Linking Oceans: English, Economic Diversity and National Identity in

GEORGE PAKOZDI University of Toronto [email protected]

1.1 Introduction

PANAMA’S UNIQUE HISTORY AND RELATIONSHIP WITH THE GIVES IT A UNIQUE ENGLISH LANGUAGE SITUATION—since at least the late 19th century English has been a prestige language, the language of business and international trade and yet for much of this time, Panamanian national identity was largely based around a deliberate rejection of the use of English in public life. The struggle for a unique Panamanian identity had the unfortunate side effect of ignoring the country’s multicultural reality and discriminating against ethnic, racial and linguistic minorities. Though progress has been made, these problems have unfortunately not been sufficiently amended. In the past two decades, American influence in Panama has largely receded. Since the American invasion and removal in 1989 of caudillo (strongman) Manuel Noriega, whom had initially been supported by but later ran afoul of the American administration, Panama has enjoyed free, internationally monitored elections. No longer are its leaders viewed as mere American puppets. As a consequence of this diminished influence, English has been freed of much of its earlier stigma; it is more widely taught and spoken than ever, and critical to the country’s finance-, trade- and tourism-based economy. A report published by the British Council in 2000 identifies Panama as a country in transition from EFL to L2 status (Graddol 2000, 11). Most post-secondary education in Panama is conducted in English. As Steven Humphries has found, Panamanian university and English-language instruction students expect studying in English to help them access wealth, prestige and power (Humphries 2005, 79). This paper provides a brief overview of the history of English in Panama, which is inextricably connected to the history of the and American commercial and military interests. It then examines the evolution of Panamanian national identity and nationalism, scrutinizing their relationship to and effect on English and English- speaking . Two long-standing English-speaking groups are examined in detail: Afro-Panamanians in the province of Bocas del Toro, and Zonians, American expatriate canal workers. This paper also looks at the recent rise of tourism and English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 2

residential tourism in Panama, probing the connection of these economic activities with English. It finds that, while English is no longer rejected as un-Panamanian, Panama has yet to adequately replace old models that define national identity as monolingual. English is used widely and effectively as a tool for assisting economic activity, including tourism. However, this wider embrace of English has not resulted in the removal of barriers between linguistically separated groups. Panama continues to be a country in which distinct and parallel communities coexist without fully embracing one another— English economic transactions have yet to resolve this essential separation.

1.2 Language Demographics

Spanish is Panama’s sole official language. 90% of the country’s population is estimated to speak Spanish; there are also significant populations of speakers of English, Panamanian Creole English (PCE), indigenous languages (most notably Kuna and Ngäbere), Mandarin and Cantonese (DeChiccis). The Panamanian government does not compile accurate data for PCE, but a common estimate is roughly 100,000 speakers (Herzfeld 1982, 149). Speakers of PCE are Afro-Panamanian descendants of West Indian migrants, many of whom came to Panama as labourers on large-scale infrastructure projects like the canal.

2.1 History of English in Panama and American Involvement

The history of English in Panama traces back to Scottish attempts to found a colony in the Darien region in the 17th century, which was later abandoned. English-speaking inhabitants arrived on a larger scale at the beginning of the 19th century, as English colonizers settled, with their slaves, in the sparsely populated Caribbean province of Bocas del Toro (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Tourism’, 67-8). Slavery was outlawed in Panama in 1852. American interest began in the mid-19th century following the Mexican-American War (1848), which resulted in the expansion of the U.S. to the south and west, as well as the California Gold Rush (Conniff 2001, 15-16). These two related events greatly increased the incentive for the U.S. to establish an easy connection between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, as cross-continent travel remained slow and hazardous. The Isthmus of Panama, thin and thousands of miles north of Cape Horn, offered the possibility of easy inter-ocean travel. While early cross-isthmus traversals were handled by wagon, an American company completed a railroad in 1855 (McWatters 2009, 59). This railroad attracted American immigration, as well as new diseases and often a sense of lawlessness commonly associated with the American frontier. McPherson argues that this pathological element of American immigration, combined with the prevalence of English in the railroad zone, contributed to an early climate of anti-American sentiment in Panama (McPherson 2003, 79). The idea of building a canal across the isthmus to allow ocean-to-ocean transit English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 3

