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THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST PROPOSITION 227: James Crawford
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| Return to top | The so-called "English for the Children" initiative signals a new phase of English-only activism, broader in its appeal and more direct in its assault on educational programs. Its lopsided victory in California shows that advocates for language-minority students have yet to develop an effective response. As the campaign to dismantle bilingual programs moves to other states, there is an opportunity to learn from mistakes made in opposing Proposition 227--in particular, the decision not to defend bilingual education or to explain its pedagogical rationale. Changing public attitudes and mobilizing grassroots support must be part of any successful strategy. |
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Californians decisively rejected bilingual education on June 2, 1998, approving a mandate for English-only instruction known as Proposition 227. The vote was so one-sided--61 to 39%--that it is difficult to say what, if anything, could have altered the outcome. Since the election, two viewpoints have emerged. One is that anti-immigrant sentiment among voters made this ballot campaign, like other English-only initiatives before it, virtually unstoppable.2 The other is that, armed with a different strategy, bilingual education advocates might have beaten back the assault. In this disagreement there is more at stake than a desire to apportion blame, or deny responsibility, for a disastrous defeat. The two viewpoints reflect conflicting analyses of why Proposition 227 passed, what it represents as a political phenomenon, and how advocates for language-minority students should respond. The implications of this argument extend well beyond California. A new wave of anti-bilingual activism is spreading to other states, school districts, and the U.S. Congress. Few would dispute that issues of demographic change--immigration, race, ethnicity, and languag--have preoccupied and often polarized Californians in the 1990s. Public schools have become a special point of concern. The enrollment of limited-English-proficient (LEP) children has more than doubled over the past decade, to 1.4 million; English learners now represent one-quarter of California's K-12 students and one-third of those entering the first grade (California Department of Education, 1998). This remarkable growth is due not only to rising immigration but also to higher birthrates in language-minority communities. Between 1990 and 1996, as the state's population increased by 2.6 million, nine out of ten of the new Californians were Latinos or Asians. These groups expanded to 29% and 11% of state residents, respectively, while African Americans held steady at 7% and non-Hispanic whites slipped to 53% (California Department of Finance,3 1998). Approaching minority status for the first time since the Gold Rush, many white Californians feel threatened by the impending shift in political power and resentful about paying taxes to benefit "other" people's children (Schrag, 1998). Still, in the June 1998 election, they accounted for 69%of the voters statewide, African Americans 14%, Latinos 1%, and Asians 3% (Los Angeles Times - CNN Poll,4 1998). Laurie Olsen (1998), a leader of the No on 227 campaign, argues that ethnic factors were key to the initiative's victory. From the outset, she reports, opinion research revealed "a reservoir of anger, distrust, and even hate focused on bilingual education, bilingual educators, and immigrants--particularly Spanish-speaking immigrants" (p. 4). Proposition 227 successfully exploited "a set of fears and beliefs of a voting California [that was] unrepresentative of the state--whiter, older, only 15% with children in public schools" (p. 7). A majority of this electorate expressed "the sense of Spanish ruining this country, the sense of our nation in threat. The sense that upholding English as the language of this nation is a stance of protecting a way of life--this outweighed every argument we could wage to try to defeat 227. This is what we were up against and still are" (p. 8). Such minds were closed to considering the case for bilingual education, Olsen concludes. "It's not just that they don't understand it--they don't like it" (p. 9). Other opponents of Proposition 227 acknowledge the role of nativist attitudes but question whether they motivated a majority of Californians who voted yes. Jim Shultz (1998), director of the Democracy Center in San Francisco, attributes its victory primarily to mistakes by the No on 227 campaign. In particular, he cites:
To assess the validity of these conflicting analyses, it is necessary to examine the public debate over Proposition 227, the role of the news media, the political agenda behind the initiative, and the responses of bilingual educators, researchers, and advocates.
