Across the world today, there are roughly 6,700 to 7,000 living languages. The exact number shifts because languages are living systems, still being documented, still changing, and in some cases, still being rediscovered. What is already clear, however, is where much of the world’s linguistic diversity lives.

Indigenous Peoples make up less than six per cent of the global population, yet we speak more than 4,000 of the world’s languages. That means well over half of all languages on Earth are Indigenous. This reality is both powerful and fragile. While Indigenous languages carry immense cultural, ecological, and historical knowledge, they are also the most threatened.

Between 40 and 44 per cent of the world’s languages are considered endangered. One widely cited estimate counts more than 3,100 languages at risk. Most of these are Indigenous, and many are spoken by fewer than 1,000 people. UNESCO-linked analysis suggests that between 1950 and 2010, about 230 languages went extinct. Today, linguists estimate that we could potentially reach a date of decline closer to one language disappearing every two weeks.

If nothing changes, projections suggest that between half and as much as 90 per cent of the world’s languages could be severely endangered or extinct by the year 2100.

This is the global picture. It is sobering, and it matters. But that is not the whole story.

What does success look like?

When talking about language revitalization, it helps to define what success actually means. It does not require every speaker to be fluent, nor does it demand that a language return overnight to its pre-contact numbers. Instead, many Indigenous communities define success through practical, measurable signs of life.

Success can mean an increase in the number of fluent or conversational speakers, especially children. It can mean more daily use at home, in schools, at work, in community