languages held its conference in Broome, Western Australia (see Blythe and McKenna Brown 2003). Major surveys have been undertaken nationally by McConvell and Thieberger (2001), in NSW (Hosking et al. 2000) and South Australia (McConvell et al. 2002). More recently, language revival has emerged as a major area of research in response to the wishes of Indigenous communities, particularly in South Australia, Victoria and New South Wales. (See Thieberger (1995), Amery (2000; 2001), Walsh (2001; 2002) and Amery (forthc.) for a more comprehensive survey of research in this area.)
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For many years, researchers in the tertiary sector were not able to apply directly for federal funds allocated to community-based language projects. The majority of this funding went to language centres. The ground rules have now changed and researchers located in the tertiary sector are now able to lodge submissions through the Department of Communication, Information Technology and the Arts, often working together with community-based projects. 4. Research ethics As noted by Blake and Dixon (1991: 6–7) “In the sixties and early seventies Aboriginal people played no part and were hardly ever consulted about what should be studied.” Ethical issues came to the fore at the 1983 meeting of the Australian Linguistics Society. Since then research ethics are a major issue for all linguistic researchers engaged in fieldwork to consider and deal with. David Wilkins (1992) provides a first-hand account of issues he confronted in Central Australia, as Indigenous people asserted control over the research process. I gave a small group of Kaurna language activists the right of veto over what was written in my Ph.D. (Amery 1998), though in the end, they chose not to exercise that right. Claire Bowern revisited this issue in her discussion of the Bardi Oral History Project based on Laves’ Bardi texts (Bowern 2003). The ecology of Indigenous languages research has changed radically over the last two decades. Tertiary-based researchers now need to obtain ethics approval prior to engaging in any research involving human subjects. 5. The teaching of Aboriginal languages within the tertiary sector Few tertiary institutions have ever taught Aboriginal languages. Those that are offered are typically under pressure from the demand for increasing class sizes, a factor which Bill Edwards drew attention to (Edwards 1995: 9). The situation has only worsened since then, despite policies that support the maintenance of Aboriginal languages (Commonwealth of Australia 1991: 19), and despite an expansion of community-based and school-based programs. 5.1. Pitjantjatjara at the University of South Australia Pitjantjatjara was the first Australian language to be taught in the tertiary sector. This began within Continuing and Adult Education at the University of Adelaide in 1966, but was soon moved to Torrens College of Advanced
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Education, which was later to become the South Australian College of Advanced Education, which itself became the University of South Australia (UniSA). For further details on the history, methods employed and enrolments up until 1994 (see Edwards 1995). Pitjantjatjara has been taught in tertiary level courses continuously for nearly 40 years. It is now offered by the Unaipon School, as part of an Aboriginal Studies program, though its status has been marginalized to that of an elective. The course was very successfully team taught for many years by Bill Edwards, a non-Indigenous lecturer and ex-Superintendent of Ernabella Mission, together with Mona Tur, an Antikirinya woman with many years teaching experience. Bill would explain points of grammar and teach the structure of the language, whilst Mona would teach conversational Pitjantjatjara stressing oral/aural skills. Bill Edwards retired from full-time teaching in 1994, but remained with the Unaipon School as Adjunct Researcher and continued to teach Pitjantjatjara with Mona as a Summer School up until 2004. It continues as a Summer School taught by Mona Tur and Paul Eckert. In its heyday, six term length or three semester length courses were offered: Pitjantjatjara I, II and III, allowing students to undertake a major in the study of Pitjantjatjara, but in recent years this has contracted down to a single semester length course – Pitjantjatjara I is taught as a Summer School by sessional staff. This Pitjantjatjara course has been very successful and still attracts numbers of students. Summer Schools held over the past few years have been filled to capacity. Demand for Pitjantjatjara language courses is probably still as strong now as it was during the 1980s and early 1990s when enrolments peaked. The Pitjantjatjara language resources are in urgent need of overhaul. The main resources, Wangka Kulintjaku (Kirke 1984) and Wangka Wiru (Eckert and Hudson 1988) are now out of print. Tape resources are old and dated. There are no permanent members of staff within UniSA with the skills to teach the Pitjantjatjara course, thus it is difficult to promote and develop it. 5.2. Bundjalung at Monash University, Victoria In Victoria, Eve Fesl initially considered Pitjantjatjara at Monash University, but this was quickly replaced by Bundjalung in 1987 from the north coast of NSW because a coastal language was thought to be more suited to the Victorian context. A Bundjalung course had already been developed by Margaret Sharpe in 1977 in Lismore. The Bundjalung course was taught by Lynnette Dent, a local Ganai woman. According to McKay (1996: 150–151)
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Bundjalung speakers have contributed to the teaching of the program at Monash, whilst Lynette has reciprocated in the development of a Bundjalung program at primary school level in Baryulgil in NSW. In 1996, Bundjalung ceased being taught at Monash University soon after the departure of Lynette and other Koorie staff. Lynette now teaches Ganai, the local Gippsland language in the Kurnai College Koorie Open Door Education in Morwell and at Bairnsdale. It was offered at senior secondary level for the first time in 2004. 5.3. Yolngu languages at Charles Darwin University (CDU) The Yolngu languages, a group of some 40 clan languages, are spoken predominantly at Milingimbi, Ramingining, Galiwin’ku, Gapuwiyak, Yirrkala and their outstations in northeast Arnhem Land, east of Darwin. The main Yolngu languages are amongst the strongest in Australia, made famous internationally by the rock band Yothu Yindi. They are spoken almost universally in their home communities by about 5,000 or 6,000 people. Although a comparative latecomer, by comparison with Pitjantjatjara, the Yolngu languages program at CDU has proved to be very popular and is now well-established. 5.4. Djambarrpuyngu Djambarrpuyngu, a Dhuwal variety of Yolngu Matha from northeast Arnhemland, was introduced by Michael Christie into Northern Territory University, now Charles Darwin University, in 1992. The teaching of Djambarrpuyngu is supported by up-to-date web-based materials. Student assignments are submitted on-line and marked on-line at learnline.cdu.edu.au/yolngustud. Charles Darwin University offers by far the most extensive program in the study of an Indigenous language, in addition to more general courses on Indigenous languages and Indigenous languages education. Courses are available (see table next page), to study for credit, in a Diploma of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies, a Bachelor of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies, a Graduate Certificate in Yolngu Studies or a Graduate Diploma of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies and through Open Universities Australia. Evening classes, not for university credit, are also available in March and April each year as a series of five two hour classes taught concurrently with enrolled students.
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5.5. Kaurna In 1997, with the support and encouragement of Peter Mühlhäusler, I introduced ‘Kaurna Language and Language Ecology’ into the University of Adelaide. By contrast to the Pitjantjatjara, Bundjalung and Djambarrpuyngu courses, the Kaurna course at Adelaide University was primarily a linguistics course, as opposed to a language learning course. I had intended it to have a significant language learning component and prepared a set of language learning lessons, recorded by Lester Irabinna Rigney, Cherie Warrara Watkins and myself in Semester 1 of 1997 prior to commencement of the course in Semester 2. However, due to concerns expressed by some people in the Kaurna community, that non-Indigenous students were having access to the language before they did, I downplayed this aspect of the course. Rather I focussed on the Kaurna sources, how we know what we know about the Table 1. Studies in Yolngu Languages at Charles Darwin University Course Title Introduction to Yolngu Languages and Culture Yolngu Language and Culture II Yolngu Life and Literature
Yolngu Matha Conversation Yolngu Texts and Conversations Yolngu Languages and Culture: Independent Study
Availability and Pre-requisites Available for study on-line at undergraduate and postgraduate level Pre-requisite: Introduction to Yolngu Languages and Culture. Available for study on-line at undergraduate and postgraduate level. Pre-requisite: Introduction to Yolngu Languages and Culture. Available for study on-line or in-context at the annual Garma Festival at undergraduate and postgraduate level. Pre-requisite: Introduction to Yolngu Languages and Culture. On-campus only. Pre-requisite: Introduction to Yolngu Languages and Culture. On-campus only. Pre-requisite: Introduction to Yolngu Languages and Culture. Internal, external and on-line.
Yolngu Languages and Pre-requisite: Introduction to Yolngu Languages and Culture: Independent Research Culture. Internal, external and on-line.
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language and how the language is being used now in education, in the public domain and by Kaurna people themselves. This course ran for five years at the University of Adelaide with fairly constant enrolments of about 15 students plus additional community access students auditing, up to 10 or 15 extras. In 2001 my contract of employment at Adelaide University was not renewed due to staffing cutbacks. I took the course with me to the University of South Australia and introduced it within Aboriginal Studies and Australian Studies programs offered by the Unaipon School, where it sat alongside of Pitjantjatjara. In 2002 it was offered as an internal semester length course where it attracted only a small number of students. In 2003 I offered it both as an internal and external course whilst in 2004 and 2005 I offered it as a Summer School in tandem with Pitjantjatjara, where it attracted a larger number of students (some 25 degree students and a dozen community members). Efforts to introduce Kaurna into the Unaipon School encountered serious opposition, and whilst I was allowed to teach it as my “boutique course”, there was little support or encouragement of the course. In February 2006 I taught Kaurna as a summer school back at the University of Adelaide to a lesser number of students. It will continue to be offered biennially in alternation with Australian Indigenous Languages. The first week of the Kaurna Summer School focuses on an exploration of the nature of the Kaurna source material and strategies for language reclamation, whilst the second week is language learning. Thus the Kaurna Summer School is something of a compromise between a linguistics and a language course. Linguistics programs have also promoted the study of Aboriginal languages from time to time. Students of linguistics were offered a short course in Gupapuyngu at ANU in the 1980s. Nick Evans engaged Raymattja MarikaMununggiritj to teach Rirratjingu at Melbourne University, whilst Mary Laughren engaged Janet Nakamarra Long to teach Warlpiri at the University of Queensland. These were short courses exposing students of linguistics to Indigenous languages learning. Lizzie Ellis taught Ngaatjatjarra at the Australian Linguistics Institutes for several years. There was significant demand with capacity enrolments. Lizzie also taught a three-week Ngaatjatjarra course at the Centre for Applied Linguistics at Besançon, University of Franche-Conté (McKay 1996: 152). McKay notes that while this has had no impact on the use of Ngaatjatjarra in its home com-munities, the teaching of such a course has been “the impetus for course and materials development (including three videos) and it helps to establish a level of recognition for the language by the outside world.” (McKay 1996: 152).
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With regard to courses in Indigenous languages in the tertiary sector, we have seen a varied picture emerging. Pitjantjatjara is a course in decline, despite the fact that there is a significant demand for the course. Pitjantjatjara course offerings have shrunk from three semester length courses to one, offered as a two-week intensive summer school, which in 2005 and 2006 was not offered as an award course. The Yolngu Languages program at Charles Darwin University appears to be flourishing, and over the space of a decade since its introduction, has expanded to seven semester length courses. Materials are up to date and the courses employ state of the art technology. The Kaurna course, established in 1997, is still struggling for acceptance. 6. Web-based resources CDU makes extensive use of the web in support of its Yolngu Languages courses. Students are able to submit assignments on-line and to make use of audio and visual resources. A searchable on-line vocabulary is also extremely useful for language learners. The Kaurna course is also supported by extensive web-based resources posted on the UniSA website, though audio files have not yet been posted. These resources are only accessible to enrolled students and members of the Kaurna community via a password. Extensive use of the web is being made by tertiary institutions in Hawaii (see the Kualono webpages at http://www.olelo. hawaii.edu/ eng/index.html), New Zealand (see MƗori Language Commission at http://www.tetaurawhiri. govt.nz/) and British Columbia (First Voices at http://www.firstvoices.com/). Whilst the web enables resources to be more accessible, not all Indigenous people are happy for these resources to be made available to the general public. Fortunately the web does make provision for materials to be passwordprotected, accessible only to select individuals or select groups. Maintenance of password-protected resources, however, requires the Information Technology people within tertiary institutions to be aware of the sensitivity of this material, as I have discussed in relation to the Kaurna materials. Our resources were inadvertently placed in a public folder by the IT technicians whilst rebuilding the site and accessed by a member of the public who took offence at material posted and demanded an immediate retraction and apology. 7. Ownership of course materials Whenever courses in Indigenous languages have been introduced into the tertiary sector, the relevant language communities and custodians have been
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extensively consulted and closely involved in the teaching of these courses. Team teaching (linguists and native speakers or Indigenous language and culture specialists) is the norm. The Kaurna course materials were first developed at the University of Adelaide. When the course was shifted to the University of South Australia (UniSA), a legal agreement was drawn up between the University, Kaurna Elders and myself, vesting ownership of the course I had developed in collaboration with members of the Kaurna community with the Kaurna Elders and myself. A licence was granted to UniSA to enable the course to be taught there. But things can go wrong, as when the web-based materials were inadvertently made available to the general public, though they should have been available only to enrolled students and members of the Kaurna community. 7.1. Courses on Australian languages and linguistics By comparison with the limited number of language learning courses, every state and territory in Australia has at least one, and perhaps two or three, introductory linguistics courses on the nature and use of Aboriginal languages in Australia. These courses are mostly offered by the older established or ‘sandstone’ universities. Table 2. Introductory Linguistics Courses on Australian Indigenous Languages Institution Australian National University (ANU) University of Sydney University of Newcastle University of New England (UNE) University of Queensland (UQld) Charles Darwin University Notre Dame University (Broome, WA) University of Western Australia (UWA) Edith Cowan University (ECU) University of Adelaide Flinders University University of Melbourne Monash University University of Tasmania
Course Title Language in Indigenous Australia Australia’s Indigenous Languages Indigenous Languages of Australia Australia’s Indigenous Languages Study of an Australian Aboriginal Lang. Introduction to Aboriginal Languages Foundation to Australian Indigenous Languages Australian Aboriginal Languages Aboriginal Languages of Australia Australian Indigenous Languages Australian Languages: Issues and Debates Structure of Aboriginal Languages Aboriginal Languages of Australia Language in Aboriginal Society
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Almost all of these courses are offered by Linguistics Departments. ‘Language in Aboriginal Society’ at the University of Tasmania is offered by Riawunna, the Indigenous studies centre, though it is taught by an experienced linguist, Ian Green. ‘Australian Languages: Issues and Debates’ is offered within Australian Studies at Flinders University by Christine Nicholls, an educator with considerable knowledge and experience of bilingual education programs in the Northern Territory. The courses listed above are generally electives within Linguistics or Applied Linguistics, though some are offered in Aboriginal Studies or Australian Studies. Perhaps none of the above courses are actually core or compulsory courses within their respective programs. Of course Australian languages get some mention in numerous other courses in Linguistics, Aboriginal Studies, Anthropology, History and perhaps other disciplines. For instance, one week is devoted to Aboriginal languages within the core introductory ‘Aboriginal Cultures’ course within the B.A. Aboriginal Studies offered by the Unaipon School at the University of South Australia. One week is devoted to Communication Issues with the ‘Aboriginal Health and Culture’ which is a compulsory course within the Nursing program at the University of South Australia, whilst a guest lecture on Kaurna Language Reclamation is given within Rob Foster’s ‘Aborigines in the Twentieth Century’ history course at the University of Adelaide. Just a few universities, such as Edith Cowan, have tried to offer full programs of study in Indigenous Languages and Linguistics. 7.2. Edith Cowan University In 2000 Edith Cowan University offered a six-month full-time Graduate Certificate of Arts in Language Studies (Aboriginal). This course consisted of four units of study:
– – – –
Working with Aboriginal People Aboriginal Languages of Australia Two-way Learning and Bidialectal Education Aboriginal English
This course was short-lived for want of students (pers. com., Graham McKay). Staff at Edith Cowan are now trying to build in some of this subject matter into their more general Masters program in Applied Linguistics.
