24.1 Introduction

So pontificated Thomas Wilson, one of a growing crop of vocal pedants in eighteenth-century Britain (see C. Jones Reference Jones2006:11), convinced the English tongue was being eviscerated, and keen to remedy it. Prescriptivist thinking was a burgeoning fashion then (Bailey Reference Bailey1991 is a trove of examples), but the roots of this punctilious perfectionism stretched back centuries further. For Irish – Europe’s third oldest literary language after Greek and Latin (Ellis Reference Ellis1987:6) – normative prescription grew from eighth-century monastic schools, codifying an orthography to rival Latin (Ó Muircheartaigh Reference Ó Muircheartaigh2015:221–2), and has continued on since.Footnote ¹ In England, in 1440, Augustinian friar Osbern Bokenham’s Mappula Angliae bemoaned the Viking and Norman influence on English and imposition of French in schools: ‘þis corrupcioun of Englysshe men yn þer modre-tounge’ led them to speak ‘neythyr good Frenssh or good Englyssh’ (cited in Leith Reference Leith1997:193–4). In 1615, a similarly joyless John Green whinged: ‘before the Conquest by Bastard William … our English tongue was most perfect … [but] the French … corrupted it’ (cited in Bailey Reference Bailey1991:48). So, prescriptivism has a long history, fluffed by egos bridling at more powerful languages. In the last few centuries, this began to take normative form, aiming to actively influence language use. In time this grew into evermore concerted action, and ultimately into language policy and planning (LPP) as we know it.

Instead of exhaustively cataloguing policies across Britain and Ireland, we aim instead to give a broad economic and political account of how LPP emerged and evolved in these two countries. But we pretend no expertise in economics or politics. Our purpose is only to invite readers to dabble similarly. If novices like us could find these links, so too could others. In turn, this will enable researchers to perceive new possibilities, and hopefully pursue positive change (see Lawson and Sayers Reference Lawson and Sayers2016 for a range of linguists engaged in such pursuit).

We begin with a kind of pre-history of events and decisions that prefigured the identifiable beginnings of LPP in the 1970s. We then focus on developments from then on.

24.2 Brief Historical Review

This section flits across medieval and early modern Britain and Ireland. We trace the gradual genesis of LPP to two broad developments: Bible translation and universal education.

Irish had the first centres of scholastic prestige in the Gaelic world, developing a standard for Irish centuries before English (O’ Muircheartaigh Reference Ó Muircheartaigh2015:220–30). Still, in ninth-century England, King Alfred of Wessex famously translated a series of books ‘most necessary for all people to know, into that language that we all can understand [English] … . One may then instruct in Latin those whom one wishes to … promote to a higher rank’ (Anlezark Reference Anlezark2017:760). This subservience to Latin lasted centuries more. A sixteenth-century textbook for teaching Italian pokes merciless fun at English, for example, with a little invented dialogue (cited in Edwards Reference Edwards2001:4):

English then was just one among a rich mix of languages and varieties in Britain and Ireland. One chronicler, Andrew Boorde, in 1542 noted in England

Boorde perhaps confuses Breton for French, and misses out Manx, but intriguingly also nods to the already multicultural and multilingual capital area.

LPP nowadays typically has expansive goals to influence language use across society. Historical policies on language may appear equally broad, but were typically more constrained. While the Statute of Kilkenny 1367 banned English descendants in Ireland from speaking Irish, this was a minority of landed gentry (albeit therein quite the topic of opprobrium: ‘the speaking of Irish among the English … is unnaturall … and the cause of many other evills’, Spenser Reference Spenser1596:111). And although sixteenth-century laws banned Irish in court, it was not laws or policies killing Irish but the gradual grinding ‘settlements … by various English overlords’ (Ó Baoill Reference Ó Baoill1988:110). Similarly, the Laws of Wales Act 1535 made courts use English only, but this was socially constrained and motivated more as a political pre-emptive manoeuvre against the ‘Auld Alliance’ of Catholic Scotland and Catholic France (Guy Reference Guy and Morgan1993:289), not to affect everyday Welsh use. In Cornwall, the fifteenth–seventeenth-century uprisings and persecutions (Ellis Reference Ellis1974:52–69) mostly concerned political and religious freedom. All these things certainly had knock-on linguistic effects down the ages; but actual political interest in language was highly circumscribed.

Focused efforts to influence language use (prefiguring modern LPP) can be traced to two historical developments: religious preaching in vernacular languages (alongside or instead of Latin), and the rise of universal education. The former received a boost from the Black Death in the mid twelfth century, which killed Latin-speaking clergy just as eagerly as non-Latin-speaking parishioners. This motivated subsequent translation of scripture to English, especially among John Wycliffe’s ‘Lollards’ in fourteenth-century England (Greider Reference Greider2013:124). This was highly controversial, though; Wycliffe was condemned, and even after death his body was ‘removed from consecrated ground … and destroyed’ (Reference Greider2013:124). Even Tyndale’s first full English New Testament in 1526Footnote ² was illegal; he was gruesomely executed in 1536. But plague-induced vernacular translations gathered pace, and there is a fascinating progression thence to the Protestant Reformation (1517–1648) – breaking away from not only Roman Catholicism but also Latin (Griffiths Reference Griffiths and Morgan1993:245). Pandemics have very long-term effects.

Brittonic Bible translations emerged later. First came Welsh in 1567–88, despite Irish having earlier literary traditions (Khleif Reference Khleif1979:62) – spurred by English political motives to foster Protestantism and stymy Catholic dissent (as above), Scotland having only recently converted to Protestantism in 1560. A full Irish Bible would not appear until 1685, led by clergymen (Abbott Reference Abbott1912:42). On the Isle of Man, translations of individual gospels began in the eighteenth century, followed by the New Testament in 1767 and Old Testament in 1772. A Scottish Gaelic Bible appeared in 1767 (Abbott Reference Abbott1912:43), updated and corrected in 1801 and 1807. This was also to fortify Protestantism: by this time the Society in Scotland for Propagating Christian Knowledge was hard at work, ‘by which near 16,000 children … are annually instructed in the principles of the Protestant religion … . That Society is … printing, for the benefit of the poor, a large impression of the Bible in Gaelic (… spoken by 300,000 people)’ and ‘applying for aid to a generous and benevolent public’ (The Times, 5 May 1803). So, there were diverse motivations and supports for translation: political/military strategy, church investment, and public donation.

For Cornish, eighteenth-century interest in Bible translation came too late. The language had already largely died. There was no Bible until 2002 following its reconstruction (see Davies-Deacon and Sayers, this volume; Sayers and Renkó-Michelsén Reference Sayers and Renkó-Michelsén2015).

On to the second major influence noted above: universal education. In the later middle ages (c. 1350–1500), official/clerical attitudes to translation shifted from hostility to tolerance to a kind of resigned, acquiescent exasperation. For example in Wales the eighteenth-century ‘Anglican rector of Llanddowror, Griffith Jones … recognized that … it was futile to make the Welsh drag through their devotional exercises in English. So he trained schoolmasters … to teach pupils to read the Welsh Bible’ (Ward Reference Ward, Brown and Tackett2006:343; cf. Ball Reference Ball and Britain2007:249; Khleif Reference Khleif1979:62–3). Similar impatience underlay Manx Bible translation: ‘The Manks people … would be … extremely fond of perusing the scriptures … in their own tongue’, but in English ‘they scarce understand the meaning of a single sentence; nay, I might say … a single word!’ (Butler Reference Butler1799:422, cited in Sebba Reference Sebba1998:7).

In Ireland, by 1851, Irish speakers were already only 23 per cent of the population, mostly illiterate. Amid ‘an English-medium education system … the decline of the language continued’ (Ó Baoill Reference Ó Baoill1988:110).

Scots is a language descended from Northumbrian Old English which spread into Scotland from the sixth century and diverged thereafter (Johnston Reference Johnston and Britain2007:105; Leith Reference Leith1997:129–30). Scots gradually surpassed Scottish Gaelic in official prestige (C. Jones Reference Jones and Hickey2010:222), including in trade and diplomacy abroad (Nihtinen Reference Nihtinen2005:119–20). But union with England in 1707 amplified pressures towards English (C. Jones Reference Jones and Hickey2010:221). ‘The undermining of Scots was not the result of decrees and proscriptions, but of the gradual weakening of independent Scottish institutions’ (Leith Reference Leith1997:312). Scots remains a vibrant vernacular, in fact the most populous indigenous language of the UK, with twice the speakers of Welsh. Irish has comparable numbers to Scots.Footnote ³

Literature in Welsh saw something of a renaissance after the Welsh Bible, but new pressures against Welsh emerged with a Royal Commission into education in Wales (in three volumes, 1847–48) – digitised by the National Library of Wales.Footnote ⁴ English was patronisingly touted as a solution to the social immobility of Welsh speakers: ‘[T]he Welsh workman never … becomes either clerk or agent … [in] the administering class. … [H]is language keeps him under the hatches, being one … of old-fashioned agriculture, of theology, and of simple rustic life, while all the world about him is English’ (Vol. 1, p. 4). (Note the ‘all the world about him’, a possible nod to the growing global import of English.) In time, this led on to more coercive measures like the infamous ‘Welsh Not’.Footnote ⁵ It seemed the Commission did consider more inclusive methods, quoting, for example, Rev. David Charles, Principal of the College of Trevecca, Brecknockshire, who recommended ‘that the Welsh receive their knowledge of the English language through the medium of their own at first, by means of Welsh-English books. The want of this mode of instruction has been a great drawback’ (Vol. 2, pp. 354–5). Nowadays that would be termed additive bilingualism (Skutnabb-Kangas Reference Skutnabb-Kangas2002). But it was not to be. Welsh gradually faded from the classroom, and thereafter in the wider community (Ball Reference Ball and Britain2007:249).

So, the seeds of LPP – focused action to influence widespread language use – grew alongside concerns to bolster liturgical obedience, consolidate power, and (putatively) aid social mobility. Modern nationalism, following the French Revolution, saw a huge international blossoming of monolingual mindsets (Gibson Reference Gibson and Britain2007:258). Soon ‘all of the Gaelic languages became minoritised’, with English ‘the common “ceiling language” of power’ (Ó hIfearnáin Reference Ó hIfearnáin2015:102). The ascendency of English was assured as the British Empire evolved from international state-licensed looting to fuller colonial smothering, and as American independence spawned a new axis of linguistic power.

Lastly, the early modern period also saw the proliferation of official language academies, standardising national languages and policing those standards: Academia della Crusca in Italy, 1582; Académie Française in France, 1635; Real Academia Española in Spain, 1713; and many others from Iraq to Sweden, from Ethiopia to Russia. But there was, and remains, none for English. English only gradually replaced Latin and Norman French in official contexts, largely without fanfare. The same in the USA: de facto dominance. Ireland also shrugged the vogue for academies: despite a medieval ‘descriptive grammar’ for poetry, superseded after 1600 by a ‘literary form influenced by … the speech of the common people’ (Ó Baoill Reference Ó Baoill1988:109), only in 1958 was an official standard published, an Caighdeán Oifigiúil, and only in 2013 was this enshrined in law as the Houses of the Oireachtas Commission (Amendment) Act 2013.Footnote ⁶

So, some proto-components of LPP emerged over centuries across these islands. The ‘Celtic renaissance’ of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century saw learned societies fostering indigenous Celtic languages, for example the Gaelic League for Irish (Ó Baoill Reference Ó Baoill1988:110) and Celtic-Cornish Society (Ellis Reference Ellis1974:147). Gradually thereafter, during the twentieth century, language came more prominently to the fore in government policy, ushering in the era of contemporary LPP in Britain and Ireland.

24.3 Three Political Eras That Shaped LPP

In this section we discuss political developments behind three broad categories of LPP:

• • modern foreign languages

• • ‘indigenous languages’ (minority languages originating in Britain and Ireland)

• • ‘community languages’ (minority languages that originated abroad).