without the intermediary of a railroad had existed since the early 19th century. In the minds of the Panamanian elite, the canal, and the accompanying commercial prosperity it would bring, was inseparable from the hope for independence from Colombia (Szok 2001, 4). The prospect of an inter-ocean link was attractive to others as well, including the French, whose attempt to build a canal in the 1880s ultimately fell victim to engineering problems and poor management (Conniff 2001, 49). However, it was the Spanish-American War (1898-1902), marking the apex of the American imperial era, that pushed the U.S. inexorably towards the construction of the canal; the Treaty of Paris ending the conflict left the U.S. with new territories in Cuba, Puerto, Guam and the Philippines, cementing the need for easy passage between both American coasts and its Caribbean/Pacific empire (Philipson 2006). Thus, the commercial and imperial interests of the U.S. coincided with the Panamanian desire for independence. The American government offered financial and military support to the bloodless Panamanian revolution of 1903, as well as the promise of recognition for the sovereign state of Panama, which became a U.S. protectorate (Szok 2001, 1). Though this protectorate status was later amended, the Hay-Banau-Varilla treaty, which Panama was in a weak position to negotiate, awarded the U.S. perpetual ownership of the future Canal Zone; the treaty also gave the U.S. the right to host military bases in Panama and intervene militarily in order to protect its interests, a right that was exercised several times (Conniff 2001, 70).

2.2 Construction of the Canal; Gold and Silver Rolls

The canal was constructed between 1904 and 1914. The Interoceanic Canal Company (ICC) was established to run the project. The labour force was primarily made up of black laborers hired from the West Indies, though , Europeans, Indians and Chinese were also employed. Conniff estimates that between 150,000 and 200,000 West Indians migrated to Panama during the construction years, though the turnover rate was high and it is difficult to know for certain how many immigrated permanently (Conniff 1985, 29). The gold and silver payrolls—so named for the currency standards to which each were pegged—were an instrument of segregation and discrimination, creating a site of complex social, racial and linguistic tensions. The gold workers, mostly American, were not only paid better but also received more extensive benefits and lived in superior housing. Due to the preponderance of West Indians on the silver payroll, the term was often used synonymously or euphemistically for ‘black’. Though the payrolls were fluid at first, and it was possible for West Indians to move up to the gold payroll, the classifications gradually became more explicitly segregated, eventually resembling American Jim Crow laws, with restaurants and even drinking fountains segregated (Conniff 2001, 78). Complicating the gold/silver dynamics was the inclusion of Spanish- speaking mestizo Panamanians, non-English-speaking Europeans, and Chinese on the silver rolls as well. The first group largely resented being categorized with the West English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 4

Indians; worse, the latter’s use of English often allowed for greater access to more lucrative positions within the Canal Zone. Language was a sticking point for Spanish workers as well, whose lack of English kept them on the silver rolls—Greene points out that the Spanish workers were particularly disaffected. Prone to protest and organization, they were especially put off by the refusal of American supervisors to communicate with them in Spanish (Greene 2004, 81). The racial and linguistic dynamics of the rolls extended to sectors of Panamanian society and economy that were not strictly under their control. Elite Panamanians who wished to succeed in business or politics needed to cultivate a relationship with the Americans, which required, among other things, to be white or light-skinned and to speak English (Conniff 2001, 81).

3.1 Panamanian National Identity, Spanish, and English

Panamanian national identity has had to be defined within this context of American commercial interest and military presence. Language has long been one of the salient features of this effort. Elsie Alvarado de Ricord writes,

Because of the relationship with the United States, particularly in connection with the Panama Canal, the English language has long been regarded as a means of cultural penetration against which it has been necessary to be on the alert. Because of our quantitative weakness, we hold on to the language as a means of surviving culturally. (Alvarado de Ricord 1982, 98)

This conception of the Panamanian nation as a linguistically homogenous body that must be defended against “penetration” by English has had serious, negative ramifications for Panama’s minority language groups, including English and PCE- speaking communities. At times, language protection has been used to justify outright xenophobia or racism (or the three have conflated). The following sections briefly chart the development of Panamanian national identity and nationalism as well as social, cultural and linguistic consequences.

