The "Business" of Language Endangerment:
Saving Languages or Helping People Keep Them Alive?

by Luisa Maffi
Northwestern University/Terralingua
<maffi@nwu.edu>

Workshop "Language Maintenance and Death: Reports from the Field and Strategies for the New Millennium". 1999 Linguistic Institute, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 17-18 July 1999
Draft May 1999
Do not cite or reproduce without consent of the author
 

"Preservation [...] is what we do to berries in jam jars and salmon in cans. [...] Books and recordings can preserve languages, but only people and communities can keep them alive."
--Dora Marks Dauenhauer and Richard Dauenhauer, Tlingit oral historians (in Lord 1996: 68)
 

 "If I know one word in my language my creator will let me go to where I have to go when I pass away. I don't have a whole language. It is silly to think I will bring an extinct language back to fluency with only 300 people in an extinct tribe. I talk to my computer. I feed the language in, and when I make mistakes the computer talks back.
 But if I have one word, it is the power of one word, and whoever is at the garden gateóthe pearly gates, the happy hunting groundsówill recognize me and it will be enough for me to go in. There is so much power in just one word."
--L. Frank Manriquez, Tongva/Ajachmem artist and language activist (in Manriquez 1998)
 

 Much of the story of language loss, maintenance, and revitalization lies inbetween the above two quotes--between those circumstances in which speakers can still take action to keep their languages alive, and those other circumstances in which the languages did not have a chance to survive as the living voice of their people.
 The present paper explores this story from the point of view of the role of linguists and other scholars concerned with and about the language endangerment crisis. It begins with a brief history of the increasing awareness of this crisis in linguistic and other academic circles, and now also outside academia. It then discusses the small "business" of NGOs, foundations, committees and other related organizations and interest groups that has sprung up in response to the challenges posed by the erosion of the worldís linguistic diversity. The paper then analyzes some of the issues and dilemmas posed by this crisis, with an eye in particular to the questions some of these professionals are asking themselves about how they should conceive their work and their priorities in facing the crisis, and in terms of the relationships between science, applied work, and advocacy. Reasons are provided as to why confronting these challenges may lead to both more ethical and more relevant research. The paper concludes with reference to the experiences of the non-governmental organization (NGO) Terralingua: Partnerships for Linguistic and Biological Diversity in its efforts to take a multi-level and interdisciplinary approach to the "business" of countering language endangerment and linguistic diversity loss.
A Bit of History, and a Few Questions
 Cases of language loss, obsolescence, and death are probably as old as the contact between human communities of unequal socioeconomic, political, and technological power. Population movements and political and economic expansion, even well before the modern era of colonization and empire building, have long contributed to reducing linguistic diversity everywhere in the world, either by the physical elimination of conquered groups, or by the cultural assimilation of the dominated. By and large, such assimilation has occurred crucially by way of linguistic assimilation--through the direct or indirect imposition of the dominant groupís language in most contexts of use, thus effectively killing the languages of the dominated, or causing them to die out (Maffi, Skutnabb-Kangas, and Andrianarivo in press; Skutnabb-Kangas in press).
 Estimates of the extent of the worldís linguistic diversity in the undocumented past are bound to remain conjectural and subject to debate. However, educated guesses suggest that the peak of linguistic diversity on earth may have occurred at the beginning of the Neolithic (10,000 years b.p.), at which time more than twice the current estimated number of 6,000-7,000 oral languages may have been spoken (Robb 1993, Hill 1998). This implies that languages have been undergoing extinction at least since that time, and that communities of speakers around the world have confronted--and reacted or succumbed to--threats to their languages for centuries, indeed millennia (see Hale 1992). The other side of this coin, we should not forget, is that for most of our speciesí history humans have talked--and in many parts of the world still talk--a large number of small languages (Hill 1998), often with high concentrations of different languages coexisting side by side in the same areas. Intergroup communication in such situations of egalitarian contact occurred and occurs in a number of ways, including language continua, multilingualism, lingua francas, and pidgins (Pattanayak 1981, Edwards 1994, Mühlhäusler 1996).  As we know, however, we are currently facing a language extinction crisis of unprecedented magnitude and pace. Already there may be 15% fewer languages now than at the end of the 15th century, when the era of European colonization began (Bernard 1992), with especially marked losses in the Americas and Australia. And the trend is now accelerating throughout the world, with Australia and the Americas (especially the U.S.A.) still in the lead.  Current estimates put the number of "moribund" languages (those no longer passed on to younger generations) at 20% to 50% of the 6,000-7,000 extant languages (Krauss 1992; Harmon 1995). In some projections, if present trends are not reversed, as many as 90% of the world's languages (most of them the languages of small communities of speakers) may become extinct or moribund in the course of the next century (Krauss 1992).
 Phenomena of language shift, obsolescence, and death have also long been an object of study for linguists (e.g. Dressler and Wodak-Leodolter 1977; Adler 1977; Gal 1979; Dorian 1981, 1989; Hill and Hill 1986). However, a decisive clarion call about the language endangerment crisis was sounded in the early 1990s, as the accumulation of both grassroots activities and documentation by linguists began to give a measure of the global extent and implications of the crisis (Robins and Uhlenbeck 1991; Hale et al. 1992, especially Krauss 1992). International organizations such as UNESCO, professional societies such as the Linguistic Society of America, scholarly societies such as the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and many other institutions around the world awoke to the realization that the worldís linguistic diversity was fast disappearing--and that the linguistic profession as a whole had not been paying enough attention, while the scholarly community in general, not to speak of the general public, seemed largely unaware of the phenomenon. Interestingly, in linguistsí early calls to action vis-à-vis this crisis, a parallel was sometimes drawn with another diversity extinction crisis, one that had by then amply reached the level of public consciousness: the loss of biodiversity, as a way of suggesting comparable (and perhaps related) damage to humanityís heritage (Hale 1992, Krauss 1992). The main thrust of such calls for action, though, was for linguists not to passively preside over the demise of their very object of study, the variety of the worldís languages (which also implied an admonition for linguists not to rely too comfortably on the assumption that statements about Universal Grammar or the nature of language could be made on the basis of just English, Japanese, and a few other major languages). Less prominently in focus were the political and economic causes of linguistic diversity loss and the sociocultural consequences of this phenomenon for the speakers of languages at risk, although one could certainly read some unequivocal statements in this connection, e.g.:
[L]anguage loss in the modern period [...] is part of a much larger process of loss of cultural and intellectual diversity in which politically dominant languages and cultures simply overwhelm indigenous local languages and cultures, placing them in a condition that can only be described as embattled. (Hale 1992: 1)
[A local language under pressure by a dominant language] will loose a number of its characteristics which are rooted in the traditional culture of its speakers [...]. It no longer reflects the unique traditional and original world-view and culture of its speakers which has been lost, but more that of the culturally more aggressive people who have influenced its speakers. (Wurm 1991: 7)
Yet, the issue of the implications of such circumstances for linguists remained a touchy one--witness Ladefogedís reaction to the Hale et al. (1992) papers. In his response (Ladefoged 1992), he mentioned the case of a speaker of Dahalo, a near-extinct language of Kenya, who was proud his children only spoke Swahili, had gone to school, and knew things he did not. Who am I as a linguist, asked Ladefoged, to tell this man he was wrong?
