Introduction

In this chapter I continue to explore how Pak Kris's emerging identity as a stingy non-attending ward member solidifies in the routine meeting that occurred one month after the meeting discussed in Chapter 7. In doing so, I draw more heavily upon my ethnographic data. In particular, I point out how conversational activities in the January meeting co-occurred with local and wider events in a way that contributed to the co-construction and (re)production of particular categories of personhood. In Section 8.1 I start by showing how the financial situation of the ward and the financial status of its members is an important factor figuring in processes of social identification and in the (re)production of expectations for social conduct in this ward. In Section 8.2 I continue to look at the nexus between signs from different spatial-temporal settings to point out how they are used as resources to identify not only non-present others, but those doing this social identification. In doing so, I highlight how this process figures in the formation of two locally emerging semiotic registers (LESRs). One of the interesting things about one of these LESRs relates to linguistic sign usage, which contrasts with patterns of female sign exchange discussed in Chapter 6. In accounting for this contrast, I again look further into participants' trajectories of socialization within this ward (Section 8.3).

The language of the overwhelming majority of OJ sources is that of the capital Nara, or the area around it. However, some sources reflect dialects from eastern Japan, usually collectively referred to as Eastern Old Japanese. Volume 14 of the Man'yōshū consists of 230 azuma uta ‘eastern songs/poems’, out of which 89 have the place of origin identified in the commentary. Most of these were recorded by people from the capital travelling to the east in various official capacities. Volume 20 includes 93 sakimori uta ‘borderguard songs’, composed by soldiers from the east, mostly serving on guard duty in Kyushu, again mostly recorded by scribes from the capital area. Finally, the Hitachi fudoki includes 9 songs in EOJ. This material does not reflect a single dialect, but at least three main areas which may be labelled: (a) northern EOJ, comprising poems from (or dialects spoken in) the provinces of Kazusa, Mutsu, and Shimotsuke; (b) central EOJ: Hitachi, Kōzuke, Musashi, Sagami and Shimōsa; and (c) southern EOJ: Shinano, Suruga, and Tōtōmi. These dialect areas differ appreciably between each other, with southern being least and northern most different from the central OJ dialect of the capital area. However, the majority of the poems and songs which are identified as EOJ have no information about their provenance.

Introduction

In work in multilingual settings the use of linguistic signs in semiotic encounters is often talked of in terms of code choice and codeswitching. Arguably, the most well known approaches are those offered by Gumperz (1982a) and Myers-Scotton (1993). Both approaches see identity as a central factor in language choice and codeswitching. For example, Gumperz (1982a: 66) based much of his approach on the perceived association of different languages with the identities of in-groups or “we” and out-groups or “they”, although he does note that such relationships do not predict how interactional codeswitching may progress. Myers-Scotton's (1993) markedness model sees participants' motivations for choosing one code instead of another as reflecting wider societal relationships between identity and language. In her approach, the analyst is able to interpret participants' code choice if they know participants' social identity in terms of such things as ethnicity.

However, Myers-Scotton's approach has been problematized by those working in ethnographic and ethnomethodological paradigms (e.g. Meeuwis & Blommaert, 1994; LiWei, 1998). For example, Meeuwis and Blommaert (1994) have noted its over-reliance on Chomskian mentalist concepts of competence, its lack of attention to ethnographically recoverable social factors influencing access to codes, its over-simplification of language–identity relationships (especially the reliance on imagined place-based ethno-linguistic categories), and the need to define community and the associated assumptions of sharedness of experience in any community. In a later paper (Meeuwis & Blommaert, 1998), they continue this critique by arguing that this approach is based on the false assumption that those who codeswitch must be bilingual.

Introduction

A common thread in work on processes of semiotic register formation, enregisterment, and language ideology is that generally there is an imagined standard of linguistic conduct, which through various processes becomes tied to particular personas across time and space. As Inoue (2006), Agha (2003), and Errington (1998a, 2001), among others, have nicely pointed out, it is often an educated elite – whether university professors, religious leaders, bureaucrats, et cetera – who initiate such imaginings, and schools that help reify these language ideologies. Much of my discussion in Chapter 2 was devoted to this area as it relates to inter-ethnic relations and ethnicity, ethnic languages and Chineseness. In this chapter I want to sharpen my focus on two of these areas. The first relates to language ideologies about the use of Javanese intra-ethnically and the second relates to language ideologies about inter-ethnic interaction in Indonesia. In addressing these two issues I have two main aims. The first is to point to the differences between these language ideologies and situated practice. In line with the broader question that this book seeks to address, my second aim is to further explore how people go about establishing and maintaining social relations in settings characterized by diversity and transience.