3.2 Early 20th Century Nationalism

Peter Szok, in his study of early twentieth century Panamanian liberalism, argues that a sense of national identity existed among the Panamanian elite throughout the 1800s. Contrary to the criticisms of newly sovereign Panama by Latin American intellectuals, many of whom considered it to be a ‘fictitious country’ and a product of American imperialism, Szok argues that a Panamanian nationalism, centered around the economic promise of the canal, had existed for years (Szok 2001, 16, 32). However, this early national identity, as articulated by the elite, was essentially exclusive and ‘nostalgic’; it looked back to a narrowly-defined and almost mythic cultural and ethnic heritage that it English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 5

conceived as white-skinned and Hispanic, excluding Panama’s mestizo, indigenous and West Indian groups, among others (Szok 2001, 95). At times the elite tried to deport West Indian workers as part of its ostensibly nation-building attempt to ‘whiten’ Panama, though the ICC and UFC largely stood in the way of this attempt to thin its labour force (Conniff 2001, 78). On a more fundamental level, this movement failed due to its anachronistic outlook—the majority of Panamanians were, to some degree, ‘mixed’, and furthermore did not share in the elite’s narrowly-defined nostalgia.

3.3 Acción Communal and Xenophobic Nationalism

Beginning in the 1920s, Acción Communal, a far-right nationalist group, arose under the leadership of Anulfo Arias. Among his followers, Arias preached the sole use of Spanish and the non-acceptance of minority populations (McPherson 2003, 84). Though he promoted an expanded national identity, which included the mestizo population, he took a radical and vitriolic stance against those who did not fit this definition. West Indians, many of whom were second or third generation, were increasingly objects of resentment and fear. This xenophobia was often rationalized, even among Panamanian intellectuals, as a desire for a homogeneous cultural and national identity resistant to American influence (McPherson 2003, 82-3). Horton argues that this new attempt at identity- formation was essentially an exclusive one: ‘National identity was also defined by what was excluded: to be “Panamanian” was to be not black, not Indian, not Asian’ (Horton 2006, 836). Acción Communal was gradually legitimized throughout the 1930s, with Arias winning the presidential election in 1940. Though he was deposed in a coup shortly after taking office, some of his policies—including limits on the use of English outside of the Canal Zone and the disenfranchisement of Panamanians of West Indian descent— persisted. He introduced a new constitution in 1941 that called for, among other provisions, the denationalization of ‘members of the black race whose original language was not Spanish’ (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Racial Democracy’, 223). While the more explicitly racist mandates of the constitution were amended in 1946, Spanish remained Panama’s sole official language, with English restricted in public signage and media outside of the Canal Zone (Szok 2001, 113). As always, the issues of American influence and sovereignty over the canal lands were on the minds of Panamanians. Following an outbreak of anti-American rioting in 1964, American and Panamanian officials began negotiations, which the latter hoped would result in a new treaty ceding control of the canal to Panama. However, the language debate cropped up here as well: talks broke down over whether the English ‘discuss’ or the Spanish negociar should be used to describe the talks; the disagreement in semantics turned out to be meaningful, as the Americans only wanted to hold talks on a broad range of topics, while the Panamanians wanted to negotiate a new treaty (McPherson 2003, 109).

English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 6

3.4 Torrijos and a new concept of the nation

Omar Torrijos, a military officer who came to power by coup in 1968 and was the de facto ruler of the country until his death in 1981, helped to further expand Panamanian national identity. Though largely cooperative with the U.S., Torrijos was a populist dictator, bolstering support for his undemocratic regime by appealing the country’s poor, regardless of ethnicity or race. Horton argues that, ‘Torrijos opened spaces of political power to mestizo military officers, redefined West Indians as “Afro- Panamanians “, and promoted the controlled, ethnically-based mobilization of indigenous peoples’ (Horton 2006, 837). However, the promotion of Spanish as the country’s sole official language persisted under Torrijos’ nationalist policies and in some respects expanded. For instance, before his rise to power, public-school instruction in Afro-Panamanian communities could be held in PCE, which he disallowed, and which remains the case today (Aceto 2002, 580). The defining event of Torrijos’ rule was the completion of a new treaty with the U.S. This new deal, struck with Jimmy Carter’s administration and called the Carter- Torrijos Treaty, guaranteed the handover of the canal and Canal Zone to Panama in 2000; it was significant not only for full promise of sovereignty it finally promised, but also for how it fulfilled a desire that cut across the spectrum of Panamanian society. Conniff explains:

Several black intellectuals from the University of Panama played an important role in the talks. The fact that many high guard officers were of mixed race prompted comments that advocates of the treaties were nonwhite leaders representing the disenfranchised masses, despite evidence that the overwhelming majority of Panamanians—whatever their race, ethnic background, social class, or ideology— wished to abrogate the 1903 treaty and replace it with a fairer one. In short, the 1970s treaty talks cannot be explained by a simple class-interest model. (Conniff 2001, 128)

The canal handover would impact the nation economically, as well. The Panama Canal Authority (ACP)—the state-run company that took over canal operations—was able to run the canal more efficiently and charge higher tolls than previously, leading to higher shipping traffic and increased revenues (‘A Plan’ 1999). However, the closing of American military bases created a large economic gap that would have to be filled with new initiatives.

3.5 Multiculturism as Economic Strategy

The last twenty years in Panama have seen a greater embrace of Panama’s unique, multicultural heritage and a rejection of old, exclusive models of national identity at the level of government policy. The reasons for this continuing shift are partially economic. English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 7

Following the fall of Torrijos’ corrupt successor Manuel Noriega at the hands of a U.S. military invasion in 1989, democratic and civilian government was restored in Panama; subsequent administrations began to prepare the country for the 2000 canal handover. There was a particularly urgent need to develop new industries to replace the looming economic hole posed by the closing of American military bases. Panama’s newly democratic and stable government allowed for tourism as a viable new industry. Specifically, eco- and ethnotourism models, similar to those implemented in Costa Rica, were selected. Recent evidence suggests that the project has proven successful: in 2003, tourism represented, for the first time, a greater share of the Panamanian economy than revenues from the canal (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Tourism’, 69). Indigenous and Afro- Panamanian communities, formerly marginalized or ignored, were embraced and promoted for precisely the unique characteristics that at one time disqualified them from full membership in the Panamanian nation.

4.1 Afro-Panamanians

The recent multicultural rebranding project undertaken by the Panamanian government, while admirable in its direct opposition to earlier xenophobic, racist policies, is incomplete and superficial. It fails to confront how racism still operates in the country— a UN report conducted in the 1990s found that, while state policies and institution were less openly racist than in earlier decades, widespread racism persisted (Horton 2006, 840). Panama’s constitution was never modified to reflect the multicultural or multiethnic nation that would be celebrated at the turn of the century (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Racial Democracy’, 223). The lack of official distinction and recognition of diversity is reflected in the census as well, which recognizes only self-identified indigenous groups as separate ethnicities (Horton 2006, 830n). Guerrón-Montero argues that this ostensible social harmony (a vestige of Torrijos-era populism) is complicated by two racial paradoxes: first, the notion that racial boundaries have blurred or disappeared altogether due to years of mestizaje (racial mixing), which is belied by Panama’s clear racial hegemony; and second, the belief that the country is racially egalitarian, when in reality racial inequality is prevalent (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Racial Democracy’, 211). Many Panamanians, Guerrón-Montero argues, simply do not believe that racism is problem in their country, or if it is, it is an imprint left by the segregationist policies of the American-run ICC. Leda Cooks, in her study of a Panamanian listserve, comes to similar findings: some users attribute racism solely to Americans while others point to the racism often unexamined by such accusers (Cooks 2002, 481). Language is closely tied here to race, as Spanish remains Panama’s sole official language, strongly correlated with Panamanian national identity. The promotion of PCE-speaking communities for the purposes of attracting tourists to Panama, like the larger project of marketing multiculturalism itself, is generally not reflected in internal conceptions of the Panamanian nation. It is typical to hear a Spanish-speaking Afro- English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 8

Panamanian claim that he or she is not a chombo, an English or PCE speaker (Alvarado de Ricord 1982, 103).

