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Published online by Cambridge University Press: 20 February 2004
This article investigates children's procedures for constructing oppositional stances in argumentative exchanges. While most previous research on children's arguments entails a monolingual bias, the present analysis focuses on bilingual practices of code-switching in disputes emerging during play activities. Drawing on more than ten hours of video-taped play interaction in a bilingual school setting, it is shown how the language contrast arising through code-switching displays and highlights the affective intensity of oppositional stances. Sequential analyses show how code-switching works to escalate social opposition, often to the peak of an argument, resulting in subsequent backdown or full termination of the dispute. Moreover, in certain participant constellations code-switching may be used to constrain opponents' opportunities to engage in further adversative interaction. Finally, it is argued that an approach to play discourse concerned with children's methods for accomplishing accountable actions allows for a view of bilingualism as socially distributed; that is, as an emergent and interactionally managed feature of discourse.An early version of this article was presented at the 9th European Conference on Second Language Acquisition (EUROSLA 9) in Lund, Sweden, June 1999. Thanks are due to Karin Aronsson and Micke Tholander for comments and discussion on an earlier draft. Financial support from the Bank of Sweden Tercentenary Foundation (Grant No. 96-0639:01-02) and from the Swedish National Agency for Education (Grant No. U2001/1912/S) is gratefully acknowledged.
A considerable amount of research has focused on children's disputes. One of the most important reasons for this is the idea that children learn something about social organization through disputes (Garvey & Shantz 1992, Maynard 1985a, Tholander 2002a,b). Empirical studies vary in terms of theoretical interests, with resulting diversity in research methodologies, but the notion of social opposition remains central to any discussion of children's disputes.1
While a proper review of these and related studies is beyond the scope of the present article (but see Garvey & Shantz 1992, for such a contribution), a few tendencies in the study of child dispute, or indeed child discourse in general, should be noted here. One general tendency in studies of children's (adversative) talk has been to move from data elicited in predetermined settings, such as role play, to instances of naturally occurring talk, i.e., talk that is part of the children's typical daily activities. A parallel, and partly related, development has taken place in the kind of analyses made: Studies focusing on aggregating singular instances of talk (more or less taken out of their situated context) into analyst-oriented categories have been complemented by analyses of the inherently dynamic and collaborative interactions in which adversative talk is produced. Finally, thanks to technical advances in recording equipment, recent studies include (to varying degrees) nonverbal aspects of interaction, frequently omitted in earlier work on child discourse.
Work on preference structures (e.g., Heritage 1984a, Pomerantz 1984) shows that dispreferred actions, such as responsive turns that decline or otherwise oppose previous initiatives (e.g., assessments, invitations and requests), tend to be produced in a less straightforward way – by means of pausing, postposition, and other techniques – than are preferred responses. Drawing on the notion of preference structures, Auer 1984 and Li Wei 1994 have demonstrated that young bilinguals make use of code-switching to contextualize dispreferred actions. Thus, children were shown to code-switch to English in Cantonese conversations with adults when opposing requests and offers (Li Wei 1994, 1998). Somewhat similar findings were reported in Auer's (1984) work on conversations among Italian- and German-speaking adolescents. One might argue, however, that preference features found in adult-adult, adult-child, and adolescent-adolescent conversations are of limited applicability to child-child interactions (as pointed out by Milroy & Li Wei 1995), especially considering the key findings of some important work on monolingual children's disputes (Corsaro & Rizzo 1990; Evaldsson & Corsaro 1998; M. Goodwin 1983, 1990, 1998; Goodwin & Goodwin 1990; Maynard 1985a; Tholander 2002b). These studies all demonstrate that children typically orient toward displaying, maintaining and, notably, intensifying social opposition. Thus, whereas the findings of Auer and Li Wei may well apply to children's production of dispreferred actions in agreement-oriented interaction, a radically different picture may emerge if we focus specifically on adversative interaction.2
It should be stressed here that I see the categories “agreement-oriented interaction,” “adversative interaction,” and “disputes” as endogenous features of the interaction, demonstrably grounded in participants' conduct. By organizing disagreement and opposition as preferred or dispreferred actions, children display orientation toward these categories.
In a study of bilingual (Turkish/Danish) children's classroom disputes, Jørgensen 1998 showed how they used code-switching as a resource to dominate the interaction. For example, by switching to Danish at interactionally significant points in the unfolding interaction, some children showed great skill in exploiting minority/majority language distinctions in local struggles for power, a practice Jørgensen labels “power wielding.” On other occasions, the direction of the code-switch seemed of little importance in terms of interactional meaning, and the children would switch either way, depending on the preceding talk. This occurred, for instance, at oppositional turns where code-switching was used “simply as a way of countering the claims of the opposite part of a discussion” (1998:254).
The latter aspect of code-switching was also noted by Guldal 1997, who reported on “social maneuvering” practices of Norwegian/English bilinguals participating in role-play triads. The children's switches between the two languages were found to contextualize and even aggravate adversative actions on some occasions; at other times, switches served the opposite purpose, reflecting agreement and cooperation between participants. This should be seen as a typical feature of contextualization cues (Auer 1992; Gumperz 1982, 1992). Rather than establishing prototypical, transcontextually relevant meanings (such as those aspects of power traditionally associated with the distinction of minority/majority language), the specific interactional work associated with switches is highly dependent on local features of talk. That is, any episode-external meanings that may be “brought about” (Auer 1992, Li Wei 1998) through code-switching should be seen as the participants' situated accomplishments, rather than as inherent features of code-switching.
Drawing broadly on the notion of code-switching as a contextualization cue, as well as on important insights from studies of monolingual children's adversative interactions – particularly those studies informed by ethnomethodology and conversation analysis (e.g., Maynard 1985a,b, 1986; M. Goodwin 1990, 1998; Goodwin & Goodwin 1990) – the present study explores how oppositional stances are managed in bilingual children's disputes. What interactional resources are used to create, display, sustain, and escalate social oppositions? To this end, I will present detailed sequential analyses of multiparty interactions, paying close attention to the collaborative work involved in children's play disputes.
