Oxford Studies in the Anthropology of Language – serie

The Last Language on Earth is an ethnographic history of the disputed Eskayan language, spoken today by an isolated upland community living on the island of Bohol in the southern Philippines. After Eskaya people were first 'discovered' in 1980, visitors described the group as a lost tribe preserving a unique language and writing system. Others argued that the Eskaya were merely members of a utopian rural cult who had invented their own language and script. Rather than adjudicating outsider polemics, this book engages directly with the language itself as well as the direct perspectives of those who use it today. Through written and oral accounts, Eskaya people have represented their language as an ancestral creation derived from a human body. Reinforcing this traditional view, Piers Kelly's linguistic analysis shows how a complex new register was brought into being by fusing new vocabulary onto a modified local grammar. In a synthesis of linguistic, ethnographic, and historical evidence, a picture emerges of a coastal community that fled the ravages of the U.S. invasion of the island in 1901 in order to build a utopian society in the hills. Here they predicted that the world's languages would decline leaving Eskayan as the last language on earth. Marshalling anthropological theories of nationalism, authenticity, and language ideology, along with comparisons to similar events across highland Southeast Asia, Kelly offers a convincing account of this linguistic mystery and also shows its broader relevance to linguistic anthropology. Although the Eskayan situation is unusual, it has the power to illuminate the pivotal role that language plays in the pursuit of identity-building and political resistance.

The Last Language on Earth is an ethnographic history of the disputed Eskayan language, spoken today by an isolated upland community living on the island of Bohol in the southern Philippines. After Eskaya people were first 'discovered' in 1980, visitors described the group as a lost tribe preserving a unique language and writing system. Others argued that the Eskaya were merely members of a utopian rural cult who had invented their own language and script. Rather than adjudicating outsider polemics, this book engages directly with the language itself as well as the direct perspectives of those who use it today. Through written and oral accounts, Eskaya people have represented their language as an ancestral creation derived from a human body. Reinforcing this traditional view, Piers Kelly's linguistic analysis shows how a complex new register was brought into being by fusing new vocabulary onto a modified local grammar. In a synthesis of linguistic, ethnographic, and historical evidence, a picture emerges of a coastal community that fled the ravages of the U.S. invasion of the island in 1901 in order to build a utopian society in the hills. Here they predicted that the world's languages would decline leaving Eskayan as the last language on earth. Marshalling anthropological theories of nationalism, authenticity, and language ideology, along with comparisons to similar events across highland Southeast Asia, Kelly offers a convincing account of this linguistic mystery and also shows its broader relevance to linguistic anthropology. Although the Eskayan situation is unusual, it has the power to illuminate the pivotal role that language plays in the pursuit of identity-building and political resistance.

What follows when state institutions name historically oppressed languages as official? What happens when bilingual education activists gain the right to coordinate schooling from upper-level state offices? The intercultural bilingual school system in Ecuador has been one of the most prominent referents of Indigenous education in the Americas. Since its establishment in 1988, members of Ecuador's pueblos and nationalities have coordinated a second national school system that includes the teaching of Indigenous languages. Based on more than two years of ethnographic research in Ecuador's Ministry of Education, at international and national conferences, in workshops, in schools, and with families, Recognizing Indigenous Languages considers how state agents carry out linguistic and educational politics and policies in eras of greater inclusivity and multiculturalism. This book shows how institutional advances for bilingual education and Indigenous languages have been premised on affirming the equality-and the equivalency-of the linguistic and cultural practices of members of Indigenous pueblos and nationalities with other Ecuadorians. Major responsibilities like serving as national state agents, crafting a standardized variety of the Kichwa language family, translating legal documents to Kichwa, and teaching Indigenous languages in schools have provided vast authority, representation, and visibility for those languages and their speakers. However, the everyday work of directing a school system and making Kichwa a language of the state includes double binds that work against the very goals of autonomous schooling and getting people to speak and write Kichwa.

