Language Dilemmas in Alaska

Ron Scollon and Suzanne Scollon

A n Athabaskan elder was teaching a bilingual class in a small village. She was telling a story in English

about Wolverine. Wolverine is known to be bad. He sneaks into people's camps and breaks up their caches and ruins their things. As she told the story one little girl did not seem to be paying attention; she was writing on a piece of paper. That night a state trooper knocked at the elder's door. He heard that there had been an outbreak of vandalism and thought she might know more about it.

The trooper's daughter had misunderstood the story in class that day. We do not know if the misunderstanding stopped there; we do not know what the trooper wrote in his report. Did he write that his daughter had made a mistake in school, or did he write that once again a Na- tive had been questioned and refused to report informa- tion?

Language in Alaska is often seen as a serious social problem. While many kinds of problems are being ad- dressed, the most common characterization of the prob- lem is informational. Agencies from Alaska Native cor- porations to public schools are seeking to gather or dis- seminate information. It is in this context of the transfer of information that language is most often seen as a so- cial problem.

The trooper's daughter heard words and sentences in her own language, English. She understood the details but lost the context. Those who understand that context, a Native elder telling stories, hear the words "broke into

the cache" and think "Wolver ine ." Those who do not understand may hear other th ings- -"vanda ls" perhaps, or even "Indians ." Hearing the context is inseparable. from understanding the words; different contexts elicit different meanings.

In Alaska the most common perception of language as a social problem is based on concern for language as an informational system. Although this perception may not be assumed to be shared by all Natives and non-Natives,

the assumption that language is an informational system is a serious impediment to communication between Na- tives and non-Natives. In this view, talking of language as a social problem may itself constitute a social problem in that it does not address the prior issue of the nature of language itself.

Histories of Alaska usually begin with the first contact of Alaska Natives with outside groups by detailing the Russian presence in Aleut territory along the Aleutian chain. Next, the purchase of Alaska by the United States is shown as highlighting the silliness of the Russians in selling such valuable real estate and the craftiness of the Americans in bringing about the sale. Gold, military im- portance during the Second World War, and, more re- cently, oil are never missed in these histories. Finally, the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) of 1971 rounds out the history by making the final payment for what began with the first Russian installment.

Histories most often dwell on the development of re- sources and the accompanying elaboration of govern- mental and private bureaucracies and institutional struc- tures. That is what is of interest to the writers and their reading public. These histories are in English on the whole, although there are those in other languages such as Japanese, and are intended for sale outside of Alaska.

In more locally targeted histories we see more of rele- vance to our problem. We see, for example, that the first major solution of the language problem was Father John Veniaminov's Russian-Aleut bilingual school in Un- alaska, established in 1824. This first Alaskan bilingual school was established a century and a half before the U.S. Supreme Court decided in Lau vs. Nichols that educating children in a language they could not under- stand was discriminatory. We also learn that the last Russian-Aleut bilingual school, at St. Paul in the Pribilof Islands, was closed in 1912. It was closed by the U.S. government for three basic reasons: Russian and Aleut

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were the wrong languages for Americans, the Cyrillic al- phabet was the wrong alphabet, and Russian Orthodoxy was the wrong religion. A flourishing Alaska Native lit- eracy was all but extinguished, largely on behalf of American English monolingualism. Russian-Aleut bilin- gualism and literacy were a working solution to a pre- vailing language problem. As conditions changed, American English monolingualism became the preferred solution.

Two points can be drawn from this note on history. The first is that in the framing of the history of Alaska, Alaska Natives are regularly taken as context, as back- ground, as a problem to be solved, or as a resource to be developed. Alaska Natives are perceived as just one more aspect of the untamed wilderness to be dealt with. There are two permissible roles in this characterization. Natives figure as good characters when they endorse the new way of life; when they become priests, teachers, public officials, businessmen, or bush pilots; when they learn organizational or bureaucratic skills and roles; when they learn Russian or later English; or when they become literate in Russian, Eriglish, or even in Native languages. Natives figure as bad characters when for any reason they fail to or choose not to endorse these values. The role of Alaska Natives in the typical histories is al- ways viewed from the perspective of their "contribution to society," that is, Russian or American society (and in the proper order). What we do not see is another possi- bility being expressed: that Alaska Natives may or may not share this perspective.