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7.3. Charles Darwin University – Graduate Diploma in Applied Linguistics Charles Darwin University for many years ran a Graduate Diploma in Applied Linguistics with three strands, one of which specializes in Indigenous languages teaching. The Bilingual Education strand was established to support the bilingual education programs which were introduced into a number of Aboriginal schools across the Northern Territory from 1973 onwards, following the election of the Whitlam Labor government. (See Gale (1990) for a comprehensive review of these bilingual programs.) Specialized courses in bilingual education are still a feature of the Master of Applied Linguistics offered by the Education Faculty at Charles Darwin University. Furthermore, a specialized TESL course in Indigenous contexts has recently been added. Table 3. Charles Darwin University: Course Offerings in Applied Linguistics Course Title The Students’ First Language in Aboriginal Education TESL Principles and Indigenous Learners TESL Practice and Indigenous Learners Bilingual Education Language Teaching in a Bilingual Setting
Following the development of the Australian Indigenous Languages Framework and the introduction of accredited senior secondary programs in Aboriginal languages in 1994, NTU introduced an Indigenous Languages strand within their existing Graduate Diploma of Applied Linguistics. New specialist courses were developed, including ‘Teaching Aboriginal Languages’. Mariana Babia, a Torres Strait Islander teacher, was employed to coordinate and teach it. As with the Graduate Certificate of Arts in Language Studies (Aboriginal) offered at Edith Cowan University, NTU was not able to attract sufficient enrolments to make the Indigenous Languages strand viable. 7.4. South Australia: Towards a Cross-Institutional Indigenous Languages Major For many years now specialists in Australian languages in the three South Australian universities, supported by the Department of Education and Children’s Services (DECS) Aboriginal Languages Standing Committee, have attempted unsuccessfully to implement a cross-institutional major in Indigenous languages. Each university currently offers several subjects which
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would complement each other and, when supplemented by two new courses, would constitute a coherent major in Indigenous languages. To date little progress has been made towards establishing this major and its implementation appears further off than ever. Why is this? Whilst there has been a strong commitment from those staff actually teaching the courses concerned, there seems to be a lack of commitment and lack of will from those higher up to see this proposal operationalized. Questions have been raised about the coherence of the major, as the proposal has cobbled together current offerings. The three universities in South Australia offer courses with different point values, so that courses offered by one institution might be accepted by another if the student undertakes additional assessment. This causes additional administrative hassles. Whilst cross-institutional enrolments are possible, and even sometimes promoted, the reality is that few students are prepared to travel offcampus, and those that do may find the additional travel overly burdensome. Of course, many lecturers, especially those who specialize in Indigenous languages, incorporate examples from Aboriginal languages in their teaching of mainstream linguistics courses in phonology, morphology, syntax, semantics, sociolinguistics, anthropological linguistics, psycholinguistics etc. 8. Batchelor Indigenous Institute of Tertiary Education Whilst universities have been unable to offer full programs of study in Aboriginal linguistics, the Batchelor Institute of Indigenous Tertiary Education has. The School of Australian Linguistics was established in 1974 within the Darwin Community College, but relocated to Batchelor following the cyclone. It established a Certificate course in Literacy Work in 1978 and a Certificate in Translation/Interpreting in 1980. The courses were to support bilingual language programs operating in community schools, to train speakers of Indigen-ous languages as assistant linguists or prepare them for entry into advanced linguistics courses. In 1989, SAL was incorporated as the Centre for Australian Languages and Linguistics (CALL) into Batchelor College, which became the independent Batchelor Institute of Indigenous Tertiary Education in 1999; it is moving towards full university status. Batchelor currently offers a Diploma of Arts (Language and Linguistics) two years full-time, one year Advanced Diploma (Language and Linguistics) and a Diploma of Interpreting (Indigenous Languages) offered in selected languages over one year, part-time (12 weeks of workshops plus 30 hours work experience). The courses provide descriptive and analytical skills,
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together with some sociolinguistics, language planning and resources production in languages. Two certificate level courses (Certificate I and II in Own Language Work) are offered to provide students with literacy and other skills needed to carry out language work in their communities. The courses assume no prior literacy. 9. 2006 Pilot Indigenous Language Teacher Fellowships As a response to the acute need for skilled Indigenous teachers of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander languages, the Department of Education, Science and Training (DEST) advertized in 2005 for tenders to establish a training program for Indigenous persons already employed as teachers of Indigenous languages to upgrade their language proficiency and teaching skills. The program was conceived in the light of the successful Endeavour Language Teacher Fellowships scheme offered to teachers of Chinese, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Spanish and Indonesian to gain in-country experience and intensive language study. The Endeavour Fellowships focus primarily on “improving participants’ proficiency in the language not on teaching methodologies” (see DEST Endeavour Language Teacher Fellowship webpages). Such a training scheme for teachers of Indigenous languages could potentially be offered through the tertiary sector. In its present form, however, the proposed fellowships are aimed at “strong” languages. The pilot program “will offer Indigenous language teachers and education workers in Australian primary and secondary schools opportunities to improve their language skills by working with fluent (my emphasis) speakers of an Indigenous language (“Mentors”)” (DEST 2005). Such a program may work well in a few situations such as Broome, the Pilbara or Katherine regions where there are possibly younger people who have taken on the role of teaching their ancestral language, and for whom the development of language proficiency is an issue. A program which provides opportunities for them to learn from their Elders makes perfect sense. However, in many cases there are no longer any remaining fluent speakers of the language being taught in schools, or in the case of “strong” languages, the teacher is already a fluent native speaker of the language, but lacks the teaching skills to provide a coherent staged program of learning. What is needed then are alternative models to cater for these situations that focuses more on language teaching methodology, language reclamation and curriculum development for Indigenous languages.
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10. Conclusion Australian languages have an important place within the study of linguistics in Australian universities. The majority of Australian universities have at least one active researcher of Australian languages and many offer specialized courses in Australian linguistics. However few offer Indigenous language learning courses. In the few places where these are offered, they are typically offered by Indigenous Studies centres within universities and often as single courses of study as an elective within an Aboriginal Studies, Australian Studies, Linguistics or Applied Linguistics program. Language learning courses in Indigenous languages are highly vulnerable as it is difficult to attract sufficient numbers of students to meet the rising minimum class size criteria that are being imposed in tertiary institutions. There are no courses taught in Australian universities which engage Indigenous Australian languages as the medium of instruction, not even in specialized Indigenous tertiary institutions such as Batchelor Institute where the majority of students are first language speakers of Australian languages. This contrasts starkly with New Zealand where Maori language teaching programs are strongly entrenched within the tertiary sector and Maori is employed to teach specialized courses, such as computing. The University of Hawaii at Hilo also offers a wide range of courses, many of which are taught through the medium of Hawaiian language (see http://www.olelo.hawaii.edu/). The lack of funding directed to the tertiary sector has stifled the study of Indigenous languages, and especially the teaching of Indigenous languages. Indigenous languages are struggling for a niche within the tertiary sector. Their place is highly dependent on individuals, internal politics and the demand, or lack thereof, for knowledge of and skills in Indigenous languages outside the tertiary sector. There is an acute need for additional courses in and about Aboriginal languages at tertiary level, though this need at present does not translate to a demand for large classes. This is clearly demonstrated in the case of interpreting and translation. In Adelaide, there are just three persons who provide interpreting and translation services in Pitjantjatjara, a Western Desert language from the northwest of South Australia. Western Desert languages actually span one fifth of the Australian continent crossing over into Western Australia and the Northern Territory. Thus a speaker of Pitjantjatjara is able to communicate with speakers of other closely related languages across this vast area. Two of these three interpreters have reached retirement age, but are in constant demand from hospitals and law courts in Adelaide. There is an acute need for training to enable younger speakers to take over this role. However,
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the demand is such that there is no chance of ever establishing a viable class according to conventional measures. The training of two or three persons is probably sufficient, though it would be nice to have a larger pool of people with the skills. Whilst there is more demand for courses of instruction in specific Indigenous languages and for courses in Aboriginal languages curriculum development, teaching methods and research methods, conventional class sizes for many such courses are also probably unattainable. Standard minimum class sizes are simply not appropriate and a different set of criteria need to be invoked to adequately serve the needs of Indigenous languages and their communities. The two or three attempts, at CDU, Edith Cowan and in Adelaide, to establish programs of study within universities to support teachers of Indigenous languages were short-lived or never materialized. Indigenous languages must be regarded as a special case. They are, after all, Australia’s unique irreplaceable linguistic heritage. Now ways must be found to deliver courses in and about Indigenous languages, and to deliver courses that impart skills needed for language work in the community and schools. These are life and death issues. This may mean, of course, that some courses need to be provided on a fee for service basis to health departments, correctional services, police or other agencies. Something along the lines of the 2006 Pilot Indigenous Language Teacher Fellowships may be the way forward, so long as such proposals are informed by research and are meeting real identified needs. The number of researchers of Australian languages has grown slowly over the years. Surprisingly, where Indigenous languages are strongest – in the Northern Territory – the number of linguists working on Australian languages has actually shrunk, both within the Northern Territory Education Department, CDU and Batchelor, whilst in Melbourne, located far away from most speakers of Indigenous languages, numbers of Australianists has grown. The scope of research into Indigenous languages and associated issues has broadened considerably from the narrow descriptive/comparative focus of the 1970s. Despite the fact that relatively few viable Australian Indigenous languages remain, there are still numerous avenues for research. References Amery, Rob 1986 Yolngu-Matha for Use by Members of the Health Profession in North East Arnhemland (Gumatj Dialect). Nhulunbuy: NT Health.
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Amery, Rob 1998 Warrabarna Kaurna! Reclaiming Aboriginal languages from written historical sources: Kaurna case study. Doctoral dissertation (2 vols.), University of Adelaide. 2000 Warrabarna Kaurna! Reclaiming an Australian Language. Lisse, The Netherlands: Swets and Zeitlinger. 2001 Language planning and language revival, Current Issues in Language Planning 2 (2–3): 141–221. (forthc.) A history of language revival initiatives in Australia. In A History of Linguistic Research in Australian Aboriginal Languages, William McGregor (ed.). Canberra: Pacific Linguistics. Berndt, Ronald and Catherine Berndt, with John Stanton 1993 A World that Was: The Yaraldi of the Murray River and the Lakes, South Australia. Carlton, Vic.: Melbourne University Press at the Miegunyah Press. Blake, Barry, and Robert M. W. Dixon 1991 Introduction. In Handbook of Australian Languages. Vol. 4, Barry Blake and Robert M.W. Dixon (eds.), 1–28. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Blythe, Joe, and R. McKenna Brown (eds.) 2003 Maintaining the Links. Language, Identity and the Land. Proceedings of the Seventh Conference Presented by the Foundation for Endangered Languages, Broome, Western Australia. Bath, England: Foundations for Endangered Languages. Bowern, Claire 2003 Laves’ Bardi texts. In Maintaining the Links. Language, Identity and the Land. Proceedings of the Seventh Conference Presented by the Foundation for Endangered Languages, Broome, Western Australia, Joe Blythe and R. McKenna Brown (eds.), 137–143. Bath, England: Foundations for Endangered Languages. Bradley, David, and Maya Bradley 2002 Language Endangerment and Language Maintenance. London: Routledge. Cass, Alan, Anne Lowell, Michael Christie, Paul L. Snelling, Melinda Flack, Betty Marrnganyin, and Isaac Brown 2002 Sharing the true stories: Improving communication between Aboriginal patients and healthcare workers. Medical Journal of Australia 176: 466–470.
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Commonwealth of Australia 1991 Australia’s Language. The Australian Language and Literacy Policy. Canberra: AGPS. 2004 ATSIS 2003–2004 Annual Report, Department of Communication, Information Technology and the Arts, Canberra. Cooke, Michael 1995 Aboriginal evidence in the cross-cultural courtroom. In Language in Evidence: Issues Confronting Aboriginal and Multicultural Australia, Diana Eades (ed.), 55–96. Kensington: University of New South Wales Press. Dixon, Robert M. W. 1991 The endangered languages of Australia, Indonesia and Oceania. In Endangered Languages, Robert H. Robins and Eugenius M. Uhlenbeck (eds.), 229–255. Oxford: Berg. Dixon, Robert M. W. , William S. Ramson, and Mandy Thomas 1990 Australian Aboriginal Words in English: Their Origin and Meaning. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Eades, Diana (ed.) 1995 Language in Evidence: Issues Confronting Aboriginal and Multicultural Australia, Kensington: University of New South Wales Press. Eckert, Paul, and Joyce Hudson 1988 Wangka Wiru: A Handbook for the Pitjantjatjara Language Learner. Underdale: South Australian College of Advanced Education. Edwards, Bill 1995 Teaching an Aboriginal language at university level. Babel 30 (2): 4– 11. Gale, Mary-Anne 1990 A review of bilingual education in Aboriginal Australia. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 13 (2): 40–80. 1993 Code-switching, Manymak or Yaka Manymak?: A discussion paper on language use, language shift and language loss. Occasional Paper 2: 1– 32. Darwin: Centre for Studies of Language Education, Northern Territory University. 1997 Dhaƾum Djorra’wuy Dhäwu. A History of Writing in Aboriginal Languages. Adelaide: Aboriginal Research Institute, University of South Australia.