In the introduction, I noted briefly a few theoretical points that motivate the investigation of bilingual children's disputes. Perhaps the strongest reason for studying these disputes, however, is their recurrent nature in children's play activities. In the present setting, adversative exchanges occurred daily, forming an important aspect of the children's social lives. Therefore, any attempt to understand the social organization of play activities in which most children routinely participate must include an investigation of the adversative exchanges taking place in the course of play.
For the present purposes, disputes are conceptualized as stretches of discourse encompassing, minimally, a three-move oppositional structure: (i) an antecedent event or action; (ii) an initial opposition oriented toward that action; and (iii) a subsequent opposition, or counteraction, oriented toward the initial opposition. A similar conceptualization is proposed by Maynard 1985b, who stresses that an initial opposition does not constitute an argumentative exchange. Initial oppositions to arguable antecedents may result in repair work on the part of the participant responsible for the arguable action, or they may remain unresponded to, or even unobserved. In either case, we are dealing with a unidirectional opposition, not a socially established “argument.” Thus, in order for an exchange to be analytically construable as an argument, the initial opposition must itself be treated as arguable and opposed in the third move. Only when this is the case may we warrantably claim that both parties adopt distinct oppositional stances toward a certain issue or action.
This study was carried out in an English-language school in one of the major cities in Sweden. The school's language policy promoted the use of English for interactions between children and staff, as well as any “on-stage” classroom activities, with the exception, of course, of Swedish lessons. Interactions between children, however, were frequently conducted in either of the two languages, within as well as outside the classroom. In essence, the school may be characterized as a highly bilingual environment.
Twenty-six girls and fourteen boys aged 6 to 8.5 years participated in the study. Approximately half of the children were born in Sweden and have at least one Swedish-speaking parent. The second largest group included children from various parts of the world who had spent their early years in a bilingual environment where some variety of English and a non-Scandinavian language were spoken. A third group of children at the school comprised monolingual speakers (upon arrival in Sweden) of either British or Transatlantic varieties of English. A final group of children spoke neither Swedish nor English upon their arrival in Sweden. In other words, the children in the study represent a broad range of language backgrounds, and it is precisely this pluralism that provides the richness of bilingual resources in the present data.
Participant observations were carried out by the author (identified as JC in the transcripts), who followed the children around the schoolyard, audio- or video-recording the interactions taking place during various play activities. These recordings were complemented by field notes including diverse contextual information.
The corpus of data drawn upon in the present analysis comprises approximately 20 hours of recorded interaction (more than half of it on video) in various play-related activities during recess. I have examined the material several times and indexed it for activity types, as well as other properties such as participants, languages used, and so on. To date, the video data have been analyzed more intensively than has the audiotaped material because the former afford more detailed records of multiparty exchanges. In addition, analyses have focused on those events in which both languages were used. The transcriptions presented follow Conversation Analytic standards (e.g., Atkinson & Heritage 1984), with slight modifications to capture the bilingual nature of the data (see the Appendix for conventions). I found the primary analytical resource for the present work in the sequential organization of the children's interaction. This position is anchored in the conception of human discourse as a necessarily shared engagement, where recognizable interactional tasks are accomplished through sequentially coordinated actions in which participants draw upon a variety of culturally available resources.
As pointed out in the introduction, a typical feature of adversative interaction among children is that oppositional actions are produced in preferred formats. That is, rather than accounting for oppositional actions, delaying their occurrence, prefacing them with agreement tokens, or otherwise contextualizing them as dispreferred, children frequently organize their actions such that the oppositional features are unmitigated and openly displayed. Indeed, children systematically employ methods to highlight or even escalate social opposition. The following sections will show in some detail how, in accomplishing this, children make use of bilingual resources by alternating languages.
In constructing oppositional actions, participants need to make some sort of statement that displays a stance toward the antecedent action or event (Maynard 1985b). In addition, the speaker's stance must be recognizably disaffiliative with that action, thereby constructing its problematic or arguable status. Although this should suffice as a basic criterion for an oppositional action, participants also need to deal with the issue of significance – that is, with the scope of the disputability of the action(s) rendered as problematic. To this end, speakers frequently display what Bradac et al. 1995 and M. Goodwin 1998 label affective intensity. Such displays then become important issues for the recipients of talk, and their responses are of crucial value for the ensuing interaction. For instance, displaying increased affective intensity may result in a transformation of the entire exchange from playful teasing and mocking to serious opposition between the parties involved, as in ex. (1):
Upon Magdalena's statement that her essay is not to be found among the others, Cheryl picks up an essay, lifts it up triumphantly above her head, and announces laughingly that it belongs to Magdalena. In line 3, Magdalena denies this to be true, and Cheryl points out that her friend's name (Magdalena H.) is on the cover. Magdalena counters this by claiming that the initial letter H stands for “Hasselblad,” which by implication is not her name. As this claim is in turn challenged by Ebba, who points out that there is no one with that name in the class (line 6), Cheryl repeats her statement that the essay belongs to Magdalena and shows it to the camera (line 7).
This last action is immediately opposed by Magdalena, who is no longer denying authorship but simply demands that Cheryl put the essay down. Indeed, denying authorship at this point might undermine her right to make such demands. We should note that – in contrast to her previous turns, which were produced in a playful manner (mocking voice and laughter) – Magdalena's demand at line 8 shows no signs of mockery or joking. Moreover, it is produced in English, and it may be argued that Magdalena's divergence from the language spoken previously is a way of increasing the intensity of her demand as well as showing her disalignment with the playful tone of the previous exchange; that is, she is orienting to the serious turn that this exchange has now taken. In the subsequent turn, Ebba aligns with Magdalena's language choice, as well as social stance, and she accuses Cheryl of being childish, or even babish. In other words, Ebba's actions provide further evidence for the reorientation of the exchange to that of a seriously adversative interaction. However, when Magdalena subsequently points to an essay, stating that it belongs to Cherrie, Ebba temporarily puts an end to this exchange, suggesting instead that they check out her own essay.
