*Keywords:* adult learning and education, colonialism, Creole/Kwéyòl, language(s), marginal languages

‘tracy-j-dolcy’

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Volume 13, No.2., 262 276 Faculty of Education©, UM, 2019

Preservation & Revitalisation of Marginal Languages: A

Study of Creoles and Adult Learning and Education

Tracy J. Dolcy

Independent Researcher

dolcytracy@gmail.com

Abstract : Language, which is social in nature, is the primary tool used by human beings to communicate. It is inextricably intertwined with culture. Every language should be safeguarded because of its criticality to human identity and survival. Bearing in mind the afore-mentioned, this paper examines the preservation and revitalisation of marginal languages, as in the case of Creole languages. The paper launches into a critical discussion about language and domination, with specific reference to colonialism and its profound impact on the marginalisation of language and the origination of Creole languages. It outlines some of the issues which may arise from these endangered or extinct languages. By means of an examination of the case of Saint Lucian Kwéyòl, the paper considers adult learning and education as a possibly powerful tool to preserve, revitalise and promote a marginal language. Some of the impacts and challenges of adult learning and education, as it relates to the implementation of this initiative, are also addressed. Consequently, it is argued that every attempt should be made to ensure the protection of marginal languages, in order to promote linguistic and cultural diversity, and human rights.

Keywords : adult learning and education; colonialism; Creole/Kwéyòl; language(s); marginal languages.

Introduction

Each language can be considered a pocket of history, culture, traditional experience, and knowledge. They are intricately linked to identity and cultural difference. Our world, perceptions of ourselves, interactions with

others, and response to social norms are all shaped by our language (Hall, 1997). Especially in linguistic minority groupings, language is crucial to the protection of their unique group and cultural identity (United Nations News Centre, 2013). In effect, language is one avenue for the valorisation of their difference. Each language is equally valuable and uniquely placed amidst a very diverse yet integrated whole (Garrett, 2006). However, while all languages are linguistically equal, socially, they are not (Bourdieu, 1977). Based on their affiliation to a particular market or power structure, some languages can be accorded higher prestige than others. This has influenced a language dichotomy in which some languages have fallen into a category of dominant and others are considered to be marginal. Although dominant languages may thrive, many marginal languages, along with the distinct identity of their speakers, face endangerment. To avert the latter, adult learning and education (ALE) has been utilised.

Through a focus on Creole languages, this paper considers the use of ALE as a medium of language perseveration and revitalisation. In keeping with the advice given by Errington (2003) that any attempt to preserve or forward language diversity should consider the historical roots of a language, the paper begins with a critical discussion of language and the colonial backdrop from which Creole languages originated and are marginalised. An overview is given of some of the potential issues which may arise from those languages which are (becoming) endangered or extinct. Then, through a review of the case of Saint Lucian Kwéyòl, the paper examines the role that ALE can play / plays as well as some of its impacts and challenges in efforts geared towards the promotion of a marginal language.

The paper is divided into six main sections which address different but interrelated issues. They are as follows: (i) a historical account of language and domination; (ii) Creole: a present-day ‘endangered’ language; (iii) education and languages’ preservation; (iv) the case of Saint Lucian Kwéyòl; (v) Kwéyòl adult literacy initiatives, and (vi) ALE in Kwéyòl and mass media. Concluding remarks are then presented which emphasise the need for the preservation and revitalisation of marginal languages in order to safeguard linguistic and cultural diversity and human rights.

A Historical Account of Language and Domination

Language is an element of history (Ives, 2004). Human history is one filled with hegemonic contestation. As highlighted in the work of Antonio Gramsci,

hegemony , which is the rule of one class or social grouping over another, is achieved and sustained through a mixture of political and ideological mediums (Mayo, 1999). In this process, dominant groupings tend to turn to the use of cultural indoctrination and reproduction as a means of asserting their influence. From a phenomenological perspective, language has not been neutral in this process since it is directly connected to culture (Finger & Asún, 2001). Language can be deemed a vehicle for the transmission of ideologies or cultural worldviews. Therefore, as Bourdieu (1977) postulates, aside from being a means of communication and knowledge, language is “also an instrument of power” (p. 648). Evidence of this argument can be found through a look at the base from which Creole languages sprung: colonialism.

