Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Shame in English Language Teaching
Shame in English Language Teaching
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directly to “habits of the heart” (Harvey, 2005, quoted in McElhinny,
2010, p. 315). Agentic individual responses to this tension between
individual subjective feelings and geopolitical circumstances have “im-
portant consequences for cultural and social formations and distinc-
tions” (Park, 2015, p. 60). Thus, it is not surprising to find that ELT
and English use is a disruptive issue evoking powerful affective
dimensions elemental to the ongoing constitution of social structures
in many communities.
The role of desire in ELT has been theorized recently in the
pages of this journal (Motha & Lin, 2014) and elsewhere in the field
(Benesch, 2012; Pavlenko, 2005). Drawing from developments in cul-
tural studies (Ahmed, 2010; Spivak, 2002), Motha and Lin (2014)
theorize how desire for English, and the identities and resources
English promises, drives the global ELT enterprise. In the neoliberal
economy, English itself becomes an object of desire. Our pedagogi-
cal orientations subtly frame effective language acquisition as moti-
vated by desire to engage with the language and the “target”
community that speaks it. Communicative language teaching
approaches are based on the assumption that a willingness to actively
use English for communicative purposes inside and outside class-
rooms accounts for learning success. Language pedagogies treat Eng-
lish as a form of positive investment (Norton, 2000), thus a
desirable resource because it facilitates marketization of oneself; Eng-
lish is associated with consumption (Kubota, 2011), even with
romance (Takahashi, 2013), and is therefore treated, following
Ahmed (2010), as an object of happiness. Furthermore, hybrid iden-
tities with language practices that accommodate English are theo-
rized as desirable to resolve conflicts with their local identities/
languages that learners may experience. In this sense, as Kubota
(2014) observes, neoliberal ideology treats hybridity as a desirable, if
not progressive, outcome for multilingual or postcolonial subjects,
part of the expectation that those who develop a repertoire of lan-
guages, competencies, skills, and identities have better chances of
succeeding in the diversified and unpredictable global economy.
These perspectives are understandable, considering the power of
English as global linguistic and cultural capital, but such forms of
desire shape complicity with neoliberal regimes, a mechanism by
which people internalize dispositions to serve market and profit
accumulation purposes. Thus, despite there being no guarantee that
English proficiency will improve or change people’s life conditions,
desire furthers English’s global dominance and the worldwide
industry of ELT.
In this framework of orientation to affect and desire, we wish to
examine the question of shame in ELT, which has been observed in
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SHAME IN ELT
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activities, as a student explains: “So it is like the common language is
Malay. Then I shouldn’t be talking like one clever person, superior. If
then they will think I am such a snob” (Stroud & Wee, 2007, p. 47).
In Sri Lanka, it has been observed that students don’t attend commu-
nicative classes where they are expected to use English in peer interac-
tions, preferring to attend grammar classes where they can learn
English for examination purposes (Canagarajah, 1993). In some cir-
cles, English spoken in public is derided as kaduwa (“sword”), meaning
that the speaker is trying to cut down the interlocutor with his or her
powerful instrument (Kandiah, 1979). Such negative associations and
feelings of shame toward English are motivated by positive values of
community solidarity that need to be taken seriously. We have to be
wary of denigrating or suppressing such expressions of shame to
encourage a desire for English without addressing conflicts of identity,
values, and ways of life.
Shame can also ensue from successful learning of English and attri-
tion of one’s first language. Failure to maintain L1 by members of
immigrant or minority groups, and subsequent dissipation of cultural
or ethnic identity, might be regarded as shameful behavior by others
committed to resisting assimilation (Gao, 2012). In these contexts,
shame is a mechanism for encouraging L1 maintenance. Pavlenko
(2005) cites instances where those who fail to transmit a minority lan-
guage are denounced as language traitors or language killers (Constan-
tinidou, 1994; Romaine 1999, cited in Pavlenko, 2005). This kind of
shaming is a complex phenomenon, reductive and essentializing in
treating people as inhabiting a single language or identity, but with
potential to counteract language shift, attrition, or loss.