4.2 PCE (Panamanian Creole English)

Several studies of PCE shed additional light on its marginalization. Anita Herzfeld (1982) summarizes much of the early work on PCE done in the 1970s and early 80s (mostly University of Panama B.A. theses), and presents a short history and text of PCE, which she refers to as Panamanian Creole or PC. She identifies the three principal areas in which PCE-speaking communities are found: Panama City, the city of Colón, and the country’s eastern province Bocas del Toro. Most of the subsequent studies of PCE have focused on the third region. Bocas del Toro was not largely settled by Spaniards, allowing British colonizers to settle with their West Indian slaves at the beginning of the 19th century. Additional groups of West Indians migrated to the province after working on the 1855 railroad and the aborted French canal in the 1880s, while others came directly from the West Indies to work on United Fruit Company (UFC) banana plantations (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Tourism’, 67). These migrants, and their Afro-Panamanian successors, were often able to access positions in the UFC bureaucracy due to their English-language proficiency that were inaccessible to Spanish-speaking Panamanians and in many cases were able to join/form a rural bourgeoisie, buying land after the banana crisis. However, though Afro- Panamanians have the opportunity for greater upward mobility than, for instance, the Ngobe people that also live in Bocas del Toro, the province remains less modernized and more economically depressed than Panama as a whole (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Racial Democracy’, 213-14). Within Bocas del Toro, significant PCE-speaking communities are found on the islands of Bastimentos and Bocas del Toro and in the mainland city Almirante (Aceto 1995, 540). Michael Aceto and Peter Snow have both studied PCE in communities on Bastimentos, which Aceto identifies more specifically as Bastimentos Creole or BC (Aceto 1998). Snow makes the case that a diglossia exists on Bastimentos between Spanish and BC, and that it is actually more stable than one in which the creole is in contact with its ‘genetically related lexical source language’, such as in Haiti (Snow 2000, 165). BC has no standardized orthography; Spanish is therefore the ‘language of literacy’ an acquired purely through formal education (Snow 2000, 167). Snow argues that Spanish is used not only for all written communication but for formal communication of any type, citing a personal anecdote in which community speeches were performed in Spanish, while regular interactions took place in BC (Snow 2000, 166). This linguistic hierarchy, which places PCE below Spanish and governs formal modes of exchange, has obvious negative implications for native PCE speakers, particularly those who, as Aceto finds, are monolingual and have little or no proficiency in Spanish (Aceto 2002, 581). Without this proficiency, entire ‘canals’ of expression and communication may be blocked. Both Aceto and Snow agree that the alienation of PCE English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 9

speakers is exacerbated by the Spanish-promoting language policies of the Panamanian government, which do not allow public school education to take place in PCE (Aceto 1995, 542). In Bastimentos’ single primary school, classes are taught in Spanish as though it is the students’ first language, and as Snow argues, this discrepancy has ‘very real sociolinguistics consequences on the island including widespread illiteracy and a high dropout rate’ (Snow 2000, 166, 168). More extensive Spanish-language training could help alleviate this problem. While the Panamanian government has recognized the value of promoting PCE as part of a larger tourism package, it still has work to do in removing linguistic barriers for significant segments of the population.

4.3 Tourism in Bocas del Toro

The majority of tourists in Bocas del Toro self-identify as Caucasian or Anglo-Saxon and speak English as their first language (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Tourism’, 71; Snow 2004, 112). Bocas del Toro is deliberately marketed to tourists as an ‘authentic’ Caribbean experience; this experience is composed not only of pristine beaches and an absence of large resorts but of a specifically Caribbean identity demonstrated, and arguably performed, by Afro-Panamanian residents (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Tourism’ 75). English is the most commonly used language in transactions and interactions between residents and tourists in the region (Snow 2004, 113). Snow argues that the value of English and PCE to tourism is reciprocated, as the value PCE holds for touristic exchange ensures that it will be preserved (Snow 2004, 118). As Guerrón-Montero points out, however, associated with this exchange is the danger that Afro-Panamanian residents of Bocas del Toro engage in a ‘sale of self’, constructing an identity that is reliant on stereotypes of ‘Caribbeanness’ (laid-back lifestyle, sexual virility) that tourists expect (Guerrón-Montero 2006 ‘Tourism’, 75). Paradoxically, it is the very desire for ‘authentic’ experience that causes the sale of the constructed self; if the tourist had no expectations for his or her touristic experience, then the Afro-Panamanian would feel no need to construct an identity for the purposes of delivering that experience. There is an inherent absurdity in having preconceived notions of authenticity about a place one has never been to before. While English proficiency among residents of Bocas del Toro aids the region’s burgeoning tourist industry, language itself is unable to resolve the contradictions inherent in the sale and consumption of touristic experience.