These categories are based on policy differences, not linguistic criteria. And our list is missing signed languages, because our chapter is about LPP, whereas governments tend to treat sign more as an inconvenient disability provision (Conama Reference Conama, De Meulder, Murray and McKee2019; Downes Reference Downes2021; Schembri, Rowley and Leeson, this volume).

Pool dates the emergence of LPP as a distinct field to the late 1970s. ‘A few years ago’, Pool (Reference Pool1979) begins, the term language planning ‘would have been novel … The attempts of governments to manipulate these phenomena would have seemed too unsystematic … or too nefarious to merit the word “planning”’ (1979:5). So, what were the conditions into which LPP was born then, and grew subsequently? We outline here three political eras which indelibly shaped LPP:

• • neoliberalism from the late 1970s to the mid–late 1990s

• • New Public Management from the mid–late 1990s to the late 2000s

• • austerity following the 2008 worldwide financial crisis.

As Otto van Bismarck put it (Reference van Bismarck1895:248), ‘politics is the art of the possible’ – thrashed out amid competing ideologies, and constrained by finite resources. Measures of those resources include a country’s GDP, credit rating, debt-to-GDP ratio, and so on. Figure 24.1 shows UK and Irish GDP (and OECD averages) across our periods of interest.

Figure 24.1 GDP in Ireland, UK and OECD (USD) 1971–2022.

Source: https://data.oecd.org/gdp/gross-domestic-product-gdp.htm

The late 1970s saw decisive shifts in policymaking across Britain and Ireland: in the UK, the mortifying 1976 International Monetary Fund (IMF) bailout drove politics from post-war Keynesianism to Hayek’s vision of an etiolated welfare state; in Ireland, shocks too from the global oil crisis, and cuts over the same broad historical era, falling below the UK by the mid 1990s (Figure 24.2).

Figure 24.2 Public social spending as % of GDP in Ireland, UK and OECD, 1980–2022.

Source: https://data.oecd.org/socialexp/social-spending.htm

Into this tectonic wrench from Keynesian investment to Hayekian retreat, LPP was born (see Ó Ceallaigh Reference Ó Ceallaigh2019:26). LPP evolved in subsequent decades as political winds changed further. In the next three sub-sections, we outline each era in more detail. We then relate the evolution of each of our three areas of LPP according to the specific political conditions of each era.

24.4 LPP as It Evolved through the Three Political Eras

Linguistic ‘competence’ has a specifiable economic value, and requires state investment. It has therefore found a place in the policy discourses of all three of our political eras, in areas from national curricula to immigration policies. Emphasising the economic value of languages helps increase their uptake in education, but it also perpetuates an atomistic and transactional conceptualisation of language. This can hollow out its identity or heritage value, and encourage perverse competition.

In this section we chart the changing political winds behind our three categories of LPP (foreign, indigenous, and community languages) in each of our three historical eras.

24.5 Languages and Varieties Overlooked by LPP

In many ways the languages we have discussed so far are the lucky ones. Many languages and language varieties used in Britain and Ireland fall largely outside the scope of LPP, passively neglected or actively rejected. This reveals as much as, perhaps more than, the policies that do exist. At the outset we discussed the historical growth of nationalistic prescriptivism. Non-standard dialects of the languages discussed above have long been targets of ridicule. Witness the irascible George Puttenham (Reference Puttenham1589: ch. 3), advising aspiring writers in English that their language be ‘rather that which is spoken in the king’s Court, or in the good towns and Cities … than in the marches and frontiers, or in port towns … or yet in Universities where scholars use much peevish affectation of words’. (That last one is a fair cop.) Even for otherwise well-meaning LPP, non-standard vernaculars remain hard to grasp. M. C. Jones’s (Reference Jones1998) dialectological analysis of Welsh reveals manifold pressures on dialect diversity, favouring standard Welsh. Standardisation remains something of a precondition for LPP, with dialect diversity a peculiar blind spot (Sayers and Láncos Reference Sayers and Láncos2017).

But this pecking order goes lower. At least traditional dialects are afforded some affectionate cultural fondness. No such love for new and emerging vernaculars with no clear lineage or pedigree, like Multicultural London English (MLE): ‘the traditional dichotomy of status and solidarity … does not manifest in attitudes towards MLE’ (Kircher and Fox Reference Kircher and Fox2018:847; Fox, this volume; cf. Sayers Reference Sayers and Renkó-Michelsén2015). That we as a society are unable to celebrate and promote new language varieties that are spoken nowhere else on earth, apparently simply because they are new, perhaps also because they are associated with unspecified ethnic minorities, does not speak highly of us in any transparent definition of minority rights. These new varieties are invisible to LPP, subject only to frequent ‘slang bans’ in schools (Cushing Reference Cushing2020). The modern Welsh Not.

Lastly, as noted at the outset, we have not discussed signed languages. These are officially recognised but less capably accommodated. Corker (Reference Corker2000) offers a searing account of the lived reality of deaf students in British schools, nominally included but spatially excluded. (See Schembri, Rowley and Leeson, this volume, for further critical insight here.) Much of our political critique comes alive in Corker’s account, not least the unimaginative corporatist approach to inclusion engendered by NPM, ostensibly including deaf kids but routinely separating and segregating them.

24.6 Conclusion

Overall, we have not painted a rosy picture. How to turn that frown upside down? There are some positives. First and most obvious, there is plenty to life beyond the remit of the state. Indigenous and community LPP especially began through voluntary effort, and will likely continue that way regardless of ministerial whims. The most extreme example is Cornish, whose central government funding vanished entirely, but which maintains many less-tangible benefits of its funded period: increased awareness and visibility, and customary usage in greetings, signage, and other set-piece aspects of civic life (Davies-Deacon and Sayers, this volume). Meanwhile, the least legitimised emerging vernaculars like Multicultural London English thrive perhaps precisely because they are deemed illegitimate. Too cool for school.

‘Community languages’, though demoted to date, may have a brighter official future. Scotland’s relative positivity (Section 24.4.3) echoes its broader friendliness to immigrants – which the Scottish Government candidly attributes to its low fertility rate (lowest in the UK and Ireland) and consequent urgent need for immigrant labour (Scottish Government 2021). As Bricker and Ibbitson (Reference Bricker and Ibbitson2019:215) write of Canada, another low-fertility immigrant-friendly nation: ‘Canadians embrace refugees and immigrants, not because Canadians are particularly nice, but because they have learned it is in Canada’s own interest … and the unintended consequence of an uncomfortable truth that, as nations go, Canada is pretty much a failure’. Continuing declines in fertility across Britain and Ireland may yet engender more welcoming policies (see Higham Reference Higham2020 on this potential in Wales; and Bowring Reference Bowring2016 in Ireland).

New and future technologies also hold promise. Youngsters have found new spaces to experiment and play around with minority languages, in instant messaging (Lytra Reference Lytra and Androutsopoulos2014) and social media (Cunliffe Reference Cunliffe, Hogan-Brun and O’Rourke2019). Proprietary language learning apps like Duolingo increasingly support minority languages, while open-source initiatives like Mozilla’s Common Voice are gathering data on a wide variety of big and small languages around the world, for automated voice recognition and speech production. These in turn could power a future of virtual language learning and use in less formal, more exploratory contexts. There will remain technological inequalities between languages for some time, especially for signed languages (Conama Reference Conama, De Meulder, Murray and McKee2019; Jantunen et al. Reference Jantunen, Rousi, Rainò, Turunen, Valipoor, García, Hämäläinen, Partanen and Alnajjar2021), but here too there is progress (Quandt and Willis Reference Quandt and Willis2021). Technology does have a habit of improving. (For more of these future scenarios, see Sayers et al. Reference Sayers, Sousa-Silva and Höhn2021.) As Lewis and Royles (Reference Lewis and Royles2018) find in Wales and Scotland, LPP is slow to adapt to technological change. Technology may gain new relevance as LPP loses its own. Moreover, Ó Murchadha and Ó hIfearnáin (Reference Ó Murchadha and Ó hIfearnáin2018) point to the potential for irreverent youngsters, increasingly ‘new speakers’, to fundamentally challenge classical notions of standard correctness. Times are changing.

But on the policy front, based on its first five decades, LPP is not exactly promising greatness. Anyway, as Nietzsche put it, hope is the worst of all evils, for it prolongs the torment of humanity. The latest 2021 census figures show continued declines of even Welsh and Irish speakers (the two best-supported minority languages above), so the policies are failing even on their own circumscribed targets. Perhaps we have been going about all this the wrong way. Perhaps we should not invest our hopes for language in politicians – like so many things in life. (In the ‘post truth’ era, their word is a thing of diminishing returns.) Our historical analysis also shows that whoever is in charge, things can go south one way or another – elections always deliver the same fate: more politicians, whose vision extends only to the electoral horizon. Future research will compare today’s rhetoric of ‘global Britain’ to the reality of British people’s ability to actually speak to that globe.

But who knows? Things may improve. Economic clouds are forecast to lift eventually. And as to our repeated heckle that governments are blinkered by New Public Management into missing unintended consequences (unequal grades and life mobility, social tensions, etc.), this too may change. ‘Doughnut economics’ (Raworth Reference Raworth2017) is a newish model initially designed to balance ecological limits against fiscal ambitions – each limit depicted around a doughnut-like circle. This powerful tool could well be adapted for language policy, to pre-empt and prevent erstwhile overlooked side effects.

At least, repeated disappointment to date can be comfortably numbing, and set a reachable low bar. British people may find themselves pleasantly surprised, even if only by small mercies from unexpected angles. Meanwhile, as we noted above, Ireland may find shrewd ways to cash in on its new role as the premier English language hub in Europe. All these possibilities and more lie in wait.

25.1 Introduction

The issue of the use in schools of ‘standard’ versus ‘non-standard’ English has been debated for decades by British academics, policymakers, teachers and parents. The debate has gained renewed prominence within the contemporary landscape of post-2010 education reforms, which include the introduction of a revised national curriculum for schools in England (DfE 2014) (see Cushing Reference Cushing2023 for a review). As part of this landscape, some schools have attracted national media attention with their ‘zero tolerance’ approaches to pupils’ spoken language. These include attempts to eradicate the use of regional dialect forms (such as ‘yous’ and ‘ain’t’) and/or the fillers and discourse markers characteristic of spontaneous speech (such as ‘like’). Behind these initiatives is the assumption that the use of non-standardised English in speech will impede progress towards fully-fledged literacy, and thus children’s spoken language becomes the object of educational scrutiny. I interrogate this assumption in this chapter and consider the consequences for pupils who speak non-standardised dialects.

I begin by reviewing the long-standing debate on how ‘standard English’ should be taught, considering the policies that have been proposed and implemented since the introduction of the National Curriculum in 1988. I then interrogate the key terms in this debate – ‘standard’ versus ‘non-standard’ – highlighting differences in approach not just between policymakers and academics but also within the academic community. Here, I introduce a language ideological framework that treats categories like ‘standard’ and ‘non-standard’ English as social constructions rather than linguistic fact. Next, I review the research evidence regarding children’s use of non-standardised English at school, before ending with some reflections on the role sociolinguists have played in debates about language in education, with suggestions for future work. Throughout, I argue for the importance of a language ideological approach that aims to expose and challenge the hierarchies and inequalities that standard language ideology (i.e. the belief that there is only one ‘correct’ way to speak) reproduces.