To summarize, the excerpt above shows how code-switching may be used to display affective intensity and how such displays may serve to reorient participants' actions in playfully oppositional exchanges to a state of serious disaffiliation. However, displays of affective intensity like those above do not always turn playful mockery into disputes. Our second example shows how children, in opposing coparticipants' prior actions, may cast those actions as either significantly problematic or ‘problematic in principle’ but contingently ignorable, and how displays of affective intensity may serve as a pre-closure of the opposing exchange. It also provides a more complex instance of children's use of code-switching in displaying and managing opposing stances.
In this episode, Cheryl opposes Magdalena's and Ebba's joint presentation of her work (line 5). However, her opposition is embedded in laughter, and we can see the other two girls disattending to her objection. Instead, Magdalena picks up the format of staged presentation to the camera, asserting that she has not written anything herself because she would not be allowed to write about blood. Her production of the word BLO::D dramatizes her performance, and the staged drama is immediately picked up by Ebba in line 9, who pretends to be horrified by the very sight of blood (which Magdalena is painting just in front of her, on a piece of paper). Capturing Cheryl's attention (titta ‘look’), she then animates her performance by holding up her “wounded” hand, whining nä:: ‘no’. Unable to keep a straight face (possibly because of Ebba's explosive laughter, line 12), however, she ends the performance laughing. Lines 11 through 13, thus, show a shared laughing sequence, during which Cheryl produces some object (off camera) out of Magdalena's box, announcing that she also has something to show in public (titta).
At this point, Magdalena has already left her chair, rushing over to Cheryl and forbidding her to touch her things (line 14). We may note that Magdalena's protest in line 14 strongly contrasts with the joyful laughter of the preceding lines, and that she employs an array of techniques to highlight her opposition. First, we can see her drop out of the laughing sequence already at line 11, after having discovered Cheryl tampering with her box. Second, latching on to Cheryl's announcement, she produces a prosodically marked (intonation, emphasis, and vowel elongation) expression of polarity which works as a token of opposition, or opposing preface (cf. M. Goodwin 1990), immediately responding to Cheryl's actions. Third, the second part of this turn can be seen to expand the initial opposition, specifying the action being opposed, and, by this token, suggesting its remedy (to leave Magdalena's things alone). Fourth, in this part of her turn, Magdalena switches to English, thereby diverging from the language of preceding speech, including the preface, and she thus creates a turn-internal linguistic contrast (line 14). I would suggest that such a contrast might serve to highlight the oppositional stance toward the antecedent action by stressing its affective intensity. The intonational contour in this part of the turn, along with the emphatic stress and vowel elongation on mi:ne, supports this claim by suggesting that it is an elaboration of the prefaced opposition rather than a defensive accounting for it.
Now, we can see in line 15 that Cheryl receives Magdalena's protest with laughter, which is then transformed into an account pointing out that she did only what Magdalena has done to her. Thus, she invokes Magdalena's prior actions (lines 1 and 2), through which she allowed Ebba to show Cheryl's paper to the camera. Since she does this as a way of responding to Magdalena's protest, instead of complying with it, she displays her stance against Magdalena's demand, ratifying the social opposition between the two girls. Although it may be argued that Cheryl's laughter serves as a preface, contextualizing her turn as nonserious or mocking, Magdalena certainly does not attend to these aspects, simply demanding her possession back in line 16 (〉give me that〈). The flat intonation and increased speed of her demand strongly contrast with Cheryl's previous turn, which was produced in a playful mode. The contrast created here clearly gives the impression that Magdalena is not joking at all. Yet in the second part of this turn, Magdalena provides an account for her demand: that the object in question is fragile. Simultaneously, she code-switches into Swedish and into a notably milder tone of voice. As we will see below, this turn accomplishes rather diverse interactional work, and I wish to suggest at this point that the turn-internal contrast reflects the diversity of these interactive projects.
In terms of stance, we might claim that the contrast set up by the beginning of Magdalena's turn maintains the social opposition between the two girls (as opposed to, say, if Magdalena had burst out laughing, which might have terminated the dispute). On the other hand, her subsequent account, in combination with the code-switch and shift in tone of voice, may display an attempt to close the dispute. In fact, this seems to be Cheryl's interpretation (line 18), since she complies with the demand, handing over Magdalena's belongings. But let us take a closer look at the production of this turn, which provides a clear illustration of the local organizational sensitivity of code-switching.
Cheryl's response in line 18 begins with a prosodically highlighted response cry, ↑o:jdå, which I suggest serves as a “change of state” token (Heritage 1984b), by which Cheryl begins to change her stance toward the issue being argued. Using this token, she also ratifies Magdalena's prior account as an attempt to terminate the adversative exchange. Another way of treating this conversational object is as a turn preface, which, in this particular case, works as a pre-closure of the dispute. The final closure follows after a hesitation sound, as she hands over the demanded object to Magdalena with an affiliative〉here you are〈. Note that, just as the preface responded to the last part of the previous turn, by virtue of its placement in adjacent position, the last part of Cheryl's turn – the dispute closure proper – is directly responsive to the demand part of the prior turn. In short, we have here two sets of corresponding turn components, accomplishing two sets of corresponding actions, as follows:

These pairs interrelate at various levels. The contributions in the second pair are sequentially adjacent,3
I suggest that we may overlook the laughter in line 17, as it remains unattended to.