| Return to top | The ballot initiative was conceived, financed, and directed by Ron Unz, a multimillionaire software developer and former Republican candidate for governor. He entitled it English for the Children, a brilliant stroke of packaging. Here was a goal that no one could dispute. Who wanted to vote against English, or against children? The label also established a false choice in voters' minds: either teach students the language of the country or give them bilingual education. Perhaps most important, it focused debate on practical issues of educational effectiveness, avoiding the inflammatory symbolism of earlier English-only campaigns and thereby broadening the initiative's appeal. Unlike previous English-only advocates, Unz made special efforts to "decouple" opposition to bilingual education from "anti-immigrant and anti-Latino views" (English for the Children, 1997a). He spurned the support of Governor Pete Wilson, a prime sponsor of Proposition 187, California's crackdown on undocumented immigration enacted in 1994--a measure that Unz had actively opposed. He picked fights with nativist groups and provoked them into opposing the initiative5. He filled campaign posts with Latinos and Asians, including Jaime Escalante, the legendary math teacher of Stand and Deliver fame, and Gloria Matta Tuchman, a first-grade teacher and candidate for state superintendent of public instruction.6 Rather than attack immigrants for speaking other languages, Unz campaigned in their communities for children's "right" to learn English. In short, he posed as their advocate against unresponsive schools. Unz claimed that Proposition 227 was inspired by a 1996 protest against bilingual education at the Ninth Street Elementary School in downtown Los Angeles. "Immigrant parents were forced to begin a public boycott," he alleged, "after the school administration refused to allow their children to be taught English. Enormous numbers of California schoolchildren today leave after years of schooling with limited spoken English and almost no ability to read or write English. We believe that the unity and prosperity our of society is [sic] gravely threatened by government efforts to prevent young immigrant children from learning English" (English for the Children, 1997b). What actually happened at Ninth Street was more complicated. The protest was orchestrated by Alice Callaghan, an Episcopal priest and community activist who ran a daycare center on which the boycotting parents depended; whether all of them participated freely in the protest remains a matter of dispute. Before pulling their children out of school, none of the parents had ever requested transfers to all-English instruction --an option that would have spared the students two weeks of disrupted schooling (Crawford, 1998a). Of course, if the matter had been resolved without a confrontation, it would have failed to generate the sensational headlines that the organizer had sought: "80 Students Stay Out of School in Latino Boycott . . . Bilingual Schooling Is Failing, Parents Say" (Pyle, 1996a, 1996b). Callaghan went on to play a leadership role in English for the Children. Unz and Callaghan's version of the Ninth Street story became a central myth of the campaign: that bilingual education was unpopular among the very groups it was intended to serve. This claim hardly seemed unreasonable when the first Los Angeles Times Poll (1997) on Proposition 227 reported that 84%of Latinos favored the measure; similar findings appeared throughout the campaign. In fact, 63%of Latinos voted against it on election day (Los Angeles Times - CNN Poll, 1998), but this revelation came too late to correct the voters' misimpression. It is likely that many Californians with no direct knowledge of bilingual education reasoned, "If the parents of children in these programs don't support them, why should I?" Why indeed? Californians of all backgrounds were dissatisfied with the public schools, following two decades of funding constraints that began with another ballot initiative, Proposition 13, a property-tax limitation adopted in 1978. From one of the most generous states in per-pupil spending, California had slumped to 41st place (Schrag, 1998). By the mid-1990s, students' reading and mathematics scores were among the lowest in the nation7--a trend that produced feverish media coverage and back-to-basics nostrums such as phonics instruction, mandated by state law in 1997. Unz exploited this general discontent as well as a special concern about immigrant students: Why were the schools so slow to teach them English? Why did it take English learners four or more years to enter the mainstream? Bilingual approaches are often counterintuitive, not only for members of the public, but also for the parents of English learners. Yet these were questions that school officials had rarely addressed. Meanwhile, the California Association for Bilingual Education (CABE) used its clout with Latino lawmakers to resist perennial calls for "reform." On several occasions, the state senate voted to give districts greater discretion in educating English learners, by relaxing a state mandate for native-language instruction, but each time these bipartisan bills met a roadblock in the Assembly. In the 1970s, a prescriptive law had been necessary to induce California school districts to try bilingual education.8 Now that many--if not all--districts had become supporters of the program, it is unclear whether lifting the mandate would have had a significant pedagogical impact. It is almost certain, however, that a compromise would have lessened the political pressure for more radical changes. It would also have clarified the threat of Proposition 227 to local control of the curriculum. Nevertheless, CABE held out for stronger accountability provisions in the bill--requiring schools to document student progress in nonbilingual programs--which the sponsors were unwilling to accept. So, in September 1997, CABE's allies again killed the proposal in the Assembly Education Committee.9 Educators' failure to respond to legitimate concerns about bilingual programs, combined with their backroom deal-making in Sacramento, contributed to an image of bureaucratic arrogance and intransigence--an easy target for Ron Unz. He modeled his campaign along the populist lines typical of most ballot initiatives: mad-as-hell voters versus a system "completely gridlocked" by special interests (English for the Children, 1997a). In particular, Unz (1997) demonized bilingual educators as "profiteers" who were "financially rewarded for not teaching English" with "as much as $1 billion" in annual subsidies.10 Framing the issues Unz's attack strategy proved appealing to the news media, which gave massive coverage to Proposition 227 as compared with other ballot initiatives and primary races. More than 600 newspaper articles (not to mention countless radio and television broadcasts) appeared on the anti-bilingual initiative in the six months before election day.11 Most of these reports featured inflammatory charges by Ron Unz, rarely accompanied by effective counter-arguments. By and large, the press defined the debate as Unz did: not "How can programs for English learners be improved?" or "Do school districts need greater flexibility in teaching these students?" but "Should bilingual education be eliminated in favor of intensive English instruction?" This way of framing the issue--as a misleading either/or decision--clearly benefited the Yes on 227 campaign. Moreover, it cast opponents in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable role: defenders of the status quo. Media bias is a complex phenomenon--reflecting various external influences, internal workings of the "news business," and the culture of journalism (Ryan, 1991). All of these sources contributed to the distorted and unbalanced coverage of Proposition 227. While a thorough analysis is beyond the scope of this paper,12 several related factors deserve mention:
Making the case To indict the "current system," Unz seized on a misleading figure from the California Department of Education. Since the early 1990s, about 5 to 7% of LEP students had been "redesignated" as fluent in English each year. He dubbed this the "95% annual failure rate" (English for the Children, 1997b)--a memorable sound-bite that was circulated widely by journalists. Seldom was it noted that, owing to an estimated shortage of 27,000 bilingual teachers, less than 30% of California's English learners were enrolled in bilingual classrooms and only 20% were taught by fully certified instructors (Gold, 1997; California Department of Education, 1998). If programs were indeed "failing," it was more logical to blame English-only methodologies.15 Nor did the news media ask many questions about Unz's one-year standard for English acquisition, despite its lack of scientific support. A considerable body of research shows that, on average, academic proficiency in a second language takes four to seven years to develop (Collier & Thomas, 1989). In a longitudinal study comparing well-implemented program models, Ramírez et al. (1991) found that, after one year, only 4% of English learners in "structured immersion," 12% of those in "late-exit" bilingual education, and 13% of those in early-exit bilingual education had become fluent in English. Yet, such findings were rarely cited in the public debate over Proposition 227. Researchers' explanations of program effects were complex and often unsatisfying to journalists looking for "bottom line" conclusions. A report by the National Research Council (August & Hakuta, 1997) did little to clarify matters. It criticized the "extreme politicization" of evaluation studies in bilingual education and pronounced them inconclusive on which approach is most effective for LEP students (p. 138). Several commentators took this to mean that all research in the field was "worthless" as a guide to policymaking (e.g., Rodríguez, 1997). Meanwhile, the news media largely ignored a significant study that appeared during the campaign. In a meta-analysis of the research literature, Greene (1998) reported a small but significant edge for bilingual pedagogies. (If anything, this review underestimated their benefits; see Krashen, 1998). With characteristic pragmatism, journalists continued to ask, in effect: "If bilingual education works, why are so many Latinos faring poorly in school?" With limited scientific data on outcomes, it was a difficult question to answer. "Redesignation rates" remained--despite their flaws--the California Department of Education's only "objective" gauge for measuring the progress of English learners. School districts also lacked much hard evidence to counter the "95% failure rate." Certainly they had nothing so dramatic to support the effectiveness of bilingual programs. With some exceptions, such as San Francisco and Calexico, districts offered little response to Unz's charges and rarely tried to showcase exemplary schools. The No on 227 campaign refused to discuss the pedagogical effectiveness issues at all (see below). Left unchallenged, the "failure" of bilingual education thus became part of the conventional wisdom, espoused even by editorial writers and Democratic politicians who opposed Proposition 227 as overly extreme (e.g., Sacramento Bee, 1998; Davis, 1998). Unz's remedy was indeed radical: a statewide mandate for "sheltered English immersion . . . not normally intended to exceed one year," after which LEP students would be transferred to mainstream classrooms. Parents could still request bilingual instruction, but for children under age 10, such "waivers" would be restricted to those with "special physical, emotional, psychological, or educational needs." Educators who "willfully and repeatedly" violated the law requiring them to teach "overwhelmingly in English" could be sued and "held personally liable" for financial damages. None of these provisions could be repealed or amended without a two-thirds vote of the legislature and the governor's signature, or another ballot initiative (English Language in Public Schools, 1998). In sum, Proposition 227 would impose an unproven pedagogy, limit "local flexibility," restrict parental choice, and punish educators who resisted. Barring a successful challenge in court, it would be virtually written in stone.16 Nevertheless, the pros and cons of bilingual education--not of the initiative itself--commanded center stage throughout the campaign. Because Unz avoided nativist appeals and targeted pedagogical issues, few commentators saw the initiative as an attack on ethnic minorities. Rather, they portrayed it as a choice between a "depressing status quo," "the dismal experiment known as bilingual education," and "a meat-ax, 'one-size-fits-all' approach to a complicated issue," "a blunt instrument" requiring schools to stress English (New York Times, 1998; Stockton Record, 1998; San Francisco Chronicle, 1998, Contra Costa Times, 1998). Most voters opted for the latter. Deciphering the vote Californians were clearly expressing their frustration. But why? Were they mainly fed up with immigration and its social costs? Or were they worried about the life chances of schoolchildren who failed to learn English? On the basis of limited evidence, many seemed willing to believe the worst about bilingual education and bilingual educators ? which suggests at least a subliminal ethnic bias (Crawford, 1998b). Yet media coverage of the campaign rarely offered much evidence to challenge such perceptions, denying voters the information they needed to make an unbiased decision (Crawford, 1998c). Few opinion surveys are very helpful in sorting out supporters' motives. Pollsters generally characterized the initiative as an intensive approach to the teaching of English, while downplaying its extreme provisions; most surveys registered overwhelming support among all sectors of the electorate.17 One exception was a Los Angeles Times Poll (1998) that probed more deeply into attitudes toward