“There is something furtive about the behavior of evangelicals in TESOL” (SLW & CALL)

“There is something furtive about the behavior of evangelicals in TESOL”

My title is taken from the observations of Bill Johnston (forthcoming), who went on to give his well-intentioned advice for evangelical teachers in the profession: "Stop hiding." The evidence for this supposed furtiveness is overwhelming: having our own specialist publishers for our books, our own journals, our own university training programs, and our own strand in the convention (in addition to CELT conferences and the caucus itself). Other critics have observed that we take to English language teaching only to convert students under the professional cover, and that we keep our identity hidden in classroom and schools in order to manipulate the curriculum and discussions for conversion purposes. They have labeled our modus operandi "stealth evangelism" (see Pennycook & Coutand-Marin, 2003). Johnston employed other terms to describe our mission: "off the radar screen," "separate," "secret," "concealment," "an element of hesitancy or even embarrassment," and an "unwillingness to show their face publicly" (Johnston, forthcoming, pp. 5-6). "All this produces," for our critics, "a sense that there is something systematic about the concealment of an alternative discourse" (Johnston, forthcoming, p. 6).

Let us first disentangle the less confusing aspects of this charge. That there are some misguided organizations that might exploit ELT for conversion purposes is well known and readily cited by our critics. Christian professionals oppose anyone who uses teaching for evangelization without any professional expertise or concern for students and local communities. Another misunderstanding to get out of the way is our production of books and journals with Christian publishers. Academic publishers are simply not interested in publishing work related to evangelical Christianity, especially if it doesn't display a good measure of scholarly cynicism toward the subject. They have to worry about making a profit in the scholarly market. Our critics are aware of such practical considerations even when they offer less flattering explanations for our use of specialist publishers: Pennycook (forthcoming) attributed this practice to "the anti-intellectualism of the movement. . . . They [evangelicals] publish in these presses not only to hide but because other presses would not publish their work" (p. 2).

But it is the other manifestations of our supposed furtiveness that I find difficult to reject. It is not difficult to argue that operating stealthily is morally and spiritually unacceptable for Christians. However, I can't also concede that all that my witness constitutes is wearing a label that says "Praise the Lord! I am an evangelical!" everywhere I go. For important scriptural reasons, our witness is more holistic, immanent, all pervading, and embedded than mere outward displays and pronouncements would allow. But, then, do our critics misunderstand this holistic witness for covert evangelization?

I understand the scriptural command to be the salt of the earth as a call to lose my identity, enter deeply into all social domains, and transform everything around me to be in line with Christian values. The fact that I don't want to draw attention to myself or to my evangelical identity is not because I want to work furtively. In fact, my mission is not fulfilled with a few well-chosen public acts or verbal pronouncements. It is often nonverbal, indirect, and ongoing. Witness of such kind goes beyond wearing a nametag everywhere that identifies my card-carrying evangelical status. Furthermore, in my immediate contexts of professional, social, and institutional life, observing the operative regulations and conventions as a good citizen is part of my Christian witness. I remember the advice by Paul and Peter to serve our masters as we serve God Himself (Eph 6:1-8; Col 3:22-25; 1 Pet 2:19-20). When I follow the institutional expectations that don't conflict with my spirituality, it is not because I want to keep my faith hidden. My faith is expressed in the way I perform my teaching effectively. Therefore, my professional activity is one form of my witness. This is not a front for the ulterior purpose of converting my students. Moreover, we should always think and act in a Christian way; witness is not treated as a separate activity that requires a distinct label. I remember Paul's encouragement to "let God transform you inwardly by a complete change of mind" (Rom 12:2). When this happens, we are not conscious of doing anything distinctively "Christian" in our everyday life. Everything we do is Christian—it's a way of thinking, a way of life; labels become irrelevant. All this follows from Christ's model of incarnation. We lose ourselves completely in the environment and society to regenerate everything from the inside. Rather than letting our values or identities stand out, we let them color and shape everything around us. Is this incarnational ministry something our critics confuse for stealth evangelism, a ploy to conduct covert conversion?

From a pragmatic consideration, bringing up my faith in any and every conversation is just a violation of basic sociolinguistic rules. In many communicative contexts, declaring my faith or flashing my evangelical label is intrusive. When my colleagues are engrossed in Vygotskyan theories of learning in a roundtable discussion, I don't intervene periodically to remind them of some basic evangelical tenets. That is simply a bad interactional move, proscribed by any model of conversational maxims, Gricean or others. If the previous utterances or turn-taking procedures do not warrant a move of such nature, I end up looking like a social misfit. Such an interjection can also violate the register and discourse norms at work in a conversation. So, when I am teaching postcolonial literature in the classroom, I don't stop the discussion periodically with "The evangelical point of view on this is. . . ." There is an academic and, more specifically, literary discourse operative in that setting. If necessary, I have to negotiate the place of other discourses, mindful of the dominant discourse in that communicative context. This is not to deny that everything I utter in those conversations is informed by an evangelical perspective. And, of course, there have been sublime moments in classrooms and scholarly gatherings when we have collectively traversed spiritual heights. However, in such moments, "God talk" was contextually relevant. It didn't violate any conversational maxims or discourse constraints because there was a question, topic shift, or turn that invited a spiritual contribution. Does openness mean, for our critics, making explicit our evangelical identity in every conversation and interaction? Does failing to do so constitute a stratagem for stealth evangelism?