It should be pointed out that I am not attributing (or denying, for that matter) any consciousness, intention, or other psychological state to Cheryl in her constructing this action. Rather, this should be an instance of what Sacks 1992:vol. 1 and Sacks et al. 1974 refer to as “the machinery” of conversational turn-taking.
To sum up parts of the discussion of (2), it was suggested that the three code-switches (lines 14, 16, and 18) may be seen as the two girls' methods of accomplishing different interactional tasks. Magdalena's switch into English in line 14 creates a turn-internal contrast that seems to highlight the affective intensity of the oppositional stance taken toward her friend; the switch in line 16 exploits the same mechanism (turn-internal contrast), but it seems to accomplish the opposite work in terms of social stance – it seems to downplay the affective intensity of Magdalena's demand. Note that both switches are sequentially implicative: The one in line 14 results in an English response, and the one in line 16 is followed by a third code-switch, produced by Cheryl. Along with an array of prosodic features, the last code-switch illustrates particularly clearly the local sensitivity of the girls' actions. The discussion below will further demonstrate children's use of code-switching in managing social opposition.
The transcripts above show two initially playful activities which turned into brief adversative exchanges. In extended dispute sequences, oppositional stances are more elaborated – that is, they are escalated or downplayed through step-by-step coordination of turns. Consider (3), taken from a 40-minute episode of koja play5
The Swedish word koja translates literally into English as ‘treehouse’, ‘hut’, or ‘shack’. However, I have no record of anyone (children or staff) using the English words when referring to the children's hideouts. Instead, the Swedish equivalent was used in English speech, as a borrowed lexical unit. I therefore chose to stick to this term in the present text. Koja play was the most frequent activity during recess at the school. Each episode starts as a team of players finds a suitable (often recurring) location, e.g., in a cleft or shelf in the rocks, up in a tree, or behind some bushes. As soon as the team has settled in their koja, and often before that, another team is automatically formed, with the sole purpose of raiding the koja. This organization of play leaves many possibilities for nonplayers to attempt enrollment into one of the two teams. In the episode partly illustrated in (3), Gustav has made repeated attempts to join the koja team.
We can see that Gustav's entry into the girls' koja is treated as an illicit action and constitutes the event antecedent to the ensuing dispute. Kajsa's response cry (Goffman 1981) HEY displays her instant opposition to the boy's entry, followed by an explication of the matter, you don't get up here. Also, the affective intensity of her oppositional stance is immediately upgraded by her prosodically marked command NE::R (DO::WN), for which she code-switches into Swedish. In response to Gustav's clearly noncompliant laughter (line 3), Kajsa again increases the strength of her stance with an expression of polarity (↑NO::). Note that this action is produced using roughly the same prosody as in her previous utterance; this time, however, she switches back to English. Disattending Kajsa's strongly affective stance, Gustav calmly produces what seems to be the beginning of an account for his presence in the koja (lines 3–4). Arguably, this is also Kajsa's projection of his turn, and she makes it quite clear that she is not interested in accepting Gustav's reasons for entering or remaining in the koja, as she takes a new turn in the midst of Gustav's account, shouting at him to get down (line 4). Upon Gustav's relatively mild protest in line 6, she immediately repeats her order in compressed form, stamping on Gustav's foot as she shouts out the second DOWN in line 5. By giving up the opportunity for a less hostile continuation of the exchange, she orients toward a clearly adversative form of interaction. Note also that her antagonism pertains not only to Gustav's physical presence in the koja, as displayed by her words and physical force, but also to the boy's right to participate verbally, as displayed through the overlapping onset of her turn in line 5.
Unmistakably, this escalates the social opposition between the two of them, which is evidenced by Gustav's declaration that he knows many ways to enter the koja (line 8). In contrast to his previous turn, where he did not overtly oppose Kajsa's strong reaction, his current declaration disqualifies Kajsa's moves, casting her opposition as irrelevant: Although she may well succeed in forcing him to leave now, he knows plenty of ways to climb back in. Of course, it is possible that such an action may be received as a threat or a tease, or possibly both. It seems difficult as well as unnecessary, however, to engage in such guessing; suffice it to note that Kajsa's responses bear witness to Gustav's success in escalating the conflict.
In line 9, Kajsa switches to Swedish, starting her turn with the formulaic opposition marker mähallå (i.e., men hallå)6
men hallå is a colloquial expression routinely used among young people to display strong opposition toward preceding action(s). Literally, it translates into English as ‘but hello’, but its closest idiomatic equivalent would perhaps be ‘hey!’, when used as an opposing response to a previous action.
Another aspect of Kajsa's strongly aggravated turn in line 9 is that it solicits collaboration from another koja team player, Beatrice, who demands from Gustav the password to the koja. This is clearly a different way – and arguably a more cooperative one – of dealing with Gustav's illegitimate presence in the koja. Rather than demanding the boy's immediate exit, it provides him with an (at least theoretical) opportunity to bid for a stay in the koja. Kajsa immediately picks up this format of argument (line 11), and the strongly adversative exchange is thus brought to an end. In other words, Beatrice's turn in line 10 initiates an oppositional “backdown” following upon the peak of the dispute in line 9. Nonetheless, the girls are still collaborating toward the initial goal of evicting Gustav from the koja.
Let us briefly consider an exchange from a later phase of the same play episode, in which Gustav has entered the koja for a second time:
As Gustav enters the koja, picking up a stick from the koja floor, Kajsa immediately opposes his actions (↑no:) and takes hold of the stick. Smiling, Gustav lets go of the stick in a way that makes it look like a cooperative gesture. His actions show the ease and confidence one might expect from a member of the koja team, not from an intruder. There is reason to believe, however, that Kajsa does not object merely to Gustav's possession of a stick but to his presence in the koja in the first place. Clearly, Gustav's actions violate the team members' expectations, as evidenced by Magdalena's brutal attack. Obviously, in this situation there is no need for negotiation that might resolve or successively upgrade the conflict – they have all been through this just recently (3) – and Magdalena yells at the boy in Swedish to get down, hitting him on the head at the same time. Notably, there is no follow up on this exchange, as the focus of attention shifts to William, who is on his way up to the koja. In other words, there is very little oppositional work preceding Magdalena's attack here, and this peak of the conflict also serves as its suspension.
