Business card promoting private English tuition

In Iran, as in many other countries around the globe, the craze for learning English has been on the rise. This tendency is attributed to, inter alia, the country’s rather young population who need the language for various purposes such as furthering education abroad, immigration or trade. As a consequence, all kinds of English teaching have become big business. While the majority of learners of English attend private English language institutes, private tutoring, too, has mushroomed in the past few years.

In the past few months, I have been collecting marketing materials for private English language tuition in Isfahan. While well-established language institutes usually rely on local newspapers, magazines or TV channels to promote their English classes, individual language tutors choose less expensive methods of advertising. The main promotional method is the distribution of brochures, fliers and business cards.

Despite the low costs associated with their production, these advertising materials can easily be distributed among target audiences which often include those who need a certain score on standardized tests such as TOEFL or IELTS in a rather short period of time. Business cards are usually personally distributed among tutors’ networks. Additionally, they are also found in the city’s language bookshops. Brochures and fliers are found in all kinds of public spaces frequented by young people.

A close look at such marketing materials enables us to explore social issues embedded in the discourse of the private TESOL industry in Iran today. In my corpus of more than 100 marketing materials for private tutoring, the following ideologies of English language learning can be found:

• Learning English is associated with personal success. One business card, for instance, has the Persian mottoدانش زبان انگلیسی قدرت دنیای امروز است  on the front and the English translation “English knowledge is power” on the back.
• The ideal tutor is a person who has the experience of living in an English-speaking country, usually in Australia, Canada and the UK. Another business card, for example, describes the tutor as a person who has lived in Australia for five years (٥ سال زندگی در استرالیا) and uses the slogan Learn English from one who has lived in an English-speaking country.
• The ideal tutor is linked to an international organisation. Examples of such organizations, which are typically included in brackets after the tutor’s name, include “TEFL Canada”, “British Council” and “ETS”.
• English learners come in distinct groups based on age, gender or occupation. One example promotes semi-private English classes for housewives (انگلیسی برای خانمهای خانه دار), who, as the description on the flier reveals, “are usually free in the morning and are able to attend English classes.” In this context the English language is dividable into different packages which are separately accessible. Other examples includeانگلیسی برای کودکان  (English for children), انگلیسی برای نوجوانان (English for teenagers), انگلیسی برای توریست ها (English for tourists) andانگلیسی برای تجار  (English for businessmen), to name a few. No information is provided about the course content and the name of the course corresponds to the social role of the target group (e.g., ‘housewives’).

Overall, the unprecedented demand for English has caused English tutors in Iran, as in many other countries in the world, to compete for students. In this respect, English language tutors are driven by the competition for profit and English language learning is thus marketed in specific ways. As my corpus shows, private tutors typically use a variety of strategies in order to be deemed legitimate and meritorious. It appears that in this context the quest for a better tutor (as a form of identity) has long replaced the identification of practices designed to address the complexity of language learning.

Inside Vank Cathedral, the Armenian Cathedral of the Holy Savior in Isfahan. Construction began in 1606 and was completed in the 1660s (Source: Wikipedia)

Armenian version of “A golden age of multiculturalism“; translated by Arineh Minasian (Արինէ Մինասեան)

Անցեալ շաբաթ առիթ ունեցա ներկայանալ CIEN խմբի միջոցով կազմակերպւած ”Լեզւական Շարժունակութեան, Պրակտիկայի եւ Ինքնութեան” սեմինարին, Universitat Autònoma դե Բարսելոնայում: Այստեղ էին հաւաքւել հասարակական լեզւաբանութեան գիտնականներ, ովքեր աշխատում են, արտագաղթի հետեւանքով առաջացած, լեզւական շարժունակութեան բնագաւառում: Նրանք քննարկելու էին մեթոդի, տեսութեան եւ պրակտիկաի շուրջ առաջացած հարցեր:

Իմ հերթին, ես ուրւագծեցի իմ առաջարկը համաշխարհային հասարակական լեզւաբանութեան ազգագրութեան ուղղութեամբ եւ մատնանշեցի մի քանի խոչնդոտներ, որոնք իմ կարծիքով կանգնած են հասարակական լեզւաբանութեան ճանապարհին մեր օրերում: Այս խոչնդոտներից մէկն այն է որ ներկայում պատմական լեզւաբանական բազմազանութիւնը պակաս ուշադրութեան է արժանանում: Այս խոչնդոտը ինչպէս նաեւ, անգլերենի կարեւորութիւնը հիւսիսաին Ամերիկայում եւ Եւրոպաում եւ լեզւական բազմազանութիւնը որպէս դժւարութիւն, մեր գիտելիքների մէջ դատարկութիւն են ստեղծում: Իրօք այսպիսի շեղումներն աղաւաղում են այն պատկերը, որ ունենք լեզւի եւ շարժունակութան փոխյարաբերութիւններից:

Այսպիսի աղաւաղումները հարթելու համար կարող ենք կենտրոնանալ իրական ուտոպիաների վրայ, որտեղ բազմալեզւութիւնը աշխատում է ի շահ  համայնքի տնտեսութեան, մշակույթին եւ ինչու չէ  հաւաքականութեանը: Language on the move կայքէջում արդէն հասցրել ենք զբաղւել այսպիսի օրինակներով (օրինակների համար կարող էք դիմել multiculturalism in the central library of Vienna կամ  French-German bilingual school operating in Berlin since 17^thcentury  փոստերին): Իսֆահանը 17-րդ դարում մէկն է այսպիսի օրինակներից:

1598 թւին, Պարսկաստանի Սեֆեւեան հարստութեան թագաւոր Շահ Աբբասը (նաեւ Մեծն Շահ Աբբաս) երկրի մայրաքաղաքը փոխադրեց Իսֆահան: Շատ կարճ ժամանակւայ ընթացքում Իսֆահանը դարձաւ երկրի տնտեսական, մշակութային եւ քաղաքական կոսմոպոլիտ կենտրոն: Այս փոփոխութիւնների հետեւանքով Իսֆահանը ստացաւ “աշխարհի կէսը” մականունը: Գերմանացի գիտնական Ադամ Օլէարուսը 1637 թւին այցելեց Իսֆահան եւ այն այսպէս նկարագրեց՝

Չկայ ոչ մի ազգ ողջ Ասիայում, ոչ անգամ Եւրոպայում, որի առեւտրականները չեն մեկնում  Իսֆահան: Սովորաբար շուրջ 12000 հնդիկներ կան քաղաքում: Այստեղ, բացի նրանցից կան նաեւ մեծ թւով մոնղոլներ (Խուրասան եւ Բուխարա քաղաքներից), թուրքեր, եբրայեցիներ, հայեր, վրացիներ, անգլիացիներ, իտալացիներ եւ իսպանացիներ: Հայ առեւտրականները Քրիստոնեայ են: Նրանք Իրանում բնակւող մնացած առեւտրականներից  աւելի յաճախ են ուղեւորութիւնների մեկնում, չնայած նրանք բոլորն բացարձակապէս արտօնւած են երթեւեկել ուր կը ցանկանան – ինչպէս դրսեցիներն են թույլատրւում մեկնել Իրան եւ մաքս վճարելով վաճառել իրենց ապրանքները: Այդ իսկ պատճառով էլ հայերը Իրանում բնակւող բոլոր առեւտրականներից ամենա հարուստներն են: (Օլէարուսի ճանապարհորդութիւնը Իսֆահանում)

Իսֆահանում բնակւող բազմալեզու եւ բազմամշակույթ բնակիչներից, հայերն էին որոնք նպաստեցին Իսֆահանի յաջողութեանը իր զարգացման ոսկէ շրջանում, իսկ այս ամենը ղեկավարում էր ինքը Շահ Աբբասը:

1603-04 թւերին, Շահ Աբբասը հայերին Ջուլֆա (Ջուղա) քաղաքից (Իրանի հիւսիս արեւմուտքում) փոխադրեց Իսֆահան: Նրանք բնակութիւն հաստատեցին քաղաքի այն մասում, որը կոչւեց Նոր Ջուղա, իսկ հին Ջուղան կործանւեց:

Երեւի բազմամշակութային զարգացման ոսկէ շրջանի համար, սա այնքանէլ լուսաւոր սկիզբ չէ , բայց չպէտքէ մոռանալ այս ամէնի պատմական ենթահողը: 16-րդ դարում, Օսմանական եւ Սեֆեւեան թագաւորութիւնները անյապաղ պատերազմներ էին մղում երկու երկրների սահմաններում: Այդ սահմանները այսօր Հայաստանի, Ադրբէյջանի, Վրաստանի, Իրանի հիւսիս արեւմտեան, հիւսիսային Իրաքի, Լիբանանի, Սիրիայի եւ Արեւելեան Թուրքիայի  մաս են կազմում: Երկու պատերազմող կողմերը աշխատում էին սպանել այս շրջանների բնակչութեանը կամ էլ տեղահան անելով փոխադրել աւելի կենտրոնական նահանգներ: Իսկ Շահ Աբբասը Ջուլֆայի բնակչութեան տեղահանութեամբ յետին նպատակներ ունէր: Իհարկէ այս տեղահանութիւնը ծառայում էր իր ռազմական շահերին, բայց նա նաեւ այս գործով աւելի հեռուն էր նայում: Նա այսպիսով ցանկանում էր մարդկային ներուժ հաւաքել:

Այս քայլը երկու ասպարէզներում էլ նրան յաջողութիւն բերեց: Պատերազմի դաշտում, օսմանցիները պարտաւորւեցին ետ քաշւել ամայացած դաշտերից (ցրտի պատճառով), սա առիթ ընծայեց պարսիկներին կրկին անգամ ոտքի կանգնել եւ յաջորդ տարի օսմանցիներին պարտութեան մատնել:

Թագաւորի հեռաւոր նպատակը մարդկային ներուժ ձեռք բերելու ուղղութեամբ եւս յաջողեց: Բայց որն էր՞ հայերի նկատմամբ ցուցաբերած թագաւորի հետաքրքրութեան պատճառը.  Հայերը միջազգային կապեր ունէին այլ ազգերի, հատկապէս Եւրոպացիների հետ: Նրանց առեւտրական ցանցը տարածւում էր անգամ Ասիայի հեռաւոր արեւելեան երկրներ:

Նրանց ծանօթութիւնը շրջանի մշակույթների, նաեւ արեւելքի եւ արեւմուտքի ժողովուրդների, լեզուների եւ սովորութիւնների հետ հայերին ընձեռնեց  հնարաւորութիւն հանդիսանալու  յարմար թեկնածուներ Սեֆեւեան եւ շիա Պարսկաստանի ձեռնարկատէրերի: (Գրիգորեան 1974, էջ 662)

 Գրիգորեանի աշխատութիւնը (1974) պարունակում է մի ցուցակ, որտեղ նշւում է ժամանակի հայերի բազմազան զբաղմունքները, սկսած Հնդկաստանից, որտեղ աշխատում էին իբրեւ մոնղոլների դատարանների թարգմանիչներ, մինչեւ Լեհաստան, ուր վաճառականներ էին եւ որտեղ մեծ թւով ներմուծւող ապրանքներ ճանաչւում էին որպէս հայկական ապրանքներ:

Թագաւորը ցանկանում էր շահել միջազգային լայն կապեր ունեցող հաւաքականութեան վստահութիւնը եւ հաւատարմութիւնը իր նկատմամբ: Այս արդիւնաւէտ եւ ազատամիտ ծրագրի յաջողումը շահ ապահովեց թէ հայերին եւ թէ հասարակութեանը, ինչի հետեւանքով Իսֆահանը դարձաւ առեւտրի ծաղկող կենտրոն:

Այս ուղղութեամբ թագաւորը լայնածաւալ արտօնութիւններ տւեց հայերին: Այս շարքում նշելի են կրօնական ազատութիւն, քաղաքացիական ամբողջական իրավունքներ եւ իրաւական սեփականութիւն: Հայերին տրւած հետաքրքիր իրավունքներից մէկն այն էր, որ նրանք կարող էին մասնակցել շուկայական վէճերին եւ հայհոյել ինչպէս մուսուլմանները:

Շահ Աբբասը յաճախ էր այցելում Նոր Ջուղայի բնակիչներին: Անգամ մասնակցում էր Սուրբ Ծնունդի եւ Սուրբ Զատիկի արարողութիւններին եւ հետաքրքրւում այդ նոր քաղաքացիների բարեկեցութեամբ: Երբ նրան քննադատում էին թէ նա հայերին գերադասում է ուրիշներից, նա այսպէս էր բացատրում թէ հայերը թողել են իրենց հայրենի հողը եւ որոշել բնակւել Իսֆահանում, այդ իսկ պատճառով էլ պէտքէ նրանց հետ վարւել իբրեւ պատւաւոր հիւրերի: Նա նաեւ ակնարկում էր թէ իւրաքանչիւր հայի փոխադրման ծախսը 1.000 թուման է եղել, այս ներդրումը նա կատարել է ոչ թէ հայերի այլ Պարսկաստանի համար:

1630-ական թւականներին հայերը հիմնեցին իրենց երկլեզու  համալսարանը, որի ուսուցումը հիմնականում կենտրոնանում էր հումանիտար եւ մեթաֆիզիկաի բնագաւառներում: Այս բարձրագոյն կրթական հաստատութիւնը աւարտեցին անւանի անձնաւորութիւններ, այդ շարքում Յովհաննէս Վարդապետը, ով հետագային մեկնեց Իտալիա տպագրութեան հետ ծանօթանալու: Նա հիմնեց առաջին տպարանը Իրանում: 1638 թւին, Իրանում տպագրւեց առաջին գիրքը հայերէնով, Սաղմոսագրքի թարգմանութիւնը:

Անգամ այսօր, աւելի քան չորս դար անց, հայերն ունեն իրենց դպրոցները եւ եկեղեցիները: Նրանք պահում եւ պահպանում են իրենց մայրենի լեզուն: Թեհրանում բնակւող հայութեան հետ կապւած վերջին ուսումնասիրութիւններից պարզ դարձաւ, որ մասնակիցների հարիւր տոկոսը տիրապետում են հայերէնի, այն օգտւում են իրենց խօսակցութիւններում եւ արժէքաւորում իրենց երկլեզւութիւնը: (Ներսիսեան 2001)

Գաղթի հետեւանքով առաջացած լեզւական փոթոխոխթիւնները ուսումնասիրելու համար ոչ միայն պէտքէ հետազոտել բազմամշակույթ եւ բազմալեզու Իսֆահանի ոսկէ շրջանը այլ նաեւ նրա անկումը: Ոչ բոլոր ղեկավարներն էին Շահ Աբբասի նման լայնախոհ: Նրա ժառանգորդները Նոր Ջուղան համարում էին հարստութեան աղբիւր որտեղից կարելի է հարկեր հաւաքել: Դրանով հանդերձ որ ոչ մի թագաւորական շրջան հայերի հաւատարմութիւնը շահելու համար Շահ Աբբասի պէս ծաւալուն քայլերի չի դիմել, հայերը միշտ էլ ունեցել են ազատութիւն իրենց կրօնի հարցում եւ աւելի քան չորս հարիւր տարի ապահովւած են եղել քաղաքացիական ամբողջական իրավունքներով:

Այսպիսով, պետութեան եւ այս փոքրիկ համայնքի կապերը երբեք չեն սառեցւել, բայց կրել են սպառնող համաշխարային նոր ուժերի ազդեցութիւնը: Բրիտանական կայսրութեան ընդարձակման հետեւանքով Իրանի պետութիւնը պարտաւորւեց ենթարկւել մի շարք ստորացուցիչ կապիտալացիաի դաշնագրերի, եւ երբ բրիտանական կայսրութիւնը սկսեց վերահսկել ծովային կապերը Ասիայի եւ Եւրոպայի միջեւ, հայերը կորցրին իրենց տնտեսական ազդեցութիւնը ցամաքային առեւտրի ասպարէզում:

Gregorian, V. (1974). “Minorities of Isfahan: The Armenian Community of Isfahan 1587-1722.” Iranian Studies 7 (3/4): 652-680.

Nercissians, E. (2001). Bilingualism and diglossia: patterns of language use by ethnic minorities in TehranInternational Journal of the Sociology of Language, 2001 (148) DOI: 10.1515/ijsl.2001.014

Inside the Armenian Cathedral of the Holy Savior in Isfahan. Construction began in 1606 and was completed in the 1660s (Source: Wikipedia)

Last week I had the privilege of attending, virtually, a seminar devoted to “Mobilities, Language Practices and Identities” organized by the CIEN Group at the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona. The seminar brought together a small number of international scholars working in the sociolinguistics of mobility to discuss questions of method, theory and practices.

In my contribution I outlined a proposal for a global sociolinguistic ethnography and raised a number of challenges that contemporary sociolinguistics is facing in my view. One of these challenges is a relative lack of attention to historical linguistic diversity. Combined with a strong focus on English, on the North American and European experience, and on linguistic diversity as a problem, this results in significant gaps in our knowledge. Indeed, these biases potentially result in a distorted vision of the intersection between language and mobility.

One way to remedy such distortions, and an urgent research task in my view, is to focus on ‘real utopias’ where societal multilingualism actually works to the social, economic and cultural benefit of a community. We’ve previously showcased such examples here on Language on the Move in posts about multiculturalism in the central library of Vienna or about a French-German bilingual school operating in Berlin since the 17^th century. Another intriguing case is constituted by 17^th century Isfahan.