Before doing so, however, I should start by pointing out what I mean by language ideology. Drawing upon the broad thrust of work on language ideologies and semiosis (e.g. Schieffelin, Woolard, & Kroskrity, 1998; Agha, 2007; Kroskrity, 2000; Agha, 2005), the way I will use the term language ideology here is as follows.

Writing

From the late Nara period a gradual process of simplification and abbreviation of the shapes of man'yōgana took place, slowly at first but gaining speed through the early part of the Heian period, and eventually resulting in the development of hiragana and katakana scripts. As the reduced shapes were dissociated from the kanji from which they derived, they unambiguously became phonograms and it became possible to write Japanese phonographically in a simple and straightforward manner. From the beginning of the tenth century until the end of the eleventh century we have a large body of text which was written almost entirely phonographically in hiragana, with only a few logographically used kanji. This style of writing is a continuation of the tradition of extensive phonographic writing which developed in the context of writing or recording poetry in the OJ period. Most of the EMJ hiragana texts were written by women who traditionally were excluded from the world of learning and Classical Chinese. The first line of the Tosa nikki from 935 where its author, Ki no Tsurayuki, somewhat tongue-in-cheek pretends to be a woman trying her hand at writing diaries, is famous: wotoko mo su naru nikki to ipu mono wo wonna mo site mimu tote suru nari ‘I as a woman will also try keeping this thing called diary, which men are said to keep.’

The Christian sources in alphabet writing provide extremely valuable information about the phonology at the end of the LMJ period, including a number of features of pronunciation which were not reflected in writing in Japanese script. In addition to the system as it may be inferred from the transcription in the texts and dictionaries, the grammars (Rodrigues's Arte and Arte breve and Collado's Ars grammaticae) have notes on pronunciation. Table 11.1 shows the sound inventory at the end of the period and includes also the transcription used in Vocabulario (the transcriptions used in the various Christian sources differ on points of detail, but they reflect the same phonological system). Unless otherwise noted, LMJ forms cited in this section are from the Christian sources, mostly Vocabulario, in the transcription used therein followed by a phonemic transcription if that is significantly different, e.g. chôzzu /tyoodu/ ‘washing’.

Table 11.1 shows both free moras (/CV, CyV, CwV/) and long syllables with a long vowel, which in the Christian sources were noted by a single vowel with a diacritic (/CVV, CyVV, CwVV/); see (11.5) about the phonemic analysis of long vowels. Table 11.1 does not include long syllables whose second mora was a consonant or a high front vowel (which formed a long diphthong with the preceding nuclear vowel), as these were noted by individual segments in the Christian sources.

During the twelve or so years that I have been working on this research I have built up many debts that I will probably never be able to repay. In this brief acknowledgment to the many people who have helped and supported me through the pleasure and pain of research, I offer my sincere thanks. There are many people who I would like to thank by name here and in particular the members of Wards 5 and 8 whose permission, patience, help, and friendship made this research possible. Of course, for reasons of anonymity, I cannot name them here and hence can only offer my sincere gratitude and thanks to these two wards as a whole. I also offer my deepest thanks to my research assistants, who were also members of these wards. Similarly, this research and this book would not have been possible without the support, patience and good humor offered by Eni and our two sons Jery and Marcel, and my mother, father, two brothers and in-laws, all of whom have regularly reminded me that there are other things to life than just sitting in front of a computer.

I am indebted to Peter Burns – my teacher, friend, and colleague – who first introduced me to Indonesia and Indonesian in 1989. I am also indebted to Andrew Lian, who first made me think about the nature of language. An even larger debt of gratitude is owed to Paul Black – also my teacher, friend and colleague – who provided early guidance in my research and writing efforts.