Let us turn now to another example of step-by-step escalation of social opposition, this time involving somewhat more complex patterns of collaboration. Excerpt (5) below is taken from a different koja episode in second grade, in which Beatrice, Jolanta, Kajsa, and Magdalena represent the koja team, and Abbe is trying to sell some moss, which the girls sometimes use to furnish parts of the interior of their koja.
The transcript above presents at least two discernible, but closely intertwined and analytically inseparable, activities: the negotiative transaction of goods (moss) between a member of the koja team and an outsider, on the one hand, and a dispute evolving within the koja team, on the other. The analytical inseparability of the two activities is readily evident in the forms of participation revealed in lines 3 through 7, where the two girls contrastively match their opposing positions (Coulter 1990) but do so through a third party, Abbe. That is, each of the girls' turns is produced to the effect of opposing the other, but none of these turns is allocated directly to its opponent. Thus, in terms of participation frameworks (Goffman 1981), the two opponents are cast as ratified but unaddressed participants.
Because this format may seem a rather convenient way of managing disagreement, especially if approached from the perspective of participants' face needs (Goffman 1967), we may ask why this is so. Let us therefore consider the sequential features of the interaction accomplished in lines 3 through 7. In line 3, Magdalena intercepts the exchange between Abbe and Jolanta, declaring that they (the koja team) do not want any moss. As Abbe fails to respond immediately – perhaps owing to the changed participant constellation, with Magdalena joining the exchange – Jolanta declares that they in fact do need moss. She thus shows an explicitly opposing stance in relation to Magdalena, without addressing her opponent. When Abbe's delayed response to Magdalena finally emerges, it does so as a canonical repetition of Jolanta's utterance, and the effect is that of a displayed alliance between the two participants in favor of a deal. The sequential implicativeness (Schegloff & Sacks 1973) of Abbe's turn is that the next turn, Magdalena's response, is heard as a response to Abbe. And indeed, Magdalena directs her speech to Abbe, as evidenced by her bodily posture and gaze in line 6. Yet, because of her use of we as representing the entire koja team, the same utterance also opposes Jolanta's stance with regard to this issue, and another opposition between the two girls is displayed. However, Magdalena finishes her turn in overlap with Jolanta, who again claims that they want some of Abbe's moss. Now, to the extent that we can see Jolanta's turn as an indirect (addressed to Abbe) bid for a compromise (accepting some of the moss originally agreed upon), we may conclude that it is rejected in line 9 by Magdalena, who abandons the previous format of opposition (conducted via Abbe), allocating an emphatically disagreeing turn directly to her opponent.
Note, however, that the terminal onset of Jolanta's turn in line 7 secures the sequential position in which Abbe's response would be expected. Here, just as in line 4, Jolanta uses a sequential placement technique that Goodwin & Goodwin 1990 label “piggybacking,”: She places her oppositional turns in the interstices of the exchange between Abbe and Magdalena. The interactional upshot of this is as follows. The sequential implicativeness of Magdalena's turns is spoiled, at least in part, by Jolanta's systematic oppositions, which precede Abbe's responses. Furthermore, owing to the alliance between Abbe and Jolanta on the issue of the moss, Abbe's sequentially delayed responses are produced in concert with Jolanta's utterances, as in lines 4–5. Thus, the allocation of Magdalena's opposition directly to Jolanta (line 9) is organizationally sensitive, allowing her, too, a way out of a troublesome participation format.
At this point, when Abbe is no longer an addressed party in the exchange between Magdalena and Jolanta, he turns to the approaching girls, offering some moss (line 10). Their response is produced collaboratively, with Kajsa seconding, or more precisely echoing, Beatrice's rejection. Here, Jolanta turns to the two girls with a pleading yes, downplaying the adversative features of the exchange. Considering the relatively cooperative form of this move, Kajsa's shouting NO:: in line 14 appears rather aggravated, stressing instead the disagreement between the parties. Jolanta then swiftly turns to look at Beatrice, repeating her plea by reduplication (which partly overlaps with, and opposes, Kajsa's preceding rejection), and she also provides an account for her position. The nature of Jolanta's account – that the koja needs better moss – suggests that Jolanta has interpreted the two girls' rejections (lines 11–12) as reflecting the fact that there is already enough moss in the koja. This is where Magdalena reenters the exchange, forcefully opposing Jolanta in partial overlap with the second yes. In addition, she projects Jolanta's account in progress and starts to respond prior to its completion. The resulting overlap is resolved by Jolanta, who drops out in mid-turn. Magdalena's rejection of Jolanta's account is in turn overlapped by Beatrice, who produces an expanded version of Magdalena's rejection (lines 17–18), asserting that they cannot cover the stuff with moss.7
I have no idea what this “stuff” is in the present episode. At other occasions the girls kept various sorts of “treasures” in the koja, such as nicely shaped stones, especially valuable sticks, or pieces of bark, or, less frequently, coins. These valuables were, of course, desirable booty for the attacking team. However, the element of treasure was introduced in koja play only if the koja was judged able to withstand attacks from outside, and many kojas were not.