25.2 ‘Standard’ and ‘Non-standard’ English in Educational Policy

In the 1988 Education Act, the British government introduced a National Curriculum for England. Two committees were responsible for making recommendations for the new curriculum in English: the Kingman Committee and the Cox Committee (DES 1988, 1989). Both emphasised the need for greater ‘knowledge about language’ among teachers as well as students (as Bullock [DES 1975] had done before them). This included knowledge of historical and geographical variation in English, with students expected to be able to discuss ‘the systematic ways in which the grammar of some dialects differs from the grammar of SE [standard English]’ (DES 1988:30). Traditional grammar teaching was eschewed in favour of a descriptive approach designed to facilitate students’ understanding of ‘standard English’ while respecting the non-standardised dialects many of them spoke. The emphasis was on raising pupils’ awareness of grammatical differences and extending their language repertoires (rather than replacing non-standardised usages with ‘standard English’).

Neither the Kingman nor the Cox report was received with full approval by the Conservative government of the day, having failed to recommend the return to a prescriptive approach to grammar teaching that had been expected. The reports angered pro-grammar conservatives and were pilloried by the right-wing press for the perceived lax approach to grammar and standards of ‘correctness’ (see Cameron Reference Cameron2012, Ch.3, and Crowley Reference Crowley2003, Ch.8 for a review). Nonetheless, English in the National Curriculum was published in 1990, based on the attainment targets and programmes of study recommended in Cox (DES 1989). The government initiated the Language in the National Curriculum (LINC) project to develop materials that would advance teachers’ knowledge about language and help them to deliver the new curriculum. The materials built on the model of language recommended in Kingman and Cox, though Professor Ronald Carter, Director of the LINC project, noted that ‘greater emphasis than in Kingman [was] given to the variation of language in different social and cultural contexts’ (Carter Reference Carter and Carter1990:6). Regrettably (though perhaps not surprisingly), this sociolinguistic focus was rejected by the government. The project was scrapped in 1991 and publication of the materials was blocked by the Minister of State for Education. Then, in 1992, the Secretary of State for Education announced a further review of English teaching to be conducted by the National Curriculum Council under the chairmanship of David Pascall, a chemical engineer whose perspective on grammar and ‘standard English’ ran contrary to the expert linguistic advice that had underpinned Kingman, Cox and LINC:

The new proposals replaced ‘knowledge about language’ with greater emphasis on grammar and the speaking of ‘standard English’ from the earliest years (DfE 1993), satisfying traditionalists within the Conservative government and right-wing media whose mission it had become to uphold standards of ‘correctness’. While the Pascall curriculum was never published, new statutory orders for English, which maintained the same focus on standardised English, were eventually issued in 1995 (with revisions in 1999, 2007 and 2014). Most recently, The National Curriculum for England: Framework Document (DfE 2014) states clearly: ‘Pupils should be taught to speak clearly and convey ideas confidently using Standard English’ (2014, 6.2:11). Significantly, by secondary school (Key Stage 3), pupils should be ‘using Standard English confidently in a range of formal and informal contexts, including classroom discussion’ (2014:86). Throughout, ‘standard English’ is assumed to apply to both speech and writing. There is little recognition of variation in dialect or in the way that spoken communication varies according to context; and there is thus little space for teachers and pupils to explore social variation, language attitudes, or the relationship between language and power.

The debates surrounding the introduction of the National Curriculum for English, and the rewrites that followed, are documented in more detail elsewhereFootnote ¹. My aim in giving this brief introduction is to underline the point that the teaching of ‘standard English’ (and thus the treatment of ‘non-standard English’ in education) has long been a matter of intense political concern.Footnote ² Cameron (Reference Cameron2012:93–4) characterised the debate on grammar in the 1980 and 90s as ‘a case of moral panic’ in which it became commonplace for ‘ignorance or defiance of grammatical rules [to be] equated with anti-social or criminal behaviour’. This seemingly irrational link makes sense only when we understand that traditional grammar had come to symbolise traditional values, such as respect for rules, hierarchies and authority. The panic about grammar was thus ‘the metaphorical expression of persistent conservative fears that we are losing the values that underpin civilisation and sliding into chaos’ (p. 95). Exploring post-2010 education policy, Cushing (Reference Cushing2020a) likewise makes the link between conservatism in language policy and increased emphasis on discipline, control and standards of behaviour in schools. He describes the methods used by some teachers to ‘police’ non-standardised grammar in their classrooms and suggests that this is encouraged and legitimised by current English curriculum policy, as well as media reporting that (re)produces misconceptions about language. In a comment piece, Richard Hudson (Reference Hudson2020) contests Cushing’s claim that government policy on language is prescriptive. He argues that revisions to the National Curriculum ‘consistently contrast Standard English with non-Standard English – not with “incorrect” or “bad” English’ (p. 454) and suggests that ‘when a school or teacher decides to “police” non-standard speech, this is in spite of the official government policy’ (p. 452, my emphasis). Cushing (Reference Cushing2020b), in turn, critiques Hudson’s ‘de-politicised stance’ and makes the point that policy on language in education goes beyond the guidelines offered in the National Curriculum, including, for example, statutory grammar tests (DfE 2019), writing assessment frameworks (STA 2018) and Teachers’ Standards (DfE 2013). He suggests that these de facto policy mechanisms serve ‘to propagate and normalise prescriptivism’ (Cushing Reference Cushing2020b:467). For example, to gain qualified status, the Teachers’ Standards dictate that trainee teachers be judged on their ability to:

This benchmark clearly links ‘standard English’ with ‘correctness’ (and thus presupposes that other ways of speaking are ‘incorrect’). The link between standard English and correctness is regularly taken for granted in discussions about language in education (see, for example, the quotation from Pascall above), which is one of the reasons why Cushing (Reference Cushing2020b:465) argues that ‘language prescription, stigma and prejudice cannot be disentangled from any use of the phrase “Standard English”’ (my emphasis). Take, for example, the use of ‘standard English’ by Ofsted, the schools inspectorate, when giving evidence to the Oracy All-Party-Parliamentary-Group’s Speak for Change inquiryFootnote ³ on 14 July 2020:

As well as equating ‘standard English’ with ‘correctness’, this definition establishes a link with ‘those who wield power’. I take up this point in the next section, considering why attempts to define ‘standard’ and ‘non-standard’ English in spoken language so often draw upon the social characteristics of imagined speakers (in this case the ‘powerful’) rather than offering a precise linguistic description.

25.3 Problematising ‘Standard’ and ‘Non-standard’ English

It is clear that there have been differences in the way that ‘standard’ and ‘non-standard’ English have been defined and positioned by educational policymakers/arbiters on the one hand and academic linguists on the other. However, we must also acknowledge that there are disagreements within the academy too, with some linguists treating ‘standard English’ as a discrete entity that can be clearly identified and described and others arguing that ‘standard English’ is an idealisation that has been discursively constructed. The debate between Hudson and Cushing highlights another difference too, between linguists who seek to be politically neutral and those who believe it is not possible to be apolitical when dealing with language in education, which by its very nature engages with intensely political concerns regarding social inequalities. Before exploring these differences, it is useful to begin with a point on which most can agree.

When it comes to the medium of writing in the English language, it is widely accepted that standard English is ‘the dialectal variety that has been codified in dictionaries, grammars, and usage handbooks … [and] has been adapted by most major publishers internationally, resulting in a very high degree of uniformity among published English texts around the world’ (Biber et al. Reference Biber, Johansson, Leech, Conrad and Finegan1999:18).Footnote ⁴ Most would also agree that written standard English should be explicitly taught in schools. However, when it comes to speech, the concept of a ‘standard’ is far from straightforward. The ‘very high degree of uniformity’ that can be achieved in written language can never be achieved in spoken language, which by its very nature varies according to specific contexts of use. This leaves considerable scope for variation (and disagreement) when attempting to define something called ‘spoken standard English’.

In the grammar glossary that appears at the end of the current curriculum framework, ‘standard English’ is defined thus:

This definition was authored by a linguist, Richard Hudson, and thus there is no slippage between ‘standard English’ and correctness, nor is there any stigma attached to ‘non-standard equivalents’; however, this passage demonstrates that it is difficult to give a precise linguistic description of ‘standard English’. As so often happens, standard English is defined negatively, as what it is not (i.e. it is not non-standard English; see Crowley Reference Crowley2003:260) and illustrated with just a small set of prescribed forms. Cushing (Reference Cushing2020b:465–6) critiques the definition further as ‘a highly de-politicised version of Standard English’ which ‘evad[es] any recognition of the standard language ideology and its power’.

This ideological sidestepping has been a deliberate strategy for some linguists.Footnote ⁵ In a chapter written originally for the edited collection, Standard English: The Widening Debate (but updated in a 2011 online version), Peter Trudgill states clearly that his characterisation of ‘Standard English’ ‘will be specifically linguistic: the word “ideology” will not appear in this paper’ (Trudgill Reference Trudgill, Bex and Watts1999:118), and in a parenthetical comment, he makes it clear that he does ‘not agree with the contention which is sometimes heard that “nobody speaks Standard English”’ (p. 120). He offers instead a confident characterisation of ‘Standard English’ as:

Spoken ‘standard English’ is defined here not in linguistic terms but in terms of the level of education of its speakers. Crowley (Reference Crowley, Bex and Watts1999, Reference Crowley2003) and Coupland (Reference Coupland2000) have outlined the problems associated with using the criterion of ‘educatedness’; and, indeed, the scare quotes suggest that Trudgill also recognises the need for some distancing from his use of the term. Nonetheless, the appeal to educatedness or related characteristics (e.g. power, professionalism) is often made in discussions about ‘standard English’.

Crowley (Reference Crowley2003) helps us to understand the historical processes through which the link between ‘standard English’ and characteristics such as ‘educatedness’ has been naturalised. He explains that by the mid nineteenth century, the term ‘standard language’ had achieved at least one clear use as ‘the uniform and commonly accepted national literary language’ (Crowley Reference Crowley2003:106). However, another use of the term was emerging and being applied to the spoken rather than the written language. Here the word ‘standard’ was used to refer to ‘a single form of speech that will replace diversity and variation’ (Crowley Reference Crowley2003:107). Clearly, this desired uniformity could not be achieved in practice because variation dominated spoken language in the nineteenth century as it does today. Crowley argues that it is for this reason that the spoken standard could not be defined in linguistic terms; it had to be defined instead ‘in terms of the social characteristics of its speakers’ (Crowley Reference Crowley2003:117). The spoken ‘standard’ thus came to be described as the language of ‘the educated’, the ‘well-bred’, the ‘civilised’ and the highest social class, and the term ‘standard’ took on a new meaning, ‘signifying a level of excellence to be reached and a quality to be emulated’ rather than a sense of uniformity (Crowley Reference Crowley2003:112). In reality, few (if any) speakers could realise this ‘standard’ perfectly in their everyday speech. Standard English in these terms was thus an ‘idealization of élite or at least establishment linguistic practice’ (Coupland Reference Coupland2000:624) (see also Levey, this volume, for further discussion).

While the spoken ‘standard’ was discursively constructed in England as the language of the highest social classes, non-standardised dialects were consequently associated with the lower classes. As I have argued elsewhere (Snell Reference Snell2018a), when particular linguistic forms are ideologised in this way, as representative of particular types of people, they may be further construed as depicting, quite naturally, the qualities conventionally associated with those people. Through this ideological process of ‘iconization’ (Irvine and Gal Reference Irvine, Gal and Kroskrity2000) so-called standard forms have come to be understood as emblematic of intelligence, competence, power and superior moral character, and non-standard forms of the converse. This is why it has been possible for prominent figures in the language in education debate to equate speaking non-standardised English with being ‘sloppy’ (Pascall, quoted above), ‘turning up filthy at school’ (Norman Tebbit, Radio 4, 1985, cited in Cameron Reference Cameron2012:94) and ‘joblessness’ (Michael Gove, speech delivered to an audience of teachers at Brighton College, 9 May 2013), as if these are natural consequences of failing to adhere to the ‘standard’.