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Glass, Amee, and Dorothy Hackett 1979 Medical Phrases from Three Western Desert Languages. Subiaco, W.A.: Human Sciences Research Pty. Harkins, Jean 1994 Bridging Two Worlds: Aboriginal English and Crosscultural Understanding. St Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Harris, Stephen 1990 Two Way Aboriginal Schooling: Education and Cultural Survival. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Haspelmath, Martin, Matthew Dryer, David Gil and Bernard Comrie (eds.) 2005 World Atlas of Language Structures. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Haviland, John B. 1993 Anchoring, iconicity, and orientation in Guugu Yimithirr pointing gestures. Journal of Linguistic Anthropology 3 (1): 3–45. Henderson, John, and David Nash (eds.) 2002 Languages in Native Title. (Native Title Research Series.) Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Hercus, Luise, Flavia Hodges, and Jane Simpson (eds.) 2002 The Land is a Map: Placenames of Indigenous Origin in Australia. Canberra: Pandanus Books in asssociation with Pacific Linguistics. Hosking, Dianne F., Tony J. Lonsdale, Jaky F. Troy, and Michael J. Walsh 2000 Strong Language Strong Culture, New South Wales Strategic Language Study. Final Report and Strategic Action Plan. Canberra: AIATSIS. Kirke, Brian 1984 Wangka Kulintjaku. (Talk so as to be Understood). Underdale: University of South Australia (formerly South Australian College of Advanced Education). Leitner, Gerhard 2000a Lexical frequencies in a 300 million word corpus of Australian newspapers: Analysis and interpretation. International Journal of Corpus Linguistics 5 (2): 1–32. 2000b Der Beitrag der Sprachen der Aborigines für das australische Englisch. In Australien auf dem Weg ins 21. Jahrhundert, Rudolf Bader (ed.), 47–70. Tübingen: Stauffenburg Verlag.
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Leitner, Gerhard 2001 The Aboriginal contribution to mainstream Australian English. A corpus-based study. In Text – Varieties – Translation, Albrecht Neubert, Wolfgang Thiele, and Christian Todenhagen (eds.), 130–171. Tübingen: Stauffenburg Verlag. 2004 Australia’s Many Voices. Australian English – the National Language. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Leitner, Gerhard, and Inke Sieloff 1998 Aboriginal words and concepts in Australian English. World Englishes 17 (2): 153–169. Lo Bianco, Joseph 1987 National Policy on Languages. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Lowell, Anne 2001 Communication and Cultural Knowledge in Aboriginal Health Care. A Review of Two Subprograms of the Cooperative Research Centre for Aboriginal and Tropical Health’s Indigenous Health and Education Research Program. Casuarina NT: The Cooperative Research Centre for Aboriginal and Tropical Health. McConvell, Patrick 1991 Cultural domain separation: Two-way street or blind alley? Stephen Harris and the Neo-Whorfians on Aboriginal education. Australian Aboriginal Studies 1: 12–24. McConvell, Patrick, and Nicholas Thieberger 2001 State of Indigenous Languages in Australia – 2001. Canberra: Department of the Environment and Heritage. [http://www.deh.gov.au/ soe/techpapers/languages/, acc. July 8, 2006] McConvell, Patrick, Rob Amery, Mary-Anne Gale, Christine Nicholls, Jonathan Nicholls, Lester Irabinna Rigney, and Simone Ulalka Tur 2002 “Keep that Language Going!” A Needs-Based Review of the Status of Indigenous Languages in South Australia. (A Consultancy Carried Out by the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies for the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission, South Australia. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies.) McGregor, Bill (forthc.) History of research of Australian Aboriginal languages. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics.
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McKay, Graham 1996 The Land Still Speaks. Review of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Language Maintenance and Development Needs and Activities. Canberra: Australian Government Publication Service. McNamara, Tim 2001 The roots of applied linguistics in Australia. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics 24 (1): 13–29. Mercurio, Antonio and Rob Amery 1996 Can senior secondary studies help to maintain and strengthen Australia’s Indigenous languages? In Papers on Language Endangerment and the Maintenance of Linguistic Diversity, Bobaljik, Pensalfini and Storto (eds.), 25–57. Cambridge, Mass.: Department of Linguistics, MIT. Mühlhäusler, Peter 1996 Linguistic Ecology: Language Change and Linguistic Imperialism in the Pacific Region.. London: Routledge. Nash, David 1993 Gerhard Laves obituary. Australian Aboriginal Studies 1: 101–102. SSABSA (Senior Secondary Assessment Board of South Australia) 1996 Australia’s Indigenous Languages Framework. Wayville, SA: Senior Secondary Assessment Board of South Australia. Thieberger, Nicholas 1988 Aboriginal Language Maintenance: Some Issues and Strategies. Master’s dissertation, Latrobe University, Melbourne. Thieberger, Nicholas (ed.) 1995 Paper and Talk: A Manual for Reconstituting Materials in Australian Indigenous Languages from Historical Sources. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Tindale, Norman B. 1974 Aboriginal Tribes of Australia: Their Terrain, Environmental Controls, Distribution, Limits and Proper Names. Berkeley/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press. Trudgen, Richard 2000 Djambatj Mala. Why Warriors Lie Down and Die. Darwin: Aboriginal Resource and Development Services. Walsh, Michael 2001 A case of language revitalization in ‘settled’ Australia. Current Issues in Language Planning 2 (2–3): 251–258.
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Walsh, Michael 2002 Teaching NSW’s Indigenous languages lessons from elsewhere. (Prepared for the Aboriginal Curriculum Unit of the NSW Board of Studies.) [http://www.boardofstudies.nsw.edu.au/aboriginal_research/ pdf_doc/teach_indig_lang_nsw_walsh.pdf] 2003 Raising Babel: Language revitalization in New South Wales, Australia. In Maintaining the Links. Language, Identity and the Land. Proceedings of the Seventh Conference Presented by the Foundation for Endangered Languages, Broome, Western Australia, Joe Blythe and R. McKenna Brown (eds.), 113–117. Bath, England: Foundations for Endangered Languages. forthc. Will Indigenous languages survive? Annual Review of Anthropology 34. Wilkins, David 1992 Linguistic research under Aboriginal control: A personal account of fieldwork in Central Australia. Australian Journal of Linguistics 12: 171–200. 1999 Spatial deixis in Arrernte speech and gesture: On the analysis of a species of composite signal as used by a Central Australian Aboriginal group. (Paper 6.) In Proceedings of the Workshop on Deixis, Demonstration and Deictic Belief in Multimedia Contexts, Held on Occasion of ESSLI XI, Workshop Held in the Section ‘Language and Computation’ as Part of the Eleventh European Summer School in Logic, Language and Information, August 9–20, 1999, Elisabeth André, Massimo Poesio, and Hannes Rieser (eds.), 31–45. Utrecht, The Netherlands: Utrecht University
Web pages Aboriginal Studies Electronic Data Archive (ASEDA) [http://coombs.anu.edu.au/SpecialProj/ASEDA/ASEDA.html] Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS) website [http://www.aiatsis.gov.au/index.htm] Batchelor Institute of Indigenous Tertiary Education [http://www.batchelor.edu.au/] David Nash’s Australian Languages pages [http://www.anu.edu.au/linguistics/nash/aust/] David Nathan’s Aboriginal Languages of Australia Virtual Library
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[http://www.dnathan.com] DEST (Department of Education, Science and Training) 2005 RFT PRN 7540 – 2006 Pilot Indigenous Language Teacher Fellowships. [http://www.dest.gov.au/portfolio_department/dest_ information/tenders_business_opportunities/tenders_2005/rft7540.htm, acc. 15 June 2005] Endeavour Language Teaching Fellowships webpages [http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/school_education/programmes_ funding/programme_categories/key_priorities/endeavour_language_tea ching_fellowships/default.htm, accessed 15 June 2005] Kaurna Language and Culture Course at the University of South Australia [http://www.unisanet.unisa.edu.au/Courses/course.asp?Course= HUMS4005] Pitjantjatjara Language Course at the University of South Australia [http://www.unisanet.unisa.edu.au/Courses/course.asp?Course= 006912] Yolngu Languages Courses at Charles Darwin University [http://learnline.cdu.edu.au/yolngustudies/]
International Web Sites First Voices web pages (British Columbia) at [http://www.firstvoices.com/] Kualono, University of Hawaii webpages at [http://www.olelo.hawaii.edu/eng/index.html] MƗori Language Commission pages at [http://www.tetaurawhiri.govt.nz/]
Tyikim/Blekbala perspectives on language Terry Ngarritjan-Kessaris and Linda Ford Terry Thank you mine country, countrymen and old people before us. Thank you for lookin after us and giving us language so we can look after country and one another. Thank you also to the editors Ian Malcolm and Gerhard Leitner, the publishers, Linda Ford for agreeing to co-author with me, and to Michael Christie Wamut (Wamut is in uncle relationship to Ngarritjan) and fellow authors. I am Terry Ngarritjan Kessaris, and my mob and country are Alawa, Mara and Garrawa in the Top End of the Northern Territory (N.T.). Addressing the country and our ancestors is a vital part of our Blekbala/ Tyikim cultural protocols including when we speak publicly. In this chapter Linda Ford and I individually present our Blekbala/Tyikim language experiences and issues. Linda Yu! Ngatla ni-nni! Wuwa ngung kayaman tyangi! Pilu ngung! (The country’s listening to me and watching my actions of work for my country!). I would like to acknowledge and recognize the Pilu and Koonie Koonie (ancestral spirits) of this country. I also would like to thank the editors of this book and Terry Ngarritjan-Kessaris for inviting me to co-author this chapter. I am Linda Ford, Dalyak for Rak Mak Mak Marranunggu clan from Kurrindju in the Northern Territory. Linda Tyikim is the Mak Mak word for ourselves. It is equivalent in meaning, for example, to Yolngu (East Arhnem, NT), Blekbella (NT Creole), Koorie (Vic/NSW/ACT), Palawa (Tas), Murri (QLD), Nyungar (WA) and Nungga (SA). Tyikim is used in preference to ‘Indigenous’ except where there is a policy or institutional reference to Indigenous Australians. In this chapter I have used Tyikim to refer both to Mak Mak clan members specifically and to Indigenous Australians generally.
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Padakoot is the Mak Mak word for non-Indigenous people. It is equivalent, for example, to Balanda (East Arhnem, NT), Watjbella (NT Creole), Gaba (Vic/NSW/ACT), Migaloo (QLD), and Wadjula (WA). Wuwa ngung is about my Tyikim space and the country to which I belong as a Tyikim custodian. The languages and the cultural practice provide Tyikim with the communicative tools in modern times to continue our beliefs and to engage in the Tyikim protocols and undertake our cultural responsibilities to look after country. The languages that need to be utilized in our current practices to look after country are multiplied by the various contexts that Tyikim people are expected to understand and know intimately. This is the problem. Languages, literacy and numeracy create barriers in the space in which we are all supposed to belong together and be the same. This is complicated for Indigenous people located within the Australian landscape embedded in the historical terrains by a legacy of racism and bias towards us as a minority cultural group. The Tyikim languages are heard and recorded but we need also the investment of the ‘researchers’ moral support in returning to the subjects of their research to assist them with their struggles as their culture is undergoing huge socio-economic and political changes. Wuwa ngung This section discusses my Indigenous knowledge systems of the Rak Mak Mak Marranunggu and Marithiel people in current practices and within my lived experiences. As a child I grew up speaking my Ahla’s (mother’s) languages from the headwaters of the Finniss River to the mouth of the Finniss River. I understood explicitly where my cultural responsibilities were located with ngung-family. I learnt from my early Western educational experiences at Batchelor Area School in the Northern Territory that Tyikim peoples’ accommodation of Western knowledge systems as a community of speakers and learners didn’t mean a lot to the Padakoot (non-Indigenous) teachers, parents or the other children at school. But to my family obtaining a Western education would provide more information for my family to engage with a new cultural way of looking after ourselves. This meant many cultural sacrifices and displacement from country and family to attend university. I learnt that Tyikim had to be more accommodating of the dominant Western culture and its practices than Padakoot were in accommodating our cultures and languages. The up-take of Tyikim and Western paradigms continues to prove how difficult are the cultural barriers that exist between the two cultures.
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Tyikim academics challenge the stereotypes used by Padakoot people in constructing Tyikim people. The stereotypical use of language by Padakoot continues to serve to sustain the ongoing systemic racism in the new world order. The Tyikim people that are able to access education are continuously struggling against the daily issues of contesting knowledge systems. In the Northern Territory, not all Tyikim people have reasonable access to education services that address Tyikim peoples and their learning needs. The reason relates to the core curriculum addressing Tyikim learning and teaching needs, its delivery of education services sustained through the lack of investment of resources and staff in education services and infrastructure in rural, remote and urban communities in the Northern Territory. Not all Tyikim children have an opportunity to access speakers of their own Tyikim language at school. However, where there are larger populations of Tyikim speakers that have had linguists record and document their languages with them, they are able to have their languages taught in one of the 15 bilingual schools that exist in the Northern Territory. Tyikim languages and the diversity of Tyikim culture need to be accommodated into the contemporary core curriculum and must be delivered by Tyikim teachers. To improve the Northern Territory’s educational outcomes for Tyikim children this must be acted upon otherwise we will continue to see educational outcomes spiral downward with little improvement. The reform of core curriculum is necessary for the engagement of the Indigenous nations of Australia. The Australian education institutions will find it difficult to engage Indigenous people in meaningful ways to participate in the socio-economic and political life of the States and Territories. Indigenous disadvantage and poverty will therefore become significantly worse than they are today unless something is done immediately to improve the foundations of the educational institutions’ core curriculum to address the educational needs of Tyikim people. Tyikim/Blekbala perspectives on Indigenous research I want to ensure that the Tyikim knowledge of the Rak Mak Mak Marranunggu and Marrithiel clans is embedded in my own Tyikim interpretation of education research servicing my Tyikim education needs. I wanted this so that others that read my work are aware that my Mak Mak identity is strong and powerfully represented in my Tyikim education and research reality, a reality expressed through the creation of research servicing Tyikim interests. I want my Mak Mak philosophy to be known! I want it to be
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heard and shared and by doing the research in this way people will know that I exist and that I am not a figment of the ‘colonizing gaze’. Over the past three decades there has been huge political agitation by Tyikim people and their communities to reform Western research practices in Tyikim research. As Tyikim researchers today, we continue with the same struggle that the Australian Research Council identified: Political groups which have advocated political advancement moved to advocacy and demand for Indigenous rights (human rights, land rights, minority rights). There was (and is) a continuing demand for Indigenous perspectives and participation in the academy (National Board of Employment, Education and Training, Australian Research Council 1999: 23).
