A social psychological examination of the empowering role of language in Indigenous resistance

Collective Identification

In order to take action to improve the position of one’s group, an individual must identify with that group (Stürmer & Simon, 2004; van Zomeren, Leach, & Spears, 2012; van Zomeren et al., 2008; Wright, 2010). When a group membership represents an important part of the self, that collective identity can guide thoughts and behaviours (Tajfel & Turner, 1986). Although the strength of identification with a group changes depending on salient cues in the local context, individuals also differ in the degree to which they chronically identify with a group. For members of disadvantaged groups, the relationship between collective identification and threat can be reciprocal. When a group with which they strongly identify is perceived to be threatened, they may respond with collective action (e.g., Stürmer & Simon, 2004). However, frequent discrimination (i.e., persistent threat), can also strengthen identification with the ingroup, thus heightening interest in resistance (Outten & Schmitt, 2015). Thus, strong collective identification can make one more vigilant and responsive to group-based threat, but threat can also inspire heightened identification—and these processes can work together to inspire interest in resistance.

Language itself can be the central criterion for group identity as demonstrated in numerous national contexts including Canada, Belgium, Spain, and Malaysia (see Fishman, 1989; Giles, Bourhis, & Taylor, 1977; Ros, Cano, & Huici, 1987; Wright & Bougie, 2007). Language can also serve as a central cultural marker and thus be core to one’s collective cultural identity, as is the case among many Indigenous peoples (e.g., Verkuyten, 2005). ¹ Although one can certainly have a strong Indigenous cultural identity without speaking an Indigenous language (see Alfred, 2005), the knowledge and use of Indigenous languages can be important in building and supporting cultural identity. For instance, language allows Indigenous people to tap into shared aspects of their community; many traditional stories, ceremonies, and songs are performed in the traditional language. While those who cannot understand the language may feel forced to stay on the sidelines, those with adequate knowledge of the language can more fully participate in these traditional activities which serve as strong reminders of one’s cultural identity. Being fully involved is also likely to be recognized by others as an indication of one’s place in the cultural community. Thus, language provides an avenue for participation in activities that should heighten both the salience and centrality of cultural identity.

Social identity theory (Tajfel & Turner, 1986) also offers a theoretical argument for the value and importance of group distinctiveness as a key to attracting strong identification. Characteristics that serve to make the group and its members distinct from outgroups are highly valuable as a means of declaring membership. The use of an Indigenous language, which the outgroup does not know, provides clear unambiguous evidence of such distinctiveness. While it is true that learning the societally dominant language spoken by members of the higher status group (e.g., English) might sometimes allow individuals to gain personal status, it is unlikely that the group (the collective identity) will be conferred higher status by this kind of language assimilation. Additionally, under some circumstances group members prefer distinctiveness over positive value (see Brewer & Pickett, 1999). That is, a group that is distinctive may draw greater identification than a group that is socially valued. A small group offering language distinctiveness may produce higher identification than a larger group that speaks a valued but nondistinctive language (e.g., English). Further, identification can also be fostered through social comparison and an understanding of what an individual is not. An Indigenous group’s unique language tells group members not only that they are Indigenous, but also that they are not European or White.

Given the importance of collective identity as a core predictor of collective action, it is clear that fostering the knowledge and use of Indigenous language could be a valuable avenue for empowering resistance. In addition to strengthening collective identification with the larger cultural category of one’s Indigenous nation, use of one’s Indigenous language may also strengthen a specific form of collective identity known as politicized identity. Politicized identities arise when individuals recognize that their in group stands in direct opposition to the relevant outgroup, and internalize their group’s struggle (Simon & Klandermans, 2001). A politicized collective identity forms the basis for identification not only with the larger social group, but more specifically with a social movement and thus with the smaller collective of ingroup members directly involved in resistance. For example, Simon et al. (1998) found that although stronger identification with the larger social category of gay men was associated with support for action to improve gay rights, identification more specifically with the gay rights movement was a much better predictor of actual participation in collective action.