Viewed within the perspective of their "contribution to society," the problem of language then becomes one of successful communication with that society. This is the second point to be drawn. The problem of language for Alaska Natives is viewed as one of developing a suc- cessful relationship to society. This perspective assumes that Natives may choose to opt into or out of communi- cation with the dominant society and to live with the con- setluences. What it does not allow is that Natives may choose to ignore that society, that they may value other perspectives.

Problems and Tokens

Many Alaska Natives have chosen and will continue to choose to ignore the options allowed by the notion of "contributing to society"; furthermore, their choice to do this will remain difficult for institutions and institu- tional representatives of that society to understand. The perspective adopted in typical histories of Alaska is rep- resented throughout current bureaucratic conceptualiza- tions of issues. We do not have the space to detail these issues. We cannot discuss the 1978 and 1980 reports of the Alaska State Judicial Council that in some cases Alaska Natives are receiving longer sentences than whites in the state's courts. We can only comment that two aspects of language have been implicated in this form of discrimination, the communicative style of the Native defendants and the wordings used in pre-sentence

reports by officers of the court. We cannot discuss the plethora of educational issues involving language but can only note the framing of the issues: "English language non-proficiency," "reading below national norms," "transitional bilingual programs," "developmental lan- guage programs," "communicative disorders," "lan- guage interference," and "i l l i teracy"--al l terms that imply the perspective of the historians. These terms as- sume that the problem lies in finding ways to bring about a smooth transition from the bilingualism of the wilder- ness state to the coherent English monolingualism of "national norms."

Even where the emphasis is on the maintenance of a separate Native identity, we see the deep assumption of the primacy of making a "contribution to society." We have conferences of elders in which the wisdom of the tradition bearers is tape-recorded, transcribed, and translated into English for posterity. It is assumed that in the future all readers will be readers of English.

We now have phonemically adequate orthographies for all Alaska Native languages, minor dictionaries of most, major comprehensive dictionaries of several in progress, and grammars of a few to arm literacy pro- grams in Alaska Native languages. There are 220 Native corporations whose general goal is to give Alaska Na- tives a leg to stand on in the corporate battle for Native self-determination.

All of these programs, from cross-cultural communi- cation training for recruits in the Public Safety Academy to the making of comprehensive dictionaries of Native languages, seem to imply a one-way flow of information from Natives to public institutions. All of these activities from elders conferences to Native corporations have in common the assumption that Alaska Natives must relate to or gain access to institutions not of their own making,

Many social issues in Alaska are either understood to be language problems or

at least to have language as a complicating factor.

even if this access is for the purpose of gaining a separate identity. These activities perpetuate the view that the problem is an informational one, an institutional lack of information about Natives. Natives are, again, viewed as a resource to be mined, refined, and redistributed by an institutional structure for the contribution this resource can make to society.

Language is seen as a social problem in education, a problem of students not adapting themselves to the in- stitution. Language is seen as a social problem in the judicial system, a problem of defendants not presenting

themselves in the proper light. Language is seen as a so- cial problem in the Native corporations, a problem of getting information from the Native stockholders in the villages in order to plan for social, economic, political, and educational development of Native people them- selves. Language is seen as a social problem by linguists,

It is fitting in Alaska these days to look at the metaphor of the pipeline.

anthropologists, and folklorists, a problem of recording and archiving the last remnants of disappearing lan- guages and a problem of helping Natives maintain a separate identity in the face of enforced monolingualism. In all of these cases the solution to the social problem as perceived depends on a one-way flow of information from Natives to institutions. This perception is the cen- tral social problem involving language in Alaska.

The most frequent phrasing of the problem is that a project or an organization wants to get "Native input." The metaphor suggests what is already known: the frames are set, the machinery is running, the need is for fuel from the Native resource. Thus the most common objection is to tokenism. A second problem is one of log- ical typing, an apples and oranges problem. The issues are seen as institutional, as needing bureaucratic solu- tion. The input is by a category of a different order. It is not asking for the views of Mr. Jones, an individual who may happen to be Native. It is not asking for the views of a particular organization or institution that happens to have Native members and therefore represents a special interest group. The phrase "Native input" implies that any Native by any convenient definition will do.

