Linguistic diversity in Thailand

Recently meeting a linguistic student the other day, I surprised him by declaring that Kmer and Thai did not belong to the same family group. He thought they belonged to the same linguistic family.  I had a vague memory of a classification of the three large linguistic families of Southeast Asian languages I had read in Joachim Schiiesinger's "Ethnic Groups of Thailand: Non-Tai Speaking Peoples of Thailand" (published by White Lotus Press, 2000.)  I looked up this book as soon as I got home, just to make sure I hadn't made a rash declaration. Sure enough, page 8, a diagram, adapted from James A. Matisoff, "Linguistic Diversity and Language Contact", in John MacKinnon and Wanat Bhruksasri, eds, Highlanders of Thailand (Oxfort University Press, 1983): The three linguistic superstocks of Southeast Asia:

1. Austro-Asiatic, to which belongs the languages of Munda (India), Nicobarese, Mon-Kmer (Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Burma, Thailand, China, Assam), and Aslian (Malaysia).
2. Austro-Thai, to which belongs the sub-family languages called Austronesian, Tai-Kadai, and Mioa-Yao.
3. Sino-Tibetan, subdivided into Chinese and Tibeto-Burman.

Now if you're not a linguist (which I'm not, but I'm an extremely curious person), it's easy and forgivable to make a simple and common conclusion that people of same geographic region will be speaking similar and related languages. However, it turns out that Southeast Asia is one of the most diverse and linguistic regions of the world. My new linguist friend, who specialized in Spanish and is more interested in learning about prehispanic languages, of course, was not expected to know this.

How would you explain to people who don't have a clue, the minefield of linguistics? What exactly do linguists do? Well, my husband's niece who had decided to go into that field of study, is now working on the construction of a dictionary of Spanglish, of all things. I met another, who worked with a computer software company, using her speciality in Latin, putting a natural order to computer programming. Then, there's a blogger I avidly follow who doesn't write so much about linguistics as much as she writes about Thai cooking!

Wikipedia says, "linguistics is the scientific study of natural language". It also goes on to say that there are several sub-fields (ie, grammar and semantics), and sub-disciplines (ie, evolutionary liguistics, historical linguistics, sociolinguistics, neurolinguistics, language acquisition, discourse analysis, and pragmatics), and even relate fields (like phonetics).  Interestingly, "outside the field, this term is commonly used to refer to people who speak many languages fluently".

So from the understanding derived from reading the above wiki article, the classification of family languages falls under historical linguistics, branching out from philology, the study of ancient texts.  Well, if you're in interested in what linguistics is all about just keep following those numerous links provided by wikipedia. I hope it will inspire you to develop a keener interest in what linguistics is about, if not to be fascinated enough to become one yourself.  Meanwhile, I'm looking at the topic heading that I put up and sees that it's saying "Linguistic diversity in Thailand"!

What then is the distinction between Austro-Asiatic and Austro-Thai? "Austro" means south, so therefore, Austro-Asiatic is basically South Asia. That is an interesting revelation, because only a small group of people are left that speak Austro-Asiatic (Munda) in India which geographically is considered South Asia.  Instead, the language of the Indians are mainly of the Indo-European and Dravidian language groups. Another quirk of linguistics.

The grouping of the language family of Austro-Tai is based on a hypothesis that the Tai-Kadai and Austronesian language families of southern China and the Pacific are genealogically related. There are a number of possible cognates in the core vocabulary.  The word for rice, for example.

While what is seen on the surface is that the Thai language is THE one and only official language of Thailand, in reality a multitude of languages and dialects are spoken in Thailand. I enjoy being able to point out the differences of Isaan dialects spoken in Northeastern Thailand. Sakon Nakhon, where my family is from, has a special kind of sing song lilt (influenced by Puthai) that in my opinion makes it sound softer than for example the dialect of its neighboring province of Kalasin. Nobody will deny that the dialect of the North is different from the dialect of the Northeast, even if we can quite easily understand each other, but have a Southerner speak his dialect to me and I'm lost, but not as lost as having a Karen hilltribe speak to me.

The book, "Linguistic Diversity and National Unity", by William A. Smalley (1994), singularizes the success of Thailand's official language policy. Unlike other multi-ethnic nations, such as Myanmar and India, where official language policy has sparked bloody clashes, Thailand has maintained relative stability despite its eighty languages. 

Another notch on the belt for Thailand, it seems.

What the pots tell about the past

This article, written by Chris Baker, was published by BTHE MING GAP AND SHIPWRECK CERAMICS IN SOUTHEAST ASIAangkok Post's Outlook section on 16/08/2010.

It is a review of the book, "THE MING GAP AND SHIPWRECK CERAMICS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA: Towards a Chronology of Thai Trade Ware" by Roxanna Maude Brown, printed by The Siam Society and River Books, 208pp, 895 baht, ISBN 978-9749863770.