In 1598, Shah Abbas I, also known as Shah Abbas the Great, a king of the Safavid dynasty, moved the Persian capital to Isfahan and within less than a generation the city became a splendid cosmopolitan economic and political center; so impressive that it earned itself the nickname “half the world.” The German scholar Adam Olearius, who visited Isfahan in 1637, described it as follows:

There is not any nation in all Asia, not indeed almost of Europe, who sends not its merchants to Isfahan […]. There are ordinarily about twelve thousand Indians in the city […]. Besides these Indians, there is at Isfahan a great number of Tartars from the provinces of Khurasan, Chattai, and Bukhar; Turks, Jews, Armenians, Georgians, English, Dutch, French, Italians and Spaniards. […] The Armenian merchants, who are Christians, are the richest of any, by reason of the pains they take in making voyages themselves which is more than the other Persians do; though both have an absolute freedom to traffic where they please themselves, as foreigners have the liberty to come into Persia and put off their commodities there, paying custom; […]. (Travels of Olearius in seventeenth-century Persia)

Of all of Isfahan’s multilingual and multicultural inhabitants, it was the Armenians who stand out as having played a special role in Isfahan’s success during its golden age. And their contribution was carefully orchestrated by Shah Abbas himself.

In 1603-04 Shah Abbas transferred all the Armenian inhabitants of the city of Jolfa, located in what is today Iran’s far north-west, to Isfahan. They were re-settled in a new part of the city called New Jolfa and the original Jolfa was razed.

This may not sound like a particularly auspicious beginning to a multicultural golden age. However, one has to bear in mind the historical context: throughout the 16^th century the Ottoman and Safavid empires had been waging war against each other and the battleground was usually their borderlands, i.e. territory that today comprises Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, north-western Iran, northern Iraq, Lebanon, Syria and eastern Turkey. In these borderlands, both empires repeatedly pursued a scorched earth policy, including mass killings and massive displacement of local populations into the heartlands of both empires.

Re-settling the inhabitants of Jolfa was thus scorched-earth policy with a twist: Shah Abbas pursued a long-term objective in addition to the short-term objective of military advantage. The long-term objective was to gain human capital.

He succeeded on both counts. As for the short-term military objective, Ottoman troops had to withdraw from the devastated lands for the winter giving the Safavid troops time to recuperate and the following year they won a decisive victory.

The long-term objective to gain human capital succeeded, too. What exactly was it that made the Armenians attractive to Shah Abbas? Well, Armenians brought a wealth of transnational connections: as Christians, they brought valuable connections to Europe and their trading networks extended to the far east of Asia.

[T]heir acquaintance with cultures of the region and their familiarity with the languages and traditions of the people of the East and West placed them in a position to perform well as the entrepreneurs of the Safavid dynasty and Shiite Persia. (Gregorian 1974, p. 662)

Gregorian (1974) provides a long list of the transnational connections of Armenians which ranged from serving as interpreters at the Moghul courts in India to being established traders in Poland, where a whole range of foreign goods came to be known as “Armenian goods.”

In short, Shah Abbas wished to secure the national loyalty of a transnational group. The success of his plan benefitted both Armenians and the wider society, with Isfahan turning into a flourishing trade hub.

The implementation of the Shah’s plan involved far-reaching concessions to the Armenians of New Jolfa in a concerted effort to gain their loyalty and even affection: religious freedom, full citizenship rights and their own jurisdiction. One of the more intriguing rights they enjoyed was the right to curse and cuss during bazaar disputes in the same manner as Muslims.

Shah Abbas would often visit New Jolfa, even attend Christmas and Easter Mass, and take a deep interest in the new citizens’ welfare. When challenged that he seemed to favour his new subjects, non-Muslims to boot, over the majority population, he would respond that the Armenians had given up their homeland to live in Isfahan and so should be treated as valued guests. Furthermore, he went on to say, their relocation had cost him 1,000 tomans per head, an investment he had made not for the Armenians but for Iran.

As a result of the Shah’s practical and liberal approach both the minority and the wider society of which they were a part flourished.

In the 1630s, Armenians established their own bilingual university focusing on the liberal arts and metaphysics. This institute of higher learning produced many notable graduates including Hovhannes Vardapet, who later went to study printing in Italy and consequently introduced the printing press to Persia. The first book ever printed in Iran was an Armenian translation of the Book of Psalms in 1638.

Even today, more than four centuries on, Iranian Armenians maintain their own schools and churches and the levels of language maintenance of Armenians are very high. A recent study of Armenians in Tehran found that 100% of respondents claimed to know and use Armenian, i.e. the minority language, regularly and to value their bilingualism (Nercissians 2001).

For the study of language and mobility, it is not only instructive to study the golden age of cosmopolitan, multilingual and multicultural Isfahan, but also its decline. Not all rulers were as enlightened as Shah Abbas the Great. Some of his successors mostly saw the wealth of New Jolfa as a cash-cow from where they could extract taxes. However, even if no regime ever again went to such lengths to secure the loyalty of Armenians as Shah Abbas had done, their religious freedom and their full citizenship rights have been continuously upheld over more than four centuries.