5.1 Zonians – Panamanian or Foreign?

Apart from Afro-Panamanians, the other conspicuous English-speakers in Panama historically have been the Zonians. The term Zonian traditionally refers to Americans living and working in the Canal Zone. They were members of the gold payroll—ICC executives or engineers, for instance—or employed in other, canal-related industries. Herbert and Mary Knapp, in their first-hand account of life in the Canal Zone, succinctly capture the common perception held of Zonians: they were ‘undiplomatic, English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 10

overbearing, and racist’ (Knapp 1984, 172). This perception was often supported by reality. Few public signs in the Zone were in Spanish; though some Zonians, like the Knapps, learned Spanish, others did not out of principle or because they simply did not need to, as the vast majority of interaction in the Zone took place in English (Knapp 1984, 170). However, the Knapps identify lexical borrowing that took place even among the monolingual. They are not the first, either—Robe (1949) and Herman (1950) both produced early studies of Spanish-English contact in the Canal Zone identifying various borrowings, both Spanish-to-English and English-to-Spanish. As well, many kinds of social contact between Zonians and Panamanians, including intermarriage, blur the lines between the two groups. The canal handover appears to have fundamentally changed the relationship between Zonians and Panamanians, shifting the balance of social power away from the former and towards the latter. In the years following the Carter-Torrijos treaty and leading up to the canal handover, there was an exodus of Americans living in the Canal Zone as jobs were gradually taken over by Panamanians. By 1990, 88 percent of canal personnel were estimated to be Panamanian (Connifff 2001, 142). Cooks highlights the strange new position Zonians now inhabit:

Where Zonians have historically been privileged members of Panamanian society, they now find themselves in the margins; neither Panamanian nor U.S. American but perhaps both. The Zonians that write into the listserve are interested in naming their place in Panamanian nationalism as neither victims nor perpetrators, but as part of a colonial history with a love of the country and a stake in its present and future. (Cooks 2002, 482)

This process of redefining what it means to be Zonian is a complex and ongoing one. Indeed, one could argue that the handover, in bringing Panamanian sovereignty to the zone, eliminated the usefulness of the term Zonian. Expatriate Americans living and working in Panama are now simply expatriates; the designation Zonian ceased to be meaningful when the zone ceased to exist. As Panama reconstitutes itself as a financial center and continues to invest in the canal (and therefore in its role as a commercial hub), the importance of English to the Panamanian economy persists. The country continues to host multinationals and business travelers who use English as their lingua franca. If ‘Zonian’ marks a person who lives and works in Panama and does not hold Panamanian residency; who may or may not speak Spanish but does not need to for work; and for whom interaction with Spanish-speaking Panamanians is possible but by no means necessary, then there certainly continue to be Zonians in Panama.

English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 11

5.2 Residential Tourists – the New Zonians?

Another of Panama’s recent initiatives to stimulate economic growth comes in the form of tax incentives for expatriates who buy property and settle permanently or semi- permanently in Panama. Mason McWatters’s study of a settlement of these ‘residential tourists’ in Boquete in western Panama reveals an exponential increase in the last five years, with similar increases expected in the near future (McWatters 2009, 2). He uses the term residential tourism to signify consumption-led migration typically undertaken by retirees who do not wish to work; Panama offers an enticing destination because the aforementioned tax breaks and the low cost of living (McWatters 2009, 3). The majority of residential tourists in Boquete are from the U.S. and Canada, and since Boquete is traditionally an agricultural and economically depressed part of the country, the economic disparity between them and the local population is immense (McWatters 2009, 67). Residential tourists, like tourists in Bocas del Toro, are sold on a sense of authenticity and natural beauty. Based on his interviews, McWatters finds Spanish-language deficiency to be a common and representative trait among the residential tourist community in Boquete. Though language is not the primary subject of his study, and he therefore does not provide empirical data of the phenomenon, he finds that,