The case we study in Kiribati is similar to the latter two types of shame
reviewed above: shame of projecting an out-group identity in violation
of local solidarity and shame of abandoning the heritage language for
gaining a powerful new language. We analyze the significance of shame
from the local community’s point of view and consider whether shame
of this nature might have positive value for learning, communication,
and identity. Theorizing the positive significance of shame also helps us
deconstruct dominant notions of language competence, motivation,
and pedagogical practice based on desire. We explore whether we can
work with the community’s values informing shame to develop a quali-
fied place for English in their social life.
BACKGROUND
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motivation (Burnett, 2005). It served the promotion of British and
European value systems and practices through local literacies, essen-
tially disrupting precolonial sociopolitical-economic relations, while
withholding from the mass of I-Kiribati the opportunity to participate
actively and equitably in the English-speaking sphere. Endowed with
the weight of political and socioeconomic capital, English has been a
commodity, possession of which marks a complex sociolinguistic divide
in Kiribati originating in a colonial policy of creating a tightly regu-
lated group of elite locals (Fanon, 1967) selected for an education,
including English language, deemed necessary for employment to sup-
port colonial administrators. These associations of education and of
English proficiency with the elite persist in contemporary Kiribati, and
this is an important facet of the social practices that we explore in this
article.
The English-dominant language policy in Kiribati is not difficult to
understand. Given considerations of preparing students for future
mobility in response to climatic threats, policy makers are influenced
by a discourse powerful in many former colonies that equates success
and prosperity with Western-style English-language medium education
(Gray, 2010). Both English education and English language are high-
demand, profitably tradeable commodities in global markets (Tilak,
2008) that offer possibilities for mobility of the I-Kiribati population
not simply as refugees but as skilled English-proficient migrants
(Burnett, 2013). Opportunities for access to this linguistic capital are
sponsored by aid agencies.
Yet “top-down” policy making and import of language teaching
approaches and pedagogies are taking place against a background of
evidence that English language literacy in Kiribati is actually declining
(Burnett, 2013). The policy frustration of Kiribati has, we contend,
ensued from policy makers’ application of the “the global education
agenda of the international development community . . . to perceived
regional and national education problems regardless of contextual dif-
ference” (Coxon & Munce, 2008, p. 147). However, policy develop-
ment must begin with closer explorations of the local context of
enactment. Local and international policy makers are ignoring the
importance of local historical and material circumstances in the feel-
ings of I-Kiribati about language and language use, and which at the
grassroots level have led them to adopt subjective positions about ELT
manifest in language desires and shaming practices. It is to a frame-
work for this orientation that we turn in this study to analyze the com-
plex and conflicting perspectives on shame by foreign experts and
among the I-Kiribati themselves in order to develop more constructive
and relevant ELT pedagogies.
RESEARCH METHODOLOGY
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perspectives on shaming practices, interview data are limited to a bal-
anced representation of local and foreign professionals: three local
teachers (one female and two male) and three foreign experts (two
female and one male). Their statements are interpreted in the light of
the first author’s observations and consultancy experience in Kiribati.
Of the local participants, Zameeta is the principal of a high school
and an English teacher who completed her postgraduate studies in
Australia. Of the two local males, Wanga is the director of a university
campus located in Tarawa and completed his doctoral studies in Aus-
tralia, and Atang is a graduate from a Fijian university and works as an
English teacher at a high school. Of the three foreign experts, John
was a senior embassy official in charge of overseas aid and cultural
affairs. Jill and Elaine were employed as overseas consultants to
improve English language and literacy skills in the country. All three
foreign experts are native speakers of English. Each interview lasted
between 70 and 90 minutes, and interview questions explored partici-
pants’ perceptions of shame and shaming in relation to English lan-
guage teaching and learning in Kiribati. We adopted a selective
coding (Clarke, 2005) of the interview data for different explanations
on the manifestations, causes, and consequences of shaming practices.