 Dorian (1993) hastened to retort that one cannot ignore under how much pressure such decisions to stop speaking oneís mother tongue or not to teach it to oneís children are mostly made. Indeed, one may well ask to what extent one can speak of actual free choices under such circumstances. It is also evident that the case described by Ladefoged is one that assumes an either-or: either you keep your mother tongue and remain isolated from the larger society whose majority language you do not speak, or you learn the majority language and get access to the larger society, but lose your mother tongue (in other words, a case of subtractive, rather than additive, language learning; see Skutnabb-Kangas 1984, in press). This line of thinking also downplays the value of knowledge that can be accessed through the mother tongue--if it doesnít actually imply that access to relevant knowledge is only gained through learning the majority language. And, above all, one might argue: true, who is a linguist to tell indigenous or minority language speakers whether they were right or wrong in their decision to give up their languages? But do these decisions happen in a vacuum or only because parents see greater opportunities for their children in the majority languages? Doesnít it behoove linguists, for one thing, to say who else is wrong when it comes to this point? And doesnít it behoove linguists to portray to individual speakers and language communities they work with any alternatives they may know of to the seemingly unrivaled "choice" of abandoning their languages? Should linguists, even as they consciously witness the demise of the languages they study, consider that their role should solely be limited to one of documentation before the language disappears?
 Positions such as those expressed by Ladefoged back in 1992 may now sound naive, if not insouciant--at least, to some of us. For one can still find evidence of them today, if perhaps with a new, updated, twist. At a recent linguistics conference, an authority on a small native South American language could be heard stating: "This language has only one hundred speakers. If I donít document it now, I know that my children and grandchildren wonít be happy with me." Clearly, a sense that linguists may have something to account for to posterity had seeped into this linguistís worldview. That the posterity in question might consist first of all in the children and grandchildren of the speakers of that native South American language had not. As Posey (1998) would put it, "[t]he days of ëourí studying ëthemí (with the added barb of ëbefore they become extinctí)" are not over yet, although we may be making progress in that direction.
The "Business" of Language Endangerment
 Letís talk, then, of what progress has been made. No doubt, in recent years the loss of linguistic diversity and efforts to combat or reverse this trend have increasingly been at the top of the agenda for many linguists, not to speak of scores of language communities. A small but growing "business" of NGOs, foundations, committees and other related organizations and interest groups has sprung up in response to the challenges posed by the erosion of the worldís linguistic diversity--a "business" that has been highly instrumental in raising the visibility of this issue, first within and now also outside the academic community. In a way comparable to the case of the biodiversity crisis a decade ago, in the space of just a few years the case of the linguistic diversity crisis has gone from virtual obscurity to increasing visibility in the media--including on the pages of prime newspapers such as the New York Times and those of popular glossy magazines such as Newsweek and Time. Perhaps the crowning of this media escalation will be the August 1999 issue of National Geographic Magazine, to be devoted to cultural and linguistic diversity and the threats they face worldwide. With translations into at least a dozen major languages and one of the largest worldwide distribution networks of any periodical, this issue of National Geographic is certain to bring the news of the linguistic diversity crisis and why it matters into millions of homes around the world.
 As with the case of biodiversity, such publicity holds great positive potential vis-à-vis the linguistic diversity crisis. The more people will learn about it, and learn to care about it, the more likely it is that they will show support for action to counter the crisis--against the well engrained myths à la "curse of Babel", according to which the fewer languages around, the better for both national and international stability and peace (myths largely fostered by monolingualism-pandering governments of so-called "nation-states"; see Maffi 1998a, Maffi, Skutnabb-Kangas and Andrianarivo in press, Skutnabb-Kangas in press). Greater sympathy for linguistic diversity may in turn translate into policy and educational initiatives more favorable to it, and to mobilization of funding for that purpose. Such developments clearly did occur in relation to biodiversity protection as a result of growing awareness of the dramatic loss of species and ecosystems on Earth. Yet, as the champions of biodiversity will be the first to admit, the struggle is far from over against the political and economic forces that lie behind the biodiversity crisis--in our times, the forces of globalization--and the sociocultural attitudes and behaviors they induce. Sometimes, conservationists will admit, they feel as if while they may be "winning battles", they are still "losing the war".
 Likewise, we should not be under the illusion that publicity alone will do the trick for linguistic diversity, overcoming the forces at work against it, and that such publicity will necessarily go to the benefit of that vast majority of humans in which most of this diversity resides. In fact, there is even a potential dark side to publicity, one that may rather mean the benefit (and specifically the economic benefit) of a very small, privileged subset of humanity. If we are good enough at explicating and advocating for the importance of and need for linguistic diversity, the time may not be far away when someone will begin to devise ways to make a business (this one without quotes!) out of it, and perhaps not to the ultimate advantage of those who hold most of this diversity--just as, for example, there are now some earning millions from selling "multicultural" T-shirts as feel-good badges of diversity in the places where genuine cultural diversity least abounds.
