Introduction
Many people are surprised to learn that there is no single, universal sign language. Just as spoken languages differ across regions and cultures, sign languages are diverse and shaped by distinct historical trajectories. Hundreds of sign languages have been identified: national sign languages (e.g., British Sign Language), regional sign languages (e.g., Flemish Sign Language), and village sign languages (e.g., Adamorobe Sign Language). So where does the belief in a universal sign language come from? Is it simply a naïve assumption? In fact, it is not. Historically, many deaf signers have described ‘sign language’ as if it were universal, a conception grounded in their lived experience of communicating across national borders. These accounts reflect long-standing practices through which deaf people have found ways to understand one another in transnational gatherings. Over time, these practices gave rise to what is now often referred to as ‘International Sign’. ‘International Sign’ (IS) draws on signs from various national sign languages and on grammatical strategies shared across sign languages. While some forms of IS have become conventionalised, the term is also used for ad hoc, spontaneous communication across sign languages. This article takes as its starting point this historical paradox: that sign language is not universal, yet has long been experienced and enacted as if it were.
Many conventionalised sign languages are not mutually intelligible, but they share resemblances in how meaning is constructed and expressed. Across diverse sign languages, signers routinely map referents into space, shift body stance and gaze to depict quoted actions and perspectives, and use handshape-and-movement configurations to show size, shape, and motion. Such grammatical strategies provide scaffolding for cross-language understanding: they allow signers to communicate, even when they do not share the same sign languages. In addition, lexicon can be iconically motivated, which sometimes facilitates understanding; people may recruit signs they believe to be more iconic into international signing. As a result, certain features of signing travel well in international contexts, enabling signers to calibrate across different signing repertoires, even as specific lexical items vary.
The insights shared in this article are shaped by my background as a deaf, white, European, female scholar with ethnographic and personal experience with IS. Since 2005, I have frequently used IS in both personal and professional contexts: from casual conversations with international deaf friends to giving presentations, participating in meetings and workshops, chairing international events, and using it in my research on IS itself. This perspective enhances my analysis of language practices and language ideologies in relation to IS, yet I also recognise limitations in fully addressing racial and Global South considerations, despite conscientious efforts.
The article draws on multi-sited linguistic ethnography conducted between 2017 and 2021 in international deaf spaces. I conducted linguistic ethnographic research with deaf people who use IS. Linguistic ethnography combines close attention to language-in-use with studying the social and cultural contexts in which communication takes place. It draws on (participant) observation and interviews that elicit metalinguistic reflections (
Hou & Kusters 2020). My fieldwork sites included Frontrunners (an international education programme for young deaf people, based in Denmark), DOOR International (a Nairobi-based centre for translations of Bible stories in different sign languages), the World Federation of the Deaf Congress (Paris, 2019), the SIGN8 conference (Brazil), and International Sign classes and workshops in Denmark, Germany, and Brazil, alongside sustained observation of online IS use (websites, Instagram, Facebook).
As part of this work, I produced
This is IS, a series of six ethnographic films exploring how deaf signers use and reflect on IS (
https:// mobiledeaf.org.uk/film/thisisis/). Some examples in this article appear in the films (English subtitles available via CC); where relevant, timecoded links are included.
In metalinguistic reflections I documented in the research, IS was often described as an emergent form of communication, but IS is also increasingly treated as a language that can be taught and interpreted. This article traces how IS is being shaped through processes of
regimentation. The concept of regimentation has been used in linguistic anthropology and sociolinguistics to describe how flexible, context-dependent language practices become more controlled, recognisable, and institutionally actionable (
Irvine 2019;
Kroskrity 2000). Regimentation of languages refers to the regulation of communicative practices through processes such as naming, documenting, teaching, and regulating them via policies, which render them visible and manageable within institutional systems.
In my ethnographic study of these processes, six key paradoxes emerged; each offering insight into how IS is negotiated as both a communicative practice and a sociopolitical product. Before turning to these, I first unpack the historical paradox mentioned above: the notion that, although sign language is not universal, it has long been experienced and enacted as if it were. This historical section serves as a backdrop. Subsequently, each of the six paradoxes that follow focuses on present-day dynamics: how IS is used, shaped, learned and contested in specific settings. Together, they reveal a central paradox: IS thrives through openness and flexibility, yet is increasingly shaped by regimentation.
Sign language is not universal, yet it crosses borders
Deaf writer Pierre Desloges wrote in 1779 that scholars searching for a universal language had overlooked one already in use: sign language (
Desloges 1779). In the 18th, 19th, and early 20th centuries, deaf people regularly described ‘sign language’ as a shared, global medium. Deaf people were communicating successfully in sign language across national borders at banquets, conferences, and world fairs. In 1818, a deaf French teacher who travelled to the US to help establish a deaf school remarked ‘This language, as simple as nature and … capable of describing all of nature, has no boundaries other than those in the minds of men. It is universal, and deaf mutes from whatever country they come understand each other’ (Clerc
1818, in Gulliver
2015: 7–8).
In his study of deaf transnational interactions at late nineteenth and early twentieth-century deaf conferences, which were mostly attended by white male Europeans and Americans, deaf historian
Murray (2007) identified descriptions of such communication. At a conference in 1899, a Danish participant observed that ‘two deaf-mutes from countries which lie far away from each other do not need many minutes together before they have received some information on each other’ (73). At the 1900 Paris Congress, another Danish attendee remarked: ‘With the help of the sign language, a deaf-mute from Karlskrona [Sweden] can converse quickly and without difficulty with a deaf-mute from Chicago even if they don’t understand a syllable of each other’s written language’ (74). Statements like these reflected the shared communicative experience of deaf people meeting transnationally.
Sign language was thus seen as a universal form of communication. Yet this belief in the natural universality of signs coexisted with experiences of misunderstanding. Amos Draper, an American deaf man attending the 1889 Paris Congress, noted that informal communication was usually intelligible, but formal speeches often left him lost (
Draper 1890). Signing facilitates cross-border communication, but more regimented forms (such as presentations on the stage) came with difficulties for some.
Because of challenges in international communication during formal meetings, a project was initiated to create a standard international sign language. Launched in the 1950s by the newly established World Federation of the Deaf (WFD), the project aimed to develop a lexicon for international use, such as in their meetings and conferences. The resulting Gestuno dictionary (
BDA 1975), published by the WFD in collaboration with the British Deaf Association in 1975, included photographs of 1,500 signs shown by three white people and reflected an ideal of planned universality. The underlying idea was that certain signs, for concepts such as ‘work’, ‘young’, and ‘congress’, could be standardised and widely adopted. Little is known about how the dictionary was compiled, including what criteria were used to select signs (whether they were already in transnational circulation or selected anew) and how deaf people engaged with the dictionary. There seems to be widespread agreement, though, that this top-down form of regimentation proved difficult to implement in practice.
