Students in a Tibetan-medium school in Kathmandu study for their exams. By knowing the number and age of speakers of a particular language, policy makers can better plan for their inclusion as the medium or subject of instruction in early education.

The 21st of February marked International Mother Language day, an annual UNESCO Heritage Day that celebrates linguistic diversity and multilingualism around the world. This year’s International Mother Language Day has particular importance, as 2019 has been marked as the United Nations International Year of Indigenous Languages.

Most estimates place the total number of languages in the world at around 7,000. Calculating the number of languages in a given country or region is important for both linguists and policy makers (as well as a host of other professions) for many reasons. By knowing the numbers of speakers of a particular language, policy makers can more effectively plan for linguistically-inclusive public communication and administration, consider the role of different languages as the medium or subject of instruction in education systems, and direct efforts for language preservation and revitalisation.

However, while empirical data on other social characteristics is usually readily available or easy to collect, data on language has often proved more difficult to enumerate. This post will explore how the question, the context, and the response all provide room for subjective interpretation and can lead to vastly different figures for the number of languages in a single country: Nepal.

Nepal

The small South Asian nation of Nepal boasts huge linguistic diversity relative to its geographic, economic, and population size. Inhabitants of modern-day Nepal were historically made up of hundreds of distinct groups of people with different cultures, languages, and leaders, who were only united under a single ruler in 1768. Topographical barriers like the great mountains of the Himalayas and the sweeping plains of the lowland Terai region meant that many languages developed in relative isolation.

Nepal has collected language data through regular decennial censuses for the last 60 years. Yet within this relatively short period, various censuses and other independent linguistic surveys have returned different tallies for the number of languages present in Nepal. Estimates have ranged from as few as 17 in the 1971 census, to 123 languages in the most recent census of 2011, to an estimate of over 140 in a 2005 linguistic survey, as shown in the table:

Data from Central Bureau of Statistics, Malla, Toba, and Noonan quoted in Yadava, Y. (2014). Language Use in Nepal. In Central Bureau of Statistics. Population Monograph of Nepal Volume II: Social Demography. (pp. 51-53) and from Ethnologue 13th – 15th, and 21st Editions. Retrieved February 15, 2019, from https://www.ethnologue.com/archive

While it’s true that language, and language use, shifts naturally over time due to factors such as generational change, revitalisation efforts, or migration, the radical differences between estimates in Nepal over just sixty years suggests something more complicated is at play.

While many census or survey questions can be answered objectively and impartially, others, such as questions on mother tongue, language use, ethnicity, or religion, require the respondent to make a subjective judgement. In Nepal, as elsewhere, the wording of the question, the wider social and political context within which the question is asked, and the respondents outlook and ideology towards language, have all influenced efforts to calculate the country’s languages.

The Question

The first way in which respondents may be influenced in their reporting of language is the wording of the question itself. Subtle differences in the terminology, phrasing, or layout can change the way a question is interpreted and answered.

The 2011 Census in Nepal included one question on language (Yadava 2014, p. 52):

Looking closely at this question, there are several possible ways respondents could have been influenced in the responses they provided.

Firstly, the terminology itself may have induced certain responses. Nepal’s Central Bureau of Statistics opted to use the term “mother tongue” (मातृभाषा /mātr̥bhāṣā/ in Nepali) in the 2011 Census, over alternatives such as “main language”, “usual language”, “home language”, etc.

For some people, these terms could be considered synonyms as they elicit the same response. For example, an Australian, living in Australia, of British-heritage parents, would answer “English” in all three situations. For others, the response may be different based on the subtly different slant of each term. For example, a child of a Vietnamese immigrant mother in Montreal who first learned Vietnamese (the “mother tongue”), but uses mostly French when interacting with the Canadian father and local friends (the “home language”), and speaks English to colleagues in a multinational workplace (the “usual language”).

In his chapter in the ground-breaking book Census and Identity: The Politics of Race, Ethnicity, and Language in National Censuses’, Arel (2002) refers to this as different “language situations”. Canada is one of the few countries that attempts to collect data on all three possible language situations in its surveys – most countries, including Australia and Nepal, only ask about one or two potential language situations. By focusing on the “mother tongue” of the respondent, ignoring other potential terms such as “usual” or “home” language, the 2011 Census elicited a certain response from respondents.

Though the 2011 Census in Nepal did also request respondents to provide another language as their “second language”, no further definition or guidance was given to clarify what was meant by “second language”. Given that the majority of respondents (56%) who chose to answer this question listed the national language, Nepali, as their second language, it is likely that many took this as an opportunity to assert their knowledge of the language of social mobility.