 A recent discussion thread on the Endangered Languages electronic list, concerning the marketing of multimedia computer-aided language learning technology for language preservation and revitalization purposes, already speaks to this point, i.e., to both the hopes and concerns, both the possible promise and potential pitfalls of a high-tech business approach to the "business" of language endangerment (EndLang 1999). Might such technology help in the case of an extinct language, such as the one described by L. Frank Manriquez in one of the opening quotes? Possibly, if enough pre-existing materials were available to create the input. Would the technology help beyond preserving languages or piecing them back together, that is, would it help keep a language alive, as the Dauenhauers call for in the other opening quote? Would it help foster the sense of community that, in the Dauenhauersí view, is what is needed for the life of a language? This is more doubtful--indeed, excessive faith in technological fixes might actually stifle, rather than foster, the life of a language where there is still at least some vestige of a language community to go around. And how many indigenous or minority communities around the world could actually afford the cost of the technology and all the related apparatus? What other, non-monetary, costs might be involved in introducing such technology? Would the potential benefits, overall, outweigh the costs? These are only some of the dilemmas raised by this one example--and the examples could be multiplied. They are dilemmas for language communities, for sure, as they consider the pros and cons of possible choices for the maintenance and revitalization of their languages. But they are dilemmas for linguists too.
Changing Roles and Challenges for Linguists (and Other Social Scientists)
 Thus, as linguists, we must constantly be aware of both opportunities and risks for linguistic diversity. The "business" of language endangerment is, to borrow Poseyís (1998) words again, "a profoundly political matter". There are plenty of reasons why our political analyses should be at least as sophisticated as our linguistic ones. And this is why research, applied work, and advocacy must go hand in hand today. This is definitely not to say that basic research is no longer needed. It is to say, though, that it can no longer proceed in a vacuum, and that scientists need to educate themselves and others about the nature and implications of what they do, and about the context, both local and global, in which they do what they do. It also means that scientists must become much better at listening to what indigenous and minority peoples around the world have to say about what they want and need, and be more prepared to ask if and how they may be of help. As Posey (1998) warns, "continued research into language and cultural diversity requires a more collaborative approach in which equitable partnerships evolve from mutual interest between researchers and local communities".
 We can no longer afford to think that our only, or paramount, obligations are to the "advancement of science"--or at least, of the latest brand of linguistic theory, as the case may be. We can no longer afford to believe, in the name of science, that our credentials as scholars are justification enough for us to gain unrestrained, and non-negotiated, access to indigenous or minority communities or individuals and extract any kind of data we may deem of interest, without concern for whether this may possibly cause any damage to the individuals or communities, or for whether and how the data may be put to use for the individuals and communities themselves. We can, indeed, no longer expect to go in without fully explaining our goals, obtaining informed consent, and agreeing on benefit-sharing; without considering and discussing with community members any potential risks, detrimental effects, or other long-term consequences of what we plan to do; without asking how we may be of service to those with whom we wish to work, support their own efforts for language and cultural survival, help them deal with the internal and external circumstances that are putting their languages and cultural identities at risk. We can no longer expect to go in, act as detached observers and data-gatherers, and go out, leaving nothing behind, returning no results.
 Of the two disciplines most closely concerned with linguistic and cultural diversity, anthropology and linguistics, anthropology has--if belatedly and by no means universally as yet--begun to become aware of and try to deal with these and related issues. The phenomenon is even more recent and hesitant within linguistics, although some movement can be observed here too. Change is necessary at many levels. Some of these are discussed below.
 In both of these disciplines there must be a shift from an extractive model of scientific research, in which knowledge is separated from its source and carried away to be stored ex-situ, to an integral model, one in which knowledge is allowed to live and thrive in-situ. Specifically as concerns languages, this means a move from ex-situ language preservation to in-situ integral language restoration and development. There is no doubt that linguistic documentation can still be a very valuable resource--whether in the form of materials gathered by earlier generations of scholars, or of current documentation projects that take pedagogical applications into account (e.g. Moore 1998). In many cases, past documentation may represent the only extant resource about a language that is no longer spoken. Still, these materials alone cannot recreate the natural contexts of language learning and use, i.e., the contexts of verbal interaction in which languages are acquired, used, and developed. There is a very close parallel between this form of language preservation and ex-situ conservation in biology: while both serve an important function, in both cases the ecological context is missing.  Just as seed or gene banks cannot preserve a plantís biological ecology, ex-situ linguistic documentation cannot preserve a languageís linguistic ecology: its relationships with people, places, and other languages (Mühlhäusler 1996). In recent times, and mostly due to indigenous and minority peoples taking up the organization of language support activities on their own, a different trend has emerged, one that places these activities squarely within linguistic communities and sees them as intrinsically linked to cultural revival (as well as environmental restoration). Again, a close parallel can be drawn with the emergence of a newer trend in conservation biology that promotes integral biocultural conservation models, the in-situ interdependent conservation of both biological and cultural resources (Zent 1999).
 The shift to in-situ integral language restoration and development confronts linguists with a serious rethinking of their priorities and the way they work. Again, linguistic documentation--such as careful, thorough grammatical and lexical description--still has a major role to play. Such documentation, however, must be conceived in ways that will make it truly useful to the language communities, rather than just responsive to trends in linguistic theory or anyway only appealing to intellectual audiences. Furthermore, we must gain awareness of the pros and cons of documentation. On the one hand, there may be a (justified) sense of urgency vis-à-vis writing down what may otherwise be in grave danger of being lost, or at least an (also justified) sense that the worldwide trend is toward literacy and formal education anyway. On the other, we must realize that the shift from the oral to the written, from the intangible to the tangible, has already had and continues to have a profound impact on indigenous and minority peoples in terms of its consequences on the nature of their cultural traditions. For instance, speaking of the indigenous languages of Colombia, Seifart states: 
... it has become clear that linguistic analysis, alphabetization and finally bilingual education entail radical interference with originally illiterate indigenous cultures. The alphabetization of the language and the recording of traditional texts change the cultural dynamics of the oral tradition: from the moment these texts are recorded they lose their variable character. Therefore many cultures decide to take this step only after much deliberation. (Seifart 1998: 9)
The pervasiveness of literacy, writing, and all other forms of tangible fixation of ideas in the Western world should not blind us to the possibility that the very tissue that holds indigenous cultures together may be the spoken word (as it probably has been the case in all preliterate cultures). Listening to a traditional storyteller may be enough to convince one that this may actually be a fact.  Or, as Fettes puts it:
...community consists... of... connections between expressed thought and lived experience: a dynamic cyclical relationship between the stories people tell about themselves and the ways they relate to one another and to their environment. (Fettes in press)
There is a risk that the Western worldís bias toward the written word and tangible expressions of reality will lead to overlooking and neglecting, and ultimately contribute to effacing, this fundamental, perhaps constitutive aspect of traditional cultures. As long as a tradition of orality still exists, it must be recognized as a part of a societyís informal ways of teaching and learning, and fostered as a fundamental part of protecting the worldís cultural and linguistic diversity (Maffi 1998b).