James Milroy (Reference Milroy, Bex and Watts1999) has also argued that standard languages (indeed any delimited varieties) are idealisations to which no speaker can ever truly conform, and thus that no one actually speaks a standard language. He writes that the idea of the standard is kept alive in speakers’ minds through channels such as the writing system and education in literacy, which he argues ‘equate the standard language – or what is believed to be the standard language … with “correct” usage in that language’ (p. 18). For Milroy, this notion of correctness plays ‘a powerful role in the maintenance of the standard language ideology through prescription’ (1999:18). Likewise, Coupland (2000:624) points out that ‘[t]he centripetal ideology of SE [‘standard English’] today is based on the twin practices of publicly deprecating “incorrect” usage, and displaying and lobbying for “authoritative” usage, however selectively in linguistic terms’. This has been demonstrated in recent years in the letters sent home to parents by schools who have banned the use of non-standardised dialect forms. An example can be seen in Figure 25.1, which represents a letter sent to parents by a primary school in Teesside, reported in a national newspaper. The letter clearly proscribes eleven ‘incorrect’ usages and promotes alternative ‘correct’ usages. There is no explanation as to why these particular features of grammar and pronunciation have been selected and not others, but the overall message (reinforced by the opposing columns) is that some ways of speaking (those associated with the children’s own local dialect) are ‘incorrect’ while other ways of speaking (those associated with an educated ‘other’) are ‘correct’ (see Snell Reference Snell, Snell, Copland and Shaw2015 for further discussion). While blanket bans on non-standardised dialect have been documented in only a small number of schools (Cushing Reference Cushing2020a finds seven cases reported in the national media), these have been reported widely in the national press, thus reinforcing (as well as replicating) discourses of correctness and the standard language ideology.Footnote ⁶

Figure 25.1 Examples taken from a letter sent to parents of pupils at a primary school in Teesside.

Cushing’s (Reference Cushing2020a) notion that local school policies are influenced by national policy appears to be borne out in the Teesside case. When asked to comment on the rationale for the letter, the head teacher explained that ‘the literacy framework asks children to write in standard English’. This school’s policy was thus grounded in the requirements of the National Curriculum and the erroneous (though well intentioned) assumption that policing pupils’ spoken language will help to drive up standards of literacy (see Section 25.4). The head teacher also told reporters that ‘we would like to equip our children to go into the world of work and not be disadvantaged’. The notion that the prescriptive teaching of ‘standard English’ will provide children with employment opportunities (and thus the potential for social mobility) is commonly invoked in debates about language in education, especially when prevailing educational policy and practice is challengedFootnote ⁷ (see also Snell Reference Snell2018a). However, Milroy (Reference Milroy, Bex and Watts1999:21) argues that ‘[t]he effect of this “access to standard English” argument is not likely to be to benefit the underprivileged, but to maintain the authority of the canon of correct English’, and thus uphold existing power structures.

In summary, some linguists treat ‘standard English’ and ‘non-standard’ dialects as discrete entities that can be delineated and described. There are advantages to this approach. First, it clearly helps to draw boundaries around linguistic varieties for the purposes of formal linguistic description. Second, if linguists want to engage with educational policymakers and practitioners, it may make for a more productive relationship if we work with the same normative categories (such as ‘standard English’) that have currency in the educational domain; indeed, the aim of linguists such as Hudson has been to provide descriptions of ‘standard English’ that are useful and practical for policymakers, teachers and pupils. However, this approach reinforces the categories of ‘standard’ and ‘non-standard’ and their associated power structures without helping children to understand the social and historical processes that have created those structures (Pietikäinen Reference Pietikäinen and Coupland2016:268; Snell Reference Snell2018a). While it is true that the definitions of ‘standard English’ that appear in the current curriculum do not directly propagate a prescriptive stance, by being selective in linguistic terms, as well as silent about the wider politics of ‘standard English’, these definitions inadvertently contribute to the processes through which non-standardised English is seen as inferior. In contrast, linguists working within a language ideological framework treat categories such as ‘standard English’ as ideological processes rather than linguistic fact. Their aim is to expose, understand and challenge the forces and practices that have established, maintained and reinforced the ideology of the standard. These linguists (with whom I align) would argue that discussions of ‘standard’ and ‘non-standard’ language in educational policies should recognise the social and political dimensions of ‘standard English’ and why it has come to hold such power, thus educating (and empowering) pupils to understand language attitudes and biases and how language is implicated in the maintenance of social inequalities. It is for these reasons that I prefer to use the terms standardised and non-standardised English (and regret previously using the uninflected forms in earlier writing), thus foregrounding standardisation as a process that requires continual work, to which we (as academic linguists) can either contribute or resist.

25.4 Non-Standardised English in Educational Practice

The need for children to develop competence in written standardised English is indisputable. However, there is little agreement on how to help children negotiate the differences between the grammar of their spoken language and that of written standardised English. As already noted, some schools have initiated policies that ‘ban’ non-standardised grammar in pupils’ spoken language, on the assumption that this will improve literacy rates (Cushing Reference Cushing2020a; Snell Reference Snell2018a). Yet, there is no evidence that the policing of oral language will help children conform to the conventions of written usage in standardised English. It is also unclear to what extent non-standardised English in speech actually influences children’s writing.

Early research (based on data gathered before the implementation of the National Curriculum in English) indicated that the impact of non-standardised dialect in writing is relatively minor when compared with the mechanics of spelling and punctuation and the difficulties children have in negotiating the complexities of written (as opposed to spoken) structure (Williamson Reference Williamson1990, Reference Williamson1995; Williamson and Hardman Reference Williamson and Hardman1997a, Reference Williamson and Hardman1997b; see Snell and Andrews Reference Snell and Andrews2017 for a systematic review). This research also indicated that the use of non-standardised dialect in written work decreases as pupils progress through school (Williams Reference Williams, Cheshire, Edwards, Munstermann and Weltens1989a, Reference Williams1989b; Williamson and Hardman Reference Williamson and Hardman1997b). More recently, Constantinou and Chambers (Reference Constantinou and Chambers2020) compared the incidence of non-standardised grammar in the writing of sixteen-year-old students in 2004 and 2014 and found an increase over time, which they attribute to decreasing language awareness amongst students. Significantly, the six most common non-standardised features did not change between 2004 and 2014, and these also overlapped with the features highlighted in Williamson’s earlier work (e.g. Williamson Reference Williamson1990, Reference Williamson1995; Williamson and Hardman Reference Williamson and Hardman1997a, Reference Williamson and Hardman1997b). This suggests that there may be a persistent core of non-standardised forms that are more difficult to manage in writing (Williamson Reference Williamson1995:11; see also Hudson and Holmes Reference Hudson and Holmes1995). Non-standardised forms related to subject–verb agreement and past/past participle forms of irregular verbs were particularly intractable, and thus may warrant teachers’ focused attention (Constantinou and Chambers Reference Constantinou and Chambers2020:28; Harris Reference Harris and Mace1995:127; Williams Reference Williams, Cheshire, Edwards, Munstermann and Weltens1989a:185; Williamson and Hardman Reference Williamson and Hardman1997a:168).

However, these studies also highlight that some non-standardised forms occur only in speech, and thus should not be the focus of attention for teachers whose aim is to improve pupils’ written work. Constantinou and Chambers (Reference Constantinou and Chambers2020:29) highlight five non-standardised forms that did not occur at all in pupils’ writing in either the 2004 or 2014 corpus. Amongst these is the use of ‘ain’t’ (as in, ‘we ain’t got enough’). Williams’ study in Reading (Reference Williams, Cheshire, Edwards, Munstermann and Weltens1989a, Reference Williams1989b, Reference Williams and Britain2007) also found that working-class pupils who used ‘ain’t’ frequently in their speech did not use it at all in their written work. It appears that this form is clearly identified by young people as a feature only of speech and that these speakers are capable of switching between the standardised and non-standardised form at school. This calls into question the value of teacher oral corrections of ‘ain’t’ (as documented in Snell Reference Snell2013:121–2). A second feature found to occur only in speech is the ‘[u]se of “us” after the imperative of verbs such as give, let and show, i.e. “Give us!”’ (Constantinou and Chambers Reference Constantinou and Chambers2020:29). This is one of the eleven forms included in the Teesside letter (‘Gizit’ is a condensed form of ‘Give us it’, see Figure 25.1 and Snell Reference Snell, Snell, Copland and Shaw2015). A stated aim of this letter was to help pupils to develop their command of written standardised English, but, again, the likelihood is that ‘Gizit’ is exclusive to speech, and thus the ban will not help children to develop their writing. In addition, in my work with primary schoolchildren in Teesside, it became evident that singular ‘us’ was used only in very specific circumstances: when spoken commands/requests were issued amidst negotiations regarding status, hierarchy and inclusion/exclusion within the peer group (see Snell Reference Snell2013, Reference Snell, Snell, Copland and Shaw2015 for examples in context and further discussion). This form indexed meanings that were consequential to peer-group interaction, and thus it is unlikely that children would stop using it just because their teachers (or parents) tell them to.

Ian Cushing and I found spoken dialect grammar to be relatively infrequent in pupils’ writing in two schools in London and Leeds (Snell and Cushing Reference Snell and Cushing2022). We examined the English books of 65 nine-to-eleven-year-old pupils (approximately 140,000 words of writing) and found that non-standardised grammar occurred at an average rate of just over one instance per thousand words. As in previous research, we also found that some of the forms routinely corrected in pupils’ speech (such as ain’t) did not occur in their writing at all. Despite these facts, teachers we interviewed in the Leeds school felt that their pupils’ spoken language did affect the quality of their writing, explaining that they would correct their pupils’ speech as well as their writing, at least on some occasions. Pupil focus groups corroborated this, with pupils commenting on teacher corrective strategies, including one teacher who had instigated a ‘ban’ on words which were symbolic of spontaneous speech, such as ‘like’ and ‘basically’.

We argue that teachers are sensitive to non-standardised grammar in their pupils’ speech, as well as their writing, because it is highlighted as an issue in educational policy and evaluative mechanisms (Snell and Cushing Reference Snell and Cushing2022:205–6). One such mechanism is the schools inspectorate, Ofsted. In related work (Cushing and Snell Reference Cushing and Snell2023), we constructed a digital database of 3,000 Ofsted school inspection reports published between 2000 and 2020 and searched this for phrases that were representative of different attitudes and ideologies about spoken language (such as ‘speak clearly’, ‘correct grammar’, ‘fluent speech’). We found an overwhelming number of instances where inspectors made negative judgements about teacher and pupil speech they heard as ‘non-standard’. We also found that Ofsted reports often conflated speech and writing and promoted the unevidenced notion that talking in ‘standard English’ bears direct consequences on the development of pupils’ literacy. We suggest that teachers have internalised these views, understanding it to be their role to model and promote standardised English in speech and believing that correcting pupils’ oral language has pedagogical value in relation to developing their writing.

While existing research gives a good indication of the specific areas of non-standardised grammar that should be prioritised in developing written standardised English (e.g. the verb phrase), these studies do not offer guidance on grammar pedagogies, nor do they consider the nature and impact of teacher responses. This is a significant gap, given that researchers have called into question the efficacy of teacher corrections of non-standardised grammar in writing. The work of Cheshire (Reference Cheshire1982a, Reference Cheshire1982b) and Williams (Reference Williams, Cheshire, Edwards, Munstermann and Weltens1989a, Reference Williams1989b, Reference Williams and Britain2007) in Reading indicated that teachers did not have a clear concept of what constituted local dialect in Reading nor a ‘consistent policy for dealing with non-standard forms that occurred in children’s work’ (Williams Reference Williams, Cheshire, Edwards, Munstermann and Weltens1989a:194). Differences in approach were noted not just between teachers but also within a single teacher’s marking practices: non-standardised dialect forms were corrected in some cases but not others, leading to confusion for children. Williams (Reference Williams, Cheshire, Edwards, Munstermann and Weltens1989a:196) also found that teacher corrections often lacked explanation, which in some cases led to hypercorrection on the part of pupils. Further work is required in order to develop a consistent and transparent strategy in dealing with the use of non-standardised dialect in writing if we are to avoid creating unintended confusion and anxiety for the learner, which may extend into adult life (Harris Reference Harris and Mace1995). More productive and descriptive approaches to writing (e.g. Myhill Reference Myhill2021) have shown the power in conceptualising grammar as a series of choices to be made, as opposed to prescriptive rules.