bilingual education and the stated reasons for supporting or opposing Proposition 227. It reported that 72% of likely yes voters explained their preference by saying: "If you live in America you need to speak English." Of course, this statement is subject to various interpretations. It may convey either a resentment toward immigrants who speak other languages or a genuine concern for their social and economic advancement. Or both. Like other ethnically charged issues, bilingual education can generate conflicting feelings. No doubt many Californians do feel threatened by the cultural transformation of their communities. For some, the pervasiveness of Spanish or Chinese has come to symbolize a range of unsettling changes brought on by immigration, leading them to support English-only measures (Crawford, 1992). Such reactions may increase voters' impatience to teach English to LEP children, as well as skepticism toward approaches that seem to delay the process. Yet one need not resent language minorities to worry about their progress toward integration and self-sufficiency, or to wonder about school programs that segregate their children for extended periods. Immigrants also worry about questions of assimilation, and they do not always agree among themselves, as their history in this country attests (see, e.g.,Kloss, 1998 on German Americans). No doubt some voters rejected bilingual education out of ethnic animus. Other than focus-group anecdotes, however, there is a dearth of evidence to support Olsen's (1998) contention that a majority of Californians did so. Unlike the debate over Proposition 187 four years earlier, the 1998 campaign rhetoric featured no direct assaults on immigrants. Significantly, only 12% of likely voters who opposed Proposition 227 perceived it as racist or believed that it "discriminates against non-English-speaking students" (Los Angeles Times Poll, 1998). Poll findings also suggest that many supporters of the initiative were ambivalent about its restrictions. Or perhaps they simply failed to read the fine print. A poll by Spanish-language media in Los Angeles found that 68% of Latino parents favored bilingual education, including 88% of those with children in bilingual programs; yet 43% also expressed support for Proposition 227 (Rivera, 1998). Another survey found all voters evenly divided on whether to impose "one uniform standard in California for teaching children with limited English skills" or to give local districts "more flexibility to choose the method they think is best." Meanwhile, 61% favored at least "a year or two" of bilingual instruction (Los Angeles Times Poll, 1998). Yet, on election day, 61% approved an initiative to override local option and dismantle bilingual programs. If the voters were so perplexed or conflicted about the initiative and its likely impact, one might reasonably question the effectiveness of No on 227 campaign. Before reviewing its strategy and organizing efforts, however, it is helpful to analyze what it was up against: a more sophisticated version of English-only politics than Californians had seen before. Language Restrictionism of a New Type | Return to top | Prior to Ron Unz, English-only advocates had hesitated to stage a frontal assault on bilingual education. Instead, they focused their legislative efforts on declaring English the official language of various states and the federal government. U.S. English had long complained about bilingual education in its advertising campaigns, funded academic critics of the program, and supported "local flexibility" in the education of LEP students (1991). Yet its official-English proposals always exempted bilingual education from restrictions on the use of other languages.18 Congressional sponsors of H.R. 123, the so-called "English Language Empowerment Act of 1996," also took pains to emphasize that it would have no effect on "the teaching of languages." As passed by the House of Representatives, the bill declared English the sole official language of the U.S. government and banned most federal publications in other tongues, such as social security information, income tax forms, tourist brochures, and voting materials. Because of Senate inaction, the measure died in the 104th Congress. Had it become law, H.R. 123 would have impeded access to government for anyone whose English was limited, a chilling precedent for minority language rights (Chen, 1995). As a practical matter, however, the Government Printing Office already published 99.94% of its materials in English (General Accounting Office, 1995). Thus the impact of H.R. 123 would have been minimal, affecting relatively few people who needed language assistance. It was the principle of language restrictionism that stimulated interest on both sides. The English-only debate has been a largely symbolic one, a conflict over the impact of immigration and demographic diversity. The magnitude of public spending to accommodate non-English speakers--usually quite small--is rarely at issue. Rather, it is the idea of such expenditures that strikes English-only proponents as "un-American." Immigrants should be grateful to be here, the reasoning goes. They should show their respect for this country by adapting to our ways, rather than demanding that we adapt to theirs. Why should newcomers be able to file their tax returns or take a driver's test in their native language? What kind of "message" does that send about the responsibilities of citizenship? According to this mindset, offering bilingual services today seems terribly "unfair" to the memory of immigrant ancestors who struggled to learn English without special help.19 In sum, the English-only movement is a classic case of status anxieties expressed through the politics of language (Fishman, 1992). Enthusiasm for the cause waxes and wanes depending on social, political, and economic trends far removed from language itself. With the rise of anti-immigrant fervor in the 1990s, English-only politics turned sharply partisan. House Republicans, who came to power on the same day that Californians adopted Proposition 187, sought to exploit the public mood. They portrayed "bilingualism" as a menace to national unity, arguing that English needed "legal protection" to preserve Americans' most important "common bond." Celebrating a marriage of convenience between English-only and "free-market" ideologies, they insisted that banning bilingual services would "empower" immigrants by motivating them to learn English, the "language of opportunity." For their part, Democrats condemned H.R. 123 as divisive, mean-spirited, and potentially unconstitutional in its restrictions on civil rights (Congressional Record, 1996). The bill passed, 259 to 167, largely along party lines. House Speaker Newt Gingrich took a special interest in the measure, asserting that English was "at the heart of our civilization," whereas language diversity could lead to its "decay" (p. H9768). More to the point, in closed meetings of the Republican caucus, he predicted