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Tesol Quarterly - 2012 - Atkinson - Tesol and Culture
Tesol Quarterly - 2012 - Atkinson - Tesol and Culture
Tesol Quarterly - 2012 - Atkinson - Tesol and Culture
DWIGHT ATKINSON
Temple University Japan
*
An earlier version of this paper was presented as part of the Applied Language Speakers
Series of the English Department, Indiana University–Purdue University at Indianapolis.
[a received view of culture sees it as] some kind of object, thing, or substance,
whether physical or metaphysical . . . [which] appears to privilege the sort of
sharing, agreeing, and bounding that fly in the face of the facts of unequal
knowledge and the differential prestige of lifestyles, and to discourage
attention to the worldviews of those who are marginalized or dominated.
(p.␣ 12)
1
There is one sense in which several of the articles in this first group (as well as that of Edge,
1996, discussed later) seem not to adopt a received view: Both Atkinson and Ramanathan
(1995) and Flowerdew and Miller (1995) use culture in its currently popular metaphorical
sense to describe social institutions and groups of different kinds and sizes—for example, the
cultures of L1 and L2 writing/language programs (Atkinson & Ramanathan, 1995). Despite the
fact that such cultures are not national or regional phenomena, they seem to be conceptualized
according to a received culture model in most other ways, as I try to make clear in my
description of Flowerdew and Miller (1995) below. (See Ramanathan & Atkinson, 1999a, for
discussion of such metaphorical uses of the term culture.)
In the paragraph following this one, Edge further states that he will
“not [attempt] any essentialist . . . definition of what culture really
means” (p. 11). Later in the article, he justifies his emphasis on personal
examples and descriptions as “a counterbalance to the massive chunking
of millions of people into categories, such as Hindus or Californians, that
sometimes goes on when cultural differences are discussed” (p. 25).
Such attempts to distance his ideas from received views of culture,
however, do not prevent Edge from devoting most of his energy to
describing a “set of shared values” that represents, in his terms, TESOL
culture, although he is quick to deny that he is trying to portray it as a
“monolithic essence” (p. 12).
2
Multicultural views of (especially U.S.) culture have been strongly criticized for simply
multiplying—instead of problematizing at a basic level—the notion of static, monolithic
cultural groups. Bhabha, for example, writes that “[c]ultural diversity is the recognition of
pre-given cultural contents and customs; held in a time-frame of relativism, it gives rise to liberal
notions of multiculturalism. . . . Cultural diversity is also the representation of a radical rhetoric
of the separation of totalized cultures that live unsullied by the intertextuality of their historical
locations, safe in the utopianism of mythic memory of a unique collective identity” (cited in
Olson & Worsham, 1999, p. 15).
3
For example, Flowerdew and Miller (1995) define ethnic culture as the “social-psychological
features which affect the behaviour of students and which may contrast with the social-
psychological make-up of Western lecturers” (p. 356).
4
Norton (1997) uses the term identity to signify “how people understand their relationship
to the world, how that relationship is constructed across time and space, and how people
understand their possibilities for the future” (p. 410). The fluid and ever-changing nature of
such identities is of central theoretical importance here: “[E]very time language learners speak,
they are not only exchanging information with their interlocutors; they are also constantly
organizing and reorganizing a sense of who they are and how they relate to the social world”
(p.␣ 417).
5
By focusing immediately on TESOL Quarterly in this section, I do not mean to suggest that
other work questioning the adequacy and significance of commonly held views of culture is
nonexistent in TESOL, applied linguistics, or related areas. For example, Pennycook (1994,
1998), Holliday (1994, 1996), and, in foreign language education, Kramsch (1993) represent
exceptions. I contend, however, that these—as well as the other studies cited above—still
represent the views of a relatively small number of applied linguists and TESOL professionals.
6
An alternative (but by no means mutually exclusive) interpretation of the different
approaches to culture taken in these 10 articles would be to see them as indicating a gradual
change over the last 10 years in TESOL from more traditional/received to more postmodernist/
critical understandings of culture. That is, the articles as I group them fall into three
chronologically distinct groups: received view—1990–1995; received-but-critical view—1996;
and critical view—1997.
What we do not find [when studying cultures] are neatly bound and mutually
exclusive bodies of thought and custom, perfectly shared by all who subscribe
to them, and in which their lives and works are fully encapsulated. The idea
7
Postmodernism has been variously defined in recent scholarship. My use of the term is meant
to signify a broad program of questioning received knowledge, or naturalized discursive
formations and ideologies, particularly where they can be seen as working to create and
maintain unequal access to social goods in and across societies (Lyotard, 1977; Pennycook,
1998). This is, to my mind, the most widely shared understanding of the term.
8
This is not to suggest, of course, that categories such as working-class person, woman, and
African American do not frequently co-occur in the same individual and thus can be treated as
exclusive of one another. Recent critical scholarship (e.g., Gupta & Ferguson, 1997) has taken
pains to make this point clear.
To the extent that the field of anthropology has responded to these changes
in the world it studies (and which also produces it), these theoretical shifts
are constructive adaptations of a discipline to new challenges. The intense
self-examination of anthropology has also made visible social voices and
processes that earlier ethnographic practice had muted or left out altogether.
. . . But one of anthropology’s main contributions to the human sciences has
always been to foreground the significance of cultural variation in human life.
Without a robust concept of culture, anthropology loses its distinctive
analytical power, and a significant aspect of human life remains undertheorized
and unexamined. The poststructuralist critique of traditional conceptions of
culture is potentially of great importance to anthropology, but only if it is
used to refine the notion of culture rather than to discard it. (p. 9)
Culture for Strauss and Quinn is a “fuzzy concept,” and cultures are
unbounded phenomena, because they are based on “people’s (more-or-
less) shared experiences” (p. 7) of the world, and such experiences can
at best only partly be shared. As a result, “each person [is] a junction
point for an infinite number of partially overlapping cultures” (p. 7).