Ceramics have played a rather niche role in the history of Siam. The ceramics trade was not mentioned at all in the royal chronicles, and hardly at all by foreign visitors whose commercial interests lay elsewhere. The study of ceramics has largely been left to art historians who focus on design. Yet anyone who has cycled along the Yom River in Si Satchanalai past the amazing number of old kilns, ranging from burrows in the riverbank to great multi-chambered brick constructions (some now made into splendid museums), must wonder about the larger historical significance of this trade.

Roxanna Brown had begun to probe that significance. This book is her doctoral thesis from UCLA in 2004, accepted for publication by the Siam Society before her sad and senseless death two years ago. The thesis tests the theory that there was a "Ming Gap" - a period from the late 14th to late 16th centuries when a ban on exports from China allowed Southeast Asian production of ceramics to flourish. But the thesis goes far, far beyond answering this single question.

Since 1974, over 120 wrecks have been found with some cargo of Southeast Asian ceramics. A few have been the subject of thorough archaeological studies. Others have been surveyed by private enthusiasts. Many have been looted, with the pots turning up in museums, private collections and flea markets. Brown assembled all the data available on these wrecks, and then devised ingenious methods to organise them into a chronology.

With this data, she offers a precise but complex answer to questions about a Ming Gap. In the last third of the 14th century, when the emperor banned private overseas trade, the proportion of Chinese ceramics in Southeast Asian trade fell from 100 percent to 30-40 percent. It then fell again to only 5 percent through the middle of the 15th century. From 1488 to 1505, there was a sudden flood of Chinese blue-and-white, then another lapse until the export ban was lifted in 1567.

The findings which Brown made along the way to this conclusion are ultimately much more exciting than this exercise in dating. In the past, "experts" dated Siamese ceramics based on design, using a theory that designs became more complex and sophisticated over time. But Brown shows that ceramics of many different types with widely varying complexity of design were found on the very same wrecks. She proposes an outline history of the various kiln sites and their products, and this handful of pages is the highlight of the book.

Vietnamese kilns were the first to move into the gap vacated by the Chinese, but they were soon overtaken by Siamese sites, especially Sawankhalok (Si Satchanalai). In the dying years of the 14th century, potters in Sukhothai and Sawankhalok learned how to paint black designs under a transparent glaze, producing the well-known bowls and plates with fish and floral designs. Then around 1420, Sawankhalok potters discovered much finer clay and learned how to fire at much higher temperatures, resulting in the famous celadon. Sukhothai never replicated these techniques, but continued to churn out products in the old style in much larger quantities than Sawankhalok. For much of the Ming Gap, these products dominated the sea-borne ceramics trade.

In the early 16th century, Sawankalok reverted to the black underglaze, and a new technique combining brown and white glazing. Probably the sources of good clay were in decline, as the ribbon development of kilns along the Yom River suggests. Then in the 1580s, the whole area around Sukhothai and Sawankhalok was depopulated because of the growing conflict with Burma, and the kilns were abandoned. Sing Buri kilns had already established a niche for the production of storage jars, and now widened their repertoire to include many other items. Suphan Buri kilns specialised in large storage jars, often of extraordinary size. One fragment is estimated to have come from a jar with a capacity of 260 litres. A few items come from the Lanna kilns, especially at San Kamphaeng.

Brown's assembly of all the shipwreck data raises a host of new questions. The wrecks are only a random sample of the total maritime shipping, but they hint at the scale of the ceramics trade. Most of the junks were carrying from 5,000 to 15,000 pieces. One European vessel went down in 1751 with 100,000. The total quantities may have been massive. How did the shipments move from the northern kilns? Where were they loaded onto junks? Who controlled or taxed this trade? Who profited? What relationship is there between the rhythms of the ceramics trade and the course of Siam's political history?

Most wrecks were carrying a mixture of goods from different kilns in Siam, perhaps also with some Vietnamese ware, some Chinese pieces, and the odd pot from Burma or beyond. This mixture hints at a complex market structure, possibly with some major exchange centres. Where were they?

The book contains hundreds of photos of ceramic pieces. These are not the exquisitely arty pictures found in glossy magazines, but a scholar's records, sometimes snapped in museums, markets, and quaysides. They show the familiar plates and bowls but also a wonderful variety of storage containers and occasional decorative pieces. On the Sawankhalok celadon alone, the range of designs is breathtaking. These pictures attest to the technical and artistic skills of the potters, but also hint at the complexity and sophistication of the markets which demanded such variety.

Although this book seems to be a technical exercise laid out in charts and tables, the findings are much richer - the result of a feel for the subject that Roxanna Brown had developed over 30 years. The book answers one question but throws up many others which she had only just begun to explore. This book is a fitting memorial to a unique scholar, and a great legacy for all interested in the history of Southeast Asia.