that H.R. 123 would boost his party's chances in the 1996 election; the Speaker urged colleagues to stress it in their campaigns. In most Congressional races, however, the language issue appeared to generate limited interest, except to further alienate Latino and Asian voters already offended by Republicans' "get tough" proposals on immigration. English-only fervor quickly cooled on Capitol Hill. Although H.R. 123 was reintroduced in the 105th Congress, Gingrich never scheduled a vote on the bill. At first impression, the idea of official English had seemed innocuous to most Anglo-Americans. Within six months after Californians passed such a ballot initiative in 1986, similar legislation was considered by 37 other states (Crawford, 1987). Most of these bills appeared to be ceremonial gestures reaffirming the importance of English. Gradually, however, the public has learned there is more at stake. Although the proposed restrictions on other languages are often trivial in practice, they have come to symbolize nativist intolerance. English-only measures are deeply offensive to ethnic minorities--immigrant and otherwise--who feel their patriotism is being impugned and their culture denigrated. And to what end? Advocates have failed to make a convincing case that the dominance of English is "threatened" in the United States. by a handful of transitional services in other languages. Nor have they been able to explain how enacting gratuitous insults toward minority groups will somehow "unite" the country. For these reasons, the heyday of the traditional English-only movement may have passed. Such organizations continue to raise millions each year, to promote their message widely, and to win occasional victories for official English at the state level. Yet their program is increasingly irrelevant to the major currents of American politics. As the anti-bilingual education campaign unfolded in California, U.S. English and English First focused their efforts in Congress, opposing legislation that might have some day created a Spanish-speaking state of Puerto Rico.20 They played no role whatsoever in the passage of Proposition 227. Ron Unz neither needed nor wanted help from the established English-only lobbies. With deep pockets of his own, he saw no reason to share leadership with these forces in exchange for campaign funding. Privately he expressed disdain for their narrowness and amateurism. Most important, he strived to disassociate English for the Children from their nativist image. Neoconservative strategy For John Tanton (1986), the founder of U.S. English, language restrictionism21 was a way to organize the backlash against ethnic diversity. Focusing on "bilingualism" served to highlight the "Latin onslaught" and its cultural impact, thereby advancing the cause of immigration restrictionism. For Ron Unz (1994), the assault on bilingual education served a broader, neoconservative agenda. His ultimate objective was to "roll back our well-intentioned but failed welfare state" (p. 38)--that is, to dismantle the social programs and civil rights reforms of the 1960s. Attacking native-language schooling also provided an opportunity to attack some favorite villains of the Right: ivory-tower academics, teachers' unions, civil-rights advocates, ethnic politicians, and of course, the dreaded "education establishment." As far as Unz was concerned, this was a campaign that Latinos were welcome to join; indeed, enlisting their support was among his strategic goals. Following his loss to Governor Wilson in the 1994 Republican primary, he warned that certain members of the party (e.g., his rival) were exploiting nativism for "momentary political gain." By ignoring demographic trends, they were "sacrificing the long-term future of their party--and of America itself " (1994, p. 37). After all, it would be difficult to build a Republican majority while continuing to bash fast-growing minorities in key states. Latinos, for example, are projected to represent two out of five voters in California and Texas by the year 2025, one out of four in Florida, and one out of five in New York (Balz, 1998). Unz argued that "most Hispanics are classic blue-collar Reagan Democrats" whose views on social issues like abortion draw them toward conservatism, while Asians are a privileged stratum "much like Jews . . . but without the liberal guilt." He portrayed both groups as "natural constituencies" for Republicans. Thus the party should seek "to unite rather than divide conservative natives and immigrants" by stressing "core policies" such as free markets and limited government. Conversely, it should oppose "divisive" programs like affirmative action and bilingual education in the name of "individual liberty, community spirit, and personal self-reliance." In other words, conservatives should be both "pro-immigrant" and pro-assimilation (1994, pp. 35-38). Unz could therefore maintain ideological consistency while:
Unz's initiative provided the first test of his ideas for conservative coalition-building: Could the fears of English speakers be assuaged without alienating too many language minorities? Was "opportunity through assimilation" an idea that could be sold to immigrants and natives alike? Would it be credible to attack bilingual education on behalf of those it was designed to benefit? The results were mixed. Unz fell far short of the 80 to 90% support among Latinos that he predicted at the outset of his campaign (Humphrey, 1997); in the June primary they opposed the initiative by nearly 2 to 1 (Los Angeles Times--CNN Poll, 1998). His dreams of a political realignment in California looked even more outlandish, as ethnic minorities turned out in record numbers to back Democratic candidates in November 1998. Clearly, immigrants and their descendants continued to associate the Republican Party with the nativist elements it had courted in recent years. Nevertheless, judging by the vote on Proposition 227, Unz's short-term strategy had a wide appeal among Californians. The initiative passed easily, despite a disproportionate turnout of liberal and Democratic voters, who defeated other conservative ballot measures.22 Ethnic opposition was considerably weaker than it had been over Proposition 187 four years earlier: 37% of Latinos and 57% of Asians voted for the anti-bilingual initiative (Los Angeles Times - CNN Poll, 1998),23 versus 23% of Latinos and 47% of Asians for the anti-immigrant initiative (Los Angeles Times Poll, 1994). In other words, attacking bilingual education did not result in the polarization than many had expected. Evidence is fragmentary on which language-minority voters supported Proposition 227 and why. Opinion polls indicate, however, that its popularity among all voters was closely correlated with economic status. Respondents with annual household incomes over $60,000 were more than twice as likely to oppose bilingual education as those with incomes below $20,000 (Pinkerton, 1998). Among Latinos, the vote was close in middle-class communities