Even within Alaska it is frequently not known that Alaska Natives do not represent a clearly bounded and homogeneous category. There are twenty different Alaska Native languages in several broad linguistic families. Within languages there is significant differ- entiation of dialect. Linguistic categories are not isomor- phic with cultural categories. Further, there are Alaska Natives who identify with a particular group and yet do not share either the language or cultural activities of the core group. The idea of an Alaska Native is useful for governmental, institutional, and legal purposes, but it has no traditional, historical, linguistic, cultural, or even class relevance. Asking for "Native input" on a prob- lem is as absurd as asking an Italian or a German or even an Icelander for "European input."

The absurdities we practice give useful clues. Why does it occur to us to ask for "Native input" and not "European"? A further clue is the phrase we often hear, " I f the X (named group of Natives) would only get their

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act together . . . " The assumption being used is that all effective action is organizational, that it comes from people doing institutional things while speaking in insti- tutional roles.

Recently one of the authors was involved in discus- sions with one of the state's legal offices. There was a person present who had been invited to give "Native input." As introductions were made, all but this person gave their names and the institutional positions they oc- cupied. This woman gave her name. The rhythm of the smooth movement from person to person around the room was broken. There was a perceptible break in ex- pectations. As the discussions progressed nothing was said to this woman or heard from her. During a break one of the participants approached her and asked, " I didn't quite get who you were?" She answered, " I ' m _ " He said, "And you're with . . . ? , " waiting for her to fill in the blank. She filled in by saying, " I ' m . . . wi th . . . myself." Again, the rhythm was broken and the man bolted out of the room.

In its broadest outlines the difference is one between speaking for and speaking. Our modern institutions-- legal, educational, social, or economic--are not just looking for "Native input," for information from the "Native sector"; they are further insisting that this in- formation be institutional information, that the "Native sector" be institutionally organized. Private information from private individuals does not count.

Metaphor and Meaning

As part of our work we have helped to prepare oral histories of traditional elders for publication in both Na- tive languages and in English. In one case we were working on the stories of the late Chief Henry of Huslia. In the course of these stories Chief Henry had described his travels all through the mountains east of Huslia. We had learned the traditional Koyukon Athabaskan names of creeks, passes, lakes, summits, salt licks, and divides. With the names he had mapped the location of his camps, his encounters with relatives, his first hunts, and the places where he had spent hard winters. As we were working on this a young man from a college back East came in wanting to talk to us. He was doing some re- search supported by the National Science Foundation. We asked what work he was doing and why. He said they were making a general survey of the Ray Moun- tains. The reason for the survey was that "nobody knows anything about that area." This is Chief Henry's area.

What can that mean? It is more than saying that Chief Henry is "nobody." It is saying that as long as knowl- edge is held as personal knowledge it does not count. Knowledge, to be real, must be institutional knowledge, able to be indexed by our institutions of knowledge, our universities, our Library of Congress, our National Sci- ence Foundation. Paralleling the idea that individuals should "speak for" organizationally constituted groups is this idea that what is not spoken in those contexts is not real knowledge. Personal knowledge must be transmuted

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into institutional knowledge before it can be said that it is known. What one speaks when one "speaks for" is in- stitutional knowledge. But here we come to a dilemma. This article is an example of institutional knowledge being institutionally presented. We are working out of a "speaking-for" role. For whom do we now speak about personhood? There are many views, many possibilities, even within the artificial category "Alaska Native." We will pass on an example from a Koyukon woman "repre- senting" herself. She tells us that the verb which best translates into English as " I got her pregnant" is spoken from the point of view of the infant. An unborn child is granted grammatical agency. Consistent with this view is the Koyukon story about babies in the other world fight- ing each other with little charcoal clubs to be born. The strongest are born first. The blows from their siblings' charcoal clubs leave the so-called Mongolian blue spots on the newborn baby's buttocks. The darker the blue, the stronger that woman 's future children may be expected to be. Again, consistent with this is the question asked parents about newborn babies. Where we might ask, "What is it, boy or girl?", Koyukon people ask, " W h o came?" Our question is asked in terms of defining fea- tures of categories. It is a request to categorize. The Koyukon question asks about a person who is assumed to have taken individual responsibility in being born.