This deficiency is a significant communication barrier which stands in the way of meaningful interaction and, by extension, the social and intercultural exchange of ideas, experiences, perspectives and values that are critical if residential tourists are to acquire a meaningful understanding of Boquete as a place and community. (McWatters 2009, 102)

While the precise definition of ‘meaningful’ in this context is not fully established, McWatters’s basic assertion—that language difference, along with a social, cultural and economic gap and a provider/consumer relationship, contributes to an essential separation between residential tourists and local Panamanians—is a convincing one. McWatters draws this into a larger argument about how Boquette is important to residential tourists not as a true ‘place’ in the sense that it is for people who have lived there their whole lives, but as a ‘landscape’—reducing the complexities of place to a simple appreciation of its aesthetic qualities, and producing only a series of transactions and superficial interactions with people (McWatters 2009, 103). The elite socioeconomic status of residential tourists makes them exempt from standard expectations for outsiders, such as learning the local language and integrating into cultural and behavioural norms. Those employed in the service industry (now the largest sector of the economy) in Boquete all need to learn English to ensure their livelihoods (McWatters 2009, 112). The comparisons between Zonians and residential tourists are easy to draw. Like the former, residential tourists often live in communities wholly separate from local Panamanians. Residential tourists can arguably be even more cut off from local English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 12

communities than the stereotypical Zonian; while the Zonian is in Panama to participate in economic activity, presumably to make money, the residential tourist’s only goal is to spend money–to play golf, eat at restaurants, and partake in other leisurely pursuits (the cottage industry of expatriates who develop and sell property to residential tourists deserve their own category). However, the language situation for both groups is similar. Both might benefit from Spanish proficiency, and would certainly find that it leads to worthwhile, even ‘meaningful’ interaction with Panamanians, but it is not necessary for their main purposes in Panama.

6. Conclusion

Panama’s primary natural resources are thinness, latitude, natural beauty and an agreeable climate. These resources made the country attractive to the U.S. for specific commercial and imperial purposes. The relationship between host and foreigner was in many ways ambivalent: simultaneously antagonistic and cooperative, restrictive and productive. With the foreign power gone following the canal handover, Panama has to both deal with its legacy and define itself going forward. For both of these projects, the importance of English is inescapable. However, though the widespread embrace of English has proven a valuable tool for attracting tourists and participating in a globalized economy, it has failed to close economic, social, cultural and linguistic gaps between the country’s various parallel and disparate communities. Panamanian identity is still all too often exclusionary and elusive. Panama, ever ready to welcome foreigners in any tongue, can still be a difficult place to call home in English.

English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 13

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---. 2004. ‘What Happen—Language Socialization and Language Persistence in a Panamanian Creole Village’. PhD diss., UCLA.

---. 2000. ‘The Case for Diglossia on the Panamanian Island of Bastimentos’. Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 15.1: 165-9.

Race and National Identity

Cooks, Leda. 2002. ‘Zonians in cyberspace: The imagining of individual, community and nation on the Panama-L listserve’. Communication Quarterly 50.3: 467-90.

Guerrón-Montero, Carla. 2006. ‘Racial Democracy and Nationalism in Panama’. Ethnology 45.3: 209-27.

Horton, Lynn. 2006. ‘Contesting State Multiculturisms: Indigenous Land Struggles in Eastern Panama’. Journal of Latin American Studies 38: 829-858.

Knapp, Herbert and Mary Knapp. 1984. Red, White, and Blue Paradise: The American Canal Zone in Panama. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.

English in Panama GEORGE PAKOZDI 15

Szok, Peter A. 2001. “La última gaviota.” Liberalism and Nostalgia in Early Twentieth- Century Panamá. Westport, Connecticut: Greewood Press.

Economy and Tourism

‘A plan to unlock prosperity’. The Economist December 5, 2009.

Gedan, Benjamin. 2003. ‘Panama in the zone: US is out, but the crowds have yet to come’. Boston Globe, June 15.

Guerrón-Montero, Carla. 2006. ’Tourism and Afro-Antillean Identity in Panama’. Journal of Tourism and Cultural Change 4.2: 65-84.

McWatters, Mason R. 2009. Residential Tourism: (De)Constructing Paradise. Bristol, United Kingdom: Channel View.