 In addition, linguists working in and with endangered language communities may be called upon to perform tasks more commonly associated with applied work, such as helping design language maintenance or revitalization programs. This comprehensive approach to cooperative language projects certainly poses great challenges for linguists, beginning with the way in which they are trained. In addition to thorough training in all areas of linguistics, both theoretical and applied,  it requires familiarity with ethnographic methods and cultural theories. But then, it suffices to take a brief look backward in history to realize that these challenges may in fact be only slightly greater than those once faced by trainees when anthropology and linguistics lived under the same academic roof. This is, purely and simply, a case of going backward to go forward. A small but significant number of linguistics programs in the USA, Canada, Australia, and several European countries (and, increasingly, in other parts of the world too) have taken this tack, offering training specifically geared toward work with endangered language communities, including cross-training in anthropology. This trend needs to be supported and strengthened in all possible ways.
 Developing this trend also requires promoting change in academic culture, by bringing down the walls separating academe from the outside world. It is ironic that this bringing down of walls may already be going on, without evoking much of an alarmed reaction, when it comes to making academe more responsive to business--as with the hyper-trumpeted need to "make our students more competitive in the global marketplace"--while the idea of bringing walls down to make students (and teachers) more responsive to the needs of communities and humanity at large, more willing to serve, may still raise so many eyebrows, or be met with the most lukewarm of reactions at best. Of course, money talks. The challenge here is to foster understanding and acceptance of the view that there are things that matter beyond the "economy, stupid"--such as things that may matter for the very survival of humanity. We need to foster realization that this is the case with the loss of linguistic and cultural diversity no less than it is with the loss of biodiversity: that the current trend toward cultural and linguistic homogeneization is self-destructive, because through it we are losing the multiplicity of adaptive strategies, the culturally varied solutions to human problems that societies around the world have developed and expressed, largely through their languages. We need to foster realization that such processes are, in Mühlhäuslerís (1995a) words, increasing the likelihood we will all converge onto the same "cultural blind spots" and no longer be able to recognize maladaptive social trends and alter their course. To accomplish this is an enormous challenge for sure, but a challenge that needs to be met, and one that academics should have a major role in addressing.
 Another significant way in which linguistic and anthropological academic culture must change is by fully embracing the relevance of professional ethics and respect for the human rights and intellectual property rights of the people among whom we conduct research--especially the more vulnerable groups such as indigenous and minority peoples. Professional societies such as the American Anthropological Association and the Linguistic Society of America have been at work in recent times on revised codes of ethics and statements on human (including linguistic) rights. However, bolder action will be needed to bring these official documents more in line with fundamental concepts relevant to cultural and linguistic rights contained in international standards (from the very Universal Declaration of Human Rights to the International Convention for the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, the International Labor Organizationís Convention 169 on Indigenous and Tribal Peoples in Independent Countries, or the Articles of the Convention on Biological Diversity concerned with indigenous knowledge, to cite only a few; see Skutnabb-Kangas in press; Posey 1998). Linguists and anthropologists must also become fully familiar with the concepts enshrined in relevant international instruments still under development, such as the Draft UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (which deals extensively, among other issues, with cultural and linguistic rights) and the Draft Universal Declaration of Linguistic Rights (the first international document entirely devoted to linguistic rights). (See Posey 1998, Skutnabb-Kangas in press.)  In addition, members of our professions could, and should, play a crucial role in the further development and revision of those instruments that are still in draft form and in need of improvement, and thus could greatly benefit from expert input. However, discussions of these matters at the international level are proceeding largely outside the sphere of academic linguistics and anthropology, and these instruments are hardly household names within these disciplines. Nor is education on ethics and human rights, by and large, yet considered to be an essential part of linguistic and anthropological training. This must change. So much of what is involved at this level bears too closely on how we should (or should not), will (or will not) be able to do our research on indigenous and minority languages and cultures in the 21st century for us to just watch from afar, or squarely turn a blind eye.
 Concern with ethics and the rights of the populations we work with also bears in a major way on the use of the data we gather. Compliance with the norms of academic research requires publication and dissemination of research results. Yet there is growing awareness that this requirement needs at the very least to be weighed against respect for the intellectual property rights and heritage rights of the people from and about whom the data were gathered; and that in some cases it may even be in conflict with these peopleís right to privacy and be a source of cultural and social harm to them (Posey 1998, Maffi 1998b). We need to realize that, while there is no doubt that in every society on Earth ideas and information have a way of flowing freely from one person to the next, this is not necessarily to say that each society (or segment of society) will have developed the same concept of a "free-for-all" public domain as is taken for granted in mainstream Western societies--and which lies at the root of the above academic requirements (Maffi 1998b). In other words, it is not because the members of a given community will have chosen to share with us aspects of their knowledge or expressions of their language that they will necessarily expect, or wish, to see them made public according to our notion of the public domain. A clear example of the immediate relevance of such dilemmas is the current heated debate, in the U.S.A., about the implications for social science research of a proposed amendment to legislation governing federal grants. Previously, federal agencies could allow grantees to keep their raw data. The proposed change requires all data produced under federal grants to be made available to the public through Freedom of Information Act procedures. The potential of such radical extension of our notion of public domain for harming people among whom we may do research is fairly evident. Counter to this, it has been suggested that social science researchers may actually need to consider the application to their domain of work of a principle originally developed to address issues around potential health- and environment-related harms: the Precautionary Principle (Bannister and Barrett 1998). This principle states in essence that, when there is reason to believe a given course of action may result in significant harm, measures should be taken to prevent such harm, even if cause-and-effect relationships between action and result have not been scientifically proven. The proposed extension suggests that, if there is reason to anticipate that publication of given data may result in harm for the people who were the source of the data ("harm" being defined by the people themselves according to their own cultural criteria), either the research should not be carried out, or its results should not be disseminated through the usual academic channels (ibid.).
