
Written By Karyn Campbell
K. David Harrison, a man in the intrepid business of saving languages, took time from his world travels, his lectures, and appearances on Comedy Central to speak with Flaunt about his new book, The Last Speakers (National Geographic), reminding us residents of Los Angeles–a place where sustainability looks nothing short of challenging–that we may want to learn a little something about Chumash, the native tongue of this region. Though the Indiana Jones of linguistics does more surveying than relic rescuing, his mission to listen and record the messages of the last speakers of several indigenous languages around the world may be the holiest of all grails; his adventures unfold, after all, as our world grows hotter, the Internet dominantly spouts English, and we forget that most of human knowledge has never been written down.
“There’s no reason children can’t be bilingual,” Harrison, the fresh-faced eco-academic insists, “There are intellectual and psychological and health advantages to being bilingual.” The statement rings with a sincerity surely gathered on the road–singing with Tuvan reindeer hunters in the Siberian, exploring the remote villages of Paraguay, or studying why children elect to ditch Chamacoco for Spanish, even if they could potentially speak both. Harrison focuses on encouraging bilingualism in language hotspots (places on Earth with high language diversity and endangerment) through technology, hip hop and pop culture. His examinations of why children choose to be monolingual in hierarchal social systems reminds us all too much of the current state of education in our own country, which reinforces English-only Education.

Christina Yimasinant, of the Yimas people, a speaker of the endangered Karim language, Karawari region, Papua New Guinea. Photo by Chris Rainier

Nedmit, a speaker of the endangered Monchak language in
Mongolia, demonstrates to linguist K. David Harrison how to
make a horse hobble. Photo by Kelly J. Richardson
Harrison, in our interview and time and again in his book, makes clear the ecological importance of native languages. His work with Oregon-based non-profit, Living Tongues Institute, and his interviews with Native elders, seek to extract and understand these last speakers. They are perhaps last resources of direct knowledge about the natural environments modern society has developed upon. Harrison often sites the Alaskan Yupik people and their 99 words for sea ice, an age-old metaphor for the richness of language. But in this case its importance is less poetic than practical. The Yupik people have lived through change in their natural environment during the last century, an experience that most scientists cannot gather from ice samples. “We should probably care about what they know about it. We can save knowledge that could be the key to survival,” he shares, “People would be outraged if we tore down Notre Dame. But languages are much more ancient than anything we’ve built with our hands. They are monuments to human genius."

Monchaks of western Mongolia sing to goats while milking them.
Photo by Kelly J. Richardson
At present, Harrison journeys with a team of National Geographic-sponsored scientists and indigenous scholars, armed with open ears and the strong conviction that language loss will harm humans not just culturally, but environmentally. “Think about humanity’s intellectual diversity," he says, "and think about how we going to preserve our environment. These issues connect directly to the fate of small languages, to the success or detriment of all humans.“

Luis Kolisi, a speaker of the endangered Yokoim language
of Papua New Guinea. Photo by Chris Rainier
Harrison’s The Last Speakers–part-travel literature, part-science non-fiction–is penned with authority and dry humor about the people he meets on his way, those who hold secrets into the lore, the passions, and the survival techniques of the past, and perhaps, the future. Most importantly, he presents a Western audience with a valid argument as to why we should care about language diversity. The answer? “Think about this," he says slowly, "we don’t know where the next great idea is going to come from. If we all end up speaking one language, we’ve lost something. Think about what we might lose. What is genius worth?”

Linguist K. David Harrison working in Matugar village, Madang
province, Papua New Guinea, with Panau speakers John Agid
(left) and Hickey Willie (right). Panau is spoken by fewer than
500 people. Photo by Chris Rainier

Antonio Condori (left), with his son Illarion Ramos Condori (center), both Kallawaya healers,
talking with K. David Harrison (right) in Chary village, northern Bolivia, June 2007. Photo by
Gregory Anderson

Linguists K. David Harrison and Greg Anderson with Charlie
Mangulda, the last known Amurdag speaker, in Mount
Borradaile, Australia. Photo by Chris Rainier

Cyril Ninnal, of the Yek Nangu clan, relates the
Murrinh-Patha dreaming story of the headless man depicted
here in ancient rock art near Wadeye, Northern Territory,
Australia. Photo by K. David Harrison