As for the need to meet with like-minded people and enjoy times of in-group bonding, this is also both a scriptural and social need. We find Jesus withdrawing with His disciples to review their teaching and work periodically. We find them praying together and preparing themselves for service at other times. To be a close-knit body, connected to our divine roots and, thus, exemplifying a model community life is a scriptural injunction (Jn 15). Paradoxically, it is these moments of temporary withdrawal that energize us for radical and effective engagement with the world outside. Is this importance we give for fellowship mistaken for separation and secretiveness?

Even secular movements understand the need to meet together to build their vision and solidarity. It is widely known that the cell groups of Marxist and other revolutionary organizations are modeled after the house gatherings that constituted the early church. Despite suppression (or because of that), Christians found ways of gathering together to keep their faith alive. Such a need is always there, not only for minority movements in oppressive contexts. Even in a more democratic and pluralistic society, where all kinds of differences are freely accepted, the need for community isn't lost. Because engaging with diverse identities and values is stressful, people yearn to temporarily bond with like-minded others for sustenance. This need is articulated well by Mary Louise Pratt in her theorization of the contact zones in postmodern life where people from diverse ideologies and cultures must always interact. For Pratt, all of society is a contact zone. In such contexts, she sees the need for temporary withdrawal. Calling these sites "safe houses," she defines them as "social and intellectual spaces where groups can constitute themselves as horizontal, homogeneous, sovereign communities with high degrees of trust, shared understandings, and temporary protection from legacies of oppression" (Pratt, 1991, p. 40). Such safe houses, paradoxically, ensure social cohesion and invigorate diversity in the public contact zones.

We also mustn't underestimate the need for individuals to temporarily withdraw from public engagement to find their own identity and bearings. Establishing private spaces for reflection and clarity in order to develop one's difference is not antisocial behavior. In his brilliant study of institutional and organizational underlife, Goffman (1961) argued that this process is essential for the development of identity: "The practice of reserving something of oneself from the clutch of an institution. . . . [T]his recalcitrance is not an incidental mechanism of defence but rather an essential constitution of the self" (p. 319). Identities are formed, developed, and maintained in contrapuntal relationship with wider social groups and institutions.

My argument shouldn't be taken as a defense of caucuses in TESOL. Whether or not there is formal institutional recognition for caucuses, special interest groups in the profession will continue to meet—if necessary, informally, in coffee rooms and corridors —to develop their identity and vision. Nor should this practice be treated as dysfunctional for our health of the profession. From both scholarly discourses and scriptural precedent, we see that temporary withdrawal and spaces for in-group solidarity impel deeper social engagement. And there should be no confusion that evangelicals are shy of displaying their identity. My professional introduction on the department Web site at CUNY always stated that I was a voluntary staff worker and faculty advisor for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.

Perhaps we should propose a semantic shift and ask that our critics change their pejorative terms for a positive experience. Evangelical teachers are not being furtive, stealthy, deceptive, and separatist. They periodically bond together and recharge themselves in safe houses for a very social/public mission that is holistic, integrated, embedded, all pervading, deeply ingrained, transformative—in short, incarnational.

Having recently moved, Suresh Canagarajah is Kirby Professor in Language Learning in the Departments of Applied Linguistics and English at Pennsylvania State University at University Park. He edits the TESOL Quarterly and is a Bruce Cockburn fan.

References

Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums: Essays on the social situation of mental patients and other inmates. New York: Anchor.

Johnston, B. (forthcoming). Is dialogue possible?: Challenges to evangelicals and non-evangelicals in English language teaching. In M. S. Wong & S. Canagarajah (Eds.), Spiritual dimensions and professional dilemmas in English language teaching: Dialogues among critical practitioners. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum/Taylor & Francis Group.

Pennycook, A. (forthcoming). Is dialogue possible?: Anti-intellectualism, relativism, politics, and linguistic ideologies. In M. S. Wong & S. Canagarajah (Eds.), Spiritual dimensions and professional dilemmas in English language teaching: Dialogues among critical practitioners. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum/Taylor & Francis Group.

Pennycook, A., & Coutand-Marin, S. (2003). Teaching English as a missionary language (TEML). Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 24, 337-353.

Pratt, M. L. (1991). Arts of the contact zone. In Profession 91 (pp. 33-40). New York: Modern Language Association.

SLW & CALL October 2007 Volume 11 Number 3: Table of Contents