The advent of colonialism tends to be aligned with changes in colonies’ geopolitical landscape and cultural terrain. Ngugi Wa Thiong’o (as cited in English & Mayo, 2012, p. 70) argues that the most significant strategy used during colonialism to enforce control was “the mental universe of the colonised, the control through culture, of how people perceived themselves, and their relationship to the world”. This was achieved through attempts to strip the colonised of anything which tied them to their previous identity as freed people. Within plantation societies like those of the Caribbean, where African slaves were brought in, there was a rejection of anything, including language, which was seemingly African in origin (St-Hilaire, 2013). Instead, as part of the colonial experience, colonisers implanted their culture and language into the territories they acquired.

As illustrated in Gramsci’s work, language and culture are inseparable (Ives, 2004). The two can have direct impacts on each other. According to Fanon (2008), “to speak a language is to appropriate its world and culture” (p. 21). In the European colonial model, the coloniser’s language was imposed on each colony and established as superior to non-European languages (Léglise & Migge, 2007). This was achieved first through the spreading of the colonial language through the ‘upper classes’ in the colonised community, and then a horizontal phase in which the language was spread in the capital, followed by small cities and, finally, villages (ibid.). This strategic dispersing of the language was part of the power play to assert their control over their colonies; this contributed to the formation of strata even among the colonised. One’s command of the coloniser’s language helped to maintain boundaries of who was in and who was out. On the other hand, contact languages, which include creole languages, were marginalised or suppressed (Garrett, 2007).

From their inception, Creole languages were viewed as inferior, bad or broken versions of their corresponding lexifier language (Bartens, 2001; Migge, Léglise & Bartens, 2010). These languages, which tend to be the products of the interaction of different colonial and African or other languages, retained a closer lexical connection to the coloniser’s language (Wigglesworth, Billington & Loakes, 2013; Pyndiah, 2016). Nevertheless, colonisers rejected or relegated the Creole languages in order to legitimise their tongue as the language of authority, and accorded its speakers similar treatment. This left some of the colonised attempting to position themselves towards the dominant colonial languages, and their corresponding culture as a means of assisting them in escaping their lower status (Fanon, 2008).

In the postcolonial era, the diglossic relationship continued to exist between Creole languages and the colonial language with the latter being associated with higher prestige. Despite the absence of direct colonial rule, Ngũgĩ (1986 as cited in Pyndiah, 2016) contends that an epistemic colonialism persisted within many former colonies which tended to be perpetuated by a neocolonial bourgeoisie. As such, the colonial linguistic hierarchy did not disappear. The official language in most of the now independent former colonies continued to be that of their coloniser. For example, if England were the mother country, then after independence, English would be selected as the official language. A survey conducted by Jules (2013) illustrates that “91% of microstates have a European language as the official language” (p. 364). In some cases, like Saint Lucia, the colonial language was the only tongue given the status of official language, though the majority of the population spoke the Creole language. Hence, the colonial language was the language used in formal settings and public domains such as government and education. This preference given to European languages as the official mediums of communication continued to further legitimise their hegemonic influence (Gandolfo, 2009).

Although pro-Creole champions emerged who tried to propose the legitimisation of Creole and promote its use in public and formal settings, there still tends to be resistance among the formerly colonised. There exists a “colonised mentality”, which Albert Memmi describes as a state where the colonised may feel contempt, but also have a “passionate” attraction to their coloniser (Freire, 2000, p. 16). Though some may argue about the grave injustices which were perpetrated through colonialism, they may, at the same

time, have an affinity to the colonial master’s world. This is evident within countries like Mauritius whose mother tongue is a Creole language; but there exist beliefs which demonise these languages and reward the colonial language (Pyndiah, 2016). For example, a speaker of Creole may be viewed as backward, illiterate or belonging to the lower class, but a speaker of a ‘standardized’ version of a colonial language, such as French or English, may be deemed more educated and cultured. Consequently, many Creole speakers were not taught to write and were not encouraged to transmit that language to their next generations because the dominant colonial language tended to be viewed as an escape to a ‘better life’. The negative stigma and the predominantly oral nature of Creole languages placed them at risk.

