Confession: This is a chapter that I never imagined I would write in a volume that I never thought would need to be published. Until a few years ago, the idea of neo-nationalism emerging as a formidable global force seemed to me the stuff of dystopian fiction. Granted, I have lived and worked in the United States, South Korea, and the Peopleâs Republic of China where, over the past two decades, I have witnessed firsthandâand through the news mediaânationalist sentiments rising up at different times in different places (e.g., post-9/11 saber-rattling in the U.S., protests in Korea and China over the whitewashing of wartime atrocities in Japanese history books). My general sense, however, was that most countries were trending toward a more interconnected, interdependent future in which multilingualism and multiculturalism would be viewed as norms rather than exceptions. I drew this conclusion not only from my personal experiences but also from reading and conducting research in applied linguistics and language teaching.
So, when I went to bed on June 23, 2016 at an Airbnb in Ann Arbor, Michigan, following the first day of the International Writing Across the Curriculum (IWAC) Conference, I fully expected to wake up the next morning in a world largely unchanged from the one in which I had fallen asleep. Instead, when I opened my eyes, grabbed my iPhone, and looked at my newsfeed, I saw this headline from The New York Times: âBritish Stun the World with Decision to Leave the E.U.â I was, in fact, stunned. Although it was known that the vote would be close, few polls had predicted this outcome. Apparently, rising Euroscepticism triggered by frustration with the fiscal policies coming out of Brussels, along with low turnout among younger voters, had been enough to push through the referendum. Suddenly, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that, come November, Donald Trump would be riding a similar wave of economic dissatisfaction and burgeoning neo-nationalism into the White House. Never before in my life had I so wished to be wrong.
The trade-protectionist and anti-immigrant stances associated with neo-nationalism, which Eger and Valdez (2015) posited as something of a hybrid between the far leftâs âanti-establishment populismâ and the far rightâs âdesire for a return to traditional values and an emphasis on law and orderâ (p. 127), did not begin with Brexit or the election of Donald Trump. For years prior to 2016, neo-nationalist movements had been gaining ground across Europe, propelling figures like Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor OrbĂĄn and Polish President Andrzej Duda into power. Similar movements were springing up around leaders in other parts of the world: Narendra Modiâs Hindu nationalism in India, Recep ErdoÄanâs Ottoman revival in Turkey, and Xi Jinpingâs âChinese Dream,â to name a few. Nevertheless, the shift toward neo-nationalism by what had hitherto been the two strongest proponents of neoliberal globalization sent a clear signal that the world was, in fact, starting to bend in a new direction. If the United Kingdom and the United Statesâthe very countries that advanced English as an international language to serve their own political and economic interestsâwere withdrawing from trade deals, tightening their borders, and inciting violence against immigrants, then how long before other nations began to rethink educational policies and practices that, for decades, had touted learning English as a key to entering the global marketplace? Would the rise of neo-nationalism across the world, fueled in part by xenophobia, lead to a backlash against the teaching of foreign languages in general?
Nationalism, Language, and Education
For many, the word ânationalismâ conjures up dramatic images, like Adolf Hitler screaming maniacally into a microphone before legions of saluting Nazis shouting âSieg Heilâ in return or perhaps, more recently, the bombed-out cities of the Yugoslav Wars (1991â2001). While such extreme forms have led to interethnic conflict and genocide, nationalism has also been mobilized to drive out colonizers or resist other outside aggressors, as was the case with Vietnamâs defeat of France and the United States, respectively, in the First and Second Indochina Wars (see Bao & Phan, Chapter 6 in this volume). Most everyday manifestations of nationalism, however, fall under what Billig (1995) categorized as âbanalâ and are therefore easier to overlook: the face of a countryâs founder placed on its currency or the national anthem being played before a sporting event. Nationalism is even embedded in the words that we use to talk about ourselves and others: native, foreigner, compatriot, expatriate, immigrant, alien.
