Why being in one place matters for transnational language use

Transnationalism is a notion that is both presumed to be clear whilst also recognised as in need of explanation. Perhaps we can talk about it as a keyword, in the sense of Williams (1976, 14) – as a term that is used in “interesting or difficult ways”. Transnationalism has been defined from myriad perspectives. For Levitt (2001, 196), it is “used to describe everything under the sun”; a fact “which seriously diminishes its explanatory power”. At the same time, it tends to take on the meaning of “another form of migration” (Wimmer and Glick Schiller 2002, 322), such that transnationalism is presumed to be the result of migration. Transnationalism is, from this vantage point, created through migration from one nation-state to another.

This emphasis on migration has accompanied the concept since it became popular in the social sciences in the 1990s, with scholars using “transnationalism” to describe the fact that immigrants “live their lives across borders and maintain their ties to home, even when their countries of origin and settlements are geographically distant” (Glick Schiller, Basch and Blanc-Szanton 1992, ix). In connection with a widely shared understanding that the world has globalised, the term tends to be used to draw attention to movements, flows and interconnections across nation-state boundaries. And these resultant ties and networks are recognised as having implications for all kinds of social practice, including language.

However, without denying the potential relevance of migration, in practice there is no necessary tie between migration and transnationalism. A person can migrate yet not maintain transnational networks. On the reverse, someone can have transnational ties yet not have migrated themselves. This means that someone can also feel and believe that they are transnational in the absence of migration. This is an argument Dahinden (2009) makes on the basis of research carried out in the Swiss city of Neuchâtel. And her research leads her to argue for the importance of including non-migrants in studies of transnationalism.

Such a view also has implications for how we might think about language and transnationalism. As Blommaert (2010, 6) reminds us, movement is never across empty space. Through movement people come into contact with one another, and in doing so, their ways of speaking come into contact, too. Whilst these different ways of speaking co-exist in new environments, their co-existence is stratified. This means that languages are typically used and evaluated in relation to one another, such that hierarchies of use and perception emerge. However, if we follow Dahinden’s (2009) approach to transnationalism, the ways people use and orient towards particular languages can be influenced by “connection[s] (elsewhere)” (Clifford 1994, 322) even in the absence of migration. This is the case for many Ismaili Muslims with whom I spent time in a village in Hunza in northern Pakistan and the city of Khorog in eastern Tajikistan. Part of a community who are dispersed in over 25 countries around the world, many Ismailis in Hunza and Khorog are not mobile themselves. Yet, we can still think about them as transnational and this is relevant for understanding their attitudes towards English.

In a 2011 interview given with the Lebanese Broadcasting Corporation, the community’s spiritual, social and political leader since 1957, the Aga Khan IV, refers to an explicit “language policy” which made English the community’s official “second language”. Implemented in the 1960s and 1970s, the language policy is said to have been put in place in an attempt to enhance the “development potential” of Ismailis. During fieldwork amongst Ismailis in Hunza and Khorog, I explored how Ismailis appropriate English and whether their attitudes towards and views on English match those suggested in official discourse. Whilst it was readily apparent that English tends not to have second but rather third (in Central Hunza, after Burushaski and Urdu) or fourth (amongst ethnic Pamiris in Khorog, after Shughni, Russian and Tajik) language status, I found a shared stance on English. In both Hunza and Khorog, my interlocutors underscored the key role played by the Aga Khan for their attempts to learn English. The Aga Khan orders Ismailis to learn English. A 1960 farman (‘edict’) issued during his first visit to Hunza in 1960, for instance, calls upon his followers to “Think in English, speak in English and dream in English”; a message which has been rendered durable, by being printed onto physical signs which hang in classrooms in the broader region. However, it is also the fact that the Aga Khan uses English himself which is deemed important. Ismailis describe themselves as trying to learn English to understand what he tells his followers and to gain “direct access”. In using English and ordering Ismailis to learn English, the Aga Khan gives the language status as a potentially valuable economic resource, and my interlocutors share this perspective on its value. However, English also becomes entangled with issues of identity and with what we might label transnational “consciousness” (Vertovec 1999) or “subjectivity” (Dahinden 2009). As put by an elderly authority in Hunza, Zafar, English has “almost become a matter of faith for every Ismaili around the world”. Its ready adoption can, as he explained it to me, be associated with the Ismailis’ “intellectual faith”, which emphasises “process” not “product”. Or as suggested by Salma, a young woman from Hunza, whilst non-Ismailis are recognising the importance of English, “our community has left other communities far behind in this race of learning”.

Writing about diaspora, Clifford (1994, 322) underscores the importance not simply of connections elsewhere, but more specifically that it is “the connection (elsewhere) that makes a difference (here).” Yet, this is not particular to diaspora. It is possible for meaningful situated local differences to be forged through connections with an elsewhere. In this case, with the Aga Khan; with Ismailis who have migrated and returned, or with whom one communicates online; and with texts and documents that circulate across space and time. This is not to deny the relevance of mobility. And it is probable that Ismailis who are mobile will engage in language practices (e.g., language learning) in an attempt to facilitate their mobility and that they will, in turn, be linguistically affected by their mobility. However, having a particular orientation towards a language – English in this case – which surpasses the utilitarian and becomes entangled with identity as a result of connections elsewhere is not the result of migration. Transnationalism in the sense of migration should perhaps not then be used as a starting point for thinking about language; or if it is, we need to be aware of the fact that it might not be the relevant starting point for our interlocutors. It might thus not be the most relevant frame to explore language on the move, and on the reverse, Ismailis’ languages might be on the move even in the absence of migration.

References

Blommaert, J. 2010. The Sociolinguistics of Globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Clifford, J. 1994. Diasporas. Cultural Anthropology 9, 302–338.
Dahinden, J. 2009. Are we all transnationals now? Network transnationalism and transnational subjectivity: The differing impacts of globalization on the inhabitants of a small Swiss city. Ethnic and Racial Studies 32.8, 1365–1386.
Glick Schiller, N., L. Basch and C. Blanc-Szanton. 1992. Towards a definition of transnationalism. Introductory remarks and research questions. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 645, ix–xiv.
Levitt, P. 2001. Transnational migration: Taking stock and future directions. Global Networks 1.3, 195–216.
Vertovec, S. 1999. Conceiving and researching transnationalism. Ethnic and Racial Studies 22.2, 447–462.
Williams, R. 1976. Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society. Oxford: Oxford University Press.