Let us consider the interactional achievement of Magdalena's and Beatrice's concerted collaboration. It has already been suggested that Jolanta's account (line 15) displays a specific understanding of Beatrice's and Kajsa's rejection of Abbe's offer. Now, what the turns at lines 16 through 18 do is as follows: (i) They orient to that specific understanding of prior talk partly by (ii) projecting the unfinished part of Kajsa's account, cover the stuff with moss; and (iii) they reject both (i) and (ii). In other words, by stating that no moss can be used to cover the stuff, they reject Jolanta's rationale for wanting the moss in the first place. This is the very peak of the entire dispute in (5), and we should note that the collaborative rejection of Jolanta's account is produced in Swedish; that is, it diverges from the preceding talk. Indeed, in line 19 Magdalena switches back to English, and I wish to suggest that this, along with a much friendlier voice, serves to downplay the opposition built up in the preceding turns. In fact, this is the last oppositional turn of this dispute, and the pause in line 20 marks the end of the argumentative format of the interaction. Thus, in line 21, we see Jolanta turning to Abbe, declaring that the koja team does not want the moss in the end, which seals the alignment between her and the other team members.
Summing up the discussion so far, I suggested in the previous sections that code-switching may be used to highlight affective intensity and to escalate social opposition between opponents. This is done by means of linguistic contrast, either in relation to previous talk (between turns) or, as in the case of intraturn switches, within a single turn. In addition, (3) and (5) have shown that in extended disputes – in which social opposition is constructed through extended series (Jefferson & Shenkein 1978) of recycled conflicting positions, or in a stepwise fashion through successive escalations of opposition – code-switching may contribute to creating the climax of an argumentative exchange by adding another layer of contrast between the opponents. In such locations, we may see code-switching as what might be called a peaking device, since such turns are typically followed by a switch back into the language originally established for the exchange, either commencing an oppositional step-down sequence or promptly terminating the dispute. Somewhat similar observations on “topping” an argument through code-switching have been reported by Gal 1979 in a German/Hungarian language setting, as well as by Mashler 1994, who shows how Israeli-American women use code-switching as a “climactic strategy” when negotiating social contrast.
The next section is devoted to a single instance of adversative interaction, in which the oppositional peak and its related code-switch have particularly significant consequences for one interlocutor's continuing participation in the exchange.
In the excerpts above, instances of code-switching have been discussed in terms of their implications for the organization of children's oppositional and often competitive actions. Borrowing a term from Auer (1984), they were instances of “discourse-related” code-switching. Such switches derive their contextualizing value from the linguistic contrast they set up against prior talk. Besides these discourse-organizing aspects, participants may also use code-switching to provide cues related to their own or their coparticipants' language preferences. In such cases, we may speak of “participant-related” switching (Auer 1984).8
In recent texts, Auer uses the label “preference-related” to refer to participant-related aspects of code-switching (cf. 1998). The problem then arises that in most bilingual settings even discourse-related switching has to do with some form of shared preference, be it a preference for same language talk or bi-/multilingual talk. To avoid unnecessary conflation of the term “preference,” I therefore choose to stick with the original term.
Following upon Steven's dropping his stick, Jolanta teasingly announces that she is grateful for his gift. Steven's countering move, threatening to report her theft to the teacher, reveals his interpretation of Jolanta's turn as a tease, as well as his orientation toward an adversative continuation of the exchange. Indeed, the three of them all seem to share this orientation, as is made clear by Magdalena's projection of the final part of Steven's utterance: She responds by teasing him for being a tattletale, before he has had a chance to express any intention of tattling. Steven's response in line 4 sharply contrasts with Magdalena's melodious tease; he forcefully orders the girls to return the stick, his voice showing unmistakable signs of annoyance.
We can see that in lines 1–4, the girls have produced two separate teases, each one exploiting a different action by Steven: Jolanta teases him for dropping his stick, and Magdalena picks up on his threat produced in response to Jolanta's tease. Children clearly may respond to teases in a variety of ways (Tholander 2002a), but Steven chooses to respond to the first tease with a threat, and to the second one with a vocally upgraded demand. In other words, this is a short sequence of multiple participants shaping and coordinating actions so as to maintain, and possibly even upgrade, the state of opposition.
At this point, Jolanta's comment that the boys usually tease the girls for tattling (line 5) works as an implicit offer of collaboration (Maynard 1986) to the other girl, in that it picks up on an issue introduced by Magdalena in line 3. Moreover, since this will prove to be relevant later in the same exchange, it can be noted that Jolanta now introduces the issue of gender. Specifically, she points to a gendered practice of teasing. After a second's pause, Magdalena picks up a new and more cooperative line of action, producing what looks like the first part of a negotiation. At the same time, she makes it clear that the girls wish to be left alone. It could also be suggested that the shape of this turn, casting both girls as a team, explicitly acknowledges the alignment that Jolanta was bidding for in line 5. Now in line 9, Jolanta again picks up the theme introduced by Magdalena (line 7), specifying the concrete meaning of the girls' request to be left alone.
It seems that this collaborative work by the girls (lines 5–9) provides a clear opportunity for less aggravated talk by downplaying the oppositional stances between the parties. In line 10, however, Steven explicitly rejects the option of some sort of settlement, orienting instead toward a continuation of the dispute. Indeed, he starts his turn with a threat (I can do worse, if I want), and finishes off with an emphasized command for the girls to return the stick. He is thus producing types of action similar to those in lines 2 and 4, only this time they are merged into one turn. Considering the type of talk that this turn responds to, it works to escalate the social opposition between the two parties. Interestingly, this is evident only in Magdalena's turn at line 13, where she returns to the adversary exchange, simultaneously preventing Jolanta from handing over the stick. It seems that, rather than ratifying the escalation in lines 11–12, Jolanta attempted to pursue their joint project of negotiating a settlement. However, Magdalena's turn in lines 13–14 accomplishes further important actions. For one thing, it produces what looks like a tease directed at Steven, thus ratifying the new state of opposing stances. The rationale for viewing lines 13–14 as a potential tease (cf. the next section) may be found in Magdalena's exploitation of general playground regulations known to all children in the school, specifically a rule that prohibits the use of sticks in play.9
It goes without saying that the rule only forbids using sticks as weapons; sticks may of course serve many other play purposes that are perfectly legitimate, as far as the staff is concerned.