Another potential challenge is the layout of the census form itself. In 2011, a single space was provided for each part of the question, forgoing the possibility of more than one language being spoken in favour of simpler enumeration, indicating a bias towards mono- or bilingualism in a country where multilingualism is common, if not the norm.

A young woman from the Thulung ethno-linguistic group of far-eastern Nepal proudly poses in traditional wear during a language documentation workshop in Solukhumbu district

In 2011, the response format was open-ended, with no list of languages to choose from. This led to confusion between duplicate, indistinct, or unknown languages that was ultimately resolved by grouping some 21,000 responses into a single ‘other’ category, and another 47,000 as ‘non-responses’ (Yadava, 2014) – potentially missing smaller, lesser known or documented languages.

Conversely, in 1981, the census question around language provided a list of the five largest, most dominant languages and a catch-all ‘other’ category, reflecting the wider socio-political context at the time, as we will see soon. It is likely that the inherent bias contained in this question influenced the way people responded.

The Context

Quantifying the number of languages in a country or region can also be influenced by the prevailing political, social, and cultural climate. As Sebba (2017) aptly puts it when describing the inclusion of a language question in the 2011 British Census: “inevitably, questions about language are asked within a social and historical context which both constrains the possible answers and motivates respondents to select certain answers rather than others from those available, in accordance with prevailing ideologies about (among others) nation, ethnicity and language. The act of census-taking (…) is always politically and ideologically charged.”

The relatively low number of languages reported in Nepal’s early censuses were undoubtedly influenced by the assimilation policies in place at the time, and the generally higher levels of social exclusion. From 1962 to 1990, under a political system known as “Panchayat” and controlled by an authoritarian monarchy, the state viewed linguistic, gender, ethnic, and spiritual diversity as barriers to be overcome in the pursuit of a ‘unified’, ‘modern’ Nepal. Cultural ‘unity’ was projected as essential to nation-building and the maintenance of independence. The relatively low number of languages reported in the 1962, 1971, 1981, and 1991 Census reflected the widespread restrictions on cultural and linguistic expression that the Nepali population was experiencing during these years.

Through the 1990s and 2000s, the Maoist ‘People’s War’ raged against the monarchy, promising greater representation to minority caste, ethnic, linguistic, and gender groups. The decade-long civil war was linked to the populations’ growing awareness of social and cultural inequalities that had persisted for generations. The substantial increase in the number of languages reported in the 1996 Census, and all censuses thereafter, was therefore a manifestation of the wider phenomenon of ethno-linguistic awakening.

Since the conclusion of the civil war, the Government of Nepal (which today includes a majority of Maoist and Communist party members) has for the most part promoted linguistic diversity and harmony – for example, the 2015 Constitution declares that ‘all languages spoken in Nepal’ are to be considered national languages, and has opened the doors for individual provinces to declare their own official languages as part of the new federal structure – which is reflected in the 2011 Census results.

The Response

Arel (2002, p. 106) argues that in responding to questions around language, respondents can take a ‘forward looking’ or ‘backwards looking’ stance in providing their response. Arel points to the Belgium census of 1947 as an example of this, when many Flemish citizens provided “forward looking” responses by identifying French, as the language they wished their children would use in order to move up in social status.

Tibetan, also known as Bhot, is still spoken as the mother tongue of around 4,445 first, second, and third generation Tibetan refugees in Nepal

Many respondents in Nepal appear to be providing ‘backwards looking’ responses in the 2011 Census. A ‘backwards looking’ response is one that reflects the language of one’s parents or ancestors, regardless of the individual’s actual knowledge or regular use of the language. ‘Backwards looking’ responses may be politically or ideologically driven – the lack of knowledge of one’s ancestors’ language being seen as a temporary state brought about by authoritarian state policies – or simply a nostalgic and sentimental nod to historical or cultural roots.

Nepal’s 2011 Census data reported that there was 1,424 people who speak Tilung as their mother tongue. The Language Commission of Nepal, through their own local-level surveys and consultations, found there to be only two fluent speakers of Tilung. Other members of the wider ethnic group reported Tilung as their mother tongue despite not speaking more than a handful of isolated words, thus displaying a ‘backwards looking’ approach in their responses. The Language Commission has received many anecdotal reports of other languages similarly being over-represented in Census results due to ‘backwards looking’ reporting of cultural heritage versus the language most often or most fluently spoken. And while there are still living speakers of a language, as with Tilung, correcting this practice would not necessarily change the total number of languages present; but knowing the precise number of speakers of a language allows government to better target language documentation and preservation efforts, particularly in a resource-strained context like Nepal. A language with 1,424 speakers might be considered only ‘threatened’, but with two elderly speakers it is ‘almost extinct’ (see Expanded Graded Intergenerational Disruption Scale).