Why Bother at All? Some Good Reasons
 There is little doubt that to take all these and related issues into account is a major enterprise for linguists and other social scientists. There is also little doubt that it will require a profound reconsideration of how, as academics, we see ourselves and the way we do our work. There is even less doubt that to make these changes in how we work will necessitate radical reform in the academic funding and merit systems, so as to fully acknowledge the value of work done within, with, and for local communities (Bannister and Barrett 1998). Perhaps most radically, such changes imply confronting the idea that some research questions may better not be asked, or may be better asked outside academia (ibid.). These are momentous and difficult changes, yet they are needed changes, changes that our times demand. And they are not impossible changes, as long as we realize that research and action are not incompatible--that while the latter requires the former, the former is illuminated and enriched by the latter. As an anthropologist recently put it:
The division between knowledge and conveying or applying it is artificial; seminal knowledge is created through engagement with issues in the world and without such engagement at key junctures a discipline becomes inward-looking and archaic. (Peacock 1998: 2).
 Still, some may ask: why bother? Why bother to do research at all, if I have to go to so much trouble to train myself to perform tasks and do work in ways I am not used to, if I have to ensure I meet such high standards of ethics and human and other rights, if Iíll have to fight the system to get the research funded and academically recognized, if thereís even a chance that I may not be able to ask each and every question I may fancy asking? Why bother? Whatís in it for me?
 The first answer is that whatís in it for us is becoming better human beings: juster, wiser, more engaged, committed, considerate, respectful human beings. And that ought to mean a lot to all of us.
 The second answer--and one that presumably most of us wonít mind--is that whatís in it for us may even be becoming better scholars: asking more relevant questions, doing more relevant research, making our very disciplines more relevant to issues in the world (as the Peacock quote suggests). Both linguistics and anthropology could have much to gain from that.
 But how so?, some may again want to know. Letís then consider an example, just one of the many that might be brought to bear on this question--an example based on this writerís personal experience. It was mentioned above that current estimates of the number of extant oral languages on Earth put this figure at 6,000-7,000 oral languages. Such estimates are elaborated by linguists on the basis of (more or less!) agreed-upon structural criteria according to which it is deemed possible to determine what constitutes "a language"--as a (reasonably) discrete object distinct and distinguishable from other languages (as well as from variants of the language itself, called "dialects"). Of course every linguist knows that in practice nothing is quite so simple with this kind of classification--which helps explain the numerical discrepancies one finds in counts of the worldís languages (with totals as low as 5,000 or as high as 10,000 oral languages variously found in the literature). Still, the structural criteria are applied and conclusions are drawn. However, some linguists question whether linguistic research should rely chiefly on the notion of "given language(s)" or rather on that of forms of human communication and their interactions in a linguistic ecology (Mühlhäusler 1996). In this light, it is interesting to compare the reactions elicited from speakers of major languages, on the one hand, and speakers of indigenous and minority languages, on the other, when presented with the 6,000-7,000 languages figure for the worldís linguistic diversity. Almost invariably, the (mostly monolingual) speakers of major languages will ask: "That many?". (If this sounds surprising, one may consider the following: years ago, when this writer was a linguistics undergraduate studying the East African language Somali, a fellow student asked: "I hear youíre studying African?") On the other hand, the reaction repeatedly elicited from speakers of indigenous or minority languages has been: "So few?" Further questioning made it clear that these speakers were by no means thinking in terms of "given languages" (or dialects, or any other such structural entities), but rather in terms of forms of communication--idioms, perhaps, or simply "the way we speak": a social, cultural, pragmatic notion, not a structural one. Apparently, from the point of view of members of small linguistic communities thinking of other such communities around the world and their respective forms of speech, the 6,000-7,000 languages figure that seems so astronomical to speakers of highly institutionalized, standardized forms of speech such as the worldís major languages may seem very small indeed.
 The point here is not just to tell an anecdote, but to suggest that which concepts matter depends on who one is talking to and, more specifically, what kind of linguistic situation one is talking about. It is to suggest that, if we take the cue from members of small linguistic communities--the kind of communities those of us interested in language endangerment are most likely to work with--their way of thinking seems to point us much more in the direction of linguistic ecologies than that of structural notions of language. And that should give us pause as to what kind of perspective we ourselves may wish to take to make our work maximally relevant to understanding and analyzing, and ultimately supporting, linguistic diversity on the ground.
 The story of language diversification usually has it that languages diverge mostly due to mutual physical and/or social isolation of human populations--a process comparable to that of allopatric speciation in the genesis of biological species. Hunn (1998) even speculates that in a pre-state phase of human history one might have talked of distinct allopatric "cultural species"--certainly a condition that hardly subsists today. At present, Hunn suggests, human societies look more like a "single massive hybrid swarm". However, several elements are missing from this picture. First of all, we need to take into account that, historically, language diversification appears to have occurred also in the absence of mutual isolation (in a way similar to the sympatric speciation of biological species occupying different specialized niches within the same ecosystem). As previously mentioned, it appears that often a large number of small languages coexisted in high concentrations in the same areas (Hill 1998), with intergroup communication occurring via language continua, multilingualism, lingua francas, pidgins, and so forth. In many parts of the world this is still the case today, as with the Pacific region described by Mühlhäusler (1996). In such cases, Mühlhäusler suggests that language diversification and the perpetuation of this diversity may rather occur as a means for human populations to maintain distinctive identities for social and cultural reasons.  Secondly, while it may be true that, with population growth, ever increasing mobility, and the globalization of communications, humans are becoming a "single massive swarm", it is questionable whether we are indeed becoming a hybrid swarm. It seems fair to say that there is one particular form of culture (Western culture), and especially one particular variant of it (US culture), that is more likely than any other to be in contact with, and affect, all others. So the "swarm" we are becoming seems to tend less and less toward a genuine multicultural/multilingual hybrid, and more and more toward a uniform monocultural/monolingual agglomeration--if perhaps with a bit of chile here and a pinch of curry there to spice it up. (And, of course, there is nothing "natural" about this progressive cultural homogeneization and the growth of global languages like English, as some, e.g. Crystal 1997, would have it. Political and economic power drive these phenomena.)