The alliance between state and transnational minority for the benefit of both has thus never ceased. However, it ceased to be effective in the face of a new set of global forces that came from outside: with the expansion of the British Empire, the Iranian state was forced into a set of humiliating and debilitating capitulation treaties and Armenians lost much of their economic base in the overland trade between Asia and Europe as Britain opened up and controlled the sea route.

Gregorian, V. (1974). “Minorities of Isfahan: The Armenian Community of Isfahan 1587-1722.” Iranian Studies 7 (3/4): 652-680.

Nercissians, E. (2001). Bilingualism and diglossia: patterns of language use by ethnic minorities in Tehran International Journal of the Sociology of Language, 2001 (148) DOI: 10.1515/ijsl.2001.014

Branded kids' products on display in an Iranian store

Recently, I had occasion to visit a toy store in Isfahan to buy a present for my seven-year-old cousin, who had invited me to his birthday party. Grand, impressive and splendid, the store in question offered a variety of products, from children stationeries and toys of different shapes and colours to XBOX games.

My original intention was to buy something of the Dara & Sara brand, an Iranian line of dolls, books and audio materials. Yet, to my surprise, the store had almost no trace of local toys such as these. I left the shop in disappointment hoping to find something more ‘culturally relevant’ in another shop but I failed again. Eventually, I gave up and bought a Ben 10 watch and a Ben 10 backpack as gifts.

The majority of the products in these toy stores had English messages or expressions and were clearly coded as “global” rather than “Iranian.” The prestige, the price and the quality of imported toys have consigned local products to a marginal role such that I, the customer, was just a passive and helpless recipient and left without any choice. Unsurprisingly then, it turned out that I was not the only one without a choice: at the birthday party, I was disappointed to find out that almost all the guests had brought more or less similar presents.

However, there is a further twist to this story: A few days after the birthday party, I met my little cousin again at yet another family gathering. He was wearing one of his birthday presents, a Spiderman t-shirt, which was emblazoned with the slogan “The Amazing Spiderman.”

As members of my extending family were spending time together, the TV was on in the background. The channel was set to one of the Iranian national TV channels and the program that was running was an episode in a crime series featuring the Iranian police, which in Persian is called naja. In one of the scenes a group of naja commandos raided a building and arrested the bad guys.

The word naja was printed in bold letters on the back of their uniforms and my little cousin obviously made a connection between the uniform of these TV heroes and his own T-shirt: he shouted in amazement: “The amazing naja!”

When I had started my quest for a toy that was culturally relevant, I had been disappointed. However, my cousin’s reaction demonstrates that global, cultural symbols are always appropriated locally – often in unexpected ways. The episode throws into question the long-established assumption that linguistic and cultural hegemonies always work in a top-down manner and paves the way for a totally different interpretation: the spread of English and its related cultural products operate in complex and at times contradictory ways. Ultimately, Spiderman t-shirts display their own ‘local’ orders of indexicality.

While the participants and I thus broadly agreed in our interpretation of the slogan, some participants actually rejected the premise of my question that the slogan was in English. They argued that the slogan might look English but was actually Persian because “end” in English doesn’t mean ‘ultimate,’ ‘super’ or ‘great.’ Rather the word has been borrowed into Persian and acquired that meaning there. On consideration, I have to agree: the premise of my question was indeed mistaken, based, as it is, on an assumption of linguistic discreteness. The question of whether the slogan is in English or Persian is ultimately pointless and I fell into the same trap that Bourdieu berates linguists for:

To speak of the language, without further specification, as linguists do, is tacitly to accept the official definition of the official language of a political unit. (Language and Symbolic Power, 1991, p. 45)

I’m grateful to all the workshop participants for that reminder and for the many stimulating discussions we had during the 2^nd Language-on-the-Move Workshop at the University of Isfahan!

Reading 'Culture Shock' in Isfahan

In the past three decades attention has shifted from communicative competence to discourse as a frame for understanding the challenges faced by language learners. Yet, the question of how stereotyping in language teaching can be avoided seems as unresolved as ever. Is it enough to instruct teachers to avoid stereotyping?

This question crossed my mind a couple of weeks ago when I was teaching a reading passage titled ‘Culture Shock’ to a number of EFL learners in Isfahan as part of their obligatory reading syllabus. Originally written in 1998 by a New York writer, the text recounts the experiences of Tamara Blackmore, an Australian exchange student in the USA. The following lines are taken from the passage in question:

In Australia, students and teachers have little contact outside the classroom. It’s a formal and depersonalized relationship. College is a place you go for a few hours every day and then go home. Your social life and school life is separate.