like Montebello, while the initiative lost by nearly 3 to 1 in working-class Huntington Park (Pyle et al., 1998). A poll of Chinese Americans in San Francisco--a less affluent Asian community, where most respondents preferred to be surveyed in Cantonese or Mandarin--found that 73% planned to vote no (Chao, 1998). Thus the available data suggest that recent immigrants with children in bilingual education were far more likely to oppose Proposition 227. It appears that Unz's arguments had more resonance for higher-income, English-proficient Asians and Latinos. Letters to the editor during the campaign provide anecdotal evidence on the attitudes of immigrant professionals. Citing their own experiences, assimilated language minorities argued that being "forced to join the mainstream" and being required "to learn English as quickly as possible" were keys to success in the United States (Sanchez, 1998; Yi, 1998). For many, class tended to take precedence over ethnicity as a prism for viewing the issue. Having limited contact with current programs for English learners, they formed opinions largely on the basis of media accounts. In short, they seemed to approach Proposition 227 not very differently from affluent Anglos. And they rendered the same verdict on bilingual education: guilty as charged. The outcome might have been different, however, if the program's advocates had mounted a defense. | Return to top | By the time the initiative's opponents got organized in November 1997, they were trailing by more than 4 to 1 among registered voters (Los Angeles Times Poll, 1997). Ron Unz had been circulating ballot petitions for more than four months, receiving extensive media coverage and encountering no organized response from the advocates of bilingual education. Failing to answer such attacks was hardly a new phenomenon; nor was it limited to California. Years of inattention to the program's public image had left numerous misconceptions unchallenged. Journalists, echoing the conventional wisdom, were skeptical of research findings favorable to bilingual pedagogies (McQuillan & Tse, 1996). Opinion surveys usually found that the idea of intensive English instruction was popular in immigrant communities. Latino politicians, impressed by the early polls on Proposition 227, were reluctant to speak out against it. Meanwhile, other Democrats expressed impatience with the California Association for Bilingual Education for opposing compromise legislation; they, too, remained largely silent about the initiative.24 Isolated and misunderstood, bilingual educators reached out to allies in California's education, civil rights, and immigrant advocacy communities, who recognized the extreme nature of Unz's proposal. These forces came together to form Citizens for an Educated America, the official No on 227 organization. With initial funding from the California Association for Bilingual Education (CABE) and the California Teachers Association (CTA), they conducted polls and focus groups while seeking professional advice from political and media consultants. For No on 227, the immediate task was developing a strategy for the underdog campaign. Based on their analysis of the electorate, the consultants offered the following recommendations:
This last recommendation came as a shock to many bilingual educators and researchers. How could they fail to respond to falsehoods about their profession or stand by silently while ideologues maligned programs that benefited LEP children? Some advocates viewed the Proposition 227 debate as an excellent opportunity to educate the public about second-language acquisition (Stephen Krashen, personal communication). They also worried that refusing to challenge Unz's charges would be seen as conceding their validity. Ultimately, however, the leaders of Citizens and its organizational sponsors accepted the consultants' advice.25 They came to believe that not discussing bilingual education offered the best hope of saving it. The "Don't Defend" strategy was then sold to CABE members and to bilingual directors throughout the state, who were counseled not to respond to attacks on their programs. Activists, including those working in language-minority communities, were urged to highlight what was wrong with Proposition 227, not what was right with bilingual education. "Put aside your personal feelings," they were told, in effect. "Trust the professionals to run this campaign." Many advocates did so; others worked independently of Citizens.26 Grassroots efforts sprouted throughout the state, but they received limited support or coordination from the campaign apparatus, except for those that involved fundraising (Campbell, 1998). To represent its views, No on 227 hired spokespersons with no background in bilingual education. Whenever the subject came up in public debates or media interviews, they sought to redirect the discussion, saying: "Bilingual education is not on the ballot in June. What is on the ballot is Ron Unz's very specific proposal for California's school children. . . . I'll be happy to discuss the merits of different bilingual education programs on June 3 [the day after the election]--assuming the Ron Unz Initiative fails and we can still have a meaningful conversation" (Citizens for an Educated America, 1998b, p. 1; emphasis in original). Based on its private polling, Citizens singled out various features of Proposition 227 for criticism. Initially, it stressed provisions that allowed children to be mixed by age and grade for English instruction; that restricted special help to 180 days; and that made teachers vulnerable to lawsuits and personal financial penalties for violating the English-only mandate. None of these issues seemed to capture the public's attention. So, in the campaign's late stages, a new target was selected: the initiative's $50 million annual appropriation to teach English to adults who would agree to tutor children in the language. Clearly, Unz had inserted this provision to bolster his "pro-immigrant" image; it was hardly the most promising way to serve LEP students. Nevertheless, it resembled the federal Family English Literacy program,27 which bilingual educators had long supported. The proposed funding was relatively modest--about one-sixth of one percent of California's education budget--and it addressed a real need. Citizens determined, however, that diverting funds from K-12 schools to benefit adult immigrants was unpopular with many Californians. So attacking the idea became the centerpiece of its multi-million-dollar advertising blitz (Citizens for an Educated America, 1998c). This position required an about-face for the coalition opposing Unz. Over the past decade, several of its members had lobbied to remedy the chronic shortage of adult English classes, exposing the hypocrisy of English-only advocates who declined to support additional funding. Now it was the No on 227 campaign that appeared hypocritical. Meanwhile, the news media did not stop reporting on the charges against