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explanation also essentializes a perceived local culture, locating it in
deep-seated perceptions of affect, and as a constraint on rational judg-
ment, as “‘beneath’ the faculties of thought and reason” (Ahmed,
2015, p. 3).
Elaine acknowledges that an egalitarian approach of not wanting to
“put yourself above others” can motivate shame and shaming practices.
However, the foreign experts interpreted this egalitarianism as moti-
vated by jealousy. Though comments such as the following are difficult
to verify, John observed this to the extent that “if someone sets up a
shop, often people will refuse to go there because the attitude is why
would they go there and make you rich” (John: 196–208). Therefore
they see these shaming practices as leading to destructive outcomes:
“people wanting to move ahead, achieve, take opportunities, get
pulled back because we want you down, or we want you all here . . .
[T]o me, that’s not what egalitarianism is all about” (Elaine: 222–230).
Furthermore, there is a dismissive attitude by foreign experts toward
local social relationships and values as simply a lack of “hierarchy”
(John: 196–208). They observed that such claims of shame or egalitari-
anism are “actually rubbish, you know, they’re not egalitarian at all”
(Elaine: 222–230). In another context Elaine called this an “egalitarian
myth” (Elaine: 244). It became evident from statements discussed
above that I-Kiribati and foreign experts had different understandings
of egalitarianism, which influenced the way they understood shame.
In contrast to foreign experts, we found I-Kiribati participants offer-
ing a rather different perspective on shame. Their decisions about the
use of English and of the sociohistorical significance of these decisions
affirm community solidarity and positive social outcomes. Using Eng-
lish locally indexes “liking to be different” or wanting “to be higher
than them” (Zameeta: 198–213). Because English has been historically
identified since colonization with social stratification and Western val-
ues, these associations fill locals with shame when using English. These
values inform the appellation okakanimatang (“acting like an outsider
or foreigner”) used to describe local people who used English.
Zameeta explained what it means: “Okakanimatang. Mmmm . . . . like
to be a . . . European and, you know, the expats, they speak in . . . the
white people. Matang means white people, you know. . . . So when
you try to speak in English, they will say you, okakanimatang” (Zameeta:
169–179). Clearly, there are identity implications in using English
locally. Though the foreign experts were not sympathetic to such iden-
tity attributions, they too had observed the connection. Jill recounted
incidents she was familiar with: “incidents where people say to them,
‘What . . . do you want to be an imatang? Why you speak in English?”
(Jill: 140–143). As we can infer, shaming a person as okakanimatang
endows that person with a stigmatized identity. To be called
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economic status or practice. Everyone can strive to better themselves,
but they shouldn’t flaunt their status publicly, and in fact it is impor-
tant to sustain the feeling of collective belonging that is “constructed
as ‘being’ through ‘feeling’” (Ahmed, 2015, p. 2), by continuing to
perform the practices necessary to affirm and (re)constitute local
social structure. It is this misunderstanding that explains why foreign
experts had pejorative labels for local behavior as “the egalitarian
myth.” Wanga (35–53) further explained:
Kiribati culture is an egalitarian culture. . . . [W]hen you speak English
which is a different language . . . you are trying to make yourself differ-
ent, not only different but also above everyone else. So when people
ridicule you . . . they are in fact pulling you down to their same level.
. . . [T]he society has its own leveling mechanisms.
Speaking English locally is interpreted by I-Kiribati as claiming higher
social status, as indexed by the power of English as a linguistic capital,
and is an invitation to be shamed in public. When individuals are per-
ceived to be engaging in practices that threaten community solidarity,
such as using English rather the local vernacular, shaming practices
are normative mechanisms that invoke fear of not being part of the
vernacular-speaking mainstream and exert pressure to realign behavior
to conform to the egalitarian expectations. There is a reluctance to
use English, because “the culture cannot be you know . . . be aban-
doned because it is very strong” (Zameeta: 198–213). Therefore,
shame is a social and affective mechanism to align individuals with
community norms. Our participants were socialized into these values
and the functions of shaming practices from a young age: “We were
taught through our socialization and when we were small that every-
one is equal and you cannot be above everyone else” (Wanga: 35–53).