Research has shown that pupils are capable of style-switching in their speech as well as between speech and writing. Crinson and Williamson (Reference Crinson and Williamson2004) studied the use of non-standardised English in the formal and informal speech of fifteen-year-olds from two schools in Tyneside. They found that the middle-class students used almost no non-standardised grammar in their speech in formal contexts. Significantly, the incidence of non-standardised forms in the formal speech of students from less privileged backgrounds was also very low (an average of 3.5 non-standardised grammatical features per 30 minutes of conversation). In informal contexts, this increased to around 8 or 9 features. The key point is that these pupils were capable of style-shifting in line with curriculum guidance which states that children should be able to distinguish between formal and informal contexts when choosing appropriate vocabulary and grammatical structures. However, it is important to acknowledge that the stylistic potential of non-standardised grammar extends beyond formality. Sociolinguistic research has shown that features of non-standardised grammar can index stances, attitudes and identities, in addition to social or regional category memberships (Cheshire Reference Cheshire1982a; Coupland Reference Coupland2007; Ioannidou Reference Ioannidou2009; Moore and Podesva Reference Moore and Podesva2009; Moore Reference Moore2012, Reference Moore, Hall-Lew, Moore and Podesva2021; Rampton Reference Rampton2006, Snell Reference Snell2010, Reference Snell2018b). Most sociolinguistic research on style has focused on the speech of adolescents, but research in Teesside has shown that nine-to-ten-year-old children are strategic in their style-shifting, using non-standardised grammar to negotiate relationships and peer-group identities (e.g. Snell Reference Snell2010, Reference Snell2013, Reference Snell2018b). Some of the non-standardised forms in these children’s repertoires conveyed specific social and pragmatic meanings not carried by the standardised alternatives (see Snell Reference Snell2010 on possessive ‘me’; Snell Reference Snell2013, Reference Snell, Snell, Copland and Shaw2015 on singular ‘us’; and Snell Reference Snell2018b on right-dislocated pronoun tags); and speakers selected the forms/meanings most appropriate to their immediate interactional goals. We must recognise, then, that children’s repertoires are complex and that children meaningfully switch between standardised and non-standardised forms.

Professionals and public figures also sometimes use non-standardised grammar strategically, even in formal speech. For example, during a televised interview about the government’s Brexit deal in 2019, Michael Gove, a government minister, told the interviewer: ‘That ain’t gonna happen … There ain’t gonna be no second referendum.’ Moore (Reference Moore2019) suggests that Gove’s use of non-standardised negation serves not only to emphasise his commitment to the point he is making, but also to communicate his desire to be seen as ‘straight-talking’ and ‘resilient’ (characteristics associated with the working-class speakers who typically use non-standardised grammar). As Moore points out, this example demonstrates the flexibility and utility of non-standardised grammatical forms, which ‘allow us to communicate our feelings or stances concisely’. In addition, Moore argues that the example calls into question the idea propagated by the National Curriculum that ‘Standard English … covers most registers’ (DfE 2014:104). Clearly, even those whose language is most closely associated with standardised English (such as the government minister who presided over changes introduced in the 2014 National Curriculum) sometimes find it useful to exploit the stylistic potential of non-standardised grammar.

In the classroom, non-standardised grammar is not typically recognised as a stylistic resource. As already noted, it is common practice for teachers to correct pupils’ use of non-standardised forms in speech as well as in writing. Cheshire and Edwards (Reference Cheshire and Edwards1991:230) argue that oral correction is ‘a waste of time and … likely to lead to confusion about the linguistic relationship between features of standard and non-standard English’, with persistent corrections potentially leading to ‘reticence in oral work and even, in extreme cases, to alienation from the school’ (see also Cox Reference Cox1991:32, 128). I have not found any UK-based research that has systematically analysed the function and impact of oral corrections, but work outside of the UK highlights issues associated with this pedagogic strategy. In Godley, Carpenter and Werner’s (Reference Godley, Carpenter and Werner2007) study of grammar instruction in an urban (and predominantly African American) tenth-grade English class, the focal students expressed discomfort with their teacher’s insistence that they speak only standardised English in class, and two of the eleven students interviewed said that they tried not to speak at all to avoid being corrected. In a study that explored the tensions between Standard Modern Greek and Greek Cypriot Dialect in Greek Cypriot primary classrooms, Ioannidou (Reference Ioannidou2009:275) noted that students ‘were interrupted, corrected and failed to be praised for providing the correct answer simply because they, either by choice or necessity, decided to convey the meaning in their own variety’ (see also Netz, Yitzhaki and Lefstein (Reference Netz, Yitzhaki and Lefstein2018) for corrections in Israeli classrooms).

Sociolinguistic research suggests that oral corrections and negative views about non-standardised dialects can produce feelings of linguistic insecurity and have detrimental effects on speakers’ confidence, motivation and participation in class discussion (Cheshire Reference Cheshire1982b; MacRuairc Reference MacRuairc2011a, Reference MacRuairc2011b; Snell Reference Snell2013; Trudgill Reference Trudgill1975; Williams 1989, Reference Williams and Britain2007). Where low value is accorded to non-standardised speech in the classroom, some pupils may become less confident in oral expression and thus reluctant to contribute to whole-class discussion (Snell Reference Snell2013, Reference Snell2019). This is a problem for teaching and learning across the whole curriculum because educational research has shown that participation in high-quality classroom discussion is crucial to learning and cognitive development (e.g. Alexander Reference Alexander2020; Mercer Reference Mercer2008; Lefstein and Snell Reference Lefstein and Snell2014; Resnick, Asterhan and Clarke Reference Resnick, Asterhan and Clarke2015; see also Section 25.5). In addition, there are consequences for pupils’ developing identities. Pupils who speak a non-standardised dialect may experience conflict in trying to be a ‘good pupil’ (where this requires displays of competence in standardised English) while also retaining other aspects of their identity (e.g. ‘popular boy’) and expressing loyalty to neighbourhood, family and peer group. This is significant because there is evidence from learning theory and studies of classroom practice that identity is of critical importance to the learning process (e.g. Wortham Reference Wortham2006). Some children will be successful in negotiating identity conflicts, but others may become alienated from school and the educational opportunities it offers (MacRuairc Reference MacRuairc2011b; Piestrup Reference Piestrup1973:170; Willis Reference Willis1977).

In summary, there is a widely held perception in educational policy and practice that non-standardised speech is a barrier to the development of literacy. However, research shows that this is not the case. The use of non-standardised grammar in writing is relatively insignificant compared with the difficulties all children face in developing command over the complexities of written compared to spoken structure; the incidence of non-standardised forms in writing is lower than in speech and decreases as speakers progress through school; some non-standardised forms commonly corrected in speech do not occur in writing at all; and, in spoken interaction, children are flexible language users who manipulate variation for strategic effect. Despite the research evidence, the narrative that non-standardised speech is a problem persists in educational policy and evaluative mechanisms, and this drives pedagogic practice that is detrimental to pupil confidence and classroom discussion.

25.5 The Role of Sociolinguists in Educational Debates

Since the 1970s, sociolinguists have sought to counter negative and ‘subjective’ evaluations of non-standardised dialects of English with ‘objective’ linguistic facts (Labov Reference Labov1982). Following Labov’s (Reference Labov1969) defence of African American Vernacular English (AAVE) in the US, British sociolinguists have argued that non-standardised dialects are as systematic, logical and rule-bound as standardised English; they simply have a different set of rules (e.g. Trudgill Reference Trudgill1975, Reference Trudgill, Bex and Watts1999). Thus, the different-but-equal approach has become the default mode for countering prejudice against non-standardised varieties, including in educational contexts. These arguments have been rehearsed in public forums like Twitter (now known as X), with linguists arguing against news stories and comments that marginalise non-standardised dialects and calling for attitudinal change. Nonetheless, negative perceptions of non-standardised dialects persist, despite almost fifty years of this kind of sociolinguistic advocacy.

A key issue is that different-but-equal arguments have tended to ignore (presumably strategically) the wider cultural and ideological politics of standardised English in a bid to stick to linguistic ‘facts’ and thus make claims for scientific objectivity (recall Trudgill’s [Reference Trudgill, Bex and Watts1999] insistence that he would not use the word ‘ideology’). But, as others have pointed out, this is a fallacy:

As Milroy indicates, members of the public tend to see through claims for ‘objectivity’ and ‘scientific detachment’ (Labov Reference Labov1982:166), especially as they know very well that non-standardised dialects are not socially equal to standardised English (Snell Reference Snell, Snell, Copland and Shaw2015, Reference Snell2018a). Efforts to address negative attitudes to non-standardised English that rely on different-but-equal arguments may thus appear disingenuous because they fail to acknowledge the social and political conditions under which the educational focus on standardised English and the policing of non-standardised forms makes sense to many teachers, pupils, and parents.

An ideological approach prompts us to reflect critically on taken-for-granted assumptions in our discipline and consider how these may actually constrain contributions to social change (Lewis Reference Lewis2018:339). Different-but-equal arguments are premised on the assumption that non-standardised dialects of English are discrete linguistic systems with their own set of rules. This presupposes that there is a spoken ‘standard English’ against which a variety called ‘Teesside English’, or any other ‘non-standard’ variety, can be evaluated. The focus on discrete language systems makes it difficult for us to then argue against those who suggest that for children to acquire standardised English they must first stop using features of their local dialect (as in the non-standardised dialect bans discussed above), because these initiatives are also premised on the assumption that ‘standard’ and ‘non-standard’ varieties are different linguistic systems which are thus in competition with each other.

Woolard has made the point that we can only counter misconceptions about language when we have understood how they are socially produced and accepted as convincing and effective (Woolard Reference Woolard, Schieffelin, Woolard and Kroskrity1998:10). A language ideological approach is useful in this regard because it helps us to uncover and challenge the ‘stock arguments’ (Blommaert Reference Blommaert and Blommaert1999:10) that have perpetuated standard language ideology, such as the notion that speaking ‘standard English’ will help working-class children achieve employment success and social mobility, which is as pervasive in education debates as it is misleading (see also Snell Reference Snell2018a). The link between language use and upward social mobility can only be made if we view standardised English as a set of objective linguistic practices that can be neatly delineated and thus acquired and exploited. As already noted, research has indicated that this is not the case. US scholars working within the field of raciolinguistics have made the case that institutional assessments of what constitutes ‘standard’ versus ‘non-standard’ language (or ‘school’ versus ‘home’) are really measures of how well a student is able to embody particular subject positions (e.g. ‘idealised whiteness’) rather than empirical linguistic practices (Rosa and Flores Reference Rosa and Flores2017:633; see also Alim, Rickford and Ball Reference Alim, Rickford and Ball2016; Baker-Bell Reference Baker-Bell2020; Rosa Reference Rosa2018; Smitherman Reference Smitherman2017). Flores and Rosa (Reference Flores and Rosa2015:150) argue that raciolinguistic ideologies work to position racialised bodies as linguistically deficient unrelated to any objective linguistic practice. Raciolinguistic and standard language ideologies thus work to privilege white middle-class speakers, who can deviate from language practices idealised as ‘standard’ or ‘appropriate’ without stigma, while discriminating against racialised speakers, who ‘can adhere to these idealised linguistic practices and still face profound institutional exclusion’ (Flores and Rosa Reference Flores and Rosa2015:165). From this perspective, it is nonsensical to suggest that modifying the language of marginalised speakers is the key to promoting social mobility. As Flores and Rosa put it:

In other words, while society demands that marginalised speakers learn standardised English to advance in education and the public domain, it continues to find their linguistic performances wanting while rewarding white middle- and upper-class speakers whose language does not conform to an idealised ‘standard’. It is in this sense that educational policies and prescriptions on ‘standard English’ become ‘gate-keeping mechanisms that reproduce both the experience and the social effect of stratification and inequality’ (Gal Reference Gal2016:459). The problem thus cannot be found and remedied within individual speakers, but rather within state structures and institutions.