 What we are losing in the process, as Mühlhäusler (1996) points out, is the linguistic ecologies that have sustained linguistic (and cultural) diversity in the history of humanity, the functional relationships developed in space and time among linguistic communities that communicate across language barriers. We are losing, he points out (Mühlhäusler 1995b: n.p.), "[t]he mechanisms that have kept complex linguistic ecologies functioning", mechanisms that are precisely those "a functioning multilingual and multicultural society will require" as a safeguard against converging onto the same "cultural blind spots". In considering the possible consequences of global languages and cultures taking over local ones, Hunn (1998) suggests an analogy with the ecological dichotomy between K-selected and r-selected species:
K-selected species are those whose populations have stabilized at or near their carrying capacity (K), which is a function of their stable role in a complex community of predators and prey. Presumably, such species have adopted a reproductive strategy that is "conservative," closely adjusted to the limits of their stable environmental niche. By contrast, r-selected species pursue a reproductive strategy limited only by "r," their maximal rate of population increase. Such species are well adapted for colonizing recently disturbed sites. They reproduce very rapidly in the absence of competition from the regional specialists that have been temporarily eliminated by the disturbance, but ultimately they will be replaced by these same K-selected specialists. The allegory of the race between the tortoise and the hare is apropos. Perhaps "tribal" cultures and languages, like the tortoise, will endure after the capitalist hare dozes off short of the finish line. (Hunn 1998, fn. 6)
Perhaps--and it would be poetic justice. But, again by analogy with ecology, do we know what levels of disturbance our linguistic (and cultural) ecologies may sustain and still be able to recover? How far do we want to go to find out? Here, too, the Precautionary Principle should apply.
 And, to go back to the anecdote above, the moral is that, if we actually made an effort to listen to what the members of small language communities may be trying to tell us--instead of going in thinking we already know whatís important--or if there were actually more indigenous linguists around to offer their own views on language (as one can hope will increasingly be the case), we might well find ourselves pointed toward issues whose relevance we had failed to consider. Linguistic description is still crucial. But our best efforts at traditional linguistic documentation may be in vain should we miss recognizing and understanding the ecological contexts in which forms of speech live--and asking ourselves what other forms of documentation, indeed what other kinds of work may be needed to support these ecologies.
 Biodiversity conservation organizations are increasingly shifting their focus from the protection of individual species toward that of entire ecosystems and species interactions--as well as toward acknowledgement of local communities, especially indigenous and other traditional peoples, as important agents and partners in conservation work, based on recognition that the erosion of biocultural diversity creates a coincidence of needs and interests between these peoples and conservationists (see e.g. IUCN/UNEP/WWF 1991). Likewise, linguistics and anthropology would benefit from an increasing move from the study (and protection) of individual languages and cultures to that of the ecological relations among human communities and their forms of communication, and to doing this work in true partnership with linguistic communities. And some of us think they would also benefit from taking an integrated perspective on all manifestations of diversity on Earth: linguistic, cultural and biological. 
Terralingua: Working for Linguistic, Cultural and Biological Diversity
 In 1996, a multidisciplinary group of like-minded individuals founded the international NGO Terralingua: Partnerships for Linguistic and Biological Diversity, with the aim of supporting linguistic diversity and linguistic and cultural rights, and of promoting understanding of the connections between linguistic, cultural and biological diversity (see Terralingua Statement of Purpose in Appendix 1). Terralinguaís strongly held view is that linguistic diversity is one of humanityís most precious treasures, and that for each human community language is a key element of their identity, dignity, cohesiveness, and well-being, the main carrier of their culture, knowledge, beliefs and practices, and one of the very foundations of self-determination and equal and peaceful dialogue with other groups. This view requires working to foster appreciation and support for linguistic and cultural diversity and respect for linguistic and cultural rights worldwide (Skutnabb-Kangas in press, Maffi, Skutnabb-Kangas and Andrianarivo in press).
 In addition, Terralingua believes that the ongoing loss of linguistic and cultural diversity on Earth is largely due to the same global economic, political, and social factors that are affecting biodiversity, and that these two "extinction crises" are convergent (Harmon 1996a, b), one reinforcing and being reinforced by the other. Conversely, the persistence of vigorous, thriving linguistic and cultural diversity around the world may afford us our best chance of countering biodiversity loss and keeping the planet alive and healthy (Maffi 1998a, c). It has in fact been argued that, for indigenous and other traditional peoples who still live in close contact with, and direct dependence on, the local ecosystems, their languages and the cultural knowledge they embody provide an "inextricable link" (Posey 1998, Maffi forthcoming), both material and spiritual, with the land and its biodiversity, traditionally promoting respect for and sustainable use of natural resources. Thus, Terralingua also strives to foster the integral continuity of all forms of diversity: linguistic, cultural and biological.
 Working at all these levels has required an intense program of research, information, education, and advocacy, and involvement in a wide range of activities and processes--all carried out with virtually no other means than volunteered time and energy. Terralinguaís research has shown significant overlaps between the worldís areas of biological megadiversity and areas of highest linguistic diversity, represented mostly by indigenous languages (Harmon 1996a), suggesting that the cultural and biological manifestations of the diversity of life on Earth are mutually supportive, perhaps coevolved (Maffi 1998a, c). Research activities have included the organization of the international working conference "Endangered Languages, Endangered Knowledge, Endangered Environments" (Berkeley, California, 1996), which sparked much of the current attention to the role of language in biocultural diversity conservation (see Maffi 1997, 1998c). United Nations agencies such as UNESCO and UNEP are now providing fora for discussion of this integrated approach (e.g., Maffi 1998a, Maffi, Skutnabb-Kangas and Andrianarivo in press). Terralingua is also currently collaborating with the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) on a project involving the identification of the indigenous and tribal peoples living in the ecoregions designated by WWF as priorities for conservation, so as to highlight the value of these peoplesí linguistically encoded traditional ecological knowledge for conservation efforts, and thus the importance of sustaining their cultural traditions. Collaboration is under discussion with the Smithsonian Institution concerning an initiative aimed at the integrated study of linguistic, cultural, biological, and geological diversity.