In the literature, the few references to Gestuno uptake tend to focus on sign language interpreting, rather than its unmediated use. Sign language interpreters have long played a central role at international events, where they interpret between various signed and spoken languages. For example, if a presenter uses spoken English, an interpreter may stand beside them on stage and interpret into British Sign Language (BSL), or, in this context, into Gestuno. At the 1979 WFD Congress in Bulgaria, interpreters using Gestuno were criticised for appearing robotic and ineffective, as they used Gestuno signs with Bulgarian grammar (
Moody 2002). The perceived failure of Gestuno-based interpretation at such events helped trigger a shift away from rigid standardisation of international signing and toward more organic processes of conventionalisation. From the 1980s onwards, this shift institutionalised what is now commonly referred to as IS interpreting, shaped through interaction and experience rather than prescriptive dictionaries (
Scott Gibson & Ojala 1994;
Moody 2002). Gestuno interpreting was replaced by IS interpreting (
Nilsson 2020).
IS is the main language of communication at the quadrennial Deaflympics, at regional sports events, and at international youth camps organised by bodies such as the World Federation of the Deaf Youth Section and the European Union of the Deaf Youth. It is also widely used at conferences, including the WFD congresses, the Deaf Academics conferences, sign language conferences, and the International Committee of Sports for the Deaf congresses. Across these varied spaces, IS evolved through repeated exposure and negotiation among deaf participants from different national backgrounds, but predominantly from Europe.
While the Gestuno dictionary is out of print and not used much, over time, other dictionaries have appeared. Today, a growing number of resources—from printed dictionaries to videos with IS signs on YouTube—offer resources to learn ‘International Sign’, reinforcing the idea that it is a graspable and teachable language. For example, in 2016 the WFD Regional Secretariat for Asia Youth Camp compiled a word list for use by people who attended the camp, while the Deaflympics ‘International Sign Book’ produced for the 2017 games in Turkey included a curated set of IS signs to facilitate communication at the event. These and other dictionaries were often created as individual initiatives or by event organisers. It is not clear how they were compiled, but it seems that people fluent in IS selected signs they observed being frequently used. When compared, such dictionaries often show different signs for the same concept. Looking across multiple dictionaries provides insight into the range of signs in circulation, whereas relying on just one dictionary gives a more limited view, although some do include several commonly used signs for the same concept.
IS being used on conference stages has also led to forms of regimentation related to the context of sign language interpreting. In many of these international events, IS is used alongside multiple signed and spoken languages, with simultaneous interpreting between these languages and IS. Today, IS interpreting is visible on prominent global stages, including United Nations meetings in New York and Geneva, as well as in institutions such as the European Commission and the European Parliament. An accreditation process for IS interpreters was established in 2015 by the WFD and the WASLI (World Association of Sign Language Interpreters) (
de Wit et al. 2023), contributing to the institutionalisation—and thus regimentation—of IS interpreting. Programmes such as EUMASLI (European Master in Sign Language Interpreting) and IS interpreter certification at NTID (National Technical Institute for the Deaf) in Rochester (USA) teach IS interpreting.
Another important issue in relation to the regimentation of IS is its name. National sign language names such as ‘American Sign Language’ and ‘British Sign Language’ had emerged since the 1960s, a period when structural linguistics provided the framework to argue that sign languages are fully fledged languages with their own grammar and lexicon (
McBurney 2012). The practice of naming sign languages is associated—whether ideologically or in practice—with the legitimacy of those languages, the identification of signers as a linguistic minority, the right to education in a sign language, the right to access services in a sign language, and the legal recognition of sign languages. However, IS does not entirely fit within this national language paradigm.
IS was largely overlooked during the early period of the study of national sign languages. While a few pioneering studies emerged between the 1970s and 1990s, systematic academic interest in IS developed after 2000 (see
Kusters 2025 for a literature review). The act of researching IS and publishing this research is a form of regimentation entangled with the other processes mentioned above. Much of the existing research on IS has focused on its use on the stage by presenters and interpreters during presentations, as well as on IS interpreting as an institutional practice (e.g.
Woll 1990;
Supalla & Webb 1995;
McKee & Napier 2002;
Rosenstock 2004;
Whynot 2016;
de Wit et al. 2021). By contrast, less attention has been paid to how IS is used off-stage, among deaf people themselves. My own research addresses this gap by focusing on a range of settings where IS is used.
Researchers played an important role in the naming of IS. The term ‘language’ is included in names such as ‘British Sign Language’, but the status of IS as a ‘language’ has been contested. Not only could researchers not agree on whether IS is a language, its language
type has been under discussion as well (see
Kusters 2025). Some scholars described IS as a lingua franca, others as a contact language such as a
jargon,
pidgin, or
koine; or a
system (e.g.,
Supalla & Webb 1995;
Hansen 2015;
Whynot 2016). Often these scholars argued that IS is not a language, even if lingua franca and contact languages are usually seen as languages. These differing positions on the languagehood of IS stem from various motivations: some highlight the variability and flexibility of IS as incompatible with fixed notions of language, while others express concern that recognising IS as a language might undermine the status of national sign languages (
Mesch 2010). This concern is especially present in institutional interpreting contexts. The presence of IS interpreters at international events has, at times, led governments to resist funding access through national sign languages, whilst national sign language interpreters are often seen to provide better access than IS interpreters (
Scott Gibson & Ojala 1994;
Nilsson 2020).
In contrast,
Rathmann & De Quadros (2022) argued that International Sign Language is a language: for example, because it is learned and used in ways that resemble national sign languages. From their perspective, naming and treating IS as a language would affirm its legitimacy and support language planning, thereby facilitating further regimentation, though with the view that such regimentation should be carried out in a carefully planned and deliberate way.
In summary, IS is placed in a double bind. It is expected to facilitate communication and foster inclusion across diverse deaf communities, yet it is frequently said not to fit within the framework of bounded, named languages. It is studied, documented, and taught—through courses, dictionaries, and interpreter training—yet simultaneously described as ad hoc, improvised, or context-specific. Despite these tensions, deaf people continue to use IS in a wide range of international spaces. For example, at cultural festivals like Clin d’Oeil in France, IS is used as a performative and artistic resource in theatre, poetry, and storytelling. IS is also widely used in online spaces, where deaf people engage in vlogs, livestreams, interviews, and informal exchanges on platforms such as Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok. In these settings, signers are often highly creative with IS, developing forms that differ from those used in formal contexts, further extending its reach and reinforcing its role in transnational communication. So, even as IS is structured from above, it continues to grow and evolve from below.