Shaming turns out to be effective to help internalize these values of
community solidarity and equality. Local informants conveyed the high
place given to shame in their community life: “One of the most impor-
tant things in Kiribati life is the avoidance of being shamed” (Wanga:
161). To put aside community-based practices in a relationally
oriented community is interpreted as abandonment of values central
to I-Kiribati identity.
What we see above is that local attribution of shame as cultural can
be performative. In claiming that their culture is egalitarian and that
shaming is a culturally developed strategy of “leveling mechanism,” the
locals are actually influencing certain preferred community norms in
language socialization. They are ensuring that community cohesion is
not affected by some people learning English to impose their higher
status on others. Suggestions by foreign experts that local values
informing shaming are nothing more than a convenient excuse for
16 TESOL QUARTERLY
capital, generating conflicting language desires. I-Kiribati do not deny
the benefits to be gained for a community that has developed capaci-
ties to use English, as Wanga acknowledged: “They realize the impor-
tance of acquiring English and communicating English” (Wanga: 35–
53). However, the emphasis on avoidance of shame has led some to
restrict use of English to the home setting, hoping to encourage their
children:
I like my home to be an English speaking home but because we always
have other people at home, my children are kind of shy to speak
English. . . . We try small sentences with them because they’re still
young but we never succeed. . . . Because if we go out and we try to
speak English with them we are thinking that other people are laugh-
ing at us thinking, you know, okakanimatang.
(Zameeta: 198–213)
One might interpret Zameeta’s approach as a coping strategy. Because
she sees the need to teach English to her children for its extra-com-
munity value, but constrained by the shaming practices intra-commu-
nity, she treats the home as a safe space. Others also face this
dilemma; that is, how do community members teach English for extra-
community relations when it is prohibited for use within the commu-
nity?
There are also well-meaning attempts to promote English as a med-
ium of instruction and a language of wider use in the school environ-
ment, though teachers encounter resistance from shaming practices.
Consider the attempts of Wanga:
I earlier mentioned to you my experience in trying to make this place
an English speaking campus. We do it for several days and it is very dif-
ficult because as soon as you speak English . . . you know from the
facial expressions alone. . . . [W]hy are you doing this? You are as same
as us. Why try to be different? . . . Why speak in English?
(Wanga: 110–117)
This complexity in feelings about English is observed in the contrast-
ing behavior of I-Kiribati inside and outside their country. It seems
that they are bold and communicative in English when they travel to
neighboring Australia or New Zealand. Atang observed:
And, it quite astonished me . . . because I know that . . . I mean, those
people that I lived with, when they were here [i.e., in Kiribati] they
cannot speak even a word in English but they’re now in New Zealand
they can express themselves in English. That’s quite funny, hey? Maybe
because they’re away from the culture which always mocked them or
18 TESOL QUARTERLY
damage to community cohesion from adopting English for work rela-
tionships. Third, they explained their adoption of English and partici-
pation in industrial or cash economy as motivated by their families
and communities. In other words, they justified the temporary adop-
tion of these alternative values and behaviors in terms of commitment
to their community’s needs. For example, they explained that their
work was temporary or that their learning and use of English was
instrumental for earning much-needed resources for their families.
These ways of being I-Kiribati in various social settings is arguably fur-
ther evidence of the localized structures that have emerged in Kiribati
itself from historical, ideological, and subjective realities and that
shaming practices are open to changing circumstances, experiences,
and desires.