Agencies throughout the state of Alaska are seeking institutionally organized information from people in in- stitutional roles. People in villages throughout Alaska are asking, " W h o are you to ask me that?" The mutual un- intelligibility centers on the " w h o . " The institutional answer is a vita, a resume, a position, and an organiza- tional mission. The relationship between the speaker is established institutionally: public official--constituent, teacher-student, state trooper-defendant, social work- er-applicant. The response to these answers is often a re- petition: "But who are you?"

Condui t or Buckskin?

Public and private agencies throughout the state are now concerned with what is usually called cross-cultural communication. As we have worked with these agencies we find ourselves always coming back to the same prob- lem. We are asked to prepare a handbook, often called a "cookbook , " of ways Natives speak and of ways in which non-Natives should speak to them. The concern is usually genuine, but the understanding remains blind to the issue. As we talk our way through these requests, we find that people are asking for an institutional mode of behavior to deal with Natives, who are expected to be- have as ingredients in a recipe. The cookbook is re- quested to fill in that part of one 's professional resume that will qualify one to seek information from Natives. The " w h o " is expanded institutionally. One is now someone trained in cross-cultural communicat ion, perhaps even having received college credit for it.

This is a response which does not touch the issue.

What is being sought as an answer to the question " w h o are you?" is a relationship. What blinds is the metaphor

we use for communication. Perhaps it is more fitting in Alaska these days to look

at the metaphor of the pipeline. In the earliest Western perception of issues, Alaska Natives were seen as part of the wilderness to be tamed. They were not viewed even as a resource. Now, because of changed political and ec- onomic circumstances both within Alaska and in the world, Alaska Natives have come to be seen as a re- source. The metaphor of the pipeline views communica- tion as getting the resource into a condition where it will flow smoothly, pumping it through the pipe, tanking it off to refineries, and even returning it in refined form, but, of course, at greatly increased cost.

This metaphor governs communicat ion between Alaska Natives and agencies in the state. It is assumed that agencies will set frames, determine values, locate resources (Native input), make plans, initiate programs, and deliver services. It is assumed in this institutional prospecting and resource development that the needs of the national and global institutional economy are the de- terminers of activity and the role of Alaska Natives is to provide information in as useful a form as they can be constrained to provide. We do not ask any more of oil than that it be high quality, abundant, and accessible. Agencies ask of Alaska Natives that they cooperate, be available, and speak intelligibly.

The pipeline metaphor is not unique to Alaska. Michael Reddy has argued that the conduit in some form figures in virtually all of our English metalanguage about communication. The metaphors we use in our thinking about language set the frames for our consideration of language as a social issue. The pipeline metaphor directs our thinking about language toward a focus on the pipeline, language, and its contents, information. If we have the notion that the transfer of information from the source to the receiver is the problem, then when commu- nication fails we look largely to the conduit for explana- tions.

Many social issues in Alaska are either understood to be language problems per se or, at least, to have lan- guage as a central complicating factor. As these issues are framed by state, federal, and private agencies, the problem is seen to be one of defective conduits. Whether the solution proposed is multilingualism (constructing multiple pipelines) or strongly normative establishment of Standard English, the solutions tend always to be phrased in terms of the structural properties of the con- duit. Discussions may range widely over issues such as how many languages should be spoken in what contexts, what the normative standards for those languages should be, whether Natives should have to learn non-Native languages, whether Natives should have to learn their own traditional languages, whether to succeed in the non-Native system one should adopt non-Native ways of speaking, and whether one loses one 's identity in the process. These and many other issues are discussed, the

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metaphor of the conduit which frames these issues is not discussed. It is assumed that the role of language in communication is to transfer information from one point to another.

There are other ways of viewing language. Again, we come up against the problem of "speaking for ." We have been told stories, we have seen verb stems and themes, we have done ethnographic interviewing. All point toward understanding language as being about re- lationship, not information. The important relationships are the close ones, not institutional role relationships but me and you. In writing, which is after all not a matter of me and you but of author and public, it is difficult to talk about me and you and be convincing.