Creole: A Present Day ‘Endangered’ Language

Globally, hundreds of languages have either become marginalised, endangered or extinct (Errington, 2003). Included in the list are Creole languages. Garrett (2006) gives a thorough account of the reasons for their inclusion. The author argues that the very fact that Creoles are contact languages means that they have always been marginal. Yet, they have been overlooked under the category of endangered languages though they can also fall within this grouping. Garrett (2006) exemplifies this point through reference to the death of numerous Creole languages and others which are on the brink of death, including Skepi Dutch Creole (Guyana), Trinidadian French Creole (Trinidad and Tobago), and Berbice Dutch Creole (Guyana). While they may be ignored in the discourse on language endangerment, the author argues that Creoles’ relative lack of historicity and their death of autonomy qualify them for this discussion. Garrett (2006) warns that if they are continually ignored, the threatened position of Creoles will leave them open to further symbolic domination and eventual extinction. This concern is shared by other writers (such as Bartens, 2001; Migge et al, 2010; Pyndiah, 2016) who discuss the threat of globalisation and potential repercussions of marginalisation or disappearance of linguistic varieties such as Creole.

Aside from the postcolonial legacy which looms over Creole languages, contemporary challenges have emerged due to globalisation. Aside from economic impacts, globalisation also has a cultural dimension (Borg & Mayo, 2008). Thus, its opening of borders and markets has had economic as well as cultural implications. This phenomenon has brought with it unprecedented sociolinguistic changes which impede the survival of marginal languages (Errington, 2003). The proliferation of technology and the emergence of a

borderless world may have exposed persons to more languages and knowledge. However, the globalisation project’s preferred use of European languages especially English as the language of commerce, medium for official and international communication as well as scientific knowledge has arguably served to promote and legitimise these languages, thus reinstating their hegemonic influence at a cost to marginal languages (Gandolfo, 2009). This ascription of higher linguistic value to European / English languages has in turn influenced the cultural autonomy and preferences of individuals and nations. Since the usage of a particular language affords greater access to the market and increases chances of success in them, the tendency is to acquire that language (Bourdieu, 1977). Consequently, marginal languages, such as Creoles, tend to be perceived with some negativity, or side-lined in favour of the dominant languages by some policymakers, educators, and the general public. Such actions, though, can have negative implications.

The loss of a language is a threat to the sum of human knowledge and rights (Errington, 2003). Its loss is an infringement on diversity and social difference. According to Muhlhausler (2003 as cited in Garrett, 2006, p. 185), with the demise of a language, “what is at risk are not individual languages but complex ecological support systems that sustain linguistic diversity”. Notwithstanding the inferior ranking which has been given to most Creole languages, all Creoles are deemed fully established languages which respond to every social need of a community (Wigglesworth et al, 2013). Therefore, they contribute to our world’s linguistic diversity. Their endangerment poses a threat to all they represent and stand for, including cultural and national identities. As with any other language, Creole languages are a depository of knowledge and experience. Each is entrenched in the cultural and social fabric of their respective societies. Consequently, they represent the culturally unique worldview of their speakers. St-Hilaire (2013) states that within the Caribbean, “Creole cultural identities enjoy widespread and popular currency” (p. 8). This author argues that the Creole languages are the most visible representation of these identities. Like other languages, they represent a possible source of unity. Hence, they have been prominently featured in some countries’ contemporary nation-building efforts (Garrett, 2007; Pyndiah, 2016). In essence, they may be termed ‘valuable’ to society.

Education and Languages’ Preservation

The threat to minority languages like Creoles has not gone unrecognised. Amidst increasing awareness of the possible loss of historical, cultural and

linguistic heritage, as well as local knowledge, calls have been sounded from activists, governments and international organisations, including the United Nation’s Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), in support of the promotion of their preservation (Himmelmann, 2008; Robinson, 2016). Education has been an essential component in their strategies to tackle the issues that tend to influence the extinction, marginalisation or degeneration of these languages, and may pose a threat to Earth’s linguistic diversity.

Although the education sector has been criticised as a medium through which the discrimination and demise of minority and indigenous languages can be perpetuated (Carrington, 1999; Gandolfo, 2009), it can also be a vehicle to facilitate their preservation. Education is believed to be an avenue which can assist in fostering linguistic capacity and transmission. The use of marginal languages in educational settings, an area where they were once restricted, can also help legitimise their status. Therefore, contrary to past policies which excluded Creole and other marginal languages from the education sector (Bartens, 2001; Siegel, 2005), local and international bodies, such as the World Bank and UNESCO, are seeking their inclusion and promotion via education at all levels, including adult education.