bilingual education--only effective responses to those charges. Some journalists did seek to balance their accounts with the opinions of bilingual educators and researchers who acted independently of the No campaign. Parents and teachers sought to publicize local success stories for bilingual education--two-way, or dual immersion, programs in particular. Local organizers rallied supporters through demonstrations and candle-light marches. Yet these individual advocates spoke with many voices, delivering diverse messages. They had little success in discrediting the claims of Ron Unz and his allies, which continued to dominate the news. Citizens had limited success in focusing attention on the initiative itself, or in generating media coverage of any kind. Its attack on the $50 million adult English provision never became a central issue for voters, except perhaps for anti-immigrant extremists. Meanwhile, there were principled reasons for Californians who were skeptical about bilingual education to oppose Proposition 227--notably, its severe restrictions on parental choice and local control in educating English learners. Yet No on 227 never stressed these features of the initiative, which in a different kind of campaign might have been decisive. No matter that Citizens outspent English for the Children by nearly 5 to 1.28 Yes on 227 had no need to run television ads because it received such favorable "free media" attention. Naturally Unz (1998) cited the "Don't Defend" strategy as evidence that bilingual education was indefensible. It is hard to fault most Californians for believing him, because few heard the other side. No on 227 began with the premise that voters' minds were closed to considering the merits of bilingual programs. So, rather than engage them in discussion on the issue, the campaign sought to distract them with diversionary gimmicks. Instead of appealing to their sense of fairness, it pandered to their nativism and parsimony. When the strategy failed, many bilingual education advocates concluded the electorate was so bigoted that their cause had been hopeless from the start. With its defeatist approach, however, Citizens failed to put this hypothesis to any logical test. Whether Californians could have been convinced to support bilingual education--or at least resolve to "mend it, don't end it"--is impossible to say. No on 227 never tried. | Return to top | The victory of Proposition 227 raises painful but inescapable questions for bilingual educators throughout the United States:
Few advocates for language-minority students in the United States are any better prepared to answer these questions today than their colleagues were in California. Yet the questions are increasingly urgent. Shortly after passage of Proposition 227, the U.S. House of Representatives approved legislation that would have curtailed federal grants for bilingual education, turned the funding over to states, restricted enforcement of civil rights laws for LEP students, and limited all programs for English learners to two years.29 Meanwhile, Ron Unz began to export his anti-bilingual ballot campaign to other states. Some bilingual education advocates--for example, in Arizona--have responded with serious organizing drives of their own. Yet such efforts remain the exception. Despite stereotypes to the contrary, many bilingual educators express an aversion to politics. Thus they rarely get around to discussing survival strategies in any systematic way. What is to be done? One answer is offered by an expert panel of the National Research Council (August & Hakuta, 1997), which argues for depoliticizing the discussion of how to serve English learners. It accuses advocates on both sides of polarizing matters by slanting research findings and focusing narrowly on language of instruction, to the exclusion of other variables. Both bilingual and English-only approaches have proved beneficial, the NRC's review of the literature concludes, so "there is little value" in continuing to debate their relative merits. "The key issue is not finding a program that works for all children and all localities, but rather finding a set of program components that works for the children in the community of interest, given that community's goals, demographics, and resources" (p. 138). In effect, the report calls for a cease-fire in the political battles over bilingual education, freeing researchers and practitioners to make decisions strictly on their pedagogical merits. This solution has understandable appeal for professionals who would like to shield their work from politics--and from charges of political influence. It fails, however, to address the reality of politicization: a concerted assault on bilingual education, originating in the English-only movement of the 1980s and intensifying under the leadership of neoconservatives in the late 1990s. Ideological rather than pedagogical concerns have driven the opposition--which helps to explain why the policy debate has become so polarized. Blaming "both sides" for this state of affairs portrays a false symmetry, to say the least. However stubbornly they may champion their favorite programs, bilingual educators and researchers have no political agenda (hidden or otherwise) to advance outside the schools. Nor do they receive financial support from those who do. Rarely do they make inflammatory statements for the news media or write polemics for mass-circulation magazines. To the extent they have participated in politics, almost invariably they have acted out of professional, not ideological, commitments. By contrast, the academic critics of bilingual education seem to have few qualms about political activism or close ties to English-only lobbies. The READ Institute, founded by Keith Baker and now directed by Rosalie Porter, has received large "research" grants from U.S. English and its benefactors (Crawford, 1999). Christine Rossell serves, along with Ron Unz, as an adviser to the so-called Center for Equal Opportunity, a group formed by Linda Chávez to combat affirmative action and multiculturalism. This organization sued the Albuquerque Public Schools in 1998 demanding an end to native-language instruction, enlisting Porter and Rossell as "expert witnesses." During the Proposition 227 campaign, Rossell launched ad hominem attacks on researchers who support bilingual education as "opportunists" in pursuit of "big money." In a media interview, she stated: "It is my belief that Krashen and Cummins came up with their theory of language acquisition to justify a practice that was spreading like wildfire through the schools" (Stewart, 1998).30 Like similar charges against individuals--which are meant to discredit the field as a whole--Rossell's politicking went unchallenged by other researchers. Moreover, the critics enjoy generous support from Right-leaning foundations and political figures seeking to influence public opinion on language-minority education. In 1998, their views were highlighted in national publications, including