Borovnik (2005, p. 132) argues that the I-Kiribati approach above
resembles a contextual switching of identities and values. She labels
the I-Kiribati strategy as a “cultural flexibility” in opposition to hybrid-
ity. Rather than mixing the second culture, its values, and English into
their identities, as in hybridity, I-Kiribati prefer to keep them separate
and adopt English for outside contexts. Because we adopt a more qual-
ified and situated orientation to “culture,” we prefer the term code
switching to describe this practice. As a model for managing language
contact, code switching refers to adopting different codes for different
contexts, without letting them mix with each other (see Heath, 1983;
Young, 2004, for this orientation). This strategy is different from that
of code meshing, which involves fusing competing codes for hybrid
communication. Hybridity seems to be the dominant model for devel-
opment of multilingual identities among scholars, but the I-Kiribati
prefer a different approach. Though they are not against adopting
English and alternate lifestyles in some contexts, they keep English
and the vernacular distinct for different purposes and relationships, as
in the code switching model. Some applied linguists have argued that
the code meshing model is also promoted by neoliberal organizations
for flexible communication for market purposes (see Flores, 2013;
Kubota, 2014). Native American scholar Scott Lyons (2009) prefers
code switching over code meshing, motivated by a similar need to
maintain heritage language and community cohesion, as the I-Kiribati
do. Such strategies of using English for certain limited contexts of
functional and contact purposes suggest alternatives for English lan-
guage teaching in this community. They might offer a way of reconcil-
ing language desires and needs in terms of the community’s own
expectations and values rather than the values and ideologies of policy
makers—which we address next.
20 TESOL QUARTERLY
use of English. The Kiribati case is just the reverse. Whereas policy
makers and development agencies prefer a greater role for English,
the local community prefers a strategic use of English and Kiribati.
Our code switching proposal is to design pedagogies and policies
that affirm the preference of the community members. If this type of
language plan is to be pursued, and English is to be learned for func-
tional reasons (such as work or education and interactions in the cash
economy) and contact with outsiders, the local curriculum would have
to change. It currently focuses on communicative language teaching as
the preferred pedagogy, on extensive readings from English literature,
and on adoption of English as the medium of education. Such
approaches treat English as an all-purpose language. The I-Kiribati
treat such curriculum and pedagogies as having a colonizing influence
on their values, identities, and cultures by being more invasive than
they desire. Because they find such objectives of learning and use
resulting in communicative practices that are shameful, they might be
more relaxed if the curriculum and pedagogy treat English as taught
for use with outsiders and for functional purposes. Obviously, such a
pedagogy and curriculum would not be shaped around integrative
motivation, though it is treated as universally desirable in the profes-
sional literature. They should be modeled to address an instrumental
motivation.
Following Motha and Lin (2014), the I-Kiribati can also be helped
to explore their desires and feelings critically to understand their
shame of English. The observations emerging from our interview-based
study, and from other ethnographies of education and work of the I-
Kiribati, should be presented to learners to help them explore their
attitudes toward English and education. Shame is not a topic to be
avoided by both local people and foreign experts. Many of the strate-
gies Motha and Lin suggest can be modeled to help local people
understand the functions and motivations of shame. They can help in
reorienting shaming practices toward more beneficial effects in educa-
tion and society by renegotiating the pressures from globalization and
neoliberalism.
Students can be encouraged to role-play interactions with outsiders.
Clearly identifying the interlocutor as outsiders or foreigners can dis-
arm criticism of using English with insiders. Such interactions can help
teach and analyze the functions of code switching. Furthermore, such
activities can provide opportunities for mimicry, parody, sarcasm, and
humor, as the students role-play the use of English by locals who are
pretentious or outsiders who are elitist. Mimicry and role-play can also
provide ways of detaching oneself from English, of finding relief from
the fear of stigma, and of adopting more relaxed attitudes toward
objects of shame. Students can analyze these interactions critically to
THE AUTHORS
22 TESOL QUARTERLY
Suresh Canagarajah is the Erle Sparks Professor at Pennsylvania State University.
He teaches World Englishes, second language writing, and postcolonial studies in
the Departments of English and Applied Linguistics. He has taught in the Univer-
sity of Jaffna, in Sri Lanka, and the City University of New York.
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