The push for autonomy and decolonization has been registered by Tyikim peoples in Australia across the domains of political and human rights and now into the domain of knowledge rights. The struggle over Tyikim knowledge rights is squarely in the field of Tyikim research. This struggle is over research-in-action (Japanangka-West 2000) undertaken by Tyikim people ourselves. The three principles of Indigenist research (Irabinna-Rigney 1999), resistance, political integrity and privileging Indigenous voices in research management and practice seem to me to be significant in the struggle over Tyikim knowledge rights. Research implemented in isolation from the principle of resistance as an emancipatory imperative is a dangerous option for Tyikim communities given the ideological force of Western research as a field of imperialistic knowledge-creation. Research applied without a clear understanding of the principle of political integrity for Tyikim community interests or without privileging Tyikim voices during the research-in-action, has much lowered prospects of satisfying the fundamentals of Indigenist research (Henry et al. 2002: 13). The higher education landscape has already been quite securely shaped to reflect Western ways of knowing, being and acting. Tyikim academics, acting as “custodians, authorities, and points of references for Indigenous perspectives in the curricula” (Nakata 2004: 12), and in research, but isolated from their own community knowledge well-springs and energy, are in danger of losing their way in the struggle towards attaining the goals of the Indigenous research agenda (IRA). Booran Mirraboopa (2001: 5) has developed a three-dimensional framework for Indigenous research which draws on what is known about Entities (ways of knowing), establishing relations amongst Entities (ways of being) and practising ways of maintaining these relations (ways of doing).
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For Booran Mirraboopa, ways of knowing are informed by metaphorical knowledge relating to social, political, historical and spatial dimensions of individuals, the group and interactions with outsiders. Knowledge is accessed “through processes of listening, sensing, viewing, reviewing, reading, watching, waiting, observing, exchanging, sharing, conceptualizing, assessing, modelling, engaging and applying” (2001: 5). But sets of knowledges are attributed to particular persons or Entities associated with specific roles. “(N)o one person … knows all” (2001: 6) but there are different types and levels of knowledge functioning for the group in maintaining a network of relationships. Further, ways of being are derived from protocols and obligations and reciprocal relationships people exercise while on their own country and that of others. These extend to relationships amongst Tyikim people more generally. “In these instances, we immediately set about establishing identity, interests and connections to determine our relatedness (Booran Mirraboopa 2001: 6). Relationality is a core aspect of Tyikim ways of being. And, ways of doing are expressions of individual and group identities and roles. These are a synthesis of Tyikim ways of knowing and being. “We become tangible proof of our ontology and its construction … we are able to show (Do) respectfully and rightfully (Being) what we know (Knowing)” (Booran Mirraboopa 2001: 7). In my research I have employed metaphors from my oral tradition that reinforces the idea that Tyikim ontologies can help in theorizing Indigenous research and its management by senior Tyikim academics in universities. I have drawn from my childhood and adult experiences of growing up in Northern Australia where we relied on the skills, experience and expertise of older siblings and Elders in our kinship system. They knew and understood the landscape and what was required of them in their duty of care for us younger ones’ safety and security, as we all had to survive for the day. We would all head off together, laughing, cajoling and coaxing each other on our journey to where we knew there would be plenty of good things to eat and plenty of fresh water to drink. We all understood that the landscape would nourish all of us as it had plenty to offer. As we would arrive at particular ‘hot spots’ the eldest children would cordon off designated areas for harvesting by each of us and we weren’t allowed to ‘trespass’. We all had to find our own source of nourishment, unless you were the youngest or a ‘visitor’ and then one of the elder children or adults would share their spoils with you. These hunting and gathering rites as ways of knowing, being and doing can be related to the IRA. One would expect senior Tyikim academics to assist new Tyikim researchers to ‘harvest’ the research landscape in appropriate
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ways sharing their Tyikim ontologically informed knowledge instead of adopting a position of authority within the University’s imperialistic ontology and acting as the ‘gatekeepers’ to Tyikim research on terms that are contrary to the IRA philosophy. Tyikim research must have the ‘hunting’ and ‘gathering’ ideologies embedded in its theory and practice to ensure that Tyikim knowledge systems have a chance of being accommodated authentically within this alien landscape. Yu! Waki ninni marrung. Ma! Terry Firstly, I will use Aboriginal English to share a small story about my early language experiences. Then I’ll switch to Standard Australian English to provide some historical background to my language use, make connections between language and identity, discuss Indigenous language research issues and refer to similar issues raised in other chapters by fellow writers. I only speak for myself. I have no rights to speak in this paper for other people and other Blekbala may or may not agree with me. Lilbida (little bit of) history I grew up thinkin that me’n my family couldn’t speak proper (‘correct’) English. We all reckoned (‘believed/thought’) that we were talkin slang. I used to get pulled up (‘corrected’) all the time for how I spoke and I had to work real hard to say them English words in a way that Munungas (‘white people’) didn’t judge me or put me down. And it wasn’t just how words sounded or what was left in or left out, it was also that there were different meanings behind them same English words. Like I remember the time when I was only small growing up on Newcastle Waters Station in The Northern Territory. Some of the Mununga station kids told me that my Nanna couldn’t be my real grandmother. They said she couldn’t be because she wasn’t mother for my father or for my mother. Hearing this cut me deep and I was proper broken-hearted (‘devastated’). English-way she was my grandfather’s sister, my mother’s aunty, and so my great-aunty. Blekbala-way Nanna was boss (Mum happily deferred to her regarding my upbringing) for me’n my sister and was mother (along with my mother) as well as grandmother for us. After that I never used to give too many details for family connections. I had to be careful how I spoke about my family so that Munungas didn’t disrespect us.
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Anyway, through school I learnt to leave the ‘slang’ at home or only use it with other countrymen (Indigenous people) or my closest friends who I felt safe to be ‘me’ with. It wasn’t till I was at university, doing some applied linguistic electives, that I heard the term ‘Aboriginal English’ for the first time and I felt real good bintji (good feeling in the stomach – happy) about my language in a situation when I was around Munungas. Now I often put ‘Aboriginal English and Kriol’ down on official forms that ask what language me’n my karus (‘children’) speak at home. I’m still careful though, and I know that Munungas usually find it hard to understand me if I speak same as I speak at home. But I always gotta be the one to change – ‘bout time Mununga changed too! (Unfortunately I am expected to make the compromises as Blekbala usually are, and it is about time that Mununga compromised as well). Family and language background Even though my traditional lands lie in the Roper River and Boroloola regions in the Top End of the Northern Territory, my growing up years were divided between Newcastle Waters Station (central NT) and Darwin (coastal NT). My upbringing was shared between my parents and my grandparents and their histories revolve around being taken from ancestral lands and institutionalized on Christian missions. In particular, my mother’s father and mother, and her aunty (my nanna) were taken from their families and country and put on the Anglican mission run by the Church Missionary Society of Australia at Roper River in the NT in the early 1900s. They were taken there when they were very young children and kept in the mission until young adults. My family told me that while at the mission, contact was initially allowed between the children and some of their families who camped or lived nearby. Fortunately, a certain amount of language, knowledge and customs were passed on despite the missionaries discouraging local language use and propagating English. Unfortunately however, Roper River was one of the first areas in the Top End of the NT to feel the brunt of English colonization and our traditional languages suffered enormously from the onslaught of English. Construction materials and supplies needed to construct the Alice Springs to Darwin telegraph line were brought in via the Roper River and a number of Mununga people lived in and around there (Cole 1981). Consequently, mission authorities felt that there were too many immoral influences at Roper River for the mission kids and they decided to establish a
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‘half-caste’ mission at Groote Eylandt, an island to the north-west. This was done not only to remove the kids from the influences of ‘immoral Whites’ but also of ‘pagan Blacks’ (Cole 1971). The children and youth taken to Groote Eylandt were then completely cut off from kin and country and contact between the mission kids and Groote Eylandt traditional owners was also strongly discouraged. As a result, my grandparents were not fluent in their traditional languages. Instead they spoke Kriol as well as an Aboriginalized form of English and these are the languages which I grew up hearing and speaking. My language use has also been influenced by contact with Mudbura and Jingilli speakers at Newcastle Waters Station and the Darwin style Aboriginal English spoken on Larrakia country, where Darwin is situated. In addition, I learnt to understand, speak, read and write Standard Australian English. This came from the Mununga speech and text environment including school and personal contact with Mununga people. I am now reasonably proficient in Standard Australian English. Even so, it is not me because it is the colonizers’ language. I have to remain vigilant about its power to colonize our languages, minds and country and I have to stay strong in my own language traditions. Tjykim/Blekbala reflections on experiences and current issues The most common language of the majority of Blekbala people in Australia is a regional variety of Aboriginal English (Malcolm and Grote, this vol.). Despite Aboriginal English sounding recognizably English, Malcolm and Grote assert that it differs from Standard Australian English at all linguistic levels. It has been my experience that, regardless of the particular form that our regional languages take, it is the commonly understood ways in which we use language that create Indigenous meanings and foster mutually recognisable and satisfying communication between Indigenous speakers. This also applies to communication between Indigenous people and nonIndigenous people who are grounded and socialized in Indigenous styles of communicating. Malcolm and Grote declare “While varieties of Aboriginal English are mutually intelligible across Australia, the lexical, grammatical, and phonological differences between varieties reflect the influences within the local habitat.” When I arrived on Nyungar land in Perth Western Australia, I learnt and was taught some Nyungar English. However, mutual understandings between Nyungar people and I were enhanced rather than dependent on knowing the specifics of Nyungar English. It has been my experience that despite the
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differences in language varieties, geographic locations, and differences in outward appearances, commonly understood Indigenous communicative features alert us to, and reinforce shared understandings that affirm individual and group identities. Farzad Sharifian in his chapter (this vol.) explains this notion of mutual understandings that are not dependent on a specific variety of language. He uses the term cultural conceptualizations to refer to schemas and categories that are culturally constructed. My reading of Sharifian’s work is that cultural conceptualizations are expressed by individuals but are evidence of a type of collective thinking that is cultural in nature. He says, [C]ultural conceptualizations are constantly negotiated and renegotiated, either explicitly or implicitly, by the members of a cultural group across time and space and provide, among other things, underlying norms for thinking and behaviour. (this vol., p 112)
This undermines the common stereotypical idea that ‘urban’ Indigenous people have no culture or at least no ‘real’ culture, or have ‘lost’ a lot of their culture and are ‘less authentic’ than Indigenous people in remote areas. There is a big difference between rituals and culture. Many of our rituals may not have survived the various waves of colonial assault but our underlying world views and cultures have. These are evident in the cultural conceptualizations readily recognized and understood across the many language groups in this country. Walsh (this vol.) explores the recurring question of whether language loss equals the loss of culture by making reference to the Tlingit peoples’ experience in Alaska. He highlights the fact that a distinctive Tlingit culture has survived even though the majority of the group do not speak Tlingit language. I support this position because language is as much about how it is used as it is about its other functions. Walsh also shares that he is cautiously optimistic about Indigenous language and cultural survival despite rather gloomy indications of ongoing language loss. His optimism is based on the anticipation that research on Indigenous languages will be undertaken by Indigenous people to a much greater degree as Indigenous people increase access to research skill development and research opportunities. This is an area that Mununga linguists can help make a difference to by creating spaces for Blekbala researchers in their own right and by encouraging and nurturing the academic development of Blekbala linguists/language researchers.