Before I unpack the abovementioned processes in more detail in the rest of this article, I need to explain that one particular sign language plays a central role in the story of IS: a national sign language called American Sign Language, or ASL (for more details, see
Kusters 2021). ASL is perhaps the most widely recognised and widely used national sign language globally. It developed in the early 19th century in the United States through a mix of French Sign Language (LSF), home signs brought by deaf children, and local varieties such as Martha’s Vineyard Sign Language, which was used on an island located near the US mainland (
Supalla & Clark 2014;
Shaw & Delaporte 2015). It became established through the development of American deaf education and the founding of Gallaudet University in 1864, in Washington, DC. From the 1960s onward, ASL also became the focus of linguistic study and a symbol of cultural pride, supported by Deaf Studies scholarship and strong cultural narratives (
Murray 2017).
Over time, ASL has spread internationally, through missionary and development work, and education. For example, Dr Andrew Foster, a deaf African American educator, introduced ASL signs while establishing over thirty schools for the deaf across thirteen African countries between the 1950s and 1980s (
Runnels 2017). Other actors, including Peace Corps volunteers, religious groups, and educators, also played a role. In many countries, ASL signs have been integrated in national sign languages (
Parks 2014).
ASL carries symbolic power: it is often associated with higher education, modernity, and global deaf identity, and for many deaf people around the world, it is an aspirational sign language. ASL is learned informally, through travel, online videos, and social networks, and widely used in vlogs, films, and performances shared on social media (
McKee & McKee 2020). Forms of ASL—whether basic or more fluent, brought in through the national deaf education system or learnt in addition to it—are therefore widely known, and in some international spaces, (simplified) ASL is preferred over IS (
Moriarty & Kusters 2021;
Moriarty et al. 2024). This means that ASL ‘competes’ with IS in some ways as the global deaf lingua franca (
Kusters 2021), and for this reason, ASL will be mentioned in all six of the paradoxes explored below.
Paradox 1: visual signing in IS is both highly valued and a last resort
The first paradox centres on the role of ‘visual signing’ in IS. The term ‘visual signing’ may seem puzzling; after all, many sign languages are visual (some are tactile, in the case of tactile sign languages). However, there are ways of signing that are more abstract, and others that fully exploit the visual properties of sign languages. ‘Visual signing’ is a colloquial term that was used by many of my research participants and it refers to strategies such as the use of iconic signs. ‘Iconicity’ refers to the visual resemblance between a sign and its meaning (
Taub 2001). Other strategies are enactment (acting out events or actions using the body), spatial mapping (using locations in space around the signer to show relationships and actions), and use of facial expressions to convey nuance or emotion. These signing strategies rely less on arbitrary convention and more on transparency and are often used in international signed communication (
Byun et al. 2020).
Skills in ‘visual signing’ are honed through a lifetime of communicating with a diverse range of people: deaf people from different familial and educational backgrounds, and hearing people with varying degrees of signing competence. While some deaf people have grown up in deaf signing families and/or attended schools where sign language was fully integrated into the curriculum, others have hearing parents who did or did not sign and/or have gone through education in mainstream schools with little or no early exposure to signed language. A large number of deaf signers have had little access to signed language through peers or community settings and learned to sign later in life. Many deaf people around the world have never had the opportunity to attend school, yet they communicate through signing within their families and in their communities, using forms of signing that differ from those acquired in formal educational settings, such as home sign (
Goico & Horton 2023) and village sign languages (
de Vos & Pfau 2015).
As a result, deaf communities include people with a wide range of signing fluencies, language preferences, and communicative styles. Many deaf signers have therefore developed a high degree of communicative adaptability, which is the ability to
calibrate their communication in response to their deaf or hearing interlocutor’s signing fluency, preferences, and/or linguistic repertoire. The term ‘calibration’ is a translation of a sign that refers to turning a dial on the body (Figure
1). Calibration means that signers fine-tune—calibrate—their use of different strategies, depending on who they are talking to, how well they are understood, and what feels appropriate. For example, they may repeat a sign, rephrase or paraphrase, or act something out. They may turn to fingerspelling (spelling out a word letter by letter), use mouthings (silent mouth movements that resemble spoken words, which can be lipread by the interlocutor), or borrow signs from various sign languages. These choices are shaped by habit, preference, context, assumptions, ideologies, or previous experience. Some people avoid fingerspelling in IS, as it assumes literacy privilege and is often seen as an English-centric strategy, since it frequently brings English words into a signed utterance. Mouthings are also often in English, and can either distract from the signing or help with understanding signs.
Figure 1.
Illustration of a research participant signing ‘calibrate’, using a rotating hand movement at chest level to depict fine-tuning or adjustment.
![]()
Line drawing of a man making a rotating hand movement at chest level, showing the concept of ‘calibrating’ as a metaphor for communicative adjustment.
The above-mentioned calibration strategies are key to IS, but they are also used in national sign languages. However, national sign languages are often believed to show higher levels of conventionalisation, with more lexicalised signs (signs that have a fixed form and meaning within a sign language). Over time, such signs often become more condensed and arbitrary, and less transparently ‘visual’. In addition, national sign languages often habitually incorporate elements borrowed from spoken languages, such as mouthings, initialised signs (using handshapes based on the first letter of a spoken word) or structures that mirror spoken language grammar.