In summary, a language ideological approach to challenging negative attitudes about non-standardised language in education would include interrogating our own disciplinary assumptions as well as addressing the wider cultural politics of ‘standard English’ and its role in masking the inequalities of race and class that are baked into our educational institutions. But, in addition, if we are to have real impact in the educational domain, we need to adapt our arguments in ways that are recognised as helpful by educational practitioners (Lefstein and Israeli Reference Lefstein, Israeli, Snell, Shaw and Copland2015:205). In this regard, Cameron (Reference Cameron2012:115) recommends that we should seek ‘not to deny the importance of standards and values but to focus critically on the particular standards and values being invoked and to propose alternatives’.Footnote ⁸ In other words, we must take care not to give the impression that we are opposed to standards of excellence in language education; rather we should replace the superficial focus on ‘correctness’ with more productive approaches that help children to cultivate their spoken and written repertoires. Related to this, I would suggest that we also need to make a distinction between ‘talk for performance’ and ‘talk for learning’ when discussing spoken language in education (Snell Reference Snell2019). The National Curriculum requires that pupils develop the skills necessary to give speeches and presentations and participate in structured debate. Within these formal and semi-scripted speech events (i.e. talk as performance) it may be appropriate to encourage pupils to minimise fillers and avoid grammatical forms stigmatised as ‘non-standard’, unless used for rhetorical effect (provided adequate explanation is given as to why these forms are devalued in the public domain). However, when it comes to talk for learning, the aim is to think aloud and contribute spontaneously to an evolving argument. There is no reason why such contributions should be made in standardised English (even if we could agree what this means when it comes to speech), because it is possible to express complex ideas in a variety of linguistic forms and styles. This an important point because educational research on talk-intensive (or ‘dialogic’) pedagogies has demonstrated that children who participate in rich and challenging classroom discussion make greater progress (based on performance in standardised tests) than their peers who have not had this experience (e.g. Alexander Reference Alexander2018; Resnick et al. Reference Resnick, Asterhan and Clarke2015). Moreover, a recent large-scale dialogic teaching intervention based in the UK has shown that the increase in achievement is even more dramatic for pupils on free school meals (used as a measure of relative socio-economic disadvantage) (Alexander Reference Alexander2018, Reference Alexander2020), thus highlighting the importance of classroom talk to social mobility. Drawing together sociolinguistic research on language variation with educational research on dialogic pedagogies, we can make the case that: (i) the obligation to use standardised English in informal classroom discussion (which is an official requirement at KS3) and the policing of non-standardised speech in the classroom will likely discourage some pupils from participating; (ii) pupils who do not regularly participate in classroom discussion will miss out on the dialogic exchanges that are crucial to learning and cognitive development; and (iii) this will disproportionately impact the most disadvantaged pupils, who are most likely to speak a local dialect and who also stand to gain the most by being given regular opportunities to participate in productive classroom discussion and thus to exploit the power of talk for learning.

25.6 Conclusion

The treatment of non-standardised language in education has been a focus of sociolinguistic attention for at least the last five decades. In this chapter I have highlighted some of the issues and tensions that have emerged as part of the debate, focusing in particular on the way ‘standard English’ is conceptualised either as a discrete entity that can be neatly delineated and described or as an idealisation of elite linguistic practice that is reinforced and maintained through the workings of standard language ideology. Clearly, careful linguistic analysis of children’s speech and writing is crucial to educational debates about language. However, it is not productive to attempt a purely linguistic, non-ideological approach in debates about non-standardised English in education, not least because standard language ideology is clearly dominant in the actions of politicians, Ofsted, and schools, and in the media reporting of these. We need a critical, ideological perspective in order to understand and challenge the ways in which language is implicated in the gate-keeping encounters that routinely reproduce educational inequalities. This includes educational prescriptions on spoken language, as well as class and racial bias embedded in curricula documents and high-stakes examinations (see, for example, Johnson Reference Johnson2015). Further, once we move away from the notion that discrete, bounded varieties of English exist as sociolinguistic ‘realities’, it becomes possible to show that children’s language repertoires already include forms that are conventionally associated with schools’ prescribed ‘standards’ alongside local dialect forms and a range of other semiotic resources (Snell Reference Snell2013, Reference Snell, Snell, Copland and Shaw2015), and thus that the focus should be on extending children’s repertoires.

It is clear that we need a more comprehensive and evidence-based approach to ‘standards’, style and language variation in the National Curriculum. Approaches to spoken language at school should recognise that it is not possible to achieve uniformity in speech and it is precisely that lack of uniformity that opens up opportunities for stylistic variation. Speaking always involves making choices; understanding the impact of these choices gives us control, enabling us to style ourselves linguistically in multiple different ways. Pupils should therefore have the opportunity to learn about their local dialect and its relationship to standardised English and be encouraged to reflect on their language choices and abilities. Teacher professional development should include ‘knowledge about language’ (as advocated some time ago by LINC). It is important that teachers and pupils gain an awareness of the full potential of spoken language, including an understanding of regional, social and stylistic variation, and the relationship between speech and writing. Valuing the language resources pupils use at home and making them a legitimate object of study is likely to develop pupils’ confidence and make them more likely to participate in class discussion, which will have benefits for their learning across the curriculum.

There is still a significant gap between the kind of robust and convincing research that can be reported in academic publications and significant impact within educational policy and practice. We thus need to continue to think seriously about how best to disseminate sociolinguistic research outside of academia and how we can work productively with educational practitioners and policymakers to shape the way non-standardised English is viewed and treated in education. While research which seeks to counter negative attitudes by validating and legitimising non-standardised language continues to be important, we must also take heed of scholars such Rosa and Flores (Reference Rosa and Flores2017) and Lewis (Reference Lewis2018) (see also Block Reference Block2014, Reference Block2018), who have argued that future work must also highlight and address the structural inequalities and injustices that are the true cause of educational underachievement in low-income, working-class and racialised pupils, if we are to effect real and lasting change.

26.1 Introduction

This chapter analyses the way in which language education in England has engaged with migration and multilingualism over the last half century, drawing on comparable chapters in the two earlier editions of this book (Martin-Jones Reference Martin-Jones and Trudgill1984; Rampton, Harris and Leung Reference Rampton, Harris, Leung and Britain2007). Over the past fifty or so years, language education has been a significant site of ideological struggle regarding England’s position in the world, whether this is principally associated with decolonisation or globalisation, and over the last twenty years, we have seen intensifications in the assertion of English nationalism in central government. To explore this, we will refer to the closely fought Brexit referendum and elaborate on three omissions noted in our last contribution (actually written in 2002): the aftermath of 9/11, increasingly hostile media commentary about asylum seekers, refugees and economic migrants, and the setting-up of an English language requirement for British Citizenship.Footnote ¹

We start with the development of multicultural language education in the 1970s and 80s, highlighting four factors that contributed to this: activist pressure from minority communities, educational philosophies valuing the ‘whole child’, educational decision-making embedded in local democratic structures, and a legislative strategy that combined the promotion of good community relations with restrictive immigration policies (Section 26.2). This began to change in the 1990s, with the curriculum centralisation and the sidelining of local authorities initiated by the Thatcher government. Efforts to regulate massively increased population movement also made borders and immigration status more of a priority than multiculturalism, and after 2001, security, social cohesion and the suspicion of Muslims started to dominate public discourse (Section 26.3). In Section 26.4, we address the connections between these developments and six areas of language education policy: standard English, English as an additional language for school students, English for adult speakers of other languages, modern languages, and community languages in mainstream and supplementary schools. Finally, in Section 26.5, we reflect on the role of universities in these processes.Footnote ²

26.2 From the 1960s to the 1980s and Multicultural Language Education

As a general frame for understanding language education in England, Martin-Jones suggests that ‘[t]he relationship between English and many minority languages in Britain, new and old, is embedded in a long history of colonisation, with English as the language of rule … In the English-speaking world, linguistic and cultural diversity has long been perceived as a “problem”’ (1984:427). Nevertheless, she notes, ‘[i]n some schools and local authorities, there has been a perceptible shift away from the exclusive emphasis on the teaching of English as a second language to a broad acknowledgement of the linguistic and educational value of developing a child’s home or community language’ (1984:432; see for example, also Marland Reference Marland1987). Her evidence of this includes: over a dozen local authorities establishing bilingual teachers, inspectors and multicultural support teams and resource centres (Martin-Jones Reference Martin-Jones and Trudgill1984:432–3); ‘[a] survey of library authorities in Britain carried out in 1979 [which] indicated that most areas make some provision available for adult readers among linguistic minorities’ (1984:437); and a number of large research and research-and-development projects and centres supporting the development of bilingualism in England, actually funded by central government as well as the Council of Europe, the EEC and the European Commission (1984:433).

Although it falls outside Martin-Jones’s main focus, the teaching of English as a second language was also characterised by growing contextual awareness and cultural inclusiveness during this period. Starting out ‘in the 1960s [when it seemed that] our total experience of teaching English as a second language in this country was new’, Derrick describes new materials for children that built in the sensitivity of ‘the social-worker-cum-reception-class teacher, alert to children’s emotional and social needs in their new surroundings’ (Reference Derrick1977:16,18), and reflecting on developments in the mid 1970s, Levine and McLeod advocate ‘letting children have their own voice’, arguing that ‘the circumstances faced by the children of families of overseas origin and their teachers are the circumstances faced by the majority of children and teachers in urban schools – only writ large’ (Levine and McLeod Reference Levine, McLeod and Rosen1975:37; Derrick Reference Derrick1977:24). In adult language teaching, the National Centre for Industrial Language Training (est. 1974) realised early on that the attitudes of majority monolinguals can contribute as much to communication problems as the proficiency of second language speakers, and it extended its work in multiethnic workplaces beyond English teaching to intercultural training for managers and union representatives (Gumperz, Jupp and Roberts Reference Gumperz, Jupp and Roberts1979); and the National Association for Teaching English as a Second Language to Adults (NATESLA, est. 1978) changed its name to National Association of Teachers of English and Other Community Languages to Adults (NATECLA) in 1989, in recognition of the multilingual nature of British society.

These developments were (and still are) vulnerable to sharp critique, and according to Martin-Jones, ‘the overall picture of provision [for community languages] within the mainstream education system is discouraging’ (1984:436). Even so, these examples illustrate the effort in language education in the 1960s, 70s and 80s to be ‘hospitable to [the] diversity’ resulting from Commonwealth immigration (Levine, cited in Meek Reference Meek1996:53). Indeed, from the vantage point of 2020, when the Black Lives Matter movement points to the continuing significance of long histories of slavery as well as colonisation (Hill Reference Hill2020), this period of educational provision stands out for its multicultural openness, inevitably raising the question: how did it come about?