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Linguist Eve Fesl (1993), a Murri woman from southern Queensland, has combined her Gubbi-Gubbi and Gungulu knowledges and skills with Western disciplinary knowledge and skills to strongly challenge the forced primacy and assimilating effects of English on Koori lives and defends our right to be literate in our own languages. In her book ‘Conned!’(1993) she is critical of Indigenous language policies in Australia that have undermined our languages, a process that she refers to as ‘linguistic imperialism’ (p.175). For instance, in the 1991 Australian Language and Literacy Policy (commonly referred to as the White Paper ), it seems that ‘Aboriginal Literacy’ is paternalistically interpreted as ‘English Literacy’. Fesl writes, Disguised under the heading of “Aboriginal Literacy” within the Aboriginal languages monetary allocation, it is clear that the lion’s share of money was made available for “literacy in English” – not for literacy in Aurtralian languages (Fesl, 1993, p.175)
The entry of increasing numbers of Blekbala people into academia has meant that Western knowledge traditions are being problematised from a Blekbala perspective, as has been the case with the topic of research.. Indigenous related research has come under scrutiny in recent years by Indigenous academics (Booran Mirraboopa-Martin, 2005; Irrabina-Rigney, 2002; Smith 1999) and they have challenged the status quo and articulated more ‘Indigenous –friendly’ research forms. It is an important issue for language researchers to consider because whilst Indigenous language research may be well intentioned and make valuable contributions to a body of knowledge about Indigenous languages, research processes can still be colonizing and disempowering for Indigenous people. This can happen, for example, when Western frameworks of language analysis are used uncritically to understand Indigenous languages. Yolngu languages, according to Christie (1993) are organized around the “connective strands from the creative work of ancestors, rather than in a hierarchy…” (p. 61). English taxonomy, the classification of living things into higher and lower order entities, is an example of hierarchical understandings and is reflective of a hierarchical culture (Christie 1993). The unquestioned application of hierarchical understandings in Indigenous contexts is a colonial practice. Christie (1993) also informs us of another relevant practice. He asserts that while Yolngu dialogue is revealing of personal background information such as the speaker’s positioning in country, kin and subject matter in addition to the subject being discussed, there is usually no expectation of this in English dialogue. English speakers can freely discuss subject matter without having to
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reveal anything of their own background. Consequently, there is a belief in the reality of ‘objectivity’ when in actuality subjectivity is hidden. This belief has been evident in much ‘objective’ research done in Indigenous contexts. The uncritical application of the myth of objectivity is a further colonial practice. In contrast, the Yolngu Studies program offered at Charles Darwin University is a worthy example of how Indigenous related research processes and outcomes can be empowering for all concerned. Described by Amery (this vol.) as the most extensive language program taught in Australian Universities he reports that “Djambarrpuyngu, a Dhuwal variety of Yolngu Matha from northeast Arnhemland, was introduced by Michael Christie into Northern Territory University, now Charles Darwin University (CDU), in 1992.” This program, led by CDU academics Waymamba Gaykamaƾu, Michael Christie, John Greatorex and Betty Marrƾanyin won ‘The Prime Minister’s University Teacher of the Year Award’, the premier university teaching award in Australia, in November 2005. Whilst working in the same faculty as Michael Christie at NTU (now CDU) in the early 1990’s, I observed the beginning of this research process that sought to be accountable to Indigenous people in all its stages. From the outset Blekbala rights to knowledge and Blekbala knowledge management protocols were observed. Appropriate permission was sought from relevant people on relevant communities and their involvement and ownership was maintained. As well, cultural and language elders in the communities were kept well informed and guided the course, whilst Yolngu cultural and language experts were employed within it. The research accompanying the curriculum was generally collaborative and sought to accommodate both Western and Blekbala knowledge traditions. Importantly, Blekbala ways of doing things were incorporated where relevant into university systems and structures and the course was located in the recognized Blekbala space in the university that was then called The Faculty of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies. The success of the Yolngu Matha studies program shows that Indigenous language research can be done with integrity in universities. It is not easy and not perfect but Michael Christie used his position of research power in the university to do things proper way (ethically), the importance of which cannot be underestimated. As a result it is a win-win situation for Blekbala people and the university. That is, Blekbala people are central to Blekbala research and knowledge, and the university and its academics are recognized for quality research and teaching. Therefore, Djambarrpuyngu is given a huge boost in ensuring it not only survives but flourishes with the support of Yolngu Matha studies at CDU and
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I am very happy for my Yolngu brothers and sisters. Whilst it is imperative that our surviving traditional languages are protected and the number of speakers of traditional languages increased it is also important that Aboriginal English receives wider recognition and support for the benefit of the 75 percent who speak it (Christie 1993; Malcolm and Grote this vol.). However, one should not be promoted or resourced at the expense of the other. For instance, Fesl (1993) expresses concern that Kriol is replacing local languages in Northern Australia despite the wishes of local people to retain their languages. She is also concerned that non-local people usually opt for the convenience of learnng Kriol (easier to learn quickly because of the part English content) and whilst it aids their immediate communicative needs, it also aids the demise of local languages. Where local languages are spoken concerted efforts should be made by others including temporary residents and regular visitors to learn them. Even so, there is an obvious need for more resources to be put into the support of Aboriginal English as well as our traditional languages. As Eades (this vol.) explains, miscommunication problems are enormous between speakers of Aboriginal English and Standard English and unfortunately it has devastating consequences for Blekbala people in the courts and justice system. Partington and Galloway (this vol.) also identify language issues as a significant factor in the relative lack of Blekbala school success. They assert that the common “absence of Aboriginal languages and Aboriginal studies from the curriculum, and the presentation of Aboriginal culture in negative ways in schools” are key aspects of Indigenous educational disadvantage. I can attest to the absence of Indigenous language support in my own educational history, and little has changed. The first time I had my home language validated in a Western educational context was as an adult studying at the Northern Territory University. There I was introduced to the work of researchers who focused on how Blekbala used language (Christie 1985; Eades 1988; Harris 1984; Liberman 1985; von Sturmer 1981; Eagleson, Kaldor and Malcolm 1982) and I easily identified with much of it. I also recall that Stephen Harris, my lecturer at the time, skilfully and naturally used Kriol and Aboriginal English in a particular class and it not only made me feel proud, it made me feel it was normal to be there. Consequently I make deliberate efforts to use and explicitly validate Aboriginal English, in my own university teaching particularly amongst Indigenous students. Support for and recognition of Indigenous languages does make a difference. Significant recognition of Indigenous languages is provided by Leitner in his chapter (this vol.) that details ways in which Aboriginal languages have made contributions to English and how together, Aboriginal languages and
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English, have created a distinct Australian identity. The Ways Of Being, Ways Of Talk resource kit (Königsberg and Collard 2002) is another supportive initiative. It consists of four videos and a book and is designed primarily as a language resource for educators in schools. Information is delivered in both audio-visual and text form making it more accessible to Blekbala in school communities and it makes clear connections between language, history, culture and identity. Most academic work is inaccessible to Blekbala people in its direct form. When information is accessible, particularly in schools, there is greater likelihood of Blekbala success. Education has to accommodate Blekbala and Western ways. Raymatja Marika-Mununggiritj, in Michael Christie’s chapter (this vol.), describes a meeting of salt water and fresh water that is representative of the interface of Mununga and Blekbala traditions and while she is reassuring that the two very different traditions can work together, she warns that “There must be balance, if not either one will be stronger and will harm the other.” Unfortunately, over the years Blekbala traditions and Blekbala languages have been harmed by the overpowering tide of English traditions and language that have disregarded our boundaries, rights, knowledges and protocols. However, we can work towards achieving the balance that Raymatja refers to. For instance, it is important to be more aware and acknowledging of our societal and cultural and subjectivities in order to develop higher levels of reflexivity. It is also important to encourage rationality through working together in ethical relationships and observing Blekbala ethics in Indigenous related research. Finally, the contributions of all the authors in this book play a role in creating a healthier equilibrium. Addressing imabalances and creating structures and processes that maintain balance in Blekbala/Mununga interactions are ongoing challenges and goals for language researchers in Blekbala contexts in Australia. Ma! (Finish now) References Booran Mirraboopa (Martin, Karen) 2001 Ways of knowing, being and doing: A theoretical framework and methods for Indigenous and Indigenist research. [http://www.apinetwork.com/articles/index.php?jas76_martin, accessed 14 June 2006] [published in Journal of Australian Studies (January) 2003, n.p. on website under the authors second name Karen Martin, GL.]
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Christie, Michael J. 1985 Aboriginal perspectives on experience and learning: The role of language in Aboriginal education. Geelong: Deakin University Press. 1993 Yolngu linguistics Ngoonjook, A Journal of Australian Indigenous Issues (June 1993): 58–77. Cole, Keith 1983 A History of the Church Missionary Society of Australia. Bendigo, Vic.: Keith Cole Publications. Eades, Diana M. 1988 They don’t speak an Aboriginal language, or do they? In Being Black: Aboriginal Cultures in Settled Australia, Ian Keen (ed), 97–115. Canberra. Aboriginal Studies Press. Eagleson, Robert, Susan Kaldor, and Ian G. Malcolm 1982 English and the Aboriginal Child. Canberra: Curriculum Development Centre. Fesl, Eve Mumewa D. 1987 How The English Language Is Used to Put Koories Down, Deny Us Rights, Or Is Employed As A Political Tool Against Us. Monash University - Rev. 8/87 cited in Taking Time, A Women’s Historical Data Kit, Compiled & Edited by Yvonne Smith, Union of Australian Women,Appendix4,page87[http://home.vicnet.net.au/~womenweb/sour ces/Adopted%20Narratives/Eve_Fesl.htm, accessed 6/7/2006] 1993 Conned! St Lucia, Queensland: University of Queensland Press Harris, Stephen 1984 Culture and Learning; Tradition and Education in North-East Arnhem Land. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies. Henry, John, Terry Dunbar, Allan Arnott, Margaret Scrimgeour, Sally Matthews, Lorna Murakami-Gold, and Allison Chamberlain 2002 Indigenous Research Reform Agenda: Rethinking Research Methodologies. (Links Monograph Series 2.) Darwin: Cooperative Research Centre for Aboriginal & Tropical Health (CRCATH). Irabinna-Rigney, Lester 2002 Bread versus Freedom: Treaty and Stabilizing. (Yunggorendi First Nations Centre, Flinders University, National Treaty Conference, Canberra, 29th Aug 2002.) [http://www.flinders.edu.au/yunggorendi /staff/lester/Paper_no3_lirbread.pdf, 28 June 2006] Japanangka-West, Errol 2000 The Japanangka teaching and research paradigm: An Aboriginal framework. (Paper presented at the Indigenous Research and Postgraduate
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Forum, Aboriginal Research Institute, University of South Australia, 18 – 20 September, 2000). Königsberg, Patricia and Glenys Collard (eds.) 2002 Ways of Being, Ways of Talk. Perth, W.A.: Western Australian Department of Education. Liberman, Kenneth 1985 Understanding Interaction in Central Australia: An EthnoMethodological Study of Australian Aboriginal People. Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Nakata, Martin 2004 The Wentworth Lectures. (Indigenous Australian Studies and Higher Education.) Sydney: Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies, [http://www.aiatsis.gov.au/lbry/dig_prgm/wentworth/ wentworthcontents.htm, accessed 1 October 2005] National Board of Employment, Education and Training, and Australian Research Council 1999 Research of Interest to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples. (Commissioned Report No. 59.) [http://www.arc.gov.au, accessed 1 Oct 2005] Sandefur, John 1983 Modern Australian Aboriginal languages: The present state of knowledge. English World-Wide 4 (1): 43–68. Smith, Linda. T. 1999 Decolonising Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples.. London: Zed Books von Sturmer, John 1981 Talking with Aborigines. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies.