Going to school here [in America] is a lifestyle, whereas at home [in Australia] we’re just a number. We attend school to get a degree so we can graduate, get a job, and . . . .

Another pleasant shocker was the close and open relationships American students enjoy with their teachers. It is a sharp contrast to Australia . . . .

[In America] students go out to dinner with their lecturers . . . . We just don’t do that [in Australia]. (‘Culture Shock’ by B. Weinstein, in Lee & Gundersen, 2000, Select Readings Intermediate, pp. 27f.)

In the first place, one might wonder why learning about ‘culture shock’ has to be part of an EFL curriculum seeing that EFL students mostly study English to use it in their native contexts. Even for ESL students who study English in the USA, reading about the experiences of another English speaker, who by definition does not face the challenges of language learning, seems irrelevant. Transposing the reading from an ESL to an EFL context such as Iran, it becomes an exercise in alienation.

Having read the text, students are required to discuss a series of questions, including this one: “[W]ould you rather study for a year in Australia or the United States?” For my students, the answer was, almost unanimously – and unsurprisingly –, ‘in the United States’! Obviously, the text had not made Australia sound particularly attractive. By contrast, the text is extremely positive about American universities. Indeed, one of my students summed up her interpretation of the text as follows: “Australia means culture shock and I don’t like it!”

As a bit of an Australia-fan, I did my best to turn the tide by sharing my daily experiences in Australia with my students but I failed miserably. For them, a text that bore the stamp of “a New York journalist” was much more reliable than the personal experiences of their teacher! Some even criticized me for having spent time in Australia.

Considering that TESOL and study abroad are two markets where Australia and the USA compete for students and thus market share, it’s hard not to read an ulterior motive into this passage, originating as it does in the USA. In this context, and unbeknownst to them, EFL learners such as the students in my class are turned from learners into an audience for advertising. What does that mean for language pedagogy? And where does it leave me as an EFL teacher if I have to teach to a syllabus with a not-so-hidden agenda?

In this context, where so many people want to leave the country, the private, commercial foreign language sector has been expanding rapidly. Iran in general and my home town, Isfahan, in particular have undergone an unprecedented boom in foreign language learning and teaching. Accordingly, commercial language schools have mushroomed. It has been reported that, besides hundreds of unregistered ones, a whopping 3700 registered language schools are operating across the country.

The phenomenal market growth in commercial language teaching has also increased competition among language institutes and advertising materials for such institutes are a ubiquitous sight. Ranging from broadcast ads, via billboards, to all kinds of brochures and flyers, advertising materials are all designed to persuade even more members of the target group, i.e. Iranian youths, to engage in foreign language learning. In this way, language learning is no longer about education but about consumption and languages become nothing more than consumer commodities.

This typical flyer presents a case in point. I found this flier in Isfahan’s New Jolfa district, one of Isfahan’s hippest areas frequented by “modern” Iranian youths. The New Jolfa area is a gathering spot for fashionable Iranians to hang out. Consequently, it is also an ideal spot for promoting language schools.

In this flyer, the commodification of language learning is inscribed in the very grammar of the advertising text. For instance, ‘courses’ (دوره ها) and ‘classroom teaching’ (کلاس ها) are animated as participants and thus displace human agents such as ‘teachers’ or ‘students.’ That means that the ‘products’ themselves are ascribed roles and attributes that are in educational contexts normally associated with teachers. Modalities such as disappointment, failure, or risk do not even appear; all that is expressed is that ‘customers’ will receive a predictable, stable outcome. As the flyer has it, success is “100 percent guaranteed” (۱۰۰% تضمینی)!

Language learning thus becomes a product consisting of discrete units, which are separately accessible, and can be bought and sold as distinct goods in the range of commodities available in the market. In such commodified educational discourse, it is the duration of the course that takes on a symbolic significance; one can learn, say, Spanish in 90 days     (اسپانیایی ۹۰ روز)!

Apparently, the market is too competitive and the time is too short to check for typos. Infelicities such as “TOFLE” (i.e. TOEFL), “discution” (i.e. discussion), and “crusive” (i.e. cursive) are by no means limited to the flyer under scrutiny.

Last but not least, the use of flags in such a typical flyer perfectly fits its international and future-oriented purposes. These flags seem to have been intended to foster the link between language learning and mobility and hence to increase the marketing hype surrounding foreign language learning. The more language schools are hyped up, the more difficult it is to resist the urge to “buy” the advertised “products.”