What follows when state institutions name historically oppressed languages as official? What happens when bilingual education activists gain the right to coordinate schooling from upper-level state offices? The intercultural bilingual school system in Ecuador has been one of the most prominent referents of Indigenous education in the Americas. Since its establishment in 1988, members of Ecuador's pueblos and nationalities have coordinated a second national school system that includes the teaching of Indigenous languages. Based on more than two years of ethnographic research in Ecuador's Ministry of Education, at international and national conferences, in workshops, in schools, and with families, Recognizing Indigenous Languages considers how state agents carry out linguistic and educational politics and policies in eras of greater inclusivity and multiculturalism. This book shows how institutional advances for bilingual education and Indigenous languages have been premised on affirming the equality-and the equivalency-of the linguistic and cultural practices of members of Indigenous pueblos and nationalities with other Ecuadorians. Major responsibilities like serving as national state agents, crafting a standardized variety of the Kichwa language family, translating legal documents to Kichwa, and teaching Indigenous languages in schools have provided vast authority, representation, and visibility for those languages and their speakers. However, the everyday work of directing a school system and making Kichwa a language of the state includes double binds that work against the very goals of autonomous schooling and getting people to speak and write Kichwa.

In 1885, Henri Bergson addressed a class of French high school students on the subject of politeness. Bergson would go on to become one of the most influential philosophers of his time, yet although this essay set forth a striking theory of politeness and foreshadowed aspects of his later work, it remains remarkably little-known. Rethinking Politeness with Henri Bergson offers the first English translation of Discours sur la Politesse, and brings together leading linguistic anthropologists to critically engage with and expand on Bergson's ideas.At the core of Bergson's essay is a tripartite classification of politeness acts into politesse des manières ("politeness of manners"), politesse de l'esprit ("politeness of mind/spirit"), and politesse du coeur ("politeness of the heart"). Presented along a hierarchy of intersubjective attunement and ethical aspirations, Bergson's three types call for the progressive abandonment of habits when they get in the way of our ability to help others. They can also be read as an invitation to consider politeness as a dimension of human sociability that is relevant to social theory. Collectively, the essays in this volume untangle the ideological, socio-historical, and material conditions that shape notions of the ideal social agent, and propose a rethinking of politeness that serves as a bridge to larger issues of civility, citizenship, and democracy.

Nahuatl Nations is a linguistic ethnography that explores the political relations between those Indigenous communities of Mexico that speak the Nahuatl language and the Mexican Nation that claims it as an important national symbol. Author Magnus Pharao Hansen studies how this relation has been shaped by history and how it plays out today in Indigenous Nahua towns, regions, and educational institutions, and in the Mexican diaspora. Based on long-term fieldwork in several Nahuatl speaking communities in Central Mexico, Hansen uses a combination of methods from ethnohistory, sociolinguistics, anthropology and ethnography to study the political importance of Nahuatl in different periods and places, and for different persons. He suggests that the complicated political relations between State, Nation and Nahua communities can be understood through the concept of 'semiotic sovereignty', which refers to a community's ability to manage its own semiotic resources, including its own language, and the cultural practices that constitute it as a political community. He argues that Indigenous languages are likely to remain vital as long as they used as languages of political community, and they also protect the community's sovereignty by functioning as a barrier that restricts access to the participation for outsiders. Semiotic sovereignty therefore becomes a key concept for understanding how Indigenous communities can maintain both their political and linguistic vitality. While the Mexican Nation seeks to expropriate Indigenous semiotic resources in order to improve its brand on an international marketplace, Indigenous communities may employ them in resistance to state domination.

Nahuatl Nations is a linguistic ethnography that explores the political relations between those Indigenous communities of Mexico that speak the Nahuatl language and the Mexican Nation that claims it as an important national symbol. Author Magnus Pharao Hansen studies how this relation has been shaped by history and how it plays out today in Indigenous Nahua towns, regions, and educational institutions, and in the Mexican diaspora. Based on long-term fieldwork in several Nahuatl speaking communities in Central Mexico, Hansen uses a combination of methods from ethnohistory, sociolinguistics, anthropology and ethnography to study the political importance of Nahuatl in different periods and places, and for different persons. He suggests that the complicated political relations between State, Nation and Nahua communities can be understood through the concept of 'semiotic sovereignty', which refers to a community's ability to manage its own semiotic resources, including its own language, and the cultural practices that constitute it as a political community. He argues that Indigenous languages are likely to remain vital as long as they used as languages of political community, and they also protect the community's sovereignty by functioning as a barrier that restricts access to the participation for outsiders. Semiotic sovereignty therefore becomes a key concept for understanding how Indigenous communities can maintain both their political and linguistic vitality. While the Mexican Nation seeks to expropriate Indigenous semiotic resources in order to improve its brand on an international marketplace, Indigenous communities may employ them in resistance to state domination.