Name and author index Aboriginal Justice Implementation Commission (of Canada) 113 Aklif, Gedda 42 Alisjahbana, S. Takdir 134 Alpher, Barry 28, 183 Amery, Rob 13, 24, 43, 90, 92, 94, 101, 109, 254, 258, 279, 329, 331, 335, 336, 366 Andersson, Lars-Gunnar 156 Andersson, T. 140 Ariss, Robert 167 Arthur, Jay M. 5, 6, 25, 26, 138, 154, 189, 190 Attwood, Bain 240 Austin, Peter 25, 93, 94, 187, 328 Babia, Mariana 342 Baker, Sidney J. 141, 145, 198 Baldauf, Richard B. Jr. 101, 115, 117 Banks, Joseph 3, 4, 5, 197, 203, 208, 211 Barwick, Linda 91 Basso, Kenneth. H. 308 Baudin, Nicola 3, 206, 207 Bavin, Edith 332 Beacroft, Laura 320 Beazley, Kim 109, 110 Bell, Diane 218, 219, 220, 223 Bennelong (see also Arabano) 6, 138 Bepuka 65 Beresford, Quentin 11, 249 Berk-Seligson, Susan 309 Berndt, Ronald M. and Catherine H. 134, 220, 329, 330 Bernstein, Basil 160 Berry, Rosalind 252 Birch, Bruce 91 Birdsall, Chris 190 Biritjalawuy, Dorothy 62
Black, Paul 11, 90, 331 Blackledge, Adrian 166 Blake, Barry J. 9, 25, 28, 29, 31, 87, 329, 330, 332, 333, 334 Blythe, Joe 335 Booran Mirraboopa [see also Martin, Karen] 358, 359, 364 Boswell, Judith 248 Bot, Kees de 11 Bougainville, Hyacinthe de 3 Bourke, Colin 250 Bowern, Claire 9, 26, 42, 334 Boyer, M. 140 Bradley, David and Maya 333 Breen, John Gavan 25 Broome, Richard 240, 344 Brown, Isaac 26, 333 Bucknall, Gwen 11 Buist, Julie 281, 282 Burden, Jennifer 250 Burns, Jane 208 Buthimang 63, 64 Cahill, Rosemary 11 Cane, Scott 214, 216, 218 Capell, Arthur 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 37 Carrington, Lois 93 Cass, Alan 333 Chadwick, Neil 25 Chambers, David W. 69 Charlesworth, Max 217 Charpentier, Jean-Michel 10 Charton, Édouard 209 Christensen, Peter 289 Christie, Michael J. 12, 57, 59, 70, 75, 168, 336, 364, 365 Clark, Ian D. 43 Clark, Ross 143
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Clayton, Jean 267 Clyne, Michael G. 11, 101, 115 Coldrey, John 309 Cole, E. Keith 144, 241, 361, 362 Collard, Glenys 368 Collins, David 138, 139, 191 Commonwealth of Australia 116, 119, 328, 334 Conley, John 315 Cook, Captain James 3, 4, 5, 6, 24, 136, 197, 204, 206, 208, 211, 215 Cook, Michael 12 Corson, David 288, 289 Couzos, Sophie 248 Cowey, Wendy 290 Crawford, L. 271 Crawfurd, John 134 Cresswell, John 256 Crowley, Terry 25, 28, 328 Crowley, Vicki 242 Crystal, David 88 Cummins, Jim 292 Cunneen, Chris 313, 320 Curr, Edward Micklethwaite 24, 26, 87, 331 Curriculum Corporation (Melbourne) 276 Cutler, Cecelia A. 173 Dalby, Andrew 88 Dampier, William 3, 4, 6, 136, 206 D’Andrade 181, 193 Dauenhauer, Nora and Richard 88 Davis, Jack 167 Dawes, Colonel William 24, 138, 331 Dawson, Robert 205, 209, 214 Dawson, W. 217 Defoe, Daniel 4 Dench, Alan Charles 25, 32, 34, 144, 184, 185, 186, 328 Dent, Lynnette 335 Department of Education, Science and Training (DEST) 251 Deutsch, Martin 241
Dhalnganda 64 Disbray, Samantha 332 Dixon, Robert M. W. 9, 10, 23, 25, 26, 28, 29, 31, 35, 39, 40, 42, 79, 86, 87, 94, 198, 199, 203, 204, 210, 218, 221, 327, 329, 330, 332, 333, 334 Djaati 64, 65 Donaldson, Tamsin 25 Douglas, Wilfrid H. 25, 171 Dyer, Colin 3, 4, 8, 205, 206, 207, 208, 214, 216, 220 Eades, Diana M. 11, 13, 14, 37, 113, 154, 161, 183, 187, 188, 189, 269, 299, 301, 302, 303, 305, 307, 308, 310, 311, 313, 314, 315, 316, 317, 318, 319, 332, 366 Eagleson, Robert D. 10, 11, 154, 165, 166, 169, 170, 366 Earl, George Windsor 134, 135 Eckert, Paul 335 Eckert, Penelope 171, 172 Edwards, Bill 334, 335 Eggington, William G. 111 Elkin, Adolphus 309 Ellis, Bronwyn J. 289 Ellis, Lizzie 338 Erebus Consulting Partners 252, 253 Evans, Nicholas 9, 25, 26, 29, 32, 41, 81, 199, 220, 328, 338 Fairclough, Norman 319 Favenc, Ernest 141 Fesl , Eve 11, 110, 335, 364, 366 Fishman, Joshua A. 81, 87 Ford, Linda 14, 165, 216, 355 Ford, Lys 84, 91 Forrest, Simon 249 Forster, William [also named R. Davis] 112, 113 Foster, Rob 341 Fraser-Knowles, Jill 168, 169 Fresne, Marion du 4, 5, 206, 208
Name and author index Fritz, Clemens 8, 208, 210 Fryer-Smith, Stephanie 11, 311 Gale, Mary-Anne 109, 111, 267, 328, 332, 342 Gallois, Cynthia 166 Galloway, Ann 13, 237, 251, 274, 201, 366 Garnett, Merrilee 311 Garnggulkpuy, Joanne 59, 60, 66, 69 Gee, Lionel 142 Ginibi, Ruby Langford 167 Glass, Amee 25, 333 Goddard, Cliff 31, 34, 328 Goldflam, Russell 299 Gonneville, Paulmier de 3 Gonzal, Jean Etienne 4, 217 Görlach, Manfred 198 Graham, Mary 58 Gray, Brian 290 Gray, Jan 249, 250 Greatorex, John 365 Green, Ian 341 Green, Rebecca 81 Grey, Sir George 26, 329 Groome, Howard 248 Grote, Ellen 12, 13, 89, 153, 172, 173, 251, 300, 332, 362, 366 Gunn, Jeannie (Mrs Aeneas) 142 Guy, Elizabeth 167 Guymun 59, 63, 65, 76 Hackett, Dorothy 25, 333 Hale, Kenneth L. (also called Ken Hale) 9, 27, 28, 33, 38, 183, 184, 185 Hamilton, Annette 239 Hamilton, Arthur 275 Hampton, Erica N. 168 Hampton, Ken 225 Hansen, Kenneth C. 25, 133 Hansen, Leslie E. 25 Harkins, Jean 11, 154, 169, 171, 172, 332
373
Harris, John W. 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 89, 90, 109, 131, 134, 135, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 156, 162, 199, 270, 306 Harris, Stephen 239, 241, 332, 366 Hartman, Deborah 11 Harvey, Mark 25, 39 Haspelmath, Martin 331 Haviland, John B. 24, 332 Healthway 247 Heath, Jeffrey 25, 33, 38, 40, 182, 183, 186 Henderson, John 11, 80, 88, 120, 299, 332 Henry, John Terry 358 Hercus, Luise A. 25, 43, 91, 184, 333 Herron, Adrian 61 Heydon, Toby 43 Higgins, Andrew 248 Hinch, Heather E. 25 Hobson, John 120 Hodges, Flavia 43 Horton, David 8 Hosking, Dianne F. 120, 333 Hosokawa, Komei 25 House of Representatives Standing Committee on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Affairs 79, 102, 120 Howard, Damien 248 Howard, Paul, Prime Minister 215, 218 Hudson, Joyce 25, 37, 252, 270, 335 Hugh Watson Consulting 255, 256 Hughes, Paul 244, 271, 274, 275, 288 Hunter, John 138 Hunter, Ruby 167 Hunter, Vic 166, 170 Hymes, Dell 268 Irrluma [A. Isaac Brown] 288 Irvine, Judith T. 171 Ivanic, Ros 166
374
Name and author index
Jansz, Willem 3 Japanangka-West, Errol 360 Jensen, Arthur R. 241 Johnson, Dr. 197 Johnston, Elliott Q. C. 102, 116 Johnstone, Michael 166 Joynt, R. D. 143 Jupp, James 2, 7, 9 Kaldor, Susan 10, 11, 154, 165, 166, 168, 169, 302, 366 Kaplan, Robert B. 101, 114, 117 Katz, Irwin 241 Keen, Ian 183 Kelly, Heath 248 Kendon, Adam 41 Kennedy, Graeme 198 Kenny, John 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 203, 206, 207, 208, 211, 214, 216, 217, 220 Kipp, Sandra 11 Kirke, Brian 335 Kite, Suzanne 25 Klesch, Maree 84 Knox, Elizabeth 248 Koch , Harold 9, 12, 16, 23, 24, 26, 28, 32, 33, 35, 37, 38, 39, 43, 79, 186, 188, 306, 307, 329 Königsberg, Patricia 13, 14, 120, 238, 250, 267, 367 Kotze, Stefan von 208 La Pérouse, Jean-François de 3 Lahiff, Craig 301 Lakoff, George 182 Lander, Ned 301 Langlois, Annie 89 Language Technology Group (LTG), Department of Computer Science and Software Engineering, University of Melbourne 93 Laughren, Mary 39, 40, 92, 338 Lavery, Daniel 311 Laves, Gerhard 330, 331, 334 Lawurrpa, Elaine 62
Lee, Jennifer 89 Leichhardt, Ludwig 135, 136 Leitner, Gerhard 2, 3, 8, 9, 10, 13, 42, 81, 101, 116, 138, 140, 153, 162, 168, 192, 198, 199, 200, 204, 205, 206, 210, 220, 224, 226, 229. 230, 289, 333, 355, 366 Lester, Yami 309 Liberman, Kenneth 309, 366 Library Committe of the Commonwealth Parliament, The (HRA) 5, 6 Lilley, Ian 289 Litosseliti, Lia 166 Lo Bianco, Joseph 11, 81, 110, 113, 114, 115, 116, 252, 253, 273, 328 Long, Janet Nakamarra 338 Long, Michael 215 Lowe, Kevin 109, 121, 122 Lowell, Anne 62, 333 Macknight, C. C. 134 Mahkarolla (Migilimbi storyteller) 135 Malcolm, Ian G. 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 89, 120, 138, 153, 159, 160, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 187, 192, 200, 216, 228, 238, 241, 250, 251, 252, 269, 285, 289, 290, 300, 302, 305, 321, 330, 331, 332, 355, 362, 366 Marchant, Leslie R. 2, 8, 216 Marett, Allan 91 Marika-Mununggiritj, Raymattja 59, 60, 61, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 338, 367 Marrnganyin/Marrƾanyin, Betty 69, 365 Martin, Karen (see also Booran Mirraboopa) 364 Massey, David 271 Mathew, John 26 Mathews, Robert H. 24, 31, 36 Mattingley, Christobel 225
Name and author index McConaghy, Cathryn 288 McConvell, Patrick 40, 79, 80, 87, 89, 90, 92, 93, 105, 117, 120, 253, 283, 332, 333 McCudden, Vincent 239, 241 McGregor, William B. 23, 25, 29, 36, 39, 165, 329 McGroarty, M. 111 McKay, Graham 11, 12, 43, 91, 111, 112, 118, 120, 121, 243, 253, 254, 269, 270, 330, 331, 333, 335, 338, 341 McPherson, Bradley 248 McRae, David 282, 283 McRae, Heather 320 Meadows, Michael 90 Meakins, Felicity 89, 90 Mercurio, Antonio 328 Merlan, Francesca 25, 33, 40, 142, 182, 186 Metcalf, Sue 248 Meyer, Heinrich August Edward 24 Mildren, Dean 113, 299 Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs (MCEETYA) 247, 252, 256–257, 275–277 Ministry of Education, Western Australia 119 Mitchell, Thomas 42 Modoo, Karen 242 Molnar, Helen 90 Mooney, K. 187 Moore, Helen 269 Morgan, Sally 167 Morris, E. E. 198 Morton, Lord 5 Morwood, M. J. 2, 8 Muecke, Stephen 59, 225 Mühlhäusler, Peter 10, 24, 81, 131, 137, 142, 146, 162, 163, 165, 333, 337 Mulvaney, D. John 133, 134 Mununggurr, Daymbalipu 69
375
Murray, Richard B. 248 Nakata, Martin 289, 358 Nash, David 79, 80, 88, 120, 299, 327, 330, 331, 332 Nathan, David 93, 111, 327 National Board of Employment, Education and Training 358 Naylor, Tonia 288 Neate, Graeme 299 Nettheim, Garth 320 New South Wales Board of Studies 254 Newry, David 121 Ngurruwutthun, Dayngawa 75 Nicholls, Christine E. 242, 289, 341 Nichols, Johanna 37 Nordlinger, Rachel 25 Northern Territory Department of Education 110 Northern Territory Department of Local Government, Housing and Sport 113–114 Noyce, Phillip 200 NSW Department of Aboriginal Affairs 116, 120 NSW Department of School Education 120 O’Grady, Geoffrey N. 9, 25, 27, 187 Oates, Lynette 25 Osborne, Charles R. 25 Palmer, Gary B. 182 Palmer, Keeley 121 Parkhouse, T. A. 137 Partington, Gary 11, 13, 239, 240, 241, 249, 250, 274, 290, 366 Patz, Elisabeth 25 Pavlenko, Aneta 166 Pawley, Andrew 29 Pearlin, Leonard 66 Pearson, Michael 79 Pensalfini, Robert 25 Péron, François 207
376
Name and author index
Philips, Susan 308 Phillip, Arthur 5, 6, 138 Plank, Frans 32 Platt, John 268 Plomley, Norman J. B. 42 Powell 82, 83 Productivity Commission 90 Quinn, Naomi 182 Rampton, Ben 173 Ramson, William S. 8, 10, 42, 198, 202, 204, 207, 208, 210 Read, Jay and Peter 142 Reed, Alexander W. 43 Reid, Nicholas 39 Reuter, Johan Georg 331 Rhydwen, Mari 11, 15, 23, 81 Richards, Jack 268 Rickford, John R. 171 Ridley, William 24 Rigby, Ken 250 Rigney, Lester Irabinna 337, 358, 364 Rigsby, Bruce 133 Ritter, David 311 Rochecouste, Judith 159, 166, 171, 187 Roe, Paddy 225 Romaine, Suzanne 110 Rose, David 290 Rose, Michael 200, 201 Roth, Walter Edmund 24 Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (RCIADC) 245, 246, 247 Rudder, John 41 Rumelhart, David E. 182 Rumsey, Alan 25, 33, 40, 101, 121, 182, 183 Sabbioni, Jennifer 167 Sandefur, John R. 33, 144, 145, 168 Scarino, Angela 119 Schaffer, Kay 167
Schebeck, Bernhard 33 Scheffler, Harold W. 40 Schmidt, Annette 11, 79, 90, 120, 269 Schmidt, Wilhelm P. 26, 27, 28 Schneider, H. G. 208, 209, 217 Schools Commission, Commonwealth of Australia 245 Schultze-Berndt, Eva 9, 36 Schürmann, Clamor W. 24 Searcy, Alfred 136, 141 Sebeok, Thomas A. 41 Senate Employment, Workplace Relations and Education References and Legislation Committees 248, 251, 259 Senior Secondary Assessment Board of South Australia (SSABSA) 9, 11, 119, 328 Sharifian, Farzad 10, 12, 13, 33, 160, 166, 181, 182, 183, 187, 251, 269, 321, 363 Sharp, Janet Catherine 25 Sharpe, Margaret C. 11, 302, 335 Shnukal, Anna 137 Shopen, Tim 332 Shore, Brad 182 Siegel, Jeff 10, 11, 289 Sieloff, Inke 10, 198, 333 Silverstein, Michael 85 Simpson, Jane 10, 35, 43, 137 Singer, Ruth 39 Sleep, Bronwyn M. 169 Smith, Linda. T. 364 Smith, Sidonie 167 Smythe, W. E. 25 Spillett, Peter G. 134 Steering Committee for the Review of Government Service Provision (SCRGSP) 276 Stevens, Frank 83 Strauss, Claudia 182 Strehlow, Theodor G. H. 25, 218, 300, 301, 302, 303, 309 Sunderland, Jane 166
Name and author index Sutton, Peter 28, 133, 170, 213, 214, 216, 219, 220 Swift, Jonathan 4 Tasman, Abel 3 Taylor, Alf 167 Taylor, Brian 8 Teichelmann, Christian G. 24 Tench, Watkin 138, 139 Terrill, Angela 25 The Spoken Word. Keeping the Aboriginal Language Strong 253 Thieberger, Nicholas 79, 80, 87, 90, 92, 93, 105, 117, 120, 253, 333 Thomas, Mandy 42 Thomson, Neil 247, 248 Threlkeld, Lancelot Edward 24, 37, 207, 210, 329 Tindale, Norman B. 329, 330 Todd, Loreto 131 Torres, Luis Váez de 3 Torres, Mitch 166 Triffitt, Geraldine 93 Trinch, Shonna 315 Troy, Jakelin 10, 24, 90, 91, 140, 162, 165 Trudgen, Richard 333 Trudgill, Peter 156 Tryon, Darrell T. 10 Tsey, Komla 62, 63 Tsunoda, Tasaku 25, 92 Tur, Mona 335 Turner, F. J. 140 Turpin, Myfany 41 Umiker-Sebeok, D. Jean 41 Urry, James 82, 134 van Dijk, Teun 182 Veit, Walter 4, 201, 218 Verran, Helen 74 Vlamingh, Willem de 3 Voegelin, Carl and Florence 27 von Sturmer, John 366
377
W. A. Otitis Media Group 248 Wächtler, Kurt 228 Walker, Alan 136 Walsh, Michael 10, 12, 41, 43, 82, 88, 90, 91, 92, 93, 120, 121, 134, 184, 185, 299, 306, 307, 333, 363 Wang, Gunwu 134 Ward, Glenyse 112, 167 Wardhaugh, Ronald 268 Warner, W. Lloyd 135 Watkins, Cherie Warrara 337 Watson, Helen 69 Watt, Ron 242 Waugh, Russell 249 Weber, Heidi 268 Weeks, Sharon 248 Weller, Archie 167 Western Australian Department of Education and Training 252–253 Whinnom, Keith 134 Wigglesworth, Gillian 332 Wignell, Peter 168, 222, 223 Wiley, Terence G. 8 Wilkins, David 35, 41, 328, 332, 334 Williams, Corinne 25 Wilson, Greg 91, 159, 161 Windsor, Greg 42, 43 Woodbury, Anthony C. 88 Wordick Frank J. F. 25 Wurm, Stephen 10, 23, 25, 27, 28, 145 Yallop, Colin 10, 25, 29, 133, 186 Yamazaki, Shunji 198 Yunupingu, Dhayirra 61 Yunupingu, Mandaway 68, 69, 71, 72, 273, 291, 292 Yuwaalaraay Language Programme 91 Zorc, R. David 136 Zubrick, S. R 108