Looking forward

Regardless of the precise number of languages reported, Nepal is and always has been a multilingual and multicultural country. Nepal is already planning for the 2021 Census, and by further refining its Census protocol and considering the various ways the socio-political context and personal ideologies may influence responses, the Government of Nepal will be able to better plan and implement linguistically-inclusive policies for its citizens.

References

Arel, D. (2002). Language categories in censuses: backward- or forward-looking? In D. I. Kertzer & D. Arel (Eds.), Census and Identity: The Politics of Race, Ethnicity, and Language in National Censuses (p. 97). Cambridge, UK ; New York: Cambridge University Press.

Bennett, L. (2005, December). Gender, Caste and Ethnic Exclusion in Nepal: Following the Policy Process from Analysis to Action. (p. 7) Paper presented at the New Frontiers of Social Policy Conference, Arusha, Tanzania.

Sebba, M. (2017). Awkward questions: language issues in the 2011 census in England. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development. https://doi.org/10.1080/01434632.2017.1342651

Yadava, Y. (2014). Language Use in Nepal. In Central Bureau of Statistics. Population Monograph of Nepal Volume II: Social Demography. Central Bureau of Statistics.

The shaming – what happened?

Shaming comments (Source: Sharma, 2014, p. 24)

On June 10, 2011, the then Minister for Health and Population of Nepal, the Honorable Dharma Shila Chapagain, addressed the UN High-Level Meeting on AIDS in New York. The 7-minute speech was live-streamed on the UN’s multimedia channel and an excerpt was then shown on Kathmandu-based TV station Kantipur. From there a 4-minute clip made its way onto Youtube, where it was titled “Nepali Stupid Speech at UN”. This prompted many Internet users to comment: the sociolinguist Krishna Bal Sharma, in whose 2014 article I first learned about the incident, counted 603 comments in April 2013.

The comments heaped scorn on the way the speech was delivered, as in the following examples:

• in that forum u are allowed to speak any language not just english but she choose to disgrace our country
• Wtf bitch… A kid from primary level has a better English than u.
• Fuck this is why i’m not proud to say i’m nepali
• Its like letting a nursery kid to read those paragraphs..shame on you…
• very shameful speech.
• what’s this? it is just a shame for all nepalese
• really fucking speech shame on

From these few examples, it is obvious that the comments are vile and constitute an example of language shaming par excellence.

The shamed speech – what was the content?

Shaming comments (Source: Sharma, 2014, p. 26)

From the comments it seems hardly anyone chose to pay attention to the actual content of the speech. Those who did pedantically pointed out non-standard pronunciations (and thereby clearly demonstrated that Capagain’s pronunciation did not actually impede comprehension of the speech), as in this example:

“She is reading totally different words with different meanings, for example she read “republic health” instead of reproductive health. What a funny! Don’t pretend, if you can’t do it. You are embarrassing Nepalese, your party, and making a fool yourself…”

The speech presented an outline of the HIV situation in Nepal, including public health measures and challenges related to the disease. The Minister used the opportunity to particularly highlight gender inequality as a key issue in HIV transmission and sexual and reproductive health more generally:

Women and girls are still the most affected group. In this context, there is a need to fight against gender inequalities, insufficient access to healthcare and services, and all forms of discrimination and violence, including sexual and gender based violence and exploitation. We must ensure their sexual and reproductive health. (Quoted from the official transcript of the speech available from the UN website)

The shamee – who was shamed?

Dharmashila Chapagain (Source: “Women behind Nepal’s constitution – a personal story”)

When Minister Chapagain spoke about gender inequality, she knew what she was talking about from personal experience. Her personal story can be traced from The Nepal Papers edited by Mandira Sharma and Seira Tamang.