In contrast, using ‘visual signing' strategies has been described by many of my interviewees as central to IS, more so than for national sign languages. I illustrate 'visual signing' with a video-recorded exchange between Hyemi (South Korea) and Aline (Brazil), both new to IS, during their first week at Frontrunners, a year-long international educational programme for deaf youth in Denmark. This moment, included in one of my ethnographic films on IS (
https://vimeo.com/686852215#t=0h39m34s) and Figure
2, takes place outdoors during a game night. The weather is mild, but Aline is wearing a thick jacket. Hyemi reaches out, touches the fabric (Figure
2a), and asks ’Aren’t you hot?’, by waving her hands near her face and sticking out her tongue to evoke the sensation of heat (Figure
2b). Aline responds by shaking her head, using the ASL-concordant sign GOOD (Figure
2b), and strokes her upper body with a relaxed facial expression to show she feels comfortable (Figure
2c). Hyemi then shifts to asking about the weather in Brazil, using the sign BRAZIL and repeating her earlier enactment of ‘hot’ (Figure
2d). In response, Aline uses spatial mapping: she shapes her hand into the outline of Brazil (a strategy common in many sign languages), and points to the top (north) and bottom (south) of her hand when she explains that the north is warmer and the south cooler (Figures
2d and
2e). Hyemi nods and follows up: ‘Oh, it’s cold there?’, enacting the concept of cold by bringing both hands close to the chest with fists clenched and a shivering motion (Figure
2f), and then asks ‘How cold?’ using the conventional IS sign NUMBER, involving a wiggling of the fingers (Figure
2g). She also signs MINUS?, by tracing a ‘—‘ in the air, and raises her eyebrows to signal a question (Figure
2h). Aline checks if Hyemi means the current location, signing HERE? followed by the ASL-concordant sign NOW (Figure
2i), to which Hyemi clarifies that she is still asking about BRAZIL (Figure
2i) and not about here and now in Denmark. Hyemi then reproduces Aline’s hand-map, points to the southern region, and signs '1-2-3 MINUS?' (Figure
2j), to ask whether temperatures fall below freezing. Aline answers that the lowest it gets is 0
°C (Figure
2j). Hyemi then comments that this is NORMAL (Figure
2k), using a conventional IS sign in combination with strong facial expressions to convey that this is ‘nothing’ to her. She adds that it gets much colder in Korea, now enacting the feeling of being cold (as in Figure
2f) with a larger movement and a more intense facial expression (Figure
2l), clarifying that temperatures can reach −20
°C, prompting in Aline a surprised facial expression and a thumbs-down sign meaning ‘bad’ (Figure
2m). Hyemi continues the conversation using a metaphor enacted visually: ‘It’s like a sword’, miming a sharp blade in the air (Figure
2n) and sharpening it (Figure
2o). Aline is not sure what Hyemi means, asking if it is ‘on the ground’ (Figure
2p), so Hyemi repairs the message: she enacts the cold descending from above (Figure
2q), jabbing her face (Figure
2r), and pulling her shirt up over her face in a protective movement (Figure
2s).
Figure 2.
Sequential drawings organised in the style of a comic, showing two signers, Hyemi (from Korea) and Aline (from Brazil), calibrating their signing to describe temperature differences between their countries.
![]()
Series of drawings showing two women signing together, using strong facial expressions to communicate about the weather, pointing to themselves and to each other, and using signs to express warmth, cold and precipitation.
This short exchange showcases key strategies that many deaf people describe as ‘visual signing’: enactment, spatial mapping (the hand-as-map), and embodied metaphor (cold as sword). Facial expressions animate temperature, emotion, and intent. The interaction includes a few lexical signs which are widely used in IS (e.g., NUMBER, NORMAL, and the ASL-concordant sign NOW) but no fingerspelling and minimal mouthing. It is a highly expressive, intuitive, and collaborative negotiation of meaning. Throughout the exchange, the emphasis lies on making experiences and actions visible.
However, despite this communicative ideal, visual signing is often used late in cascades of repair. In their study on international deaf communication,
Byun et al. (2020) show that, when a sign is not understood, initial repair strategies include substitution (offering another sign) or fingerspelling. However, although fingerspelling was widely used, it was effective in less than half of the attempts. Its use assumes two shared language knowledges: first, fluency in the same fingerspelling alphabet—yet many different alphabets exist globally, and the one most commonly used in IS is not one that all signers are fluent in; and, second, knowledge of the same written language, often English, though it can also be another language. In contrast, longer explanations work better, as well as what many of my participants called ‘visual signing’ (called ‘productive signs’ by
Byun et al. 2020) were among the most successful. This raises a paradox: if visual signing is seen as effective and strongly valued, why does it come last? Why do many people use substitution or fingerspelling first?
Part of the answer is pragmatic. Visual signing takes time, cognitive effort, and creativity; it requires breaking down concepts, rendering them into spatial and embodied forms, and adapting in real time. It contradicts the principle of linguistic economy. Signers may avoid it when fatigued, introverted, or in fast-paced interactions. Moreover, visual signing is sometimes perceived as theatrical or over-elaborate, especially when compared to concise lexical signs or fingerspelled words. While participants praised visual signing for its clarity, they also acknowledged it could be demanding or impractical.
There is another layer: visual signing is sometimes seen as inferior and less sophisticated. While many celebrate its ‘purity’, in that the ideal is for it to be untainted by spoken language features like mouthings or fingerspelling, this also means it is often associated with being uneducated and/or with being disfluent in signing. For example, it is often associated with deaf and hearing people who are not fluent, to whom more fluent signers have to adapt. Moreover, ‘visual signing’ is often stereotypically associated with people from certain geographic areas. For example, in interviews, white European participants sometimes referred to ‘deaf Asians’ or ‘deaf Africans’ as lacking English or ASL skills and therefore ‘needing more visual signing’. In such utterances, visual signing was not positioned as a shared or standard strategy, but as an accommodation extended to those seen as linguistically limited. In practice, while it is true that the majority of deaf people in the world face structural barriers to education (further discussed below), there are also many deaf signers in Asia and Africa who are highly fluent in English or ASL, and/or adept in diverse IS strategies, and many deaf Europeans who are not. Yet deaf Africans and Asians are often not recognised as agents of calibration, but portrayed as passive recipients, people to be adjusted to. These perceptions echo older colonial tropes, where gestural communication is associated with ‘primitiveness’. In this way, the moral imperative to calibrate for clarity is thus often tied up with arrogance and racialised assumptions.
Summarised, ‘visual signing’ is both celebrated as the pinnacle of IS and used as a last resort. It is seen as the purest expression of IS but is often deployed only when other, more ‘economical’, ‘educated’, or ‘mainstream’ strategies fail. It is associated with novice signers and with signers who are seen as having limitations, but also with high-skill creativity.
Paradox 2: IS is both innate and learned
In 2019, I interviewed Amanda from New Zealand, who produced educational videos for deaf children in IS in a project called ‘OpenSign’ (
https://www.opensign.eu). She explained that content in IS should be intuitively understandable to deaf signers. From her perspective, it does not make sense for deaf signers to say, ‘I do not know IS’:
Is IS something that someone can say they ‘don’t know’? People might think they need to learn it in advance, but it’s not like that. IS comes from within us. Knowing many languages helps to do IS, but you do not have to go somewhere to learn it.
Amanda’s account reflects a common belief that IS skills are already present in experienced signers. Like her, many deaf participants in my study describe IS as something intuitive, something that is inherently part of the communicative repertoire of deaf signers. This is not because they were formally taught it, but because they can draw on calibration strategies that are embedded in their experience of signing with a variety of deaf and hearing people. As explained above, these strategies include enactment, spatial referencing, and adjustments of facial expressions, all of which are common across signed languages.