Subject index Aarhus University 331 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC) 90, 117, 120–121, 219 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages Initiatives Program (ATSILIP) (see also language policy, education, Aboriginal) 117, 326 Aboriginal Creole (see also contact languages) 187 Aboriginal Education Program (AEP) (see also language policy, education, Aboriginal) 116 Aboriginal English (AborE) (see also contact languages) 7, 10, 12–13, 15, 33, 35, 39, 85, 102–103, 112– 115, 119–120, 136, 153–174, 187– 190, 192, 200–201, 203, 213–216, 221–230, 248–249, 266–273, 275, 277, 279, 281–289, 297–311, 313, 316–319, 330, 339, 358–360, 363– 364 Aboriginal Land Rights (Northern Territory) Act 43, 60 Aboriginal Language Centres 117– 118 Aboriginal languages (see also traditional, Indigenous languages) 7–9, 12–14, 24, 41–42, 79, 84–86, 89–94, 102, 109, 111, 114–6, 120, 132, 136, 159, 168, 181–184, 186, 192, 197–199, 202– 204, 206, 208, 213, 215, 222, 227– 228, 230, 248, 250, 252–253, 269, 275, 279, 284– 285, 299, 306, 321, 327–331, 334, 340–343, 345–346, 364, 366
Aboriginal Languages Initiatives Program (ALIP) (see also language policy, education, Aboriginal) 116 Aboriginal Languages K–10 Syllabus (see also language policy, education, Aboriginal) 120 Aboriginalization 60, 111, 230 Abstudy (The Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Study Assistance Scheme) (see also education, Aboriginal, language policy) 245 affix-transferring (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 37 African American Vernacular English 173 Age of Exploration 206, 215, 231 alienation (see also education, Aboriginal) 241–242, 249–250, 259 America (also American, North America(n); see also USA) 8, 10, 139, 170, 173, 201, 203, 207–208, 228 ancestral languages (see also Aboriginal languages) 14, 27, 80, 86, 88–89, 344 antipassive (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 35 Anglican Church 144 Anunga Rules (in Court) 112–113 applicative (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 35 apprehensional (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 35 Arabana (Aboriginal language) 184 Arabic-Malay pidgin (see also Portuguese- Arabic-Malay pidgin, contact languages) 2, 134
Subject index Arandic languages (Aboriginal group of languages, see also Aboriginal languages) 183, 186 ashes (Aboriginal cognitive metaphor) 39, 61–62 aspect (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 34–35, 156–157, 270 associated motion (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 35 attendance (see also education, Aboriginal) 60, 249–250, 255–256, 282 Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) 167, 215, 226, 229, 252, 283–284, 288, 311, 315 Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) 103–105, 120, 299 Australian Department of Education, Northern Territory Division, Bilingual Education Section 110 Australian English, (also AusE, standard AusE, mainstream AusE , mAusE; see also English) 10, 13, 42, 84, 89, 140, 144, 153–155, 158, 160–161, 164–165, 168, 170, 188– 189, 198, 201–203, 205–207, 214– 215, 220–223, 225–230, 241, 250– 251, 268–269, 271, 275, 281–285, 287, 290–291, 303–305, 397, 320– 321, 333, 360, 362 Australian Government Attorney General’s Department 114 Australian Indigenous Languages Framework (curriculum statement on Aboriginal language teaching) (see also language policy, education, Aboriginal) 119, 328, 342 Australian Institute for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS) 25, 93, 120, 327, 330 Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies (AIAS) 25, 330 Subjectindex
379
Australian languages (see also Aboriginal languages) 9, 14, 23, 25–31, 34–36, 38–40, 43, 91, 101, 126, 132, 136, 283, 327–329, 330– 334, 340–342, 345–346 Australian Languages and Literacy Policy (see also language policy, education, Aboriginal) 252 Australian Linguistics List (an electronic discussion forum) 327 Australian Linguistics Society (ALS) 331, 334 Australian National Dictionary 11, 198, 333 Australian National University, The (ANU) 25, 327, 333, 338, 340 Australian Pidgin (see also contact languages) 38, 188 Australian Studies 15, 338, 341, 345 Aboriginal Studies Electronic Data Archive (ASEDA) 327 aversive (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 32, 35 Balanda (Aboriginal word for Europeans) 59–60, 63–65, 68, 70– 72, 136, 168, 356 Bardi (Aboriginal language) 42, 330, 334 Batchelor Institute of Indigenous Tertiary Education 343 Bible Society 139, 146 Bible translation (into Kriol and Aboriginal languages) 19, 146 bilingual education (see also education, Aboriginal, bilingual programs) 60, 84, 109–112, 253, 259, 270, 288, 328, 330, 332, 341– 342 bilingual program (in Kriol and Aboriginal languages; see also education, Aboriginal) 109–111, 289, 342
380
Subject index
bilingual school (also schools, schooling; see also education, Aboriginal) 252, 357 Bislama (see also contact languages) 137, 147 Blekbala (Aboriginal word for Aboriginal people) 355, 357–367 body-part terms (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 41 bones (Aboriginal cognitive metaphor; see also feet) 60–61, 63 borrowing (see also language contact) 131, 159, 164, 213, 215, 222 both-ways education (see also education, Aboriginal) 60 Bran Nue Dae (first Aboriginal musical) 167 bread (Aboriginal cognitive metaphor) 62, 68–69, 136, 139 Bringing Them Home (report on the ‘lost generations’) 116 Britain (see also England) 115, 202– 203 British 2, 23–24, 43, 134, 136, 200, 205, 209, 211, 220, 319 British Columbia 339 Broken English (film by Ned Lander) 301 Bundjalung (Aboriginal language) 254, 335–337 Canada 8, 14, 113 Canadian English 212 case (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 25, 30–32, 34–35, 37– 38, 155 case syncretism (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 31 categories (grammatical, cultural, etc.; see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 25, 33–34, 106, 182, 185, 188–189, 363 Catholic (missions, schools) 13, 258– 259
Catholic Eductation Office 252 Central Australian Aboriginal English (CAAE) (see also contact languages 188 Centre for Applied Linguistics, University of Franche-Conté, Besançon 338 Centre for Australian Languages and Linguistics (CALL) 332, 343 Chinese Pidgin (English) (see also contact languages) 133, 141, 143 Church Missionary Society (CMS) 143–145, 361 College of Advanced Education (CAE) (later called Edith Cowan University) 332 classification (of Aboriginal languages, nouns; see also language typology, Aboriginal languages, noun-classification) 26– 28, 39, 185, 364 clitics (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 37 code-switching (see also language contact) 13, 89, 227, 286, 332 Common Australian 27 Commonwealth of Australia 8 communicative features (of Aboriginal languages) 363 comparative linguistics (see also comparative linguistics, comparative method, Aboriginal languages, language typology) 29, 330, 332 comparative method (see also comparative linguistics, comparative method, Aboriginal languages, language typology) 27– 29 Condren case (important court case against Kelvin Condren) 300–307, 314, 320 conductive hearing loss (Aboriginal health issues) 248
Subject index contact languages (see also pidgin, creole, Aboriginal English, creolization, pidginization, individual pidgin and creole names) 7–10, 12–15, 89–90, 131–133, 136, 138, 140, 143, 146, 163–165, 197, 199, 203–204, 223 Cooperative Research Centre for Aboriginal (& Tropical) Health (CRCATH) 62 coverb (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 35 creole (see also contact languages) 7, 9, 15, 23, 84, 89–90, 102, 114–115, 131–132, 137, 140, 144–147, 153, 155–156, 162–163, 165, 168–169, 201, 229, 268–271, 284–285, 291 creolization (see also contact languages) 136, 143, 145, 163–164 Criminal Justice Commission (CJC) 299, 309, 311–312, 316 cultural cognition 182 cultural conceptualizations (cognitive linguistics, see also Aboriginal English, Aboriginal languages, metaphor) 181–182, 184, 186–187, 189–190, 192, 363 cultural linguistics 181 curriculum (see also education, Aboriginal) 14, 59–60, 63, 68, 71– 73, 120, 242–243, 253–254, 258– 259, 271, 278–280, 287, 290, 329, 344, 346, 357, 366–366 cycad (bread, palm; related to Aboriginal cognitive metaphors) 62, 68–70 Daly River (important site for rise of creoles) 82–83, 330 Day of Mourning (Aboriginal name for the 150th Anniversary of (white) Australia) 202
381
Department for Communication, Information Technology and the Arts (DCITA) 328 Department of Communications, Information Technology and the Arts 104–108, 111–112, 117–118, 120 Department of Education and Children’s Services 120, 342 Department of Education, Science and Training (DEST) 344 Department of Employment, Education and Training (DEET) 117, 272–273 Dharuk (Aboriginal language) 86, 204, 207, 210, 221 Dhurga (Aboriginal language) 37 Dhuwa (Aboriginal language) 61 Dhuwal (Aboriginal language) 33, 66, 336, 365 Dhuwaya (Aboriginal language) 90 dialect chain (see also Aboriginal languages, typology) 133 dialysis (Aboriginal health issues) 69 Djambarrpuyngu (Aboriginal language) 336–337, 365 Dyirbal (Aboriginal language) 35, 90 Eastern and African Cold Storage Company, The 143 ecology see language ecology education, Aboriginal 7, 10–11, 13– 15, 60, 62, 68, 70–76, 81, 83–86, 92–93, 103, 106, 108–111, 115– 116, 118–123, 145, 153, 230, 237– 260, 267–292, 299, 316, 320–321, 327–330, 332–334, 336–337, 341– 344, 336, 356–358, 366–367 Edith Cowan University 283, 332– 333, 340–342 Endangered Languages Documentation Project 328
382
Subject index
Federation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Languages (Corporation) (FATSIL) 91, 112, 117, 121–122, 254 feet (Aboriginal cognitive metaphor; see also bones) 63 Foundation for Endangered Languages, The 333 Framework for the Teaching of Aboriginal Languages in Primary Schools (in Western Australia) (see also education, Aboriginal, language policy) 119 French (language) 206–207, 209, 215
Gamilaraay/Kamilaroi (Aboriginal language) 24, 37, 86, 91, 94, 204, 210, 254 ganma (Aboriginal cultural concept) 71–73 garma (Aboriginal cultural concept) 72–73 Geographical Names Board 43 German (language) 208–209, 217 Graded Intergenerational Disruption Scale (GIDS) (see also language maintenance, loss, documentation, etc.) 81, 87 grammar (see also Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, contact languages, Kriol, etc.; see also syntax) 24–25, 30–38, 42, 87, 132, 140, 162–163, 169, 184–185, 254, 306–307, 313, 327, 330, 335 grammatical features (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, contact languages, Northern Territory English, Kriol, etc.) 30, 42, 169, 302 grammatical relations (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, contact languages, Kriol, etc.) 26, 31, 37 gratuitous concurrence (pragmatic practice, often in Court, see also Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English) 113, 309–310, 317–319 Gumatj (Aboriginal language) 71, 75 Gumbaynggirr (Aboriginal language) 92, 254, 330 Gurrgoni (Aboriginal language) 81 Gurindji (Aboriginal language) 83, 90, 332 Guugu Yimidhirr (Aboriginal language) 24
Gaelic (language) 139 Galtha (a social practice of Aborigines) 74–75
habitat see language habitat hearths (Aboriginal cognitive metaphor) 62
Endeavour Language Teacher Fellowships (see also education, Aboriginal) 344 England (see also Britain) 170 English (with reference to English language, Australian English, standard (Australian) English, etc.) 2, 6–8, 10–13, 15, 42, 85, 88–90, 92, 101, 105–106, 109–116, 118– 119, 122, 135–46, 153–158, 160– 172, 184, 187–190, 197–204, 206, 209, 211, 213–214, 220–225, 228– 231, 241, 245, 250–253, 259, 267– 271, 273–275, 277, 279–280, 282– 283, 285, 287–291, 293, 300–309, 320–321, 332–333, 360–364, 366– 367 English as a Second Language (ESL) 118, 251–252, 273, 279–280, 282, 285 English Revised Standard Version (of the Bible) 146 ergative (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 25, 31–32 Ernabella Mission 328, 335
Subject index High Court (of Australia) 202, 300– 301, 303, 305 Hiri trade pidgin 133 Historical Records of Australia (HRA) 5–6 hunting (Aboriginal cognitive metaphor) 69, 160 identity (with reference to Aboriginal or Indigenous cultural or linguistic identity) 57, 59, 61, 63–65, 70, 74, 80, 89, 153, 159, 164, 166, 172– 174, 197, 210, 22, 225, 229, 246, 267, 272, 275–276, 283, 289, 357, 359–360, 36 Ilgar (Aboriginal language) 81 inclusive (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 25, 33, 271 inclusory construction (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 39 incorporation (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 38, 242 Indigenous Education Strategic Initiatives Program (IESIP) (see also education, Aboriginal, language policy) 118, 253, 282 Indigenous knowledge 239, 242, 287, 356 Indigenous language (see also Aboriginal languages) 8, 11–15, 28, 43, 79–81, 86–88, 92–93, 102– 123, 131, 136, 164, 168–169, 171, 201, 240, 245, 251–254, 258–259, 268–271, 279–280, 327–331, 334, 336, 338–346, 360, 363–366 Indigenous language programs (see also bilingual programs, education, Aboriginal, language policy) 253, 328 Indigenous study centres 245 Institute for Aboriginal Development (IAD) 109, 113
383
instrumental (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 32 intercultural communication 11, 305– 306, 308–310, 312, 318–319 interpreter services (in Court) 113 Interpreting and Translating Centre (ITC) 113 interrogative-indefinite (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 34 Jaminjung (Aboriginal language) 83– 85 jargon (with reference to early pidgin stage; see also pidgin, creole, contact languages) 6, 24, 131, 134, 136, 138–141, 143, 162, 165 Jaru 224–225 Kamilaroi (see Gamilaraay) Karajarri (Aboriginal language) 330 Kaurna (Aboriginal language; also Kaurna courses) 24, 88, 92, 94, 109, 136, 254, 328, 334, 337–341 Kaurna Summer School (see also language maintenance, language policy) 338 Kaytetye (Aboriginal language) 31– 35, 39, 186 Kimberley Interpreting Service (KIS) 113 Kina case (important court case against Robyn Kina) 309–312, 314, 319–320 kinship (with reference to linguistic concepts, grammar, social relations; see also Aboriginal languages) 33, 39–40, 65, 67, 145, 181–185, 188– 192, 215–216, 219, 359 koine (see also language contact) 90 Koori Open Door Education (KODE) (see also education, Aboriginal) 242