 Information, education, and advocacy activities have been intensive, through the Terralingua electronic network, newsletter and web site, publications, participation in and organization of workshops and seminars, consulting, letter-writing in defense of indigenous and minority peoplesí linguistic human rights and the right to linguistic self-determination, and so forth. A Terralingua document on "Indigenous Peoples: Education and Language" (mainly authored by T. Skutnabb-Kangas) was submitted in 1998 to the UN Centre for Human Rightsí Working Group on Indigenous Populations (WGIP), on the occasion of the 16th annual session of WGIP in Geneva.  Still in 1998, Terralingua participated in the first Roundtable on Intellectual Property and Indigenous Peoples, organized by the UN World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO) in Geneva, to advocate for protection of indigenous languages and traditional knowledge in the context of protection of indigenous peoplesí cultural heritage. In addition, through involvement in the Scientific Council in charge of advising UNESCO on revision of the Draft Universal Declaration on Linguistic Rights, Terralingua hopes to influence the development of this important human rights instrument. Also significant has been Terralinguaís involvement in activities related to the processes concerned with the implementation of the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) such as, again in 1998, the Workshop "The Interrelationships Between Cultural and Biological Diversity" at the Forum "Biodiversity: Treasures of the Worldís Forests" in Germany. A final statement containing a clear reference to the need to protect linguistic and cultural diversity along with biodiversity was handed over to the Chair of the Subsidiary Body for Scientific, Technical and Technological Advice (SBSTTA) to the CBD. A community workshop titled "Supporting cultural and environmental diversity through indigenous language development and protection of linguistic human rights" was given at a Maaori Wananga (Center for Higher Learning) in Aotearoa/New Zealand, on the occasion of the 6th International Congress of Ethnobiology in 1998. Future projects include a symposium bringing together academic and museum researchers and administrators, as well as representatives of funding institutions, to discuss changing needs and perspectives as concerns the relationships between science, applied work, and advocacy. 
 Terralingua can register significant progress in furthering the cause of linguistic diversity and linguistic and cultural rights locally and internationally, in promoting understanding of the connections between linguistic, cultural and biological diversity, and in advocating in a variety of fora for the integrated protection of the cultural and biological manifestations of the diversity of life on Earth. Importantly, many of the people for whom Terralingua seems to have made a difference are people at the grassroots. Some commented: "Just to know that an organization with these goals does exist fueled my energy to work with my people in defense of our language, our cultural traditions, our lands." Nevertheless, it certainly remains an uphill battle. The world continues to witness case after case of hostility and conflict in which linguistic and other cultural differences are seized upon as cover-ups for struggles over economic and political power, and/or in which linguistic and cultural rights are curtailed or denied under the pretext of fostering national unity. Over and over again, we also continue to witness the disruption and ultimate breakdown of viable human relationships with the environment. Yet, in their efforts, Terralingua members are sustained by one conviction: that engaged science is not lesser science. It is science for the 21st century.
 Acknowledgements
 Preparation of this paper was accomplished during tenure of a National Institutes of Health Individual National Research Service Award (fellowship no. MH11573-02) at Northwestern University. This support is gratefully acknowledged. My heartfelt thanks are also due to Dave Harmon and Mark Fettes for their careful and insightful reading of an earlier draft of this paper. I have incorporated most of their suggestions. Errors of fact or interpretation remain my responsibility.
References
Abram, D. 1997. The Spell of the Sensuous. New York: Vintage Books.
Adler, M.K. 1977. Welsh and the Other Dying Languages of Europe: A Sociolinguistic Study. Hamburg: Helmut Buske.
Bannister, K. and K. Barrett 1998. Weighing the proverbial "ounce of prevention" versus the "pound of cure": A role for the Precautionary Principle in Ethnobiological research. Paper presented at the 6th International Congress of Ethnobiology, Whakatane, Aotearoa/New Zealand, 23-28 November 1998.
Bernard, R. 1992. Preserving language diversity. Human Organization 51(1): 82-89.
Crystal, D. 1997. English as a Global Language. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Dixon, R.M.W. 1997. The Rise and Fall of Languages. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Dorian, N. 1981. Language Death: The Life Cycle of a Scottish Gaelic Dialect. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Dorian, N. (ed.) 1989. Investigating Obsolescence: Studies in Language Contraction and Death. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Dorian, N. 1993. A response to Ladefoged's other view of endangered languages. Language 69(3): 575-579.
Dressler, W. and R. Wodak-Leodolter (eds.) 1977. Language Death. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 12. The Hague: Mouton.
Edwards, J. 1994. Multilingualism. Routledge, London/New York.
EndLang 1999. Compilation of discussion thread on the Endangered Languages electronic list concerning the marketing of multimedia computer-aided language learning technology for language preservation and revitalization purposes. Available from the author of this paper upon request.
Fettes, M. in press. Indigenous education and the ecology of community. Language, Culture and Curriculum 11(3), 1998 (forthcoming 1999).
Gal, S. 1979. Language Shift: Social Determinants of Linguistic Change in Bilingual Austria. New York: Academic Press.
Hale, K. 1992. On endangered languages and the safeguarding of diversity. Language 68(1): 1-3.
Hale, K. et al. 1992. Endangered languages. Language 68(1): 1-42.
Harmon, D. 1995. The status of the world's languages as reported in Ethnologue. Southwest Journal of Linguistics 14: 1-33.
Harmon, D.1996a. Losing species, losing languages: Connections between biological and linguistic diversity. Southwest Journal of Linguistics 15: 89-108.
Harmon, D. 1996b. The converging extinction crisis: Defining terms and understanding trends in the loss of biological and cultural diversity. Paper presented at the colloquium "Losing Species, Languages, and Stories: Linking Cultural and Environmental Change in the Binational Southwest", Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, Tucson, AZ, April 1-3, 1996.
Heywood, V.H.(ed.) 1995. Global Biodiversity Assessment. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press. (Published for the United Nations Environment Programme.)
Hill, J.H. 1998. Dimensions of attrition in language death. In Maffi, L. (ed.), Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: The Interdependence of Biological and Cultural Diversity. Under review by Smithsonian Institution Press.
Hill, J.H. and K.C. Hill 1986. Speaking Mexicano: Dynamics of Syncretic Language in Central Mexico. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.
Hunn, E.S. 1998. Prospects for the persistence of "endemic" cultural systems of traditional environmental knowledge: A Zapotec example. In Maffi, L. (ed.), Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: The Interdependence of Biological and Cultural Diversity. Under review by Smithsonian Institution Press.