However, in the above quote Amanda also stated that it helps to know many languages. In another interview, Danny from Belgium added depth to this idea with the metaphor of the backpack:
My native language as a child was VGT [Flemish Sign Language] and that was put in my backpack. As I grew, I went to southern Belgium where I met various people and learnt their language, which is LSFB [French Belgian Sign Language]. I added this to my backpack and its contents grew. I went to America in 1999, where I met Americans and added their language, ASL, into my backpack. … At the same time as the backpack growing, my ‘calibration dial’ adaption skills became more powerful and skilful. … So as the backpack grew, my ‘dial’ [Figure
1] grew bigger and stronger, and I became more able to adapt to the people I met.
Here, the combined use of the metaphors of the backpack and the dial emphasises that IS is a composite of accumulated experiences, selectively drawn upon when calibrating. Danny noted that IS developed differently in academic versus sporting contexts, with ‘visual signing’ being used more extensively in the latter: ‘In sports, you use more gestures, more iconicity. If you’ve experienced both, your dial will be stronger.’ In his view, formal settings (such as conferences) alone are insufficient to develop a rich IS repertoire.
For Danny, ‘mingling’ within international deaf networks was essential to accumulate this knowledge.
Mingling is a sign many use to describe informal, socially immersive learning (see Figure
3), across recurring international encounters. When mingling, people gain skills through actively engaging with deaf people from different national and linguistic backgrounds and becoming attuned to diverse communicative practices. People adjust, guess, clarify, and try again. Through mingling and proactively orienting themselves to people with various cultural and linguistic backgrounds, signers accumulate experience with communicating in different ways. To pinpoint these dynamics,
Green (2014) introduced the term
moral orientation, emphasising that connecting through IS is more about dispositions than about knowledge of specific languages or strategies.
Figure 3.
Illustration of sign MINGLING, showing circular hand movements around each other to depict people mixing or socialising in a group.
![]()
Line drawing of a person using both hands to make circular movements around each other, representing the concept of ‘mingling’.
Yet, paradoxically, the demand for structured learning of IS is rising. There exist classes in national sign languages, and people ask where they can ‘learn IS’ in similar ways, in class or in other structured contexts such as self-directed courses. An example comes from my fieldwork at DOOR International, an international deaf organisation headquartered in Nairobi. A Kenyan deaf employee asked me where he could learn IS. Yet our conversation itself was already happening in what I saw as IS: I was incorporating Kenyan signs I had learnt in the days before our conversation, and he was also adjusting his signing in response to me as a non-Kenyan. His signing was flexible and visually rich and I found it easy to understand, by my judgement, he was strong in IS. But he saw IS as something he had not yet acquired. This illustrates how different ideas of what it means to ‘know IS’ can conflict.
As mentioned in the section on the history of IS, IS is increasingly being taught in structured courses. Traditionally, such instruction took the form of short pre-event workshops, typically lasting a few hours, designed to prepare participants—often deaf or hearing volunteers, participants, and presenters—for upcoming international conferences and sports events. More recently, however, longer and more formalised courses have emerged, particularly within interpreter training programmes offered in universities. These courses are often aimed at sign language interpreters and may span several weeks or months.
I have observed IS classrooms in Denmark, Iceland, Germany, and Brazil, including pre-event courses held at the event location and independent courses offered outside the context of specific events, aimed at deaf participants and hearing sign language students. I also interviewed deaf IS teachers from Brazil, India, the UK, and New Zealand, asking for their views on which aspects of IS can be taught, and how. As explained above, IS often relies heavily on visual strategies. However, there is also a common lexicon that has become conventionalised over time. In the classrooms I observed, students often learned signs that are frequently used in IS interactions. But some teachers avoided this, and instead prioritised exercises aimed at ‘unlocking’ visual signing skills, encouraging students to visualise concepts without relying too much on lexical signs. Metalinguistic awareness was another central component of these classes. Teachers frequently discussed the flexibility of IS and explained to students about calibration strategies in IS, such as minimising fingerspelling or finding alternative approaches when fingerspelling does not work. Some teachers emphasised that IS is not only an inter-lingual exchange but also an inter-cultural one. They highlighted that certain signs carry cultural connotations, and that what feels natural or acceptable in one context may provoke discomfort in another. For example, signs related to religion, gender, or ethnicity can be sensitive or offensive, such as using a sign for ‘woman’ that references the breasts, which may be considered more inappropriate or uncomfortable in some cultural settings than in others.
The classrooms I observed did not rely on structured teaching materials, and the learning environments were semi-formal, blurring the line between explicit instruction and experiential engagement. Teachers often used video materials—featuring deaf signers from diverse backgrounds and contexts—to expose students to a range of IS styles and registers. These materials included, for example, conference announcements, policy statements, humorous sketches, personal opinion vlogs, and academic presentations, as well as dictionaries of IS. In this way, IS classes aim not only to teach but to simulate some aspects of real-life mingling and variation.
However, even in these semi-formal settings, regimentation happens, especially when classes revolve around a so-called ‘core’ IS lexicon, with certain signs (such as for ‘woman’ or ‘important’) being repeatedly taught and reinforced across different courses. While this can help people to communicate effectively in IS contexts, it can also give the impression that there is a correct or official way to sign in IS. This belief may marginalise alternative signs and discourage the kind of intensive calibration, flexibility, and negotiation that often characterise IS in practice. Over time, learners may come to view IS as a fixed code to be memorised rather than as a dynamic, context-dependent practice shaped by the diverse backgrounds and communicative choices of its users.
Paradox 3: IS thrives on flexibility—but requires boundaries
IS use is frequently celebrated for its adaptability: its openness to the use of signs from different sign languages. But, while IS is valued for its flexibility, participants in international deaf settings often express concerns that this flexibility can open the door for IS to become dominated by ASL. One focus group participant captured this tension when they imagined a hypothetical ideal IS, saying:
I know this is impossible, but if we were to try, perfect IS would be about a group of people who meet every day and sign languages from different countries would be used between them. If there is a sign used by one of them that others find really perfect, because it’s so clear, then it can be adopted. Other signs can be taken from elsewhere and putting all of them together then becomes International Sign. That would be perfect. But when we meet people [in international gatherings], there’s not a lot of time, or people don’t have enough experience to make themselves understood, so instead we take signs from ASL.