The internalization of the collective struggle that is the hallmark of politicization means that the relationship between the ingroup and the majority outgroup is understood to be inherently adversarial (Stott & Drury, 2004; Wright & Tropp, 2002). Consistent with this, the use of an Indigenous language has also been cast as an act of resistance against the colonial state. Hall and Fenelon (2009) argue that the act of participating in activities that aim to maintain traditional culture, including the use of language, allow group members to resist the domination of colonial culture and reclaim their rights. Thus, using language might not only be an expression of collective identity, but also an expression of the fact that this identity is inherently tied to collective struggle.

Chandler and Lalonde (1998) also describe the role of language in bolstering identity among Indigenous peoples. They investigated youth (ages 15–24) suicide in Indigenous Canadian communities and found that the Indigenous language use in a community was among the strongest predictors of suicide rates, with greater use of the language associated with lower number of suicide. Given the high suicide rates in this age group in some communities, the importance of identifying such protective factors can hardly be overstated. Chandler and Lalonde argue that the knowledge and use of an Indigenous language serves as a protective factor specifically because it contributes to a sense of cultural identity. Given the many changes over one’s lifetime, collective identities can offer a sense of security or “self-continuity,” by allowing individuals to feel connected to both past and future selves. A lack of such self-continuity has been associated with poor mental health outcomes, especially among youth (see also Chandler, Boyes, Ball, & Hala, 1987). However, using or even being exposed to the group’s Indigenous language can contribute to a sense of “cultural continuity,” which includes a feeling of connection to the history of the group. This sense of cultural continuity can simultaneously promote individual resilience and strengthen commitment to the group (see also Usborne & Taylor, 2010).

Indigenous scholars have also articulated the value of language as a means by which Indigenous peoples connect to their past. Arguing for the importance of preserving and revitalizing the Hawaiian language, Warner (1999) writes,

The Hawaiian language should be perpetuated because it is part of Hawaiian heritage—what can help to make Hawaiians whole again as a people. Hawaiians need to learn and know their language, culture, stories, histories, and religion because they interrelate and are integrally linked to one another and to the people . . . there is no question that Indigenous people can survive without their Indigenous heritage languages, cultures, or histories . . . but they do so at a cost. Native peoples are relegated to the lower echelons of the dominant society, with low self-esteem, cut off from their pasts and from their identities. Thus, when a non-Hawaiian says that [the Hawaiian language] should be saved because of its value, the question is “value to whom?” What is the value of a people’s identity? (p. 77)

Warner describes language as a unique contributor to Indigenous identity and clearly expresses the difficulty of maintaining a meaningful and distinct cultural identity if language is lost. To the degree that language does indeed strengthen collective identity and the bond with one’s cultural group, it should also motivate engagement in resistance.

The notion of decolonizing the mind is also relevant to understanding the link between language and identity (see Fanon, 1963; Pennybacker, 1999; Yellow Bird & Wilson, 2005). Many Indigenous scholars have written about the need to reflect on how colonial ways of being and understanding the world (“ontologies”) have become deeply embedded in Indigenous psychologies, communities, and even in their ways of resisting—and have called for efforts to undo these effects by returning to traditional ways of being and relating to the earth and other human beings. This psychological decolonization has been described as an important first step in working towards physical decolonization (e.g., regaining rights to traditional territories). Importantly, language is thought to be especially important in informing one’s ontology—the argument is that by internalizing the language of the colonizer, Indigenous people’s understanding of reality itself has shifted. For example, Western ontologies and Western languages are said to hold individuals as the core unit of understanding, whereas Indigenous ontologies and languages are said to center on relationships (Wilson, 2008).

Consistent with the idea that language is integral to decolonization, Kenyan anticolonial writer Ngugi wa Thiong’o (1993) explicitly calls for a resurgence of Indigenous languages as a strategy for decolonizing the mind. Seen from a psychological perspective, the opportunity to reconnect with traditional languages and ways of relating to the world—the process of decolonizing the mind—should strengthen Indigenous identity and the sense of cultural continuity (Chandler & Lalonde, 1998). In turn, this greater connection to one’s group could serve as the inspiration for efforts towards physical decolonization marked by a struggle for greater autonomy over the group’s outcomes—resistance.

Perceptions of Injustice

The process of decolonizing the mind might also facilitate resistance in other ways. For instance, a colonial mindset which justifies Indigenous oppression is inconsistent with Indigenous cultural knowledge and experience. To the degree that a reemergence of an Indigenous worldview can offer a clear alternative, decolonization of the mind can serve as a basis for questioning the legitimacy of the colonial structure, making the collective struggle seem increasingly legitimate and worthy of participation.

