Bill Poser suggests that
> ...a potential solution to [the problem of establishing a lingua
> franca for Native groups] is to choose a native language that
> is not a language of anybody in the country (e.g. Canadian native
> people could choose Nahuatl) or something like Chinook Jargon, that
> is of native origin but is not the language of any particular group.
This raises the interesting question of just what we mean by a "native"
language. English was originally the "native" language of southwestern
Britain, but historical circumstances have made it, first the standard
language of a country and an empire, and more recently the lingua franca
of an emerging world business culture. It remains "native" in South London.
Nothing very significant has been added to the phonology and grammar of
English by its social redefinition as a world language; given access to
a time machine, any speaker of a contemporary World English could probably
understand the Native English of early Tudor times. What he'd have a
problem with would be the culture.
So what is the point of ripping a Native Canadian language out of its
social context and making it the lingua franca of "native" communication
in AFN debates or whatever? Once, say, Cree is used in such a context
it ceases to be a "native" language -- or rather, it ceases to be used
"natively" in those circumstances, while retaining its native social
functions back on the Reserve. The only way it could be used "natively"
in a national or international forum would be for all the participants
to become cultural Crees, which is hardly a feasible option.
The same holds for Navajo, or Nahuatl, or Quechua, or whatever "neutral"
language (from the Canadian point of view) that one might choose. It is
either used natively, or it is used in a way almost exactly parallel to
English, French, or the other common lingua francas. So what's the point?
The real question, I suspect, is not "what native language do we use",
but "how do we avoid using English." National social networks of
indigenous peoples do indeed feel the lack of a linguistic symbol of group
identity. Probably the most successful tactic would be to turn to a
common lingua franca other than the dominant one in their country or
area, preferably one with a counter-cultural tinge. In Canada, French
is the most obvious alternative (except in Quebec, where English will
do the trick); in the United States, Spanish; in Latin America, English
-- or, possibly, Nahuatl, Quechua, or Aymara in their respective areas,
although the lack of widespread social mechanisms for standardizing these
languages (schools, books, newspapers) makes their use problematic.
I certainly don't mean to imply that the use of a language like Cree or
Navajo doesn't give its speakers an inside track on what, for lack of a
better term, one can call "an indigenous world-view." But this
world-view is largely a matter of HOW the language is used, not
WHAT the particular linguistic mechanism is. When a speaker of Navajo
hears an ad on the radio, or "code-talks" at Iwo Jima, he is not being
"native" in any important sense; when he recites the Blessing Way or
gossips with his clan sisters, he is. Using Navajo at a national political
meeting, except for a symbolic function not unlike that of wearing
turquoise, is not effectively different from using English in the same
context.
--Victor Golla
Humboldt State University
Arcata, CA 95521
gollav@axe.humboldt.edu