This echoes the pragmatic dynamics described earlier, where visual signing is often used only as a fallback due to practical constraints. Similarly, the use of ASL in IS reflects time pressure and a desire for communicative efficiency. Yet this pragmatism is often viewed ambivalently. Many fear that over-reliance on ASL undermines the polyphonic and pluralistic ethos of IS. As Mark from New Zealand, a teacher in the Frontrunners programme, put it:
Signing in ASL means that it is valued more highly than other languages. It can take over all languages. We should not allow that to happen. We need to cherish them all and that is why we need to think of how to sign IS to be more equal. It is okay to use some ASL signs, as much as it is to use other sign languages’ signs.
The concern that ASL is used too heavily within IS often leads to efforts to draw boundaries between the two. A recurring theme in the IS classes I observed was a strong caution against over-reliance on ASL. Teachers frequently reminded students not to default to ASL signs and sometimes corrected them when they did. One widely cited problem was its intelligibility: although ASL is widely known to some extent, it is also widely not known. Its signs are often more lexicalised, smaller, and faster, making them harder to understand for those unfamiliar with ASL. At the same time, many of these same teachers also included ASL signs as part of the broader IS lexicon, acknowledging their widespread use in transnational settings. ASL was thus positioned as both a resource and a threat. Like these teachers, many participants in my study wanted IS to remain a space of understanding, calibration, openness, and cooperation, where signs from different languages—including ASL—could be drawn on, and they argued that preserving this openness required actively resisting ASL ‘dominance’.
For many, curtailing ASL use required conscious effort: actively working to incorporate signs from other sign languages and to use more ‘visual signing', avoiding recognisably ASL forms where possible. At Frontrunners, for instance, teachers sometimes suggested alternatives when participants used ASL signs in online videos in IS. Initially, many did not know which signs used in IS were also ASL signs. Frontrunners participants corrected each other, and over time, many learned to recognise ASL signs within IS; a necessary first step, since avoiding ASL depends on being able to identify it. While ASL continued to be used informally among Frontrunners participants, students gradually developed the ability to use IS with fewer ASL signs (
Kusters 2020).
Mark, the Frontrunners teacher in the quote above, hints at a conceptual ‘tipping point': a threshold beyond which IS is seen as having so much ASL in it that it is no longer IS, but ASL (see Figure
4). While people may disagree on where exactly this tipping point lies, the very act of wanting to keep IS separate from (too much) ASL means that some kind of regimentation is necessary for IS: not to standardise IS as a language, but to mark when it becomes ‘too much’ of one language. Thus, the more IS users wish to keep IS distinct from ASL, the more they are treating IS as if it were bounded, not to ‘let in’ too much of ASL. The paradox is that, in order to preserve IS as a space
without rigid rules about what languages or resources can be used, people do impose rules (about what IS should
not become).
Figure 4.
Conceptual diagram showing the ‘tipping point’ between IS and ASL, visualising how IS can shift toward ASL.
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Diagram with a balance labelled ‘IS’ at the centre and ‘ASL’ on one side, showing a pivot point marked ‘tipping point’.
Paradox 4: understanding is both central and partial
IS is often chosen as a/the conference language at events on deaf-related and sign language-related topics because it facilitates communication across national sign languages. Using IS reduces or eliminates the need to provide interpreters for multiple national sign languages and allows signing presenters to connect directly with signing audiences, even when they come from different countries. Presenters often bring calibration strategies to the stage: they may slow down their signing, use more ‘visual signing’ techniques than they would otherwise, and ask audience members—before or even during their talk—which signs they use for key concepts, incorporating these into their presentation. The latter strategy is particularly effective when a large group from the host country is present and presenters include local signs in their IS. However, presenters cannot realistically tailor their signing to each audience member’s linguistic background. As a result, IS communication on stage involves a constant balancing act: making understanding possible is both a guiding value (as in Green’s ‘moral orientation’) and something that cannot be fully achieved. At SIGN8, an international sign language conference in Brazil, organiser Flaviane Reis articulated this tension:
My priority at this conference would be firstly the audience. I want the people in the audience to really understand. I wouldn’t want people to come to the conference and not understand anything. … In Brazil, there are deaf people who don’t know much English, and also not much IS. But it is still important to share information and make sure they understand. … I do know, of course, there will always be some people who won’t understand, but that’s to be expected. If I made sure everyone understood, it would just take too long and you only have so much time. I have to be quick enough to cover all the key topics in the time I’ve been allocated, regardless of who understands me.
Giving a presentation is essentially a monologue, so calibration to the audience is necessarily limited. In addition, conference schedules are often tightly timed, which puts presenters under pressure to convey their points within a fixed slot. However, presenting in IS is frequently perceived as requiring more time than using a national sign language, as presenters unpack concepts and explain them more explicitly, or simply because presenters feel less fluent in IS than in their national sign language.
Some IS researchers (
Rosenstock 2015;
Whynot 2016) have sought to measure how well IS works as a medium for presentations and interpretation in conferences.
Whynot (2016) concluded that IS falls short on the stage, because many people tend to struggle to understand it. My ethnographic research also showed that understanding IS in large-scale settings like conferences and performances is often partial and uneven. When watching presentations, some research participants grasped the overall message but missed details; others caught details but not the broader point. Audience members often shifted between these levels of understanding at different moments during events.Audience members often shifted between these levels of understanding at different moments during events.Audience members often shifted between these levels of understanding at different moments during events. Some understood almost nothing of the language on stage during the entire event, others followed nearly everything. Participants also often reported increased understanding by the third day of a conference or after attending events over the years, as repeated signs became more familiar over time.
The research by Rosenstock and Whynot, which relied on video recordings of IS presentations later shown to viewers who were asked to rate their understanding, overlooks a crucial aspect of how understanding is often achieved in practice: collaboratively and over the whole course of an event. In many face-to-face IS settings, deaf audience members actively broker meaning for one another. For example, when a sign that is frequently used on stage is unclear or unfamiliar, people may ask others next to them or in their sightline for an equivalent or a quick explanation. Even people on stage contribute to this brokering, especially in interactive formats such as Q&A sessions or workshops, where clarification and repetition are common. For example, a session chair might rephrase an audience member’s question for a presenter who has not understood it, or offer an alternative sign when audience members appear confused or uncertain. Understanding may also be supported after the presentation ends, through informal summaries and discussions among audience members, or by approaching the presenter.