Chapagain was born in the late 1970s in a village in Jhapa District in eastern Nepal and discovered from a young age that women and girls were not valued: one of four girls, her father divorced her mother when she failed to bear him a son; and although her mother made sure she could attend school, her education remained patchy and came to an end in her teens. Unsurprising, given that Nepal’s large gender literacy gap has only started to close in the 2000s. This is the lesson about women’s status that Chapagain learned in childhood:

It was tiring and painful to be a woman in the village and I was looking for a way out. […] I felt that as women, my mother, my sisters and I were not wanted. That kind of torture haunt you at night, makes you want to take revenge. (quoted from Sharma & Tamang, 2016)

As a way out, Chapagain joined Nepal’s Maoist insurgency (1996-2006) in her late teens and became a guerilla fighter. By her mid-20s she had distinguished herself and risen to the rank of district-in-charge for Morang District in southeast Nepal. In 2002 she was arrested together with her six-month-old baby. The following five years in prison left their mark on Chapagain: as a consequence of the torture she suffered, she developed chronic health problems, including breathing difficulties and inability to stand and walk for extended periods.

During her five long years in various Nepali prisons, Chapagain was yet again confronted with gender inequality in the form of sexual violence against women.

‘The security forces didn’t care if they were old or young, they even raped a 64-year-old woman after killing her son,’ says Chapagain. ‘What kind of rules of war was the state following?’ She says that the then government saw the Maoists as enemies and wanted to destroy them, and sexual torture was one of the tools they used. (Sharma & Tamang, 2016)

When a Comprehensive Peace Accord was signed with the rebels in 2006, the Maoists became part of the government. In the elections of 2008, Chapagain was elected to parliament and served as Minister for Health and Population. And that’s how she came to deliver that speech at the UN in 2011.

The shamers – who did the shaming?

Locations of the commenters (Source: Sharma, 2014, p. 22)

The shamers are an anonymous mass who individually hide behind their Youtube handles and social media pseudonyms. Sharma (2014) shows that most of them are Nepalis who are, however, not based in Nepal but outside the country. Because of the dire economic situation in Nepal – partly a result of the decade-long Maoist insurgency – Nepalis have been leaving their country in large numbers, and Sharma identifies two distinct streams of emigrants: low-skilled migrant workers whose preferred destinations are the Gulf countries, on the one hand, and tertiary students on the other. The top destinations of the latter include other South-East Asian and Anglophone western countries.

On the basis of their location, commenters mostly seem to belong to the latter group. Shamers and shamee thus share the same nationality but differ on other dimensions:

• Location: based inside or outside Nepal
• Education: barely high-school educated vs tertiary educated
• Gender: to the degree that it is possible to tell, the majority of commenters seem to be male
• Political orientation: the Maoists’ socialist ideology is an explicit target of criticism and many commenters present it as the underlying cause of Chapagain’s poor English pronunciation.

The commonalities and differences between Chapagain and the commenters mean the delivery of the speech is not only represented as a cause of a shame for the speaker but also for the nation – a shame that the commenters themselves partly share (“it is just a shame for all nepalese”).

Consequences of language shaming

The consequences of a language shame campaign on the internet such as the one described here are twofold and affect both the shamee and the shamers.

To begin with, the shame campaign silences the actual content of the speech and suppresses political debate. Instead of engaging with the merits of the minister’s arguments and her politics, the focus is exclusively on the form in which her speech was delivered.

The fact that many of the comments take the form of specifically sexist insults (“Wtf bitch”) also demonstrates that linguistic shaming is not only about illegitimate speech but about illegitimate speakers. Language shaming is a way to keep people – here: rural women with little formal education – in their place; or to show them “their place” if they have risen above is, as Chapagain has.

Second, a shame campaign such as this one also serves to keep the overall hierarchy of global English in its place. While the commenters presumably believe themselves to speak better English than Chapagain, they do not set themselves up as model of “good English”. That model remains implicitly but firmly outside Nepal, presumably in Anglophone western countries (although some commenters also compare the English of Indian politicians favorably to that of Nepali politicians).

This means that the shame campaign ultimately is as harmful to the shamers as it is to the shamed person: it perpetuates the linguistic and cultural inferiority complex that Franz Fanon identified as an inevitable consequence of colonial international relations:

To speak means to be in a position to use a certain syntax, to grasp the morphology of this or that language, but it means above all to assume a culture, to support the weight of a civilization. […] Every colonized people – in other words, every people in whose soul an inferiority complex has been created by the death and burial of its local cultural originality – finds itself face to face with the language of the civilizing nation; that is, the culture of the mother country. (Fanon, 1967, p. 17f.)

References

Fanon, F. (1967). Black Skin, White Masks. London: Pluto Press.

Sharma, B. K. (2014). On High Horses: Transnational Nepalis and Language Ideologies on Youtube. Discourse, Context & Media, 4–5, 19-28. doi: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.dcm.2014.04.001

Sharma, M., & Tamang, S. (2016). A Difficult Transition: The Nepal Papers. New Delhi: Zubaan Publishers.