Again, this perspective is consistent with social psychological theories of collective action, which hold that engagement in resistance depends on strong perceptions of injustice. Social psychological theories point out that members of disadvantaged groups do not always perceive their lower status position as undeserved (Ellemers, 1993; Jost & Burgess, 2000). Redefining the ingroup’s status as unjust is critical in moving towards resistance, because it provides a key justification for adversarial, even disruptive, actions (see Wright, 2010). Fox Tree (2010) describes the relationship between perceived injustice, language use, and resistance, and writes “Indigenous groups around the world may find reason to use Indigenous languages to exclude hegemonic groups from discourse and simultaneously remind them of Indigenous legitimacy” (p. 86). Thus, the claim is that other members of a society, including the advantaged outgroup, can see language as evidence of the legitimacy of Indigenous claims.

The knowledge and use of an Indigenous language could also promote a sense within the ingroup that their claims about the injustice of their past and current treatment are valid. As noted before, Indigenous cultural knowledge, including language, is often devalued in society. In contrast, the dominant language of the colonial state (typically English) is afforded privileged status. For example, to negotiate with the government, and make land claims and other requests, Indigenous peoples are required to present their cases in English, and in a format that is consistent with a European-based legal system. Further, colonizing governments have engaged in extraordinary efforts to suppress Indigenous languages. For example, from the 1870s to the mid 1970s, the Canadian government operated hundreds of Church- and State-run “Indian Residential Schools.” Children from Indigenous families were required to attend and were often forcibly taken from their families and communities for as many as 10 years, with only short summer visits back to their communities. One of the stated goals of these institutions was to “remove the Indian from the child”—part of this was the extermination of Indigenous languages. Children were required to speak English, and were often punished for conversing even amongst themselves in their Indigenous language. Such persecution of the Indigenous language sends a clear message that Indigenous protocols and ways of being are not legitimate, important, or even appropriate. When Indigenous peoples absorb this message, not only are there negative consequences for personal and collective self-esteem (see Kirmayer, Simpson, & Cargo, 2003; Lavallee & Poole, 2010; Wright & Taylor, 1995), but they will be less able to define their group’s subordinated position as unjust.

In contrast, when the Indigenous language is used in an official capacity, or as the language of instruction in schools, this message of illegitimacy may be turned on its head, and may remind Indigenous peoples that their cultural practices are valuable and worthy of respect (see Wright & Taylor, 1995, 2010). For instance, in New Zealand, Maori is an official language, meaning that it is sometimes used in official government contexts. Occasionally this has meant that White employees are required to gain at least some proficiency in Maori in order to get a promotion (Nichols, 2006). Similarly, in the Canadian northern territory of Nunavik, two Inuit languages (Inuktitut and Innuinaqtun) are recognized as official languages. They are used by political leaders in the Parliament, are taught and used for classroom instruction in public schools, and most government services and programs are delivered in these languages. These practices challenge the assumption that the language of the colonizer is more legitimate, and creates a space where Indigenous knowledge is viewed as valuable. This formal use of the language should serve to highlight the gravity of past injustices (especially deliberate attempts to undermine and erase important cultural practices such as language), thus strengthening commitment to continued resistance.

Group Efficacy Beliefs

Engagement in resistance is also predicated on group efficacy beliefs—the perception that the group has suitable resources and abilities to achieve the goals of their resistance (Ellemers, 1993; Klandermans, 1984; van Zomeren et al., 2008; van Zomeren, Spears, Fischer, & Leach, 2004). Opportunities to reaffirm a sense of group efficacy seem particularly important in Indigenous contexts, where the violence of colonization has often wrested much of the decision-making power away from Indigenous communities.