384
Subject index
Kriol (see also contact languages) 10– 15, 34, 84–85, 90, 109, 119, 137, 143–147, 163, 213, 215, 223–226, 228, 230, 250–252, 269–271, 274– 275, 279, 281–283, 306, 321, 331, 362, 366 Kriol Holi Baibul (see also Kriol, contact languages) 146 Kurnai College Koorie Open Door Education 336 land claim (see also Native Title, land rights) 43, 88, 212, 215, 299, 306– 307, 332 landholding units (see also Aboriginal society) 132 land rights (see also Native Title, land claim) 60, 202, 212–213, 358 language contact (see also transfer, loan, etc., contact languages) 11, 15, 89, 132–133, 199, 203, 228 language ecology (also ecology, linguistic ecology, language habitat, language situation) 23, 57, 59, 81, 84, 131, 136, 141, 144, 329, 334, 337 language documentation (see also language loss) 7, 10–12, 23–25, 43, 59, 87, 92, 106, 109, 121, 328, 330 Language Endangerment Program (at Monash University) (see also education, Aboriginal) 93 language habitat (see also language ecology, language situation) 1, 7– 8, 10, 12, 14–15, 23, 41–42, 57–58, 61, 70, 75–76, 81–82, 89, 101, 103, 114, 118–119, 131–132, 136, 138, 140, 144, 146, 153, 161, 164, 168, 181, 197–199, 202, 223–224, 228, 230–231, 269, 327, 362 language loss 11, 85–87, 89, 108, 241, 269, 363
language maintenance (also cultural maintenance) 7, 11–12, 14–15, 101–123, 153, 159, 164, 187, 252, 254, 269, 276, 280, 288–289, 291, 333–334, 339 language mixing (see also contact languages) 332 language planning (see also language policy) 15, 91, 273, 344 language policy (see also language planning) 11–13, 91, 114–115, 269–276, 328 language situation (see also language habitat, language ecology) 79, 84– 85, 279 language transmission (see also language maintenance, loss, documentation, etc.) 106–107, 144 language typology (also linguistic typology, classification) 9, 38, 330 law (with reference to language and to Aborigingal law; see also language contact, Aboriginal English) 10– 11, 15, 43, 57–59, 216–217, 219, 299–322, 332, 345 LaTrobe University 333 Leninism 201 lexical elaboration (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 39 lingua franca 7, 11, 84–85, 132–135, 138, 142, 145, 165 literacy 11, 15, 60, 70, 72, 81, 83, 88, 92, 101, 106, 115, 117–118, 164, 237, 241, 245–246, 248, 250, 255– 256, 258.259, 270–271, 273–278, 280, 282–284, 287–290, 343–334, 356, 364 loan (also loan word, loanword; see also language contact) 42, 88, 198, 202–206, 212, 215–218, 220–221, 230 Lower Aranda (Aboriginal language) 183 Lutheran Church 109, 328
Subject index Macassans (fishermen from Macassar coming to Australia) 13, 59, 135 Macassan pidgin (see also Macassarese) 12, 199 Macassarese (see also Macassan Pidgin, contact languages) 134– 135 Macquarie Dictionary, The 198, 220 Macquarie University, The 198, 333 Marri Ngarr (Aboriginal language) 83–85 Marri Tjebin (Aboriginal language) 83, 85 maintenance of Indigenous Languages and Records (MILR) (see also language policy) 117 Malay (language; see also Malay Pidgin, (Portuguese-)Arabic-Malay pidgin, contact languages) 134, 136 Malngin (Aboriginal language) 83 Mandawuy (Aboriginal language) 71 Maoris 203 Marxism 201 mathematics (literacy) 71–72 Matngela (Aboriginal language) 330 Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguistics, Leipzig 331 metaphor (also metaphorical) 41, 59– 61, 69, 72, 111, 159, 209, 216, 292, 359 Methodist (missions) 59, 62 Milingimbi (Aboriginal language) 135, 239, 336 Milngurr (Aboriginal language) 61 Ministerial Council on Education, Employment, Training and Youth Affairs (MCEETYA) 256, 274 Miriam (Torres Strait Islander language) 28 missionaries 24–25, 62, 108–110, 122, 143–146, 170, 201, 206, 211, 217–218, 240, 329, 361
385
mood (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 34–35, 37 morphological features (of Aboriginal English) 155, 164 morphosyntactic features (of Aboriginal English) 182 multilingualism 7, 105, 132–133, 136 Murrinhpatha (Aboriginal language) 82–85, 91 Mutpurra (Aboriginal language) 83 National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Education Policy (NAEP) (see also education, Aboriginal, language policy) 120, 244–245, 272 National Aboriginal Community Controlled Health Organization 248 National Aboriginal Education Committee (NAEC) 243–244 National Aboriginal Languages Program (NALP) (see also education, Aboriginal, language policy) 116, 328 National Board of Employment, Education and Training 275, 333 National Indigenous English Literacy and Numeracy Strategy (see also education, Aboriginal, language policy) 255, 259 National Indigenous Languages Survey Report 2005 (NILS) 105– 107, 111, 118 National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families 240–241 National Policy on Languages (NLP) (see also language policy) 110, 113–116, 118, 252 Native Title (see also land claim, land rights) 43, 212–215, 230
386
Subject index
New South Wales Aboriginal Languages Policy (see also language policy) 116, 120 New South Wales Pidgin (also NSW Pidgin; see also NSW English Pidgin, contact languages) 24, 137, 140–143, 145, 162, 165 New Zealand 3, 198, 202–203, 329, 345 Ngaanyatjatjarra (Aboriginal language) 270 Ngaatjatjarra (Aboriginal language) 338 Ngukurr (formerly Roper River) 143– 144, 147 noble savages 4 non-configurational (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 38 non-Pama-Nyungan (Aboriginal language familiy, see also PamaNyungan, language typology, language classification) 9, 28 non-verbal (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 38, 41, 281, 308 Northern Territory English (NTE; see also Aboriginal English, contact languages) 301–302 Northern Territory Interpreting Service (NTAIS) 113 Northern Territory Pidgin English (see also pidgin, contact languages) 140, 143–144, 146 noun classification (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 39 NSW English Pidgin (see also NSW Pidgin English, NSW Pidgin) 137 NSW Pidgin (see also NSW English Pidgin, New South Wales Pidgin, contact languages) 24, 137, 140– 143, 145 NTE (see Northern Territory English)
number category (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 32 numeracy (see also literacy) 237–238, 245, 255–256, 275–276, 288, 356 Nunga English (see also Aboriginal English, contact languages) 159, 161 Nunggubuyu (see also Aboriginal languages) 38, 144 Nyungar (Aboriginal language) 204, 330, 355 Nyungar English (see also Aboriginal English, contact languages) 362 onomasiological domain 205–206 otitis media (middle ear disease) 245– 248 overlexicalization (see also transfer, loans, language contact) 218 Pama-Nyungan (Aboriginal language familiy, see also non-PamaNyungan, language typology, language classification) 9, 28 Panyjima (Aboriginal language) 186 Papuan languages (language family in Papua New Puinea) 28–29 performance (of Indigenous students at school) 237–239, 241, 251, 271– 272, 276–277 phonological features (of African American Vernacular English known to Aborigines) 173 phonology (also phonological; see also Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, Kriol, etc., pronunciation) 29, 90, 154–155, 163–164, 168–169, 290, 343 phonotactics (see also phonology, Aboriginal languages) 30 pidgin (see also creoles, contact languages; individual pidgin names) 2, 10, 12, 24, 89–90, 131–
Subject index 137, 139–142, 144, 146, 162–163, 165, 172, 188, 199, 220, 229, 289 Pidgin English (see NSW Pidgin English, NT Pidgin English, Chinese Pdgin English, Malay Pidgin, etc.; see also contact languages) Pidgin Ngarluna (see also contact languages) 144 pidginization (see also contact languages) 162–164 Pilot Indigenous Language Teacher Fellowships (see also education, Aboriginal) 344, 346 Pinkenba case (important court case) 314, 318–320 Pitjantjatjara (Aboriginal language) 87, 89, 161, 328, 334–339, 345 placenames 23, 43–44, 333 policy of assimilation 240 Port Jackson (now Sydney) 24, 138 Portuguese-Arabic-Malay pidgin (see also Arabic-Malay pidgin, contact languages) 2, 134 pragmatic features (of Aboriginal English) 307 prefixing type (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 37 Preservation of Indigenous Languages and Recordings (PILR) 117 preverb (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 35 privative (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 32 professional development (see also education, Aboriginal) 250 258, 260 pronoun systems (of Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, Australian English; see also grammar) 155, 183–184, 186, 270 pronouns (of Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English; see also
387
grammar) 31–34, 36, 38, 156, 169, 183–184, 188 pronunciation (of Aboriginal English, pidgins, etc.; see also phonology) 138, 154, 170 propositus (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 33 proprietive (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 32 purposive (verbal category) 35–36 Queensland Court of Criminal Appeal (CCA) 303 Queensland Department of Justice 311 Queensland Law Society 307 Rabbit-Proof Fence (film by Phillip Noyce) 200 racism 242, 250, 259, 356, 357 RCIADC (see Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody) reciprocal (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 33, 35 reduplication (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 38 reflexive pronouns (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 156 Regional Studies (see also Australian Studies) 10 revitalization (see also language maintenance, loss, documentation, etc.) 11, 43, 79, 86, 91 Rirratjingu (Aboriginal language) 338 Roper Pidgin (see also contact languages) 144 Roper River (now Ngukurr) 143–144, 146, 361 Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody (RCIADC) 14, 102, 116, 299, 313 Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge, The 4–5
388
Subject index
scaffolding (see also two-way education, Aboriginal) 256, 290 schema (cognitive linguistics, see also Aboriginal English) 10, 13, 159– 160, 164, 166, 181, 183, 185, 188– 189, 191, 251, 285, 321, 363 semantics (of Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, Kriol; also semantic shift, lexical semantics, etc.; see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 10, 39, 42, 145, 158, 164, 166, 181–182, 188, 203, 210, 251, 270, 285, 321 School of Australian Linguistics (SAL) 332–333, 343 Schools Commission, Commonwealth of Australia 245 Scotland 170 Senate Standing Committee on Education and the Arts 114 Société des Observations de l’Homme 4 South Australian College of Advanced Education 335 South Australian Department of Education 93, 120 South Australian languages (see also typology, Aboriginal languages) 26, 28 SOV (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 38 South African War (1899–1902) 201 Stuart case (important court case against Rupert Max Stuart) 300– 306, 311–312, 320 suffixes (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English) 30, 34, 37, 156, 271 Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL) 25 Supreme Court 112 (of Northern Territory), 11 (of Queensland), 300, 303–304 (of Queensland)
Sydney Language (early name for Dharuk, also called Iona, see Aboriginal languages) 139, 142, 145 syntactic features (of Aboriginal languages) 38 syntax (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, contact languages) 38, 157, 163, 169, 343 Teaching English as a Second Language (TESL) 342 Technical and Further Education (TAFE) 246–247, 257, 269, 273 tense (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages) 34–35, 154, 156–157, 225, 270 Terra Nullius 202, 211 tertiary education (see also education, Aboriginal) 10, 244–245, 327 Tiwi (Torres Strait Islander language) 89 Tiwi English (also Tiwiized English) 89 Tok Pisin 137 Top End Linguistic Circle 331 Torrens College of Advanced Education 334–335 Torres Strait Islander language (see Miriam, Tiwi) Torres Strait Creole (see also contact languages, Kriol) 10, 119, 137, 163, 270–271 traditional languages (see also Aboriginal languages, Indigenous languages, individual language names) 13, 15, 23–43, 79, 82, 88– 91, 108, 137, 214, 224, 269–270, 281, 291, 361–362, 366 transfer (see also borrowing, loans, language contact) 35, 197–198, 201, 203, 228, 230
Subject index translation and interpreting services (for Aboriginal people; also ATIS) 113, 115, 118 two-way education (also education, Aboriginal, bidialectal education, scaffolding) 115, 252, 284 typology (see also Aboriginal languages, Pama-Nyungan, nonPama-Nyungan) 9, 38, 328 Unaipon School (at the University of South Australia) 335, 338, 341 UNESCO 105 Uniting Church 109 University of Adelaide 333–334, 337– 338, 340–341 University of Hawaii 345 University of Queensland 340, 342 University of South Australia (UniSA) 334–335, 338, 340–341 University of Sydney, The 93, 198, 333, 340 USA (see also America) 8, 14, verbs (see also grammar, Aboriginal languages, Aboriginal English, contact languages) 25, 30, 34–36, 38, 156, 158, 223, 225, 269 Victorian Aboriginal Education Association Inc. 244 vitality (see also language maintenance, loss, documentation, etc.) 79–81, 105 Wadeye (Port Keats) 82–86, 91 Walmajarri (Aboriginal language) 37 Wangurri (Aboriginal language) 66– 67, 75
389
Warlpiri (Aboriginal language) 39, 41, 90, 186, 214, 217, 219, 270, 332, 338 Warrumungu (Aboriginal language) 332 water (Aboriginal cognitive metaphor) 61, 66–68, 70–71, 75 Western Australian Aboriginal Education Strategic Plan (see also education, Aboriginal, language policy) 119–120 Western Australian Department of Education and Training 282 Western Australian Telethon Institute for Child Health 108 Western Desert language (generic word for one or a group of Aboriginal languages) 34, 345 Western knowledge 239 Whitlam Labor government (Prime Minister Gough Whitlam) 119, 342 worldview (as expressed in Aboriginal languages) 169, 182 world war (first and second) 114, 201 Yalu (also yalu, culturally relevant concept, metaphor) 62–65, 72 Yankunytjatjarra (Aboriginal language) 36 Yirrkala (settlement in north-east Arnhemland, see also Galiwin’ku) 59–63, 68, 71–72, 74–75, 270, 291, 336 Yolngu (with reference to an Aboriginal language) 28, 57–76, 270, 332–333, 337–339, 355, 364– 366 Yothu Yindi (name of Aboriginal music band) 167, 336