In Living Together Across Borders, author Lynnette Arnold tells the stories of extended families living stretched between a rural Salvadoran village and the urban locations in the United States where their migrant relatives live. In this multi-sited ethnography, Arnold examines seemingly mundane conversational practices-such as sending greetings, negotiating remittances, and reminiscing together-that are central to family life across borders. Arnold underscores the consequentiality of these linguistic practices by tracing how they are shaped by and re-shape gendered and generational norms of family care, as well as how they are tied to Salvadoran histories of migration, violence, and poverty, which are powerfully influenced by U.S. economic and foreign policy. This book demonstrates that these communicative practices bring inequities between the global North and South into family life by continually reproducing distinctions between relatives in El Salvador and those living in the United States. Conversely, she examines seemingly mundane interactions including greetings, remittance negotiations, and reminiscing together. Although these relational moments of cross-border connection are fleeting, their impacts endure, laying the foundation for the ongoing material and economic provisioning necessary to family survival. Through cross-border conversations, families nurture intergenerational relations that sustain the family and convivencia (living-together) over the years despite ongoing separation.

In the 2010s, leaders of the DeafBlind community in Seattle called into question the community's dependence on sighted interpreters and sought new ways of communicating, interacting, and navigating through touch. This effort became the "protactile movement," and it spread quickly across the country.In Going Tactile, Anthropologist Terra Edwards draws on thirty months of ethnographic fieldwork with DeafBlind artists, intellectuals, political leaders, and community members, to show how autonomous spaces away from sighted norms were created and life was re-imagined. In doing so, she offers a new perspective on the nature of language, its limits, and what it means to find a new way of being in the world.

In the 2010s, leaders of the DeafBlind community in Seattle called into question the community's dependence on sighted interpreters and sought new ways of communicating, interacting, and navigating through touch. This effort became the "protactile movement," and it spread quickly across the country. In Going Tactile, Anthropologist Terra Edwards draws on thirty months of ethnographic fieldwork with DeafBlind artists, intellectuals, political leaders, and community members, to show how autonomous spaces away from sighted norms were created and life was re-imagined. In doing so, she offers a new perspective on the nature of language, its limits, and what it means to find a new way of being in the world.

The language used by American military personnel can be intense and confrontational, yet the relationship between language and military violence is rarely examined in depth. This groundbreaking book offers a unique perspective on how language facilitates the work of combat infantry-the state's killable killers. Through vivid ethnographic research, Janet McIntosh meticulously traces the nuances of military “kill talk” as it permeates the vast nervous system of the military, from the first exposure to yelling in Marine Corps basic training to the dark humor and nihilistic expressions found in war zones in Vietnam and the Middle East. McIntosh reveals how military trainers use language to deindividuate, toughen, and masculinize recruits, while infantry soldiers develop distinct linguistic repertoires and attitudes to suppress empathy, dehumanize and racialize the enemy, cope with loss, and dwell in a moral gray zone.Kill Talk also addresses national debates over language use in a diverse world, exploring tensions between calls for sensitivity and restraint in military speech and the perception that these can threaten national security. The book highlights the contradictions between the rhetoric of military honor and moral integrity and the harsh, sometimes depraved, language of combatants, suggesting that these paradoxes enable military violence yet contribute to moral injury. It concludes with an exploration of veteran poets and artists who have found innovative ways to use language and other forms of expression to critique military institutions and begin the process of demilitarizing their psyches.

The language used by American military personnel can be intense and confrontational, yet the relationship between language and military violence is rarely examined in depth. This groundbreaking book offers a unique perspective on how language facilitates the work of combat infantry-the state's killable killers. Through vivid ethnographic research, Janet McIntosh meticulously traces the nuances of military “kill talk” as it permeates the vast nervous system of the military, from the first exposure to yelling in Marine Corps basic training to the dark humor and nihilistic expressions found in war zones in Vietnam and the Middle East. McIntosh reveals how military trainers use language to deindividuate, toughen, and masculinize recruits, while infantry soldiers develop distinct linguistic repertoires and attitudes to suppress empathy, dehumanize and racialize the enemy, cope with loss, and dwell in a moral gray zone.Kill Talk also addresses national debates over language use in a diverse world, exploring tensions between calls for sensitivity and restraint in military speech and the perception that these can threaten national security. The book highlights the contradictions between the rhetoric of military honor and moral integrity and the harsh, sometimes depraved, language of combatants, suggesting that these paradoxes enable military violence yet contribute to moral injury. It concludes with an exploration of veteran poets and artists who have found innovative ways to use language and other forms of expression to critique military institutions and begin the process of demilitarizing their psyches.