Although this may certainly be seen as an attempt to escalate the opposition, we find Steven's turn onset overlapping with Jolanta's utterance at a point where it is not yet possible to project the continuation of the latter utterance. In effect, Steven's response seems to orient to Magdalena's turn in lines 13–14. This is also evident in his seizing on the issue of sticks rather than that of boys being stupid. Although the bulk of Steven's response is produced as a threat (I'll steal all your sticks), it is prefaced by a prosodically marked you ↑kno:w, which is produced in a mockingly melodic tone of voice. I would therefore conclude that Steven's response to Magdalena's utterance is shaped in accordance with an understanding of this utterance as a tease. However, Steven's utterance is immediately opposed by Jolanta, who points out that the girls do not have any sticks, thus disqualifying, in a sense, the relevance of Steven's threat.
To sum up the exchange so far, I have suggested that the participants produced coordinated series of actions that reveal an orientation toward an adversative mode of interaction, exploiting a variety of methods to this end. Notably, Jolanta and Magdalena produced several oppositional moves, built largely on the actions of their opponent, and accomplished partly through collaborative coordination of actions (e.g., picking up on issues introduced by the other, and producing turns in concert), as well as through invoking gender categories for rhetorical purposes to give these actions their teasing potential. On the other hand, Steven seemed to handle these actions mainly by producing threats and vocally upgraded commands. In shaping the threats, Steven invoked various notions of repercussion ranging from (i) informing the teacher of the girls' theft of his stick (line 2), through (ii) threatening to steal it back (line 16), to (iii) threatening to do even worse, leaving the precise nature of the repercussion unstated (line 10).
In responding to Steven's mocking threat (line 16), Magdalena declares in Swedish (line 18) that he cannot have his stick back. The tag fattar du inte de ‘don't you get it’, which follows the announcement, works to solidify the oppositional stance displayed. Moreover, the intonation contour of this utterance, as well as other prosodic features (stress, amplitude, tonal quality), reveals Magdalena's annoyance, signaling this utterance as clearly upgraded in comparison to prior talk. Note also that this co-occurs with her switching to Swedish, which may well emphasize the escalating opposition. As we will soon see, this has implications for the ensuing interaction. Note first that Jolanta immediately ties on to the code-switch (line 20) when repeating Magdalena's statement, displaying a sustained alliance between the two girls on the issue of the stick, as well as on the level of language choice.
Steven's response in line 21 is produced in overlap with Jolanta, and it is hard to hear exactly what he is saying. It is clear, however that he responds in English, and that he is trying to get the girls' attention. Notably, the girls do not attend to his words, and for the first time in this entire exchange, Jolanta turns directly to Magdalena, asking if they should return the stick. She then turns back to Steven, reinitiating her previous line of negotiation: om du lovar ‘if you promise’. Steven's response, still in English, is immediately heckled by Magdalena (line 25), who ties on to almost the precise format (choice of wording, tempo, vowel elongation) of Steven's utterance (cf. M. Goodwin 1990), using a parodying tone of voice.
I suggest that what we (as well as the participants) are dealing with in this part of the exchange (lines 18–24) is an instance of participant-related code-switching, in that the two girls have switched to Steven's dispreferred language. And indeed, in the entire corpus of data, I have no record of Steven speaking Swedish. Steven's utterances (lines 21, 25, and possibly 19) may then be seen as displays of his preference for English. They also demonstrate his attempts to produce locally relevant talk (cf. especially line 23), but most of his turns remain unresponded to. The one response he does get is the copycat heckling in line 25, which Magdalena achieves by temporarily switching back to English. In other words, what the girls achieve by switching to Swedish at this point in the escalating dispute, besides highlighting their opposition (which is fairly clear by now), is to constrain Steven's means of producing continuous oppositional action. What began as a stepwise escalation of a conflict has now turned into a combined dispute and language negotiation sequence in which the girls seem to monopolize the production of oppositional talk. Through these means, which may be seen as a display of conversational dominance (Cromdal 2001), they manage to accomplish a settlement. The Swedish sequence is terminated in line 27 when the girls hand over the stick, announcing that Steven now has to leave. Thus, just as in (2) and (3), the code-switch in line 18 sets off what becomes the peak of the entire episode. The final exchange in lines 29–30, following a significant pause, represents an entirely different focus of activity – an attempt by Steven to join the girls' koja team. Although the attempt fails, lines 29–30 comprise a much more cooperative exchange than the earlier sequences, in that both parties seem to orient minimally toward a joint interactional project, which may be seen in Magdalena's (re)alignment with Steven's preferred language.
But let us make a few further notes in relation to the exchange in lines 18–27. I have claimed that by switching into a language that Steven does not speak (and as his classmates, the girls realize this), the girls violate, and orient to, his preference for English. Thus, we may speak of a participant-related aspect of the code-switch in line 20. However, it has been demonstrated that this switch has enormous implications for the continuing interaction, thus lending the code-switch undisputedly discourse-related function. In other words, the code-switch in line 20 demonstrates the polyvalence of code-switching (Auer 1984).
More important, this exchange illustrates an interactional stance toward bilingual talk according to which bilingualism may be treated as a situated and socially distributed phenomenon – a feature accomplished in interaction. This perspective was introduced by Auer's (1984) seminal work, in which he set out to investigate how participants in talk go about “doing being bilingual” (1984:7). Along these lines, the most interesting point to be made in relation to (6) is not that Steven merely possesses a passive knowledge of Swedish, and that the two girls are more proficient bilinguals. Rather, focusing on the children's interaction, we may note that in the course of their conduct, participants display and orient to individual language preferences by exploiting them to accomplish social actions. In other words, the analysis above suggests that bilingual practices constitute both resources for and results of children's accomplishment of accountable actions in mundane play exchanges.