1. (a) Martin-Jones points towards one major influence when she notes ‘growing concern among parents from linguistic minorities about the teaching of their languages, and literacy in those languages, to their children’ (1984:427). Taking action into their own hands, ‘[t]he bulk of provision for the teaching of the new minority languages in Britain, including preparation for public examinations, is organised [in supplementary schools] outside the education system’ (1984:436). Indeed, the educational concerns of minority ethnic parents extended beyond heritage language support to inequality and racism in mainstream schooling much more generally. As noted by John La Rose, a key figure in the development of black supplementary schooling and the Black Parents Movement (Harris Reference Harris1991:58–59; Alleyne Reference Alleyne2002:51–57; Gerrard Reference Gerrard2013:42; Hall Reference Hall2017:120–1),

During this period, supplementary schools varied considerably in purpose, focus, resources, size and stages of development, differing (as they still do) in the manner and extent of their emphasis on political, religious, cultural and/or linguistic issues (Martin-Jones Reference Martin-Jones and Trudgill1984:436; Abdelrazak Reference Abdelrazak2001:5; Burman and Miles Reference Burman and Miles2020:6,15; Section 26.4.6).Footnote ³ The development of core knowledge and skills in maths and English often played a part, and

Martin-Jones cites Polish and Gujarati schools with 200–300 students, and some were supported by embassies and high commissions (1984:436–7). But elsewhere, prevented from renting school buildings ‘on the grounds that we were teaching the children “black power”’ (Harris Reference Harris1991:58), classes took place in front-rooms at home. In fact, the more widely focused political activism with which these schools were often associated, also addressing racist violence, policing, the criminal justice system, employment and so forth, had an impact that extended well beyond the supplementary schools themselves. So for example in 1971, New Beacon Books (set up by La Rose in the 1960s) published How the West Indian Child Is Made Educationally Subnormal by Bernard Coard. Written for black parents rather than teachers or the education or political authorities, and with publishing costs covered by community groups (Coard Reference Coard2005), this ‘provided documentary proof of the oversubscription of black children in “Educationally Subnormal” (ESN) schools, and connected this to the cultural biases in IQ testing and racist presumptions of ignorance and incapability rife within British schools’ (Gerrard Reference Gerrard2013:33). Coard’s pamphlet gained very widespread publicity (Coard Reference Coard2005), and according to Carby, ‘many white, liberal teachers were shocked by the results of Coard’s research and the early seventies saw a rapid increase in the production of research projects, reports, policy documents and teaching materials focusing on the black child’ (Reference Carby1982:196; Coard Reference Coard2005).

Beyond the action of parents and minority ethnic communities, at least three other factors played a role in the emergence of multiculturalism during this period.

1. (b) The challenges to assumptions about the deficiency of immigrant children sketched in (a) chimed with growing commitment to child-centred pedagogy in mainstream schooling more generally (Bernstein Reference Bernstein1996; Rampton et al. Reference Rampton, Harris, Leung and Britain2007:431). Addressing English language and literacy across the education system, the Bullock Report (DES 1975) was one very influential expression of this, and among other things, it proposed that ‘[n]o child should be expected to cast off the language and culture of the home as he crosses the school threshold and the curriculum should reflect those aspects of his life’ (DES 1975:20.5, 20.17).

2. (c) Power in education was distributed very differently from how it is today. Central government delegated control over spending to Local Education Authorities (LEAs) and it had no direct powers over the curriculum. Curriculum decision-making lay in the hands of teachers and individual schools, who were usually provided with strong LEA guidance (DES 1985:221, 334). LEA services came under the auspices of local government – the metropolitan, county and borough councils – and accountability to the local electorate encouraged dialogue about education with the representatives of ethnic minorities in areas where they constituted a significant proportion of the local vote. Political arrangements like these made education policy development a matter of persuasion and dispute, and spurred on by the urban riots of 1981, one of the central objectives of the Committee of Inquiry into the Education of Children from Ethnic Minority Groups (DES 1985) was to generate a consensual view of ethnic pluralism with which central and local government, teaching unions and minority communities could all concur.

3. (d) Last, over this period the tensions between racial hostility and liberal pluralism were managed in a ‘bifurcated’ legislative strategy that involved ‘tough external immigration controls coupled with an internal regime made up of citizenship rights, race relations legislation, and pluralistic accommodations for minorities’ (Ashcroft and Bevir Reference Ashcroft, Bevir, Ashcroft and Bevir2019:38). Along with a lot of the British public, many post-war political leaders had racist reservations about black and brown immigration, but their overt expression of these was inhibited by, for example, the ringing endorsement of democracy and human rights for all in the 1941 Atlantic Charter and the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Ashcroft and Bevir Reference Ashcroft, Bevir, Ashcroft and Bevir2019:28; Olusoga Reference Olusoga2019). So during the 1960s and 70s, anti-immigrant and anti-racist discourses were held in balance by (i) a series of immigration acts designed to limit the number of people from New Commonwealth coming into the UK alongside (ii) the Race Relations Acts that outlawed incitement to racial hatred and discrimination in housing, employment and public places and that set up a Commission for Racial Equality as well as local Councils for Community Relations and Racial Equality (Ashcroft and Bevir Reference Ashcroft, Bevir, Ashcroft and Bevir2019:30).

As well as the disputes and complexities within each, the relationship between these four elements – community activism, child-centred philosophies of education, devolved authority in educational decision-making, and liberal race relations legislation balanced against hardening borders – were far from straightforward. So, for example, the Black Parents Movement took a stand against the ‘Community Relations industry’, seeing it as ‘a kind of colonial office for the black community in this country, which seeks to undermine the independent organisational activity of the black population in dealing with its own struggles’ (Race Today, October 1978 p. 197). Without an examination of power relations and their own positionality, multicultural teachers could function like the ‘missionaries’, and Derrick’s ‘social-worker-cum-reception-class teacher’ could be seen as an extension of state control into minority homes, backed by theories about the pathology of immigrant families (Carby Reference Carby1982:199). In language education, colonial images of the Indian babu could be seen at work in influential theories suggesting that for young people with Asian backgrounds, the need for ESL teaching ‘is likely to continue for several generations, not only for pupils on entry to school, but in many cases throughout their schooling’ (Taylor and Hegarty Reference Taylor and Hegarty1985:279–80; Rampton Reference Rampton1988:512–5). And the incorporation of Creole into the English curriculum could be read as a limiting strategy of containment (DES 1981:25; Rampton Reference Rampton1983:24). To establish the validity of these concerns (and accusations), it would take a lot of nuanced case-by-case discussion involving different stakeholders (see for example, La Rose Reference La Rose2014:43). But the larger point is that there was vigorous ongoing dialogue around multicultural education, as well as shifts of position (such as, for example, NAME changing its name in 1984 from National Association for Multiracial Education to National Antiracist Movement in Education).

During the period in focus there was, however, also another current of opinion which was critical of the whole field, arguing for traditional standards and challenging egalitarianism both in education in general and in language in particular (e.g. Cox and Dyson Reference Cox and Dyson1969; Honey Reference Honey1983). This chimed with the politics of Margaret Thatcher, who was elected as Prime Minister in 1979. The multicultural and anti-racist trajectory that we have described obviously did not abruptly terminate with the advent of Thatcher’s Conservative government (Ashcroft and Bevir Reference Ashcroft, Bevir, Ashcroft and Bevir2019:33–4),Footnote ⁴ but over time, the Conservative Party refashioned the structures and content of education, and global events radically altered the tenor of debate, fundamentally changing the central directions of travel in language education in England.

Our analysis of these developments is presented in two stages, the first focusing on policies and global processes and events, and the second on their impact on language education.

26.3 Policy and Global Developments from the 1990s Onwards

In 1988, the Conservative government brought in the Education Reform Act (ERA), initiating a combination of free-market structures and curriculum centralisation that effectively closed down the pedagogic commitments sketched in (b) above, and the local arenas for debate in (c) (see Rampton et al. Reference Rampton, Harris, Leung and Britain2007:422–3).

The ‘local management of schools’– ‘LMS’ – was one of the cornerstones of the new policy, and it paved the way for a major shift of power away from LEAs to individual schools, with the result that by the year 2000, 82 per cent of the money spent on schools was controlled by head teachers and school governors, compared with around 5 per cent in 1990 (Audit Commission 2000). At the same time, responsibility for the design and specification of the curriculum for five- to sixteen-year-olds was centralised. Individual teachers and schools were no longer the principal curriculum decision-makers, and the local processes of persuasion and debate were replaced by central government legislation. A series of national working parties were set up for the ‘core’ curriculum areas of English, Maths and Science, as well as for a range of other subjects, and by the mid 1990s, a legally binding National Curriculum for 80 per cent or more of the school day had been established, together with a system of national tests for seven-, eleven- and fourteen-year-olds. These tests meant that the performance of children at different schools could be compared, and their publication in league tables was initiated and justified on the grounds that this was essential ‘consumer information’ for another new element in education policy, ‘parental choice’. Prior to the 1988 ERA, children in the public education system had been allocated to a particular school by their LEA, but parental choice now gave parents the right to choose which school their child went to, with state funding following the child. Similar structural changes were applied to the provision for adults: in 1992–93, further education and sixth form colleges were ‘incorporated’, removed from local council control, reclassified as ‘private sector’ institutions, and required to compete with each other for students (Cooke and Simpson Reference Cooke and Simpson2008:11; Staufenberg Reference Staufenberg2020). As sketched in our 2007 chapter, the 1997–2010 New Labour government continued the direction of these policies, and it further diminished the role of local authorities by introducing an academies programme which allowed state schools to be taken over by private organisations without losing central government funding, a policy that subsequent Coalition and Conservative governments intensified (Roberts and Danechi Reference Roberts and Danechi2019). Admittedly, unlike the maintained institutions (which now represent the majority of primary but not secondary schools),Footnote ⁵ academies and free schools no longer need to follow the National Curriculum, but this has not led to a wide resurgence in child-centred pedagogies and curricula, or to a reinvigorated multiculturalism. Academies and free schools are still monitored by the centralised inspection regime set up in 1992 (Ofsted), and in, for example, the current inspection framework, the brief mention of an ‘understanding and appreciation of diversity’ is flanked on both sides by references to ‘respectful, active citizens’, ‘fundamental British values’, and ‘what we have in common’ (Ofsted 2019:para. 28).

As we will show in the next section, these educational policy developments redrew the terms and parameters of provision and debate in language education. But they were also very substantially affected by globalisation and the migration associated with, among other things, the collapse of the Soviet Union and the ‘Eastern Bloc’ in 1989–91 and freedom of movement across the European Union from 2004, as well as by processes connected to 9/11 and the ‘War on Terror’.

Between 1993 and 2015 the UK population born outside the country more than doubled from 3.8 million to 8.7 million (Simpson Reference Simpson, Cooke and Peutrell2019:25). This amounted to the ‘diversification of diversity’ that Vertovec has called ‘superdiversity’, involving

The plurality of countries of origin is one dimension of this: in the early 2000s, there were individuals from 179 countries in London, with groups of over 10,000 people from 42 of these (Vertovec Reference Vertovec2007:1029). But the multiplicity of their legal positions and migration statuses is another crucial feature, covering, inter alia, people moving freely within the EU, highly skilled workers in finance, special visa holders such as domestic workers, workers coming for seasonal agriculture on special schemes, students, spouses and dependants joining their families, refugees, asylum seekers and people without official documents. This multiplicity is intimately related to government efforts to define and regulate mobility in the neoliberal global economy (Yuval-Davis, Wemyss and Cassidy Reference Yuval-Davis, Wemyss and Cassidy2019:13), and according to senior judges, these efforts have generated ‘an impenetrable jungle of intertwined statutory provision and judicial decisions’.Footnote ⁶ This has massively complicated the process of determining someone’s status, working out not only whether or not they are entitled to be in the UK but also what they are or aren’t allowed to do when they are actually here. Indeed, this constitutes (one part of) a major shift away from the ‘bifurcating’ legislative strategy of the 1960–70s that we described in (d), in which tough external immigration controls were coupled with an internal regime promoting citizenship rights and community relations (Ashcroft and Bevir Reference Ashcroft, Bevir, Ashcroft and Bevir2019): today, ‘[i]nstead of being found at the edge, separating and connecting one state to another, borders have now spread so as to be everywhere’ (Yuval-Davis et al. Reference Yuval-Davis, Wemyss and Cassidy2019:17).