IUCN/UNEP/WWF 1991. Caring for the Earth: A Strategy for Sustainable Living. Gland, Switzerland: IUCN/UNEP/WWF.
Krauss, M. 1992. The world's languages in crisis. Language 68(1): 4-10.
Ladefoged, P. 1992. Another view of endangered languages. Language 68(4): 809-811.
Lord, N. 1996. Native tongues. Sierra 81(6): 46-69.
Maffi, L. 1997. Language, Knowledge and the Environment: Threats to the World's Biocultural Diversity. Anthropology Newsletter 38 (2): 11.
Maffi, L. 1998a. Language: A resource for nature. Nature and Resources: The UNESCO Journal on the Environment and Natural Resources Research 34(4): 12-21.
Maffi, L. 1998b. Language, Knowledge, and Indigenous Heritage Rights. In Maffi, L. (ed.), Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: The Interdependence of Biological and Cultural Diversity. Under review by Smithsonian Institution Press.
Maffi, L. (ed.) 1998c. Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: The Interdependence of Biological and Cultural Diversity. Under review by Smithsonian Institution Press.
Maffi, L. forthcoming. Linguistic and Biological Diversity: The Inextricable Link. To appear in R. Phillipson (ed.), Rights to Language: Equity, Power, and Education. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Maffi, L., T. Skutnabb-Kangas and J. Andrianarivo in press. Linguistic diversity. In Posey, D.A. (ed.), Cultural and Spiritual Values of Biodiversity. Intermediate Technologies/ Leiden University/United Nations Environment Programme.
Manriquez, L.F. 1998. Silent no more: California Indians reclaim their culture--and they invite you to listen. In Maffi, L. (ed.), Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: The Interdependence of Biological and Cultural Diversity. Under review by Smithsonian Institution Press.
Moore, D. 1998. A tape documentation project for native Brazilian languages. In Maffi, L. (ed.), Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: The Interdependence of Biological and Cultural Diversity. Under review by Smithsonian Institution Press.
Mühlhäusler, P. 1995a. The interdependence of linguistic and biological diversity. In The Politics of Multiculturalism in the Asia/Pacific, ed. by D. Myers. Pp. 154-161. Darwin, Australia: Northern Territory University Press.
Mühlhäusler, P. 1995b. The importance of studying small languages. The Digest of Australian Languages and Literacy Issues 13, May 1995: n.p.
Mühlhäusler, P. 1996. Linguistic Ecology: Language Change and Linguistic Imperialism in the Pacific Rim. Routledge, London.
Pattanayak, D.P. 1981. Multilingualism and Mother-Tongue Education. Oxford University Press, Delhi.
Peacock, J. 1998. Letter to Correspondence section. Anthropology Newsletter, October 1998: 2.
Posey, D.A. 1998. Biological and Cultural DiversityóThe Inextricable, Linked by Language and Politics. In Maffi, L. (ed.), Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: The Interdependence of Biological and Cultural Diversity. Under review by Smithsonian Institution Press.
Robb, John. 1993. A social prehistory of European languages. Antiquity 67:747-760.
Robins, R.H. and E.M. Uhlenbeck (eds.) 1991. Endangered Languages. Oxford: Berg.
Seifart, F. 1998. Situation of the indigenous languages of Colombia, especially Chimila. Ogmios 9: 8-10.
Skutnabb-Kangas, T. 1984. Bilingualism or Not: The Education of Minorities. Multilingual Matters, Clevedon, UK.
Skutnabb-Kangas, T. 1998. Linguistic human rights in education for language maintenance. In Maffi, L. (ed.), Language, Knowledge, and the Environment: The Interdependence of Biological and Cultural Diversity. Under review by Smithsonian Institution Press.
Skutnabb-Kangas, T. in press. Linguistic Genocide in Education - Or Worldwide Diversity and Human Rights? Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Sorensen, A.P., Jr. 1972. Multilingualism in the northwest Amazon. In Pride, J.B. and Holmes, J. (eds.), Sociolinguistics. 78-93. Penguin Books, Harmondsworth.
Wurm, S.A. 1991. Language death and disappearance: Causes and circumstances. In Robins, R.H. and E.M. Uhlenbeck (eds.), Endangered Languages. 1-18. Berg, Oxford.
Zent, S. 1999. The quandary of conserving ethnoecological knowledge: A Piaroa example. In Blount, B.G. and Gragson, T.S. (eds.), Ethnoecology: Knowledge, Resources and Rights. Pp. 90-124. Athens: University of Georgia Press.
 Appendix 1
Terralingua: Partnerships for Linguistic and Biological Diversity
Statement of Purpose

Terralingua: Partnerships for Linguistic and Biological Diversity is an international organization dedicated to:
1. Preserving the world's linguistic diversity, and
2. Exploring connections between cultural and biological diversity.

STATEMENT OF PURPOSE
A. Terralingua recognizes:

1. That the diversity of languages and their variant forms is a vital part of the world's cultural diversity;
2. That cultural diversity and biological diversity are not only related, but often inseparable; and
3. That, like biological species, many languages and their variant forms around the world are now faced with an extinction crisis whose magnitude may well prove very large.

B. Terralingua declares:

4. That every language, along with its variant forms, is inherently valuable and therefore worthy of being preserved and perpetuated, regardless of its political, demographic, or linguistic status;
5. That deciding which language to use, and for what purposes, is a basic human right inhering to members of the community of speakers now using the language or whose ancestors traditionally used it; and
6. That such usage decisions should be freely made in an atmosphere of tolerance and reciprocal respect for cultural distinctiveness--a condition that is a prerequisite for increased mutual understanding among the world's peoples and a recognition of our common humanity.

C. Therefore, Terralingua sets forth the following goals:

7. To help preserve and perpetuate the world's linguistic diversity in all its variant forms (languages, dialects, pidgins, creoles, sign languages, languages used in rituals, etc.) through research, programs of public education, advocacy, and community support.
8. To learn about languages and the knowledge they embody from the communities of speakers themselves, to encourage partnerships between community-based language/cultural groups and scientific/professional organizations who are interested in preserving cultural and biological diversity, and to support the right of communities of speakers to language self-determination.
9. To illuminate the connections between cultural and biological diversity by establishing working relationships with scientific/professional organizations and individuals who are.... (missing text near end)