Likewise, Gee (1992) and Shore (1996) see the kinds of learning by
which the socialization of novice social group members takes place as
based on variable personal experience, but such groups also go to great
lengths to ensure that novices have the “right kinds of experiences” and
[C]onsider the way people move around a city. Some people undoubtedly
have quite impressive “maps” of the city in their heads, others have less
complete ones, and some people have quite impoverished ones. However,
people do not need to have any very full representations in their minds . . . ,
since the structure of the city, out in the world as it is, determines a good deal
of their movement. . . . People’s “knowledge” of the city is stored, in good
part, out in the city itself. Their “city schema” . . . is not just made up of things
in their heads, it is also composed of the structures in the city itself, as well as
physical maps (and things like public transportation schedules) that people
can read. (p. 12)
9
Gee (1992, pp. 5–7; see also Fillmore, 1975) illustrates some of the more subtle ways in
which social/ideological meaning comes already built into language in his discussion of the
word bachelor. Instead of simply signifying a single male, the word appears to covertly index a
system of asymmetrical genre roles whereby being a single male—and generally the older the
better—is socially desirable, whereas being a single female, especially as one gets older, is not
(compare the word spinster). Further, the meaning of bachelor seems to be tacitly based on an
idealized social image of masculinity. Thus, Gee asks whether gay men, men in vegetative states,
or Catholic priests, for example, could fall within commonly held social definitions of bachelor.
The discussion to this point has been necessarily abstract: One cannot
talk about culture in any very satisfying way without discussing its
theoretical background, especially when such discussions are currently
10
I hope it is obvious from what I have written here and elsewhere (e.g., Ramanathan &
Atkinson, 1999a; see also the Forum, this issue) that I do not support the idea that all in-depth
cultural description reduces to—or is fundamentally based on—the desire to categorize people
in order to differentiate them from oneself (and thereby at least tacitly to diminish them). But
people do live culturally, and in order to understand them and to make common cause with
them, one must also understand their cultural lives. Perhaps the most enduring reason,
therefore, to study culturality in depth is to learn how better to communicate and to live with
others, whether as teacher, learner, neighbor, visitor, or—above all else—more fully humanized
human being (Geertz, 1983). Relatedly, (a) cultural researchers have always been interested in
cultural commonalities or universals (Ochs, 1996) under the rubric of ethnology (e.g.,
Watson-Gegeo, 1988); and (b) some of the most powerful cultural descriptions in my own
experience have been of social groups in which I am clearly a nonmarginal participant (e.g.,
Heath, 1983, chap. 7).
11
Closely related to the discussion here, Atkinson (1997) and Ramanathan and Atkinson
(1999b) describe differing perspectives on the very concept of the individual itself across
cultural groups.
12
Strauss and Quinn (1997, p. 132) give the following example of conflicting schemas based
on wholly separate networks of connections: Self-reliance is a basic cultural value across
substantial portions of U.S. society. For many U.S. men who hold this basic value, however, it
must have a schematic representation that is wholly separate from the schemas related to
everyday maintenance of one’s body and immediate environment through cooking, cleaning,
washing, ironing, sewing, and so on, or else these activities would not (at least traditionally) be
considered a wholly different sort of thing—that is, “women’s work.” Represented in wholly
different neural networks, such schemas would never come into conflict and therefore wouldn’t
cause perceived discontinuities in one’s thinking or personality—unless, that is, the conflict was
consciously brought to one’s attention, or the schemas became linked for some reason at the
level of neural networks.
13
Heath’s Ways With Words (1983) is a prime exemplar here, although no work is completely
above criticism (e.g., Cintron, 1993; deCastell & Walker, 1991).
14
I use the term L2 education here and elsewhere to signify all formal educational contexts in
which additional, nonnative languages are learned. It thus includes situations, common over
much of the world, in which students commonly command several languages in addition to the
one they are learning in a formal context.
15
For example, it might be argued from a postmodern perspective that a liminal (Bhabha,
1990) academic-cultural member such as an advanced graduate student might be able to tell
beginning graduates or undergraduates more about many aspects of academic-cultural life
(e.g., dealing with faculty members, writing dissertations) than could a senior faculty member.
Certainly, at least, their views would be likely to differ considerably, with neither one being any
more true than the other. It is exactly for this reason that Johns (1997, chap. 7) proposes that
students-as-(cultural)-researchers need access to a wide variety of resources.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank Diane Belcher, Michelle Burnham, Suresh Canagarajah, Joan Carson, Ulla
Connor, Maggie Hawkins, Jim Gee, Robert B. Kaplan, Ilona Leki, Paul Kei Matsuda,
and Kristen Precht for their valuable comments and criticisms.
THE AUTHOR
Dwight Atkinson is an ESL teacher and applied linguist who works in the areas of
discourse analysis, culture, appropriate pedagogy, L2 writing, and English for specific
purposes. He is currently engaged in research on the learning of English by
nontraditional college students in India.
REFERENCES
Alptekin, C. (1996). Target-language culture in EFL materials. In T. Hedge &
N.␣ Whitney (Eds.),Power, pedagogy and practice (pp. 53–61). Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Alptekin, C., & Alptekin, M. (1984). The question of culture: EFL teaching in
non-English speaking countries. ELT Journal, 38, 14–19.
Anderson, B. (1983). Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of
nationalism. London: Verso Books.