Close attention has been paid to the use of ALE in the survival and advancement of all languages. As part of its commitments to promote participation, inclusion and equity, UNESCO, during its 2015 General Conference, called on its members to address:

… learners’ needs and aspirations with adult learning approaches which respect and reflect the diversity of learners’ languages and heritage, including indigenous culture and values, create bridges between different groups and reinforce integrative capacities within communities (UNESCO Institute for Lifelong Learning, 2016, p. 152).

Aside from the incorporation of local languages as a means of avoiding discrimination against minority grouping and encouraging their participation in ALE, the Organisation saw their use as languages of instruction as an indicator of the quality of ALE policies and programming (ibid.). Such recognition of the need to address local languages, minority or dominant, in the structuring of ALE programming and policy can help transform negative perceptions attached to marginal languages like Creoles. Further, as Jules

(2013) argues, adult education programming capacity for human resource development would be severely limited “unless they deal with the question of indigenous or Creole languages” (p. 365).

Adult education, which is one of the areas Antonio Gramsci saw as vital to the establishment of counter-hegemonic action (Mayo, 1999), has been one of the main approaches used in some countries to revitalise and preserve Creoles. Creole languages have been used in a number of ALE projects in an effort to teach literacy and promote awareness of these languages (Bartens, 2001; Siegel, 2005). Among the countries which have embarked on ALE programmes in Creole are Haiti, Dominica, Mauritius and Saint Lucia. To examine some of the potential impacts and challenges of such initiatives, the next section makes special reference to ALE efforts in Saint Lucia.

The Case of Saint Lucian Kwéyòl

The small Caribbean island of Saint Lucia has one of the largest French Creole-speaking populations in the world (Pyndiah, 2016). Before ultimately becoming a British colony in 1814, the island changed hands between the French and the British a total of fourteen times (St-Hilaire, 2013). Yet, even after the final victory of the British and the island’s attainment of independence in 1979, remnants of the French rule still persist on the island. A noticeable sign of this enduring historical lineage to the French is found in the local Creole language referred to as Kwéyòl or Patois (or Patwa). This language is said to have developed from the contact of French and African languages. Whilst English is the country’s official language, Kwéyòl tends to be spoken all across the island by the vast majority of native Saint Lucians. As with other former colonies, Saint Lucia wrestles with the establishment of itself as an autonomous and culturally distinct nation. In its process of postcolonial nation building, Kwéyòl was pegged as a rich symbolic resource (Garrett, 2007). Although the language may be a source of pride or a truly Saint Lucian language, it still lingers in the shadows of English. Like other Creoles, it has suffered from marginalisation, and questions surround the certainty of its future (Garrett, 2006).

Prior to Saint Lucia’s independence, Kwéyòl was virtually invisible in formal domains, such as government and education, as well as in mass media. Though to date no official national language policy exists for the island (Lubin & Serieux-Lubin, 2011), the focus of education has generally been on the use and acquisition of English. Kwéyòl has been the neglected stepchild

which, if acquired simultaneously with English, was thought to negatively affect proficiency in the latter (Garrett, 2007). Tarnished by its strong link to slavery, rural underdevelopment and poverty, Kwéyòl was blackened (ibid). Its acquisition tends to either be discouraged or taken for granted in favour of English, the presumed language of prestige, opportunity and class. This contributed to a steady decline in the number of speakers. It was not until after independence (when a pro-Kwéyòl movement emerged which championed the position of Kwéyòl as part of the country’s distinct cultural identity through educational and awareness campaigns) that perceptions of the language began to really improve. Amidst increasing consensus about the potentially significant role that Kwéyòl could play in ALE (Nwenmely, 1999), many of the attempts that have been made to legitimise and valorise the language have targeted adults. Some of these are centred on non-formal literacy classes and informal or self-directed learning initiatives via the mass media.

Kwéyòl Adult Literacy Initiatives

As part of the pro-Kwéyòl effort, adult Kwéyòl literacy classes were introduced. This helped to move the shift from a singular literacy focus on English to a plural perspective of literacies which could possibly help legitimise Kwéyòl. The first documented account of such a project was the Creole Discourse and Social Development Project which began in the late 1980s. Nwenmely (1999) posits that this was a small short-term project which sought to: … enhance the acceptability of Kwéyòl in domains previously reserved for English by producing a nucleus of personnel who could deliver services in Kwéyòl in four related spheres: news and information broadcasting, health education, post-literacy activities and agricultural information (p. 273).