Let us look first at berries. There is a Chipewyan Athabasken verb which relates three meanings: a dog picking a bone clean, a woman picking berries, and someone following and understanding what another per- son is saying. Crucial to this relationship is the idea that the work of understanding is the listener's. Entities like berries and meat particles must be sought out, struggled over. They are not abundant. One gets useless material like leaves or gristle along with what one is seeking. One gets little for a lot of effort. Perhaps most important, what one gets is for one 's own consumption. It is a sub- sistence economy of information, not a market economy that governs activities. The relationship that governs in- formation exchange is close, it gets between one 's teeth. Nothing is expected to be smooth, clear, easy, or au- tomatic.

We have been told a Tlingit story about how halibut hooks came to be made as they are from two kinds of wood, one green and one dry, and how they are joined with a binding of spruce bark strips. It is not our story to tell, but we can say that what is emphasized is the differ- ence between the materials and the binding effect of use and adversity. Unused, the halibut hook is loose and in- effective. In salt water, the differences are bound to- gether into a functioning whole. We are told that this metaphor is about communication, that difference is es- sential to normal function, and that use of the relation- ship itself is essential to continuing functioning.

A Koyukon Athabaskan verb theme relates several things that take time to consumate: chewing fat such as that of the caribou, smoking, and talking. This latter meaning is not literal talking so much as establishing a relationship for talking or befriending. Again, the focus is on the activity which is done, not instrumentally to ac- complish other ends, but as an end in itself.

Keith Basso has passed on to us a metaphor for com- munication used by some Western Apache. The way Apache women work buckskin is much like the way Alaska Natives of different groups work many different skins. The work is slow and it takes much care not to tear or mutilate the skin. As the tanning progresses and the skin gets more pliable, it can be treated more easily with less concern about its tearing. Once it is well tanned it takes on a toughness that is a result of its softness. Then

it can be used. This metaphor is used to talk about re- lationships. New relationships are fragile, susceptible to tearing and subsequent uselessness. Relationships must be worked slowly, mutually by all parties, until there is a tanned buckskin between them. Only then can that buckskin be safely treated instrumentally to accomplish other ends.

The problem of language problems in Alaska is a con- flict of conduit and buckskin. If language is viewed as conduit, one set of issues is framed, one set of solutions is implied, and one set of explanations for failure of communication can be expected. The buckskin metaphor implies other frames, solutions, and explanations.

We can return to the question of "who came?" When a consultant arrives in a village to gather information to be used in planning economic development of a regional Native corporation, the question may be asked, " W h o are you that I should answer?" The answer generated by the conduit metaphor is to locate oneself in an institu- tional structure. One becomes a tanker in the Port of Valdez waiting for the resource to flow. The buckskin metaphor would generate a different answer, and one closer to expectations. One would say that one is con- cerned to tan a buckskin and set about doing that. Once the relationship is well tanned, neither party can ignore it or dodge responsibility in its use. The implication of the conduit metaphor is that something needs to be done about language. The implication of the buckskin metaphor is that something needs to be done about per- sonal relationships. In the first case the burden for solu- tions to language problems fails on institutions. In the second case the problem is seen as being closer to home. []

READINGS SUGGESTED BY THE AUTHOR: Basso, Keith. Portraits of "The Whiteman." New York:

Cambridge University Press, 1979. Jones, Eliza. Chief Henry Yugh Noholnigee: The Stories That

Chief Henry Told. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center, 1979.

Krauss, Michael E. Alaska Native Languages: Past, Present, and Future. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center Research Papers, Volume 4, 1980.

Reddy, Michael J. "The Conduit Metaphor: A Case of Frame Conflict in Our Language About Language." In Metaphor and Thought. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1979.

Ron Scotlon is an assistant professor of linguistics in the Alaska Native Language Center and the Alaska Studies Pro- gram at the University of Alaska. Suzanne B.K. Scollon is a consultant on interethnic communication in education. They are the authors of Linguistic Convergence: An Ethnography of Speaking at Fort Chipewyan, Alberta and Narrative, Literacy and Face in Interethnic Communication.