Indigenous languages offer individuals access to both tangible and psychological resources that could contribute to group efficacy beliefs. Importantly, resources accessed through Indigenous language are typically not accessible to the colonial outgroup, potentially heightening the belief that the ingroup is especially equipped to engage in struggle. In terms of tangible resources, Indigenous language can be used as a barrier to exclude outgroup members from participating in or interfering with ingroup communication and discussion (Fox Tree, 2010; see also Verkuyten, 2005). There are also numerous psychological resources that language can provide. Nichols (2006) writes that, “in places where linguistic diversity has been affirmed . . . Indigenous peoples express an increased sense of empowerment and capacity to realize their own agency” (p. 35). He also suggests that Indigenous movements towards linguistic security view language as a means to create and preserve a space for the politics of local community. This perspective connects language to the struggle for autonomy, and clearly presents language as an empowering tool.

Simpson (2008) suggests that language is a critical source of Indigenous Knowledge, because “re-centering the revitalization of Indigenous Knowledge . . . provides the only appropriate context for building an Indigenous resurgence” (p. 74). Similarly, consistent with an emphasis on decolonizing and centering Indigenous ontologies, others have noted that the use of English (or another dominant non-Indigenous language) is simply inadequate to express the nuances of Indigenous knowledge—including the knowledge that might be needed to work towards autonomy and empowerment. Marcelo Osco (2010) describes the Andean concept of ayllu, a separate, autonomous sphere where social relations function independently of Eurocentric colonialism. At once a political space and an alternative cultural worldview, the meaning of ayllu takes Osco pages to explain in English, though for the Andean people it is an implicitly understood reality that allows them to function autonomously. This example demonstrates the strong link between knowledge and culture and illustrates how the exclusive use of a societally dominant language can undermine Indigenous people’s access to the cultural knowledge they need to engage in resistance.

Finally, the implementation of language education programs in the local community might in itself enhance group efficacy beliefs. If curriculum and program development is understood to be the project of Indigenous people who speak the language, their knowledge and expertise offers a clear source of control over an important element of contemporary community life (see Chandler & Lalonde, 1998).

Although autonomous control of a language program can foster a sense of group efficacy, this autonomy is not guaranteed. When settlers or colonial governments attempt to involve themselves in Indigenous language education, there is a real risk that the empowering effects of these language programs will be undermined. Warner (1999) describes a situation in Hawaii where non-Indigenous citizens attempted to create a language revitalization program, without the guidance or input of the Indigenous people. He explains that this took away the Hawaiian people’s kuleana—rights, responsibilities, and authority over their own language—and was thus actually an act of recolonizing through the medium of the Indigenous people’s own language.

Similarly, Fox Tree (2010) argues that the Wycliffe Bible Translators (an evangelical missionary organization), who sometimes receive funding from colonial governments to translate texts into Indigenous languages, has a less-than-subtle goal of breaking down the Indigenous cultures. Clearly, this co-optation of the Indigenous language would serve to weaken and undermine group efficacy beliefs (and likely identity) and thus could serve to reduce resistance. The empowering effects of language are tied to it being used in ways that ensure the community maintains its kuleana—which implies a need for different educational strategies in different cultural communities. For example, Simpson (2008) recommends a family-based education system for her Indigenous nation:

Canada’s assimilationist residential and public school education systems cannot be depended upon to teach our children what it means to be Nishnaabe, let alone to do so in Nishnaabemwin [an Indigenous language] . . . We need families to organize themselves and ensure that the intergenerational transfer of language occurs in the home. (p. 167)

In sum, the knowledge and use of an Indigenous language has clear potential to increase group efficacy beliefs in cases where Indigenous peoples maintain autonomous control over language education. The actual content of the Indigenous language itself may also offer valuable insights that can enhance the sense that the community has the capacity to achieve its goals.

Group Boundary Permeability

In some circumstances, members of a low status group may believe that hard work or individual merit may make it possible for them to individually move into a higher status position (Tajfel & Turner, 1979). This belief in individual mobility makes it much less likely that they will choose to engage in collective action on behalf of their low status group (e.g., Wright & Taylor, 1998; see Wright, 2001, 2010, for reviews). In other circumstances, the boundaries between groups seem impermeable, and one’s status appears to be entirely determined by one’s group membership. For instance, group boundaries based on race or gender may seem impossible to cross. In other cases, an assessment of the high psychological costs of leaving one’s group may also render movement impossible. When group boundaries seem impermeable, rendering individual social mobility a nonoption, collective action seems a more reasonable and worthwhile alternative.