As indicated by the author, such training could have been effective; however, its outcomes were short lived due to a lack of funding. Following in this same vein, a number of subsequent programmes emerged which were either run by non-governmental or government entities, namely the Folk Research Centre (FRC) and the National Enrichment and Learning Unit (NELU). The Saint Lucia FRC, a non-profit organisation established in 1973, has been one of the leading groups advocating for the preservation and promotion of Kwéyòl (StHilaire, 2003; Chitolie-Joseph, 2008). Aside from spearheading the annual Jounen Kwéyòl or Creole Day celebration, that began in 1984 and has evolved

into a month-long observance in October, the FRC has produced a number of publications, lectures, and classes which focus on speaking and writing Kwéyòl (Lubin & Serieux-Lubin, 2011). The FRC’s classes were among some of the first attempts to teach adults how to speak and write Kwéyòl. In 1998, the new Labour government, a pro-Kwéyòl administration and forerunners in using the language in parliamentary proceedings, also began offering basic classes in Kwéyòl literacy as part of their National Literacy Initiative (Nwenmely, 1999). This move was part of the island’s attempt to honour its commitment made at the 1997 CONFINTEA V Conference to develop ALE programmes that were culturally inclusive and the party’s pro-Kwéyòl stance. NELU, one of the island’s three public institutions for ALE, has since continued this thrust and offers a short course in Kwéyòl as part of the personal enrichment package.

Though adult Kwéyòl literacy classes may be deemed a laudable initiative, which assisted some adults in the speaking and writing of Patois and can be an indication of their willingness to support its preservation, the response rates for these classes have been somewhat low. Kwéyòl has actually been NELU’s most undersubscribed course (Chitolie-Joseph, 2008). The majority of learners were either enrolled in Basic Literacy which is focussed on English or Caribbean Secondary Education Certificate Mathematics classes (ibid.). According to Vella (2002), adult learners have limited time and therefore need to be able to immediately identify the usefulness of any new learning. Mathematics and English, being basic entry requirement for many forms of employment and higher education institutions, may possibly contribute to higher enrolment in these two courses as opposed to Kwéyòl, which is still riddled with stigma and not a ‘compulsory’ language for career advancement or mobility. Another perspective is that the classes have not been very successful due to the general low emphasis placed on reading in Saint Lucia and the scarcity in reading material written in Kwéyòl (Nwenmely, 1999).

Whatever the reason, there appears to be a lack of interest in the Kwéyòl classes. While individuals may pay an enrolment fee, with low numbers registering for the programme, the cost incurred by NELU is too great to run it regularly especially on the Unit’s small budget allocation. Nevertheless, the course has not been abandoned. The Director of NELU, Cynthia Prescott, states that presently it is offered on demand if a group of ten or more sign up for a semester (personal communication, June 16, 2017). The FRC is also open to offering the Kwéyòl classes.

ALE in Kwéyòl and Mass Media

According to Darder (2013), public pedagogical projects can be used as alternative spaces for stimulating civic engagement, and are very important methods of ALE. Compared to the non-formal adult literacy classes in Kwéyòl, the critical media literacy projects seem to be having more success. Kwéyòl literacy programmes are presently featured in all forms of media including television, print, the Internet, multimedia and radio. A number of Kwéyòl programmes have emerged via the media which seek to inform their audience on socio-political issues and engage audience’s feedback on different topics. These programmes have afforded individuals, especially adults who are monolingual, more proficient, or comfortable in expressing themselves in Kwéyòl, an opportunity to be heard. In effect, as Lubin and Serieux-Lubin (2011) argue, “The media has proven to be an invaluable way to educate people in Kwéyòl” (p. 273) and about Kwéyòl culture. Although various media houses (for example the government-owned National Television Network, and more recently a few of the local television stations) are airing short news packages and other items featuring Kwéyòl, the local radio stations can be considered the most consistent in producing Kwéyòl programming.