The very idea of the nation, which Anderson (1983) called âan imagined political communityâ (p. 6), depends heavily on the establishment of a common languageâor languagesâto create a sense of shared identity among people who are unlikely to meet face-to-face and who may experience very different linguistic realities on a day-to-day basis. China, with its hundreds of often mutually unintelligible regional and local âdialects,â provides a striking example of how an officially-mandated âcommon speechâ (putonghua, or standard Mandarin) and a relatively uniform writing system work to construct the idea of a single national language: Chinese. Other countries, like Singapore and Switzerland, recognize multiple national languages to reflect their linguistic diversity, but striking a balance between these languages remains challenging. In Cameroon and the United Arab Emirates, for instance, official status may not be enough to protect languages spoken by a minority of the population, and the fear of this loss can spur ethnolinguistic nationalism and conflict (see Ngala, Chapter 3 in this volume; Esseili, Chapter 4 in this volume).
Of course, not all forms of nationalism are the same. In the current political climate, we can hear differences in the voices of those promoting a particular imagined community, whether it be a far-right ethno-religious state or a more left-leaning civically-minded nation, but we may also detect similar interests in maintaining borders or opposing global markets, although likely for different reasons and through different means (Svitych, 2018). As Blommaert (1996) noted:
The way in which language is symbolised may cohere with the general set-up of the particular nationalism; its ideological construction may be guided by similar underlying assumptions, viewpoints and visions of the desired âideal societyâ which nationalists are trying to build. Closer attention to language-ideological issues may thus contribute to a better understanding of the conceptual, âdeepâ structure of various nationalisms [...]. (p. 236)
We find these idealized visions of the nation regularly reproduced in political speeches and media coverage of events, in documentaries and other historical accounts, and in language textbooks and citizenship guides (see Gulliver, Chapter 10 in this volume). Studying the ways that people in different places and with different political orientations speak and write about the idea of the nation can help us to understand why nationalism is on the rise again and how it may be contributing to the formation of new alliances and oppositions across old ideological lines.
Just as nationalism has long been tied to language, so too is it tied to language education, in policy if not in practice. Decisions as to which languages can be spoken, written, taught and tested in schools are often enshrined in law (Wright, 2016). Governments are involved in how students from other countries with different immigration or residency statuses are classified within education systems. Sometimes, countries even establish public organizations, like the British Council or Confucius Institute, to affect how national languagesâofficial or de factoâare taught in other countries. To Phillipson (1992), the entire enterprise of English language teaching (ELT) was a form of âlinguistic imperialism,â through which Anglo-American power could continue to be exerted in a post-colonial world by perpetuating the specious argument that English is âa vehicle of the entire developing human tradition, well adapted for change and development, not ethnic or ideological, the worldâs first truly global language, of universal interestâ (p. 276). Today, we see this same argument put forward not only by Anglophone nations but also by multinational corporations that promote English, and perhaps a handful of other lingua francas (e.g., Arabic, French, Mandarin), as vital components of individual success in a globalized world.
Neoliberalism and Applied Linguistics
In 1990, when Alastair Pennycook proposed adopting a more critical approach to applied linguistics, the Berlin Wall had just fallen and the Soviet Union was a year away from collapsing, but he was prescient in calling for new ways of thinking about the roles that language and education play in perpetuating inequalities in a world where few alternatives to American-led free-market capitalism (i.e., neoliberalism) would soon remain. Taking his cue from post-structuralist philosophers like Michel Foucault, Pennycook (1990) reminded us that knowledge is never neutral and that, as a field, we must repeatedly examine the ideological basis/biases of our work by interrogating foundational concepts and accepted research methods to uncover who or what is being excluded from the conversation. Only then, he argued, can we truly understand the power that language has to limit, as well as expand, the ways in which we view our world and one another.
Around the same time, the number of so-called ânon-nativeâ speakers of English began to outpac...