The knowledge and use of an Indigenous language may reduce perceptions of group boundary permeability. For instance, speaking an Indigenous language and having greater access to Indigenous knowledge and culture may make it difficult for individuals to imagine themselves living as non-Indigenous. It is, of course, possible that perceptions of group boundary permeability are generally already quite low among members of Indigenous groups. Given the racial/ethnic component of indigeneity, and a shared history of exclusion and denial of individual opportunities, many Indigenous people may feel that membership in their specific cultural group (or more broadly, their identity as an Indigenous person) is an essential aspect of who they are. If so, language may have limited potential to empower collective action through emphasizing the impermeabilty of group boundaries. On the other hand, because many important employment and educational opportunities are controlled by outgroup members and by the colonial state (e.g., National Aboriginal Health Organization, 2008), many Indigenous people may be put in a position where crossing group boundaries through individual mobility seems key to achieving personal success. If so, reminders of the relative impermeability of the boundaries between Indigenous cultural groups and larger society could be important, and language could serve as an especially powerful reminder.

Language and Sustained Action

In Canada, Indigenous peoples are essentially making the same demands they were 100 years ago (Ladner, 2008). Their persistence in the face of extraordinary inertia, blatant repression, and consistent disregard begs the question of what motivates sustained resistance over time. Surprisingly, this question has received relatively little attention from social psychologists (see Louis, 2009). Although some research has examined the psychological impact of sustained involvement in collective action on individual participants (e.g., Blackwood & Louis, 2012; Thomas, McGarty, & Mavor, 2009), an understanding of how entire groups continue to resist over long periods of time (sometimes over multiple generations) needs greater attention, and should probably focus more directly on sociocultural factors. Our focus on language may offer a valuable component of this analysis.

We have suggested that the knowledge and use of Indigenous languages may facilitate the psychological conditions that underpin participation in resistance. It may also contribute to sustaining resistance over time. Sustained resistance requires that individuals maintain a state of psychological readiness for collective action, especially in the face of failure or change that feels far too slow (e.g., Blackwood & Louis, 2012; Tausch & Becker, 2013). The everyday nature of language may be important here. Language is not only used to plan and carry out resistance activities (e.g., legal strategy, sit-ins, and blockades), but it can also be used on a daily basis (e.g., during casual conversations with ingroup members). Thus, it may offer consistent reminders of collective identity, group-based inequality, the group’s efficacy, and the impermeability of group boundaries, meaning that it is especially important in maintaining readiness for collective action.

In addition, there are often dynamic, bidirectional relationships among the predictors of resistance (Wright, 2010), and even between resistance and its predictors (e.g., see Louis, 2009). In other words, the psychological variables that are typically considered predictors of resistance can also be outcomes of resistance. For example, while perception of collective injustice can motivate initial participation in resistance, the act of participating may also change how one appraises the fairness of the ingroup’s social standing (van Zomeren et al., 2012). If Indigenous language use can influence one or more psychological motivators of resistance (i.e., collective identity, perceptions of injustice, group efficacy beliefs, and group boundary permeability), any resulting participation in resistance may subsequently strengthen other motivators, thus encouraging future participation. Taking this view, the impact of language on Indigenous peoples’ engagement in resistance could be profound, as it could begin a cyclical process that encourages sustained resistance.

Finally, as noted earlier, the act of using an Indigenous language itself can at times serve as an act of resistance (Fox Tree, 2010; Hall & Fenelon, 2009). Utilization of the Indigenous language in mixed-group settings offers a symbolic assertion of the value and place of Indigenous languages, and thus Indigenous peoples and culture within the broader society. Even more dramatically, given that there are almost no non-Indigenous speakers of most Indigenous languages, speaking an Indigenous language can be used to exclude members of the dominant group. Acts of intentional exclusion can redefine the intergroup power dynamic, at least temporarily. Thus, the Indigenous language can not only serve to inspire the antecedent conditions of resistance, it can serve as a vehicle for expressing that resistance.

A (Cautious) Call for Further Research and Theorizing

Despite the potential for social psychological theory and research to inform Indigenous efforts for social change, there is a paucity of social psychological research specifically considering Indigenous-led resistance. Some collective action research has included Indigenous participants (e.g., Osborne, Yogeeswaran, & Sibley, 2015), and one study considered the role of traditional beliefs in motivating collective action among First Nations people in Canada (Giguère, Lalonde, & Jonsson, 2012). But for the most part, there is little scientific investigation of how Indigenous peoples’ distinct cultures and histories may impact their engagement in resistance.