Isfahan University

Even a casual observer of the linguistic landscape in Iran will have to conclude that Iranians have a collective fetish for English. Almost all public signage is bilingual in English and Persian, even in cases where it is hard to imagine an English-speaking audience for a sign (e.g., ATMs that only accept Iranian cards; it’s impossible to use international bank and credit cards in Iran). Participants at the Language-on-the-Move workshop at the University of Tehran told me that English has two broad meanings in Iran: on the one hand, it is seen as a passport to higher education (passing an English test is a prerequisite to many university courses and English is part of the general education component of all university courses) and it is seen as a passport to the wider world outside Iran and strongly associated with going abroad.

The fetish for English is such that it renders other languages, both indigenous and foreign, all but invisible. This welcome banner from the University of Isfahan’s Faculty of Foreign Languages is a case in point. While languages other than English, including Arabic, Armenian, French, and German, are taught in the faculty, I couldn’t see a trace of those languages in the faculty’s spaces I visited. I heard some Arabic in communal prayer before my lecture.

Naghsh-e Jahan, Isfahan

By contrast, the shopkeepers and street vendors on Isfahan’s main tourist attraction, Naghsh-e Jahan, seem to have a more realistic idea on which linguistic side their bread is buttered. When I spent a few hours there yesterday, I was repeatedly accosted in German. Although my husband had warned me not to engage in conversations with hawkers, I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to find out more about their language use. I spoke to some highly proficient German speakers who all claimed that they had learnt their German “here on the square.” One explained to me in impeccable German that “my colleagues and I, we all speak many languages. Wherever the tourists come from. German, French, Spanish, Japanese. But German is number one.” He may have added the last bit of information to please me although shop windows such as the one in the second picture confirm the importance of the German custom to the bazaaris. The idiomatic translation of “Wir beraten Sie gern” is probably “Happy to serve you” although the literal translation is “We’ll be happy to advise you” and speaks of a somewhat more sophisticated shopping interaction.

I don’t have figures for international tourist arrivals to Iran at hand but few tourists come from the major English-speaking countries for obvious reasons. The tourist service workers who I asked where their international customers came from would mention Arabs, Germans and other continental Europeans, Chinese, Japanese and Koreans. In the hotel where I’m staying I’ve noticed visitors from China, Germany, Greece, Korea, the Netherlands, and Turkey. The hotel however does not seem to provide services in any of these languages, nor do museums or tourist information offices. These all focus on English although I’ve seen tour guides, maps and coffee table books in French, German and Italian in book stores.

As everywhere, English in Iran spreads as a market commodity. However, I am reminded that the global linguistic market is not a free market but one where English is heavily subsidized and other languages face stiff tariffs and trade barriers.

My 88-year-old grandma, my mamanjoon

My 88-year-old grandma, my mamanjoon, is the most wonderful nana anyone could have and I am very close to her. She has played a significant role in my development. Throughout my education, she has always been a great source of support and encouragement. When I crammed for various high-stake national exams, I suffered from anxiety and tension. However, no sooner would I begin to speak with my grandma that all my worries would fade away! The melodious tone of her voice, the words and expressions she uses, would serve to relieve any anxiety or tension. She speaks an old Isfahani dialect which is not only different from the Persian of other parts of Iran but also differs markedly from the speech of younger Isfahanis. In particular, my nana’s speech is characterized by older Isfahani words that are no longer in use and religious terms borrowed from Arabic. Whatever she says bears a spiritual connotation which is sweet, encouraging and uplifting. Yet, her dialect can no longer be heard in the streets of modern Isfahan. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why she feels alienated as she walks in the streets and prefers to stay at home. Her dialect is dying out.

I have often felt saddened by the lack of attempts to preserve the old Isfahani dialect. It goes without saying that, as time passes by, all languages change and that this process cannot be foiled. However, shouldn’t we at least try to record and document this dialect which is so intimately interwoven with our history?

As a professional linguist, I could start by recording the many conversations I have with my grandmother. However, there is a problem! The problem is that my grandmother objects to recordings of any kind for religious reasons. It is only during wedding ceremonies that old women like her can be caught on tape because during these ceremonies the camera nowadays keeps rolling no matter what, and old women have to choose between their objections to being recorded on camera and blessing the newly-wed couple and the next generation. Of course, the latter wins.

Isfahani Muslim women of my grandmother’s generation are not the only ones who object to being audio- or video-recorded. Many traditional peoples around the world have similar objections. This makes me wonder whether saving endangered languages is really all it is cracked up to be. Who are we to disregard the explicit wishes of speakers – people – so that we can “save” a language, which is, after all, nothing more than a set of practices and ideas?