Friedner (2016) provides a powerful account of such processes in the Indian context, describing how deaf people co-construct ‘deaf sociality’ by valuing and co-producing understanding. Practices such as checking comprehension, rephrasing, asking questions, and brokering for others are also expressions of ‘linguistic care work’ (
Henner & Robinson 2023). Friedner argues that understanding is both a central practice and a shared value within deaf social worlds; one that challenges reception-focused models, where understanding is treated as an individual cognitive act (as in Rosenstock’s and Whynot’s studies), and instead foregrounds the interdependence that characterises much of deaf interaction. This orientation is carried into IS and, if anything, becomes magnified. A widespread ideology in IS spaces is that understanding cannot be assumed, even less than in national sign languages. Understanding is not taken for granted, but becomes something to be actively pursued, consciously held in focus by participants and approached as a collaborative, negotiated process grounded in moral orientation (cf.
Green 2014).
Flaviane’s pragmatic stance reflects this underlying ideology, but also the reality: she focuses on conveying messages clearly, but also recognises and accepts that full understanding for all is not achievable. As with cases where visual signing is not prioritised because it is deemed impractical, and ASL is chosen instead for its perceived pragmatism, this highlights how choices in IS use are shaped by situational demands in addition to fixed principles. In IS practice, compromises are often made, for example, between making communication broadly accessible and ensuring in-depth understanding, or between maintaining a quick pace and achieving clarity. In IS spaces —perhaps more visibly than in national sign language settings—partial understanding is not necessarily a failure. It is the condition in which many IS-users operate, working with fragments, inferring, checking in with peers, or letting non-understanding pass.
This paradox—that understanding may be aspirational but is only partially realised—is especially salient in contexts where regimentation is strongest: limited time and large, diverse audiences. In such contexts, understanding tends to be more unevenly distributed. There, understanding is precarious because, as many participants in my research note, those with more exposure to ASL, conventional forms of IS, or English (which is used in mouthing, fingerspelling, and Powerpoints), and with more international travel or academic experience, tend to understand more. In this sense, understanding becomes a form of privilege. And this is where the regimentation of IS, shaped by its use in monologic formats and fixed time frames, can reinforce existing inequalities, even in spaces that aspire to value understanding for all.
Paradox 5: IS interpreting expands access—but also restricts it
Many international events involving deaf presenters or participants—such as conferences and sports events—feature IS interpreting. Typically, interpreting occurs between a national or regional sign language and a spoken language, but it can also take place between two signed languages (e.g., BSL and ASL). IS is frequently used as a language of interpretation; at conferences, for example, presentations delivered in English may be interpreted into IS, and the other way around.
IS interpreting is often treated as a one-size-fits-all solution, unlocking access for all deaf participants at once, regardless of their national and linguistic backgrounds. It is promoted as the ultimate access solution at the UN, at international conferences, and other global events. Its use is framed as a marker of progress: a means to ensure access, efficiency, and linguistic equity. Yet this framing obscures barriers in relation to the use of IS as an interpreted language (
EUD 2022). Consider, for example, the reflections of Richard Mativu, a deaf presenter from Kenya, at the WFD Congress in Paris in 2019:
Deaf people from Africa don’t know [IS]. I see that they don’t understand anything [of the presentations]. Still, when deaf people meet face to face, they can converse [in IS]. … I am African, and I use ASL because it is widely spread in Africa. People from America came in large numbers to Africa, for example, to volunteer, and they brought ASL. Deaf people from Africa learned this, not IS. There are very few provisions for IS interpretation in Africa. … They are using IS at WFD congresses or conferences, and they are promoting it, expecting people from Africa to understand it … . But where can you learn it? … No one has a place to learn it, not even schools. That’s a problem.
Richard noted that ASL, rather than IS, functions as a more effective lingua franca for many African attendees. Africa is home to many sign languages, but ASL is also known to many deaf Africans due to it having been ‘imported’ all over the continent. In relation to IS, Richard’s account highlights a structural gap: IS, though promoted for global deaf communication, remains inaccessible to deaf people who have no opportunities to learn it, not in classrooms nor by regularly mingling in international events. Richard emphasised that face-to-face interactions in IS during informal moments like breaks were not the problem. The challenge emerged with the use of IS on stage, either by presenters or by interpreters. His comments also illustrate how certain regions lack opportunities to develop IS interpreting expertise.
Since IS interpreting takes place simultaneously with the production of other signed and spoken languages, there is little time to expand. Interpreted IS is usually faster, more compact, and less audience-calibrated than presenter IS. This results in a version of IS that is less flexible, less rooted in mutual calibration, and less accessible to those outside professional or academic networks. Thus, once IS is institutionalised as the language of access, IS interpreters at conferences—most of them hearing—shape its form through their practices. These interpreters are usually accredited; come most often from Europe and the USA; and rely heavily on highly conventionalised IS signs.
Importantly, Richard made no distinction between the IS used by presenters and that used by interpreters. The very presence of ‘access’ through interpreting changes the entire language dynamics. Even presenters using IS are often influenced by the knowledge of being interpreted into English. For example, they would adjust their signing to accommodate interpreters, often signing ‘less visually’ and using more ASL signs and more English-like structures. This stands in contrast to spaces like the SIGN8 conference in Brazil (discussed above), a conference where IS was used on stage, but no interpretation was provided. In that context, presenters appeared much more attuned to their audience, and more focused on producing 'visual signing' and/or the use of visuals on Powerpoint slides.
This regimentation through interpreting as a system has constrained the original spirit of IS: its adaptive and situational character. IS interpreting has transplanted IS from a deaf community practice into an institutional tool. As IS has become increasingly interpreted, it has grown more distant from its roots in spontaneous, negotiated communication. Interpreters and event organisers may prioritise smooth delivery over inclusivity, favouring users familiar with dominant Euro-American sign lexicons. For those users, IS interpreting can be very effective. When done well, it supports participation in multilingual environments.
Some participants—ironically, often the same ones who are best able to follow interpreted IS—are also able to request interpretation to or from their preferred national sign language, depending on whether their government provides funding for such access. This type of support is more commonly available through governments in Europe. Many others, however, are left with no real choice. If they cannot follow IS on the stage, and there is no interpretation into their own sign language, they are excluded. The system of access thus limits the terms of participation: access becomes filtered rather than evenly distributed. A practice that began as a way to bypass linguistic borders has been integrated into a regulated system that excludes those who do not—or cannot—adapt to its demands. Paradoxically, the regimentation of IS interpreting does not only expand access for many deaf people; it also narrows the terms of participation.