In many countries, radio has been a powerful avenue for ALE (Torres, 2013); and in Saint Lucia, it is no different. Radio might have been one of the first forms of media in Saint Lucia that sought to engage adults who were more proficient or only spoke Kwéyòl in current issues. In the early 1970s, this medium first featured Kwéyòl through a Chase Manhattan Bank commercial which sought to encourage rural Saint Lucians to join their bank (StHilaire 2003). During this period, the Department of Agriculture also sponsored a five-minute slot to provide news updates to farmers in Kwéyòl, but it was not until the 1980s that Kwéyòl programming really began to take root (Garrett, 2007). Since then, Garrett (2007) reports that:

Kwéyòl-language programming has proliferated to the point that virtually any type of program that can be heard in English, from the day’s international news to call-in talk shows to the weekly death announcements, can also be heard in Kwéyòl at one time or another (p. 141).

The assessment made by Darder (2013) of the impact of community, when she states that radio opens up an “important pedagogical and political space where hegemonic belief systems can be challenged and alternative views can be mobilised for social action” (p. 165), can be applied to Kwéyòl radio. It seems to be breaking the hegemonic hold of English on the airwaves and tends to allow voices, which would otherwise be ignored due to language barriers, to be heard. Bearing in mind that presently most monolingual speakers of the language are middle-aged or older adults who live in rural communities (Garrett, 2007), these Kwéyòl language programmes can be an important informal learning medium. In light of the Kwéyòl broadcast extending to the whole island, and even beyond since some of the stations air on the internet, the Kwéyòl language programmes may be encouraging informal learning of the language by persons not proficient in it. In effect, as St-Hilaire (2003) postulates, the utilisation of Kwéyòl in radio broadcasts has had a powerful legitimising effect on the language and has possibly enhanced its status.

Conversely, the use of Kwéyòl on the radio has not been without drawbacks. Garrett (2007) posits that though some of the Kwéyòl radio broadcasts have contributed to postcolonial nationhood in Saint Lucia, some programmes have been mere reproductions of their English complements. A “high” register of Kwéyòl is said to have risen as a result of the language’s lexical limitations when it comes to translating some of the new terms or words emerging out of English (ibid.). The use of the “high” register poses a challenge of comprehension for those who speak the ordinary Kwéyòl vernacular, and these are some of the very people that such programming is intended to target. Some programmes, more specifically Di’y Kon’w we’y (Say it like you see it) diverted from the typical English broadcast format and used a more colloquial register and style. Garrett (2007) posits that the host of this show is mainly interested in reaching Saint Lucians, especially older adults or rural residents, whose knowledge of English and access to news and other forms of information are restricted. Yet during the broadcast, the host tends to use certain unfamiliar semi-archaic forms, French words and pronunciations. Therefore, Garrett (2007) argues that the modernising of Kwéyòl, in a manner which is still responsive to local needs and sensibilities, can be challenging.

Consequently, though Garrett (2007, p. 155) illustrates that Di’y Kon’w we’y could “be a means of more directly confronting, interrogating, and critiquing

(if not disrupting) hegemonic discourse”, and one may even suggest that it is facilitating dialogue which can awake the critical consciousness of its adult audience, it may be worth noting that many of the Kwéyòl radio programmes are still in need of development. Attention should be given to their content in order to ensure that they are using authentic Kwéyòl in their programming; indeed, this can enhance the effective transmission of the language. In addition, aside from focussing on these oral media, the other forms of media, more specifically those which can encourage the writing of the language, need to also be pushed so as to ensure that adults can become fully literate in Kwéyòl.

Conclusion

Linguistic and cultural diversity can assist in the achievement of social justice, cohesion, and individual development. The marginalisation or extinction of a language counters this. This paper has looked at the preserving and revitalising of marginal languages. It has sought to critically discuss the factors which can contribute to (and have a profound impact on) the marginal position of Creole languages’ in an effort to illustrate the need for their protection as an avenue for safeguarding linguistic and cultural diversity, as well as human rights. The possibly powerful role that ALE can play in the preservation and revitalisation efforts of these languages has been illustrated through an emphasis on Saint Lucian Kwéyòl.

From the above, it can be inferred that ALE, especially through informal mediums, can be effective in the revitalisation and preservation of marginal languages. As Jules (2013) states ALE can play a crucial role in constructing a collective purpose and identity. Thus, the historical stigma which plagues marginal languages as in the case of Creole, and the effects of language imperialism perpetuated through the globalisation’s projects use of certain dominant languages may persist. ALE initiatives which embrace and forward these languages can be pursued as a counter-hegemonic action and preservation strategy. It is also recommended that more research be conducted in this area as the number of studies which directly speak to marginal languages and the field of ALE are limited.

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