In examining children's bilingual disputes, I have focused here on the interactional means children deploy to manage argumentative exchanges. Specifically, I have highlighted different design features of oppositional actions and have demonstrated in some detail their integration within the sequentially organized course of interaction.
A general finding of this analysis was that in accomplishing oppositional actions in disputes, children orient toward the adversative nature of such exchanges; that is, they do not seem to treat oppositional actions as dispreferred. Instead, oppositional second-pair parts were constructed in much the same way as preferred responses to actions such as requests and invitations (cf. Pomerantz 1984). This observation is in line with those of several previous studies on children's arguments (e.g., Aronsson & Thorell 1998; Corsaro & Rizzo 1990; Evaldsson & Corsaro 1998; Goodwin & Goodwin 1990; Goodwin 1983, 1990, 1998; Maynard 1985b; Tholander 2002b).
When we inspect the children's practices of creating and sustaining social contrast, we can see that various techniques are available to construct recognizably oppositional stances. For instance, children exploit sequencing resources such as latching (excerpts 1, 3, and 4) and overlapping turn entry (excerpts 2, 3, and 4; see Cromdal 2001 for related issues). In addition, explicit expressions of polarity are frequently placed as turn prefaces (excerpts 1, 2, 3, and 4). These particles are often multiply contextualized (Auer 1992, 1995; Gumperz 1982, 1992) as tokens of opposition by means of prosodic techniques such as raised intonation and amplitude, elongated vowels, and changes in tempo. Depending on their sequential location in the unfolding dispute, such turn designs may serve – along with other forms of action such as bodily stance, movement, or even physical attack – to introduce, maintain, or intensify the social opposition.
Along with these resources, which are presumably of a generic character, the children in the present setting also exploited the local availability of two languages to display oppositional stances. By code-switching from one language to the other (regardless of the direction) at specific sequential locations, the children created linguistic contrasts that served as another means of contextualizing oppositional actions, resulting in a practice I have termed building bilingual oppositions. As we have seen in (2), (3) and (4), such juxtaposition of codes forms an additional layer of interactional contrast, which may serve to create the peak of an argumentative sequence. In other words, we may view code-switching as a distinct interactional resource in the sequential construction of oppositional stances.
A related feature of code-switching as an oppositional device was explored in (4), where we witnessed how two girls limited their opponent's argumentative resources by violating his individual language preference. Thus, to the extent that such individual preference reflects a speaker's language ability (which need not always be the case), code-switching may be used by opponents to constrain her or his opportunities to participate in further adversative interaction.
A further issue that has often been raised in relation to bilinguals' use of conversational code-switching is that of power, or more specifically, the potential power connotations of the languages involved (e.g., Heller & Martin-Jones 2001; Myers-Scotton 1993; Zentella 1997). Here, sociolinguistic accounts of bilingual practices typically assume that the co-available languages symbolically reflect the power relations of the wider society in which they co-occur, and that such relations can be metaphorically carried over into particular interactional exchanges. Hence, in switching between the languages, participants allegedly exploit these relations for purposes of wielding power. In the present analysis, I have avoided such claims for two main reasons. First, whereas sociolinguists tend to associate symbolic power with the majority or otherwise structurally dominant language in a society, in the school I studied such a distinction seems unworkable because the language promoted by the teachers (English) is clearly a minority language within the society at large. On the other hand, while English may not be thought of as culturally dominant or powerful in Sweden, it is overwhelmingly recognized as a valuable asset because of its international recognition and applicability. In other words, the traditional distinction based on minority/majority aspects of sociolinguistic distribution may not easily apply to the present setting. Second, and more important, the analytical practice of assigning sociocultural or sociohistorical values to each language or linguistic variety is in itself problematic, in that it may obscure the contingent, locally relevant features of conversational exchanges. Accordingly, ethnomethodologically oriented researchers of bilingual interaction (e.g., Auer 1984, 1998; Cromdal 2001, in press; Gafaranga 1999; Steensig 2001; Li Wei 1998, 2001) strive to avoid such analytical imposition of transcontextual meaning(s) on the situated interactional work in which participants demonstrably engage.10
Indeed, this analytical practice has resulted in various critiques of ethnomethodology in general, and of CA in particular, for overlooking the power dimension of social interaction (e.g., Fairclough 1992). However, as I have argued elsewhere (Cromdal 2001), the focus on participants' own orientations to interactional phenomena does not make Conversation Analysis specifically unable to deal with such power-related phenomena as conversational asymmetries, dominance, and control. This is evident in some ethnomethodologically oriented studies that provide detailed accounts of how conversationalists exploit a range of locally available resources to produce and negotiate power relations (e.g., Cromdal 2003, Hutchby 1996, Watson 1990). More relevant to the present argument, we would not argue that language choice in itself can never be significant in terms of power; rather, insofar as the languages involved are in fact associated with different transcontextual values, it needs to be analytically demonstrated how this meaning potential is brought about in the local flow of interaction, and specifically how such meanings are invoked and brought to bear on the situated accomplishment of power relations.
Finally, these analyses promote a view of bilingualism as a socially distributed and interactionally managed feature of participants' accountable actions. That is, bilingualism is not primarily a cognitively based construct; rather, it is an emergent feature of social interaction. This is not to say that a cognitive basis of bilingualism cannot be invoked, but rather that this should be left to the participants. Indeed, this is what happens in (4), as the girls exploit Steven's limited command of Swedish, thus bringing his “cognitive state” to bear on the interaction. In sum, this study has attempted to show the interactional diversity of “building bilingual opposition” in children's disputes.