This lack of attention to the Indigenous experience seems disappointing as there may be a number of ideas specific to this intergroup context that could be useful to psychological theories of collective action. For instance, the concept of place identity has generally not been considered in social psychological discussions of identity and collective action engagement. However, for many Indigenous peoples, personal identity is deeply interconnected with land and environment (e.g., Sherman, 2008), suggesting that this form of identity could also be an important source of inspiration for resistance. Strengthening our claims about the particular importance of language, anecdotal accounts suggest that place identity is also deeply tied to Indigenous language. Elders from the Tahltan nation (a First Nations group whose traditional territories are located in northwestern British Columbia, Canada), who still regularly speak their traditional language, have shared that these deep connections between persons and the land are not only reflected in their language’s vocabulary but even its grammar. For example, the phrase for expressing “I am happy” literally translates as “My cognitive landscape is a beautiful geographical landscape” (I. Na-Dene, personal communication, January 31, 2016). If this core aspect of Indigenous psychology and identity is reflected in language, by failing to consider language, we may be limiting our understanding of what motivates collective action in these cultural contexts. Finally, although we have focused specifically on language, it might also be worth considering more fully the process of “decolonizing the mind” and how this process might be connected to empowerment and engagement in resistance.

The struggle to maintain and promote a group’s language when it is threatened—something we have alluded to several times in this paper—is especially poignant for Indigenous groups. There is a considerable literature describing the outcomes of language loss across a wide range of linguistic minorities (e.g., Bourhis, 1994; Edwards, 2010). However, the loss of an Indigenous language represents a unique threat to collective identity. When the children of French speakers in Canada or Spanish speakers in the US grow up speaking only the dominant language, these children may lose the opportunity to fully participate in or appreciate their community’s cultural traditions, resulting in a meaningful loss for the individual and the family. However, this threat to identity is individual. Most linguistic minority groups can withstand language loss in one geographic location because they are part of a larger, linguistically vibrant group in another part of the world (a “home country”) which can ensure the broader vitality of their language. However, for Indigenous groups, the local context is the cultural and linguistic homeland. If the language is lost here, it is entirely lost.

The authors of the Atlas of the World’s Languages in Danger of Disappearing (Wurm, 1996) asserted that a language can be considered in serious danger if it is not the mother tongue for at least 30% of the children in the community. If this is correct, Canadian Indigenous leaders (e.g., Assembly of First Nations, 2010) are correct in describing their efforts to revive their languages as a life and death struggle. According to 2006 Canada Census data, only 24% of First Nations people claim an Indigenous language as their mother tongue, and these are highly concentrated in a small number of languages.

Finally, the demise of Indigenous languages should be a source of concern for all who recognize the value of global cultural diversity. A language is certainly one of a society’s most complex and important cultural contributions. Its destruction represents the elimination of what is arguably the apogee of cultural achievement. A focus on the experience of Indigenous people may make particularly apparent the important links between maintaining cultural vitality through language and fostering continued resistance against intergroup inequality.

Thus, Indigenous peoples’ unique history, struggle, and psychology necessitate further research to understand where and how an understanding of their collective action participation might contribute to existing collective action models (e.g., van Zomeren et al., 2008). This call for research, however, is made with caution. Research efforts can replicate paternalistic, colonial patterns, in the same way that some efforts to support Indigenous languages by non-Indigenous educators do, and this could ironically undermine resistance (e.g., see Bulhan, 2015; Droogendyk, Wright, Lubensky, & Louis, 2016). Participatory action research (Whyte, 1991), which engages with the community and centers research around questions and issues of interest to them, seems particularly well-suited for work in Indigenous communities (e.g., see Neufeld, Schmitt, & Hutchingson, 2016). More generally speaking, social psychologists could consider insights from liberation psychology, which aims to conduct psychological inquiry in a manner that is inclusive of the communities under study, and emphasizes the importance of considering behavior within its social and historical context (Sloan, 2002). For Indigenous peoples, the social and historical context is closely tied to a history of colonization and oppression, and a culturally relevant understanding of their collective action participation should take this into account.