Paradox 6: IS bridges languages—yet also transforms them
In March 2024, Remark!—an organisation offering BSL classes and interpreting services—launched a ‘BSL Police’ campaign. In a series of humorous videos posted on their website and on social media (
https://www.remark.uk.com/tvchannel/bsl-police-protecting-our-bsl-with-deaf-humour), a fictional enforcement system targets signers who use IS signs instead of ‘correct’ BSL signs. Drones are deployed as surveillance tools, tracking signers in locations including Edinburgh and London. In the Edinburgh video, someone is caught on camera using a non-BSL sign: the sign NORMAL which Hyemi also used in her interaction with Aline (Figure
2k). The use of this sign triggers flashing red lights and immediate intervention by a uniformed BSL officer. In the background appears the text ‘International Sign. Protect our British Sign Language’. The officer demands the use of the ‘proper’ BSL sign, and once the perpetrator complies, a thumbs-up appears to signal approval. Each clip ends with the warning: ‘Who will be next? Could it be you?’ The campaign polices language boundaries, presenting borrowing from IS as a correctable error rather than a natural result of contact.
This dynamic—of conventionalised IS signs appearing in national sign languages—is not unique to BSL, but is experienced and discussed globally, largely due to the use of IS on social media. While earlier forms of online IS—such as organisational announcements or news videos on websites—were typically deliberate, pre-planned, and carefully edited, platforms like Instagram have expanded the visibility of spontaneous and interactive forms of online IS. These new communicative forms have expanded the reach of IS far beyond ‘traditional’ IS spaces, such as international deaf conferences or sports events. As deaf influencers engage live with global audiences, the IS signs they use circulate widely. Crucially, this process is driven by visibility. IS signs become more transmissible and embedded in local usage because they are frequently and widely seen online. Signs derived from ASL, European sign languages, and Arabic sign languages feature prominently in social media content and influencer videos. Repetition has turned some of these into ‘signs of influence’: easily remembered, widely copied, and increasingly absorbed into national sign languages. This gives rise to a paradox: IS connects languages, but also reshapes them, blurring the (ideological) boundaries that once distinguished them.
In the Indian context, for example, IS has become a powerful connector to global deaf networks, especially through Instagram during and after the Covid-19 pandemic. Participants described how they engaged with IS to access content that felt fresh, engaging, and relevant, as well as to become influencers with an international reach. Yet the very appeal of IS also introduced a pervasive shift in local language use. As someone in a focus group with deaf Indian participants noted, ‘Covid from China spread across the world, and in the same way, IS influences India.’ Some participants even reported feeling more confident in IS than in Indian Sign Language (ISL). They observed that for deaf children in India, the shift was most pronounced: during the pandemic, many absorbed much more IS than ISL online. Thus, IS can supersede local sign languages, especially in contexts where national language transmission is already fragile because most deaf children have hearing non-signing parents. This is reminiscent of what has happened with ASL displacing national sign languages, although the mechanisms and dynamics behind it are different.
The Remark! videos ultimately put the responsibility for language boundaries with individual persons who are reprimanded. This rests on the assumption that people are generally aware when they use IS signs within BSL, and that they simply need to be reminded—or indeed policed—not to do so. However, signers are often unaware of the origins of the signs they use. As mentioned above, Frontrunners had to learn which signs used in IS were ASL signs. And
McKee & McKee (2020), in their study of ASL-concordant signs within New Zealand Sign Language, note that signers do not always realise that these signs were brought to New Zealand from the USA. IS use in national sign languages is often unconscious. An increasing number of deaf BSL users do not learn BSL in schools or even in formal sign language classes, but instead acquire it informally, often through online interactions or videos. This is largely because many deaf children go to regular schools rather than schools for deaf children, and as mentioned above, most deaf children have hearing non-signing parents. As a result, there is greater scope for IS to enter and be used within these informal learning contexts, and an increasing possibility that signers find it difficult to distinguish IS from BSL signs.
Thus, even without formal regulation of IS use, regimentation occurs informally, through popularity and repetition. What spreads is what is seen, and what is seen becomes regimented. The IS signs most likely to be repeated are those that have characteristics such as being easily understood, widely liked, widely shared, and/or being already familiar. And, because they are recognisable, they are more likely to be integrated into national sign languages.
IS thus does not merely move across boundaries; it unsettles the ideological boundaries between IS and national sign languages, and also those between national sign languages, as the same IS signs are increasingly integrated across different sign languages. It is the informal, fluid forms of IS that circulate most widely, rather than any standardised or formalised variety like the signing used at the WFD Congress. This process creates shared spaces of understanding and makes IS more widely known and understood than ever before, including in communities in Asia, Africa, and South America.
Discussion and conclusion
This article has traced how IS is shaped through a series of paradoxes. Central to these tensions is the role of regimentation: the ideological processes through which language practices and perceptions are ordered. A key effect of regimentation is the creation and maintenance of boundaries. These boundaries are not fixed or inherent to language; they are ideological, continually made and remade through discourse and practice (
Irvine 2019). Regimentation is one of the mechanisms through which boundaries are constructed between IS and other sign languages.
Across the historical paradox and the six current paradoxes discussed in this article, boundaries emerge as both necessary and unstable. IS needs some boundaries in order to be recognised as a distinct communicative practice. At the same time, IS only works because it can transgress boundaries: blending signs, styles, and strategies from multiple languages, and reshaping these languages in return. IS requires boundaries to maintain its distinctiveness, yet thrives on crossing them.
These boundaries are not only language ideological but also social and political. Experiences of understanding IS vary, not only because of language competence but because of access to international networks, travel, and platforms for learning and performing IS. These inequalities map onto broader global hierarchies, particularly between Europe and elsewhere in the world. Regimentation here intersects with race, class, geography, and history, shaping who is perceived as an IS user and who is not, in the context of international deaf conferences and sign language conferences. At the same time, the increasing visibility of IS—especially online—has led to the informal circulation of signs in ways that unsettle boundaries between IS and national sign languages all over the world.
Alongside these processes of regimentation, calibration continues to play a vital role in how IS is used and recognised. If regimentation produces stability, calibration foregrounds flexibility: the adjustments signers make in real time, drawing on 'visual signing' strategies, shared lexical signs, and cues from interlocutors and audiences. Calibration highlights the co-construction of meaning, the willingness to pause, adapt, and re-sign, and the relational labour involved in making IS work in diverse contexts.
What counts as IS, and where it begins or ends, is always up for negotiation; yet governed by recognisable norms, repeated forms, and social expectations. The overarching paradox, then, is that regimentation—whether formal or informal, top-down or bottom-up—constrains IS and, at the same time, sustains it. Regimentation brings structure, recognition, and visibility. But it cannot reproduce the full range of what IS is and does. IS thrives not only in what is fixed, named, and taught, but also in what is improvised, co-constructed, and ephemeral. Regimentation may stabilise IS, but it is calibration that enables it to flex, adapt, and connect.