Reader's Digest, the Atlantic Monthly, the Wall Street Journal, the New Republic, and the Phi Delta Kappan. The READ Institute's analysis of the NRC report (Glenn, 1997) was sent to every school superintendent and principal in Massachusetts by John Silber, chair of the state board of education. Rarely are the arguments of bilingual education advocates articulated so widely--or so well--outside the pages of academic journals. A less "politicized" approach would render them virtually invisible. To influence decisions that are crucial to language-minority students, educators must learn to participate more effectively in the policy debate: not by distorting the research evidence or by denouncing their opponents as racists, but by explaining bilingual pedagogies in a credible way--that is, in a political context that members of the public can understand and endorse. In the 1960s, that context was the war on poverty; in 1970s, equal educational opportunity. Earlier in our history, it was the parents' right to pass on their cultural heritage (Crawford, 1998d). Today another rationale might be more appropriate. Whatever the strategy, to be successful it must be determined--very soon--by the field and its supporters. Let the discussion begin. | Return to top | 1 Copyright © 1999 by James Crawford. All rights reserved.[Return] There is a new initiative trying to qualify for the June primary ballot that would require all public school instruction to be conducted in English and for students not fluent in English to be placed in a short-term English immersion program. If the June 1998 primary election were being held today, would you vote for or against this measure? When Proposition 227 was described in more detail, responses differed dramatically. Krashen et al. (1998) conducted a comparative poll, using the following modified question: There is a new initiative trying to qualify for the June primary ballot that would severely restrict the use of the child's native language in school. This initiative would limit special help in English to one year (180 school days). After this time, limited English proficient children would be expected to know enough English to do school work at the same level as native speakers of English their age. The initiative would dismantle many current programs that have been demonstrated to be successful in helping children acquire English, and would hold teachers financially responsible if they violate this policy. If passed, schools would have 60 days to conform to the new policy. If the June 1998 primary election were being held today, would you vote for or against this policy? When asked the Los Angeles Times Poll question, 57% of respondents supported Proposition 227; when asked the modified question, only 15% did so. [Return] | Return to top | Anderson, N. (1997). Bilingual debate comes to L.A. Los Angeles Times, December 3. [Return] Anderson, N. & Pyle, A. (1998). Bilingual classes a knotty issue. Los Angeles Times, May 18. [Return] August, D., & Hakuta, K. (Eds.). (1997). Improving schooling for language-minority children: A research agenda. Washington, DC: National Research Council, Institute of Medicine. [Return] Balz, D. (1998). GOP analysts buff up Nov. 3 Results. Washington Post, November 20. [Return] California Department of Education, Educational Demographics Unit. (1998). Language census, 1997-98 [Online]. [Return] California Department of Finance, Demographic Research Unit. (1998). Race/ethnic population estimates: Components of change by race for California counties and state, April 1990 to July 1996 [Online]. [Return] California Secretary of State, Political Reform Division. (1998). Financing California's statewide ballot measures: Campaign receipts and expenditures through June 30, 1998 [Online]. [Return] Campbell, D. (1998). Draft analysis of the No on 227 campaign. Our Struggle/Nuestra Lucha, 16, no. 2 (Summer). [Return] Census Bureau, U.S. (1998). State profile: California [Online]. [Return] Chao, J. (1998). Bilingual poll: S.F. Chinese back Fong, oppose Prop. 227. San Francisco Examiner, May 27. [Return] Chen, E. M. (1995). Civil liberties implications of "Official English" legislation before the United States House of Representatives, Committee on Economic and Educational Opportunities, Subcommittee on Early Childhood, Youth, and Families. Nov. 1 [Online]. [Return] Citizens for an Educated America (1998a). Sample letter-to-the-editor points.[Return] Citizens for an Educated America. (1998b). Q & A: What's in Unz? [Return] Citizens for an Educated America. (1998c). Talking points against 227 [Online]. [Return]Available: http://www.noonunz.org/points/points.html Collier, V. P., & Thomas, W. P. (1989). How quickly can immigrants become proficient in school English? Journal of Educational Issues of Language Minority Students 5 (Fall), 26-39. [Return] Congressional Record. (1996). Debate on H.R. 123. Vol. 142, No. 116, Pt. II, H9738-72. [Return] Contra Costa Times. (1998). Vote yes on Prop. 227. May 29. [Return] Crawford, J. (1987). 37 states consider "English Only" bills, with mixed results. Education Week, June 17. [Return] Crawford, J. (1992). Hold your tongue: Bilingualism and the politics of "English Only." Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. [Return] Crawford, J. (1998a). The Ninth Street myth: Who speaks for Latino parents? Hispanic Link Weekly Report, May 25 [Online]. [Return] Crawford, J. (1998b).Quality of debate suffers from distortions, stereotypes. San Jose Mercury News, May 31 [Online]. [Return] Crawford, J. (1998c). The bilingual education story: Why can't the news media get it right? Speech to the National Association of Hispanic Journalists, Miami, FL, June 26. [Online]. [Return] Crawford, J. (1998d). Language politics in the U.S.A.: The paradox of bilingual education. Social Justice, 25 (Fall), 50-69 [Online]. [Return] Crawford, J. (1999). Bilingual education: History, politics, theory, and practice. 4th ed. Los Angeles: Bilingual Educational Services. [Return] Davis, G. (1998). Gubernatorial candidates forum. Los Angeles, May 13 [Online]. [Return] English for the Children. (1997a). The 1998 California "English for the Children" initiative [Online]. [Return] English for the Children. (1997b). Proposition 227: The 1998 California "English for the Children" initiative [Online]. [Return] English Language in Public Schools. (1998). Initiative statute (Proposition 227) [Online]. [Return] Fishman, J. (1992). The displaced anxieties of Anglo-Americans. In J. Crawford (Ed.), Language loyalties: A source book on the official English controversy (pp. 165-170). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. [Return] Garcia, P. (1998). Unz's bilingual measure assailed from right. Sacramento Bee, Feb. 1.[Return] General Accounting Office, U.S. (1995). Federal foreign language documents. Report #D-95-253R. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office. [Return] Glenn, C. (1997). 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© James Crawford