Far from promoting citizenship rights and community relations, this pervasive internal re-bordering has also been accompanied by government-wide policies promoting a ‘hostile environment’ for people who have ‘no right to be here’, an approach initiated in 2007 and very substantially intensified in 2012 (Liberty 2019). This has been orchestrated, among other things, in a series of immigration acts that threaten heavy fines and criminal sanctions for any person or organisation (landlords, teachers, doctors, etc.; banks, hospitals, universities and so forth) that provides work, facilities or services for migrants without the legal right to them (Liberty 2019:103). As a result, ‘[i]n different and new contexts, citizens are required to become untrained and unpaid border guards’, ‘more of us are falling under suspicion as illegitimate border crossers’, and, in Yuval-Davis et al.’s overall assessment, ‘everyday bordering has come to replace multiculturalism as the hegemonic governance technology for controlling diversity’ (Reference Yuval-Davis, Wemyss and Cassidy2019:17; also Liberty 2019).

The 9/11 and 7/7 attacks in New York and London in 2001 and 2005, ‘the War on Terror’ and the growth of Islamist Jihad were a third element contributing to the change in political climate. Linked to these geopolitical events and developments, ‘security’ and ‘social cohesion’ became central concerns in political discourse, British Muslims have been abnormalised as a suspect community of potential ‘enemies within’, and a comprehensive counterterrorist programme, CONTEST, has been initiated. This includes an ideological strand, Prevent, which aims to safeguard against people ‘being drawn into terrorism and to ensure that they are given appropriate advice and support’, working ‘with sectors and institutions where there are risks of radicalisation’ (HMG 2015:5). The institutions identified for partnership include local authorities, all levels of education, health services, prisons and the police (HMG 2015), and there is Prevent Awareness Training for many of their staff. In short, securitisation now complements the hostile environment for unlawful immigrants as another officially sanctioned discourse that promotes suspicion and surveillance of ethnic difference in everyday life and public institutions.

These developments are certainly not uncontested. The opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics and the success of Team GB fronted by mixed-race Jessica Ennis and Somalia-born Mo Farah were widely recognised and celebrated as an assertion of British multiculturalism (Meer and Modood Reference Meer, Modood, Ashcroft and Bevir2019:47). In another vein, the trade union for Further Education and Higher Education emphatically stated that ‘the Prevent agenda will force our members to spy on learners, is discriminatory towards Muslims, and legitimises Islamophobia and xenophobia, encouraging racist views to be publicised and normalised in society’ (UCU 2015:4; Khan Reference Khan, Arnaut, Karrebæk, Spotti and Blommaert2017). Indeed, the outcome of the 2016 Brexit Referendum, in which the UK voted by 52 per cent to 48 per cent to leave the EU, is perhaps the strongest indication of the depth of the divisions around these issues, as well as their geopolitical consequentiality. In terms of front-page coverage, immigration was the most prominent campaign issue in the run-up to the vote (Moore and Ramsay Reference Moore and Ramsay2017), and according to an exit poll of 12,000 people, ‘[b]y large majorities, voters who saw multiculturalism, feminism, the Green movement, globalisation and immigration as forces for good voted to remain in the EU; those who saw them as a force for ill voted by even larger majorities to leave’.Footnote ⁷ The distribution of votes was also significant: the proportion of remain-voters was much greater in Scotland and IrelandFootnote ⁸ and in major cities and university towns,Footnote ⁹ as well as among younger age groups,Footnote ¹⁰ and people with ethnic minority backgrounds.Footnote ¹¹ If Dorling and Tomlinson are right that the EU Referendum reveals ‘the last vestiges of empire working their way out of the British psyche’ (Reference Dorling and Tomlinson2019:3), the result suggests that the process is still incomplete, although there are also glimmers of a post-imperial horizon in the voting splits.

But how far and in what ways have all these developments found expression in language education?

26.4 Language Education from the 1990s

26.5 The Contribution from Universities

Universities have of course also been affected by marketisation, bordering and securitisation, often giving their support to government policy (Section 26.3; UCU 2015; Rampton et al. Reference Rampton, Charalambous, Mangual Figueroa, Zakharia, Levon and Jones2019:45). Indeed, academic linguists played a significant part in, for example, the turn to standard English in the schools National Curriculum and in the development of the Adult ESOL Core Curriculum (Section 26.4.1 and Rampton et al. Reference Rampton, Harris, Leung and Britain2007:432; Section 26.4.3), making contributions which some have later come to regret, at least in part (Cox Reference Cox1992; Cooke and Simpson Reference Cooke and Simpson2008:7–8). On the other hand, academics and universities have, overwhelmingly, been opposed to Brexit, and researchers have produced a good deal of critical work on issues like language and citizenship policy (Blackledge Reference Blackledge2005; Khan Reference Khan, Arnaut, Karrebæk, Spotti and Blommaert2017; Cooke and Peutrell Reference Cooke and Peutrell2019).

Looking back to our discussion of the influence of university research in the second edition of this book (Rampton et al. Reference Rampton, Harris, Leung and Britain2007:435 [2002:16]), we highlighted a number of weaknesses and oversights that limited the counter-hegemonic potential of work in linguistics, but since then, at least three of these have been addressed.

First, in the 1980s and 90s, there was a strong current of essentialism in linguistic research, characterised by the assumption that a person’s ethnolinguistic identity was fixed in place during their early years at home and in their local community, and that this home-based ethnicity was likely to be the most important aspect of their identity. This provided very little purchase on the cultural and demographic dynamics of globalisation – flows and mixing, diaspora and deterritorialisation – and it legitimated the policy of Welsh being promoted by the Welsh state, English by the English state, and minority languages being largely left to the minority communities. Since then, there has been a surge of work on language and superdiversity (for example, Blommaert and Rampton Reference Blommaert and Rampton2011; Arnaut et al. Reference Arnaut, Blommaert, Rampton and Spotti2015), on heteroglossia (for example, Blackledge and Creese Reference Blackledge and Creese2014) and on translanguaging (for example, Garcia and Wei Reference Garcia and Wei2014). This work treats named languages as ideological constructs rather than natural entities, and it sees languages like ‘English’, ‘German’ or ‘Bengali’ as shallow and restrictive representations of how people actually communicate. Instead it emphasises ‘repertoire’ as a concept that captures much better the ways in which the particularities of our biographies and situations give shape to our use and identification with a range of linguistic resources, a range that includes bits of nameable languages, styles, genres and a lot of other ways of speaking (Blommaert and Backus Reference Blommaert and Backus2011). This repertoire perspective breaks the link between language and nation, and invites us to explore, for example, ‘the … marked difference between, on the one hand, seeing ESOL students as non-citizen outsiders, who we assist to acquire the language and cultural norms of their adopted homeland, and on the other, as diasporic locals, with their own linguistic, cultural, social, affective and other resources, whose very presence reshapes the locality they live in’ (Peutrell and Cooke Reference Peutrell, Cooke, Cooke and Peutrell2019:229).

Second, since the turn of the millennium, there has been significantly more empirical work on community-run supplementary schools (also often referred to as ‘complementary’ schools). Again, heteroglossia and translanguaging figure prominently, showing that ‘children of immigrant and ethnic minority backgrounds do not, as it is often assumed, view their languages as being tied to any one particular culture or ethnicity’ but instead ‘use their multilingual resources strategically to identify with several overlapping cultures including classroom, school, family, heritage and popular youth cultures’ (Wei 2006:80–1). This fracturing and destabilisation of hitherto monolithic images of language and ethnicity creates two openings. First, a ‘named’ language like Spanish or Urdu no longer looms so formidably as an almost impenetrable edifice with only two means of access, either birth and early childhood socialisation already inside, or the long (and tediously) regimented path of the textbook and schoolroom. Instead, this account of what Creese and Blackledge (Reference Creese and Blackledge2010) call flexible bilingualism underscores the diversity of entry points, and further undermines the association of modern language learning with academic elites (Sections 26.4.4 and 26.4.5). Second, there is a challenge to the influential official claim that ‘bilingual education and mother tongue maintenance can only be relevant to mother tongue speakers of languages other than English i.e. to pupils from certain ethnic minority groups’ (DES 1985:406–7). With this pluralisation, multiethnic participation in community language learning moves into view, either in mainstream classes or in supplementary schools in ‘settled, hybrid communities’ (Burman and Miles Reference Burman and Miles2020:8; Rampton Reference Rampton1988; Li Reference Li2006:80).

Third, the need we identified for more research on ‘the new multiethnic vernaculars’ has also been addressed, both in the UK and in Europe. This work has now shown, inter alia, that local urban dialects of English influenced by immigrant languages have been an established feature of the UK linguascape for the last fifty years (for example, Rampton Reference Rampton2011; Sharma Reference Sharma2011). In addition, several of these studies have given serious consideration to the role that social class positioning has played in the formation of these vernaculars, thereby contradicting the ideological erasure of class in the language education policies from the late 1980s on (Rampton et al. Reference Rampton, Harris, Leung and Britain2007:425 [2002:7]). Overall, the wider significance of this work lies in the detailed portrait it provides of ‘a multiculture’ in civic life -‘an unruly, convivial mode of interaction in which differences have to be negotiated in real time’- that goes ‘largely undetected by either government or media’, but that generates ‘more positive possibilities’, signifying not ‘the absence of racism [but …] the means of racism’s overcoming’ (Gilroy Reference Gilroy2006:39–40; Hall Reference Hall2017:138).

These three developments in university research provide an authoritative challenge to the conceptual and imaginative horizons that have dominated language education policy for the last thirty years or so, and they stress the normality of practices that might otherwise be easily derogated. These counter-hegemonic insights are passed on to cohorts of university students who move into, or come from, a range of professions, teaching included, and their dissemination beyond the academy has been encouraged by the growing emphasis in higher education policy on ‘impact’ and relevance – on university research and teaching making a(n auditably) practical contribution to the economy, society and well-being (Goddard and Puukka Reference Goddard and Puukka2008; Rampton, Cooke and Holmes Reference Rampton, Cooke and Holmes2018: section 7).

The range of these outreach initiatives is substantial, and it extends to teaching programmes in which active local links are built into undergraduate projects and assignments, as in the exemplary Multilingual Manchester programme (http://mlm.humanities.manchester.ac.uk/; Matras Reference Matras2023). Productive collaborations are likely to involve third-sector, local and community organisations, perhaps with charitable funding and the participation of local rather than central government, and this makes it difficult to provide a comprehensive overview. But just to illustrate this with work of our own (which we have also sometimes tried to theorise as ‘linguistic citizenship’ (Rampton et al. Reference Rampton, Cooke and Holmes2018)), we have developed multilingual pedagogies for adult ESOL in a project linking Leverhulme-funded research to the non-profit organisation English for ActionFootnote ²⁷ (Cooke, Bryers and Winstanley Reference Cooke, Bryers and Winstanley2018; www.ourlanguages.co.uk); we have made efforts to coordinate the plurality of projects and organisations exploring multilingualism’s creative potential among young people (working among others with the Free Word Centre and Gulbenkian; Holmes Reference Holmes2015); and we have produced and disseminated a comprehensive assessment and teacher-development framework for EAL in collaboration with the Bell Foundation and Cambridge University (Leung, Evans and Liu Reference Leung, Evans and Liu2021). There are many other cases of work along similar tracks – the collaborations, for example, between Goldsmiths and supplementary schools (Kenner and Ruby Reference Kenner and Ruby2012; Anderson, Macleroy and Chung Reference Anderson, Macleroy and Chung2014; Lytra et al. Reference Lytra, Ros i Solé, Anderson and Macleroy2022).Footnote ²⁸ Without central government support, sustainability is a major challenge for all these efforts. But there is unlikely to be a decline in grassroots commitment to maintaining multilingualism, and the more we can build this dialogue and collaboration into the core university activities like undergraduate and MA teaching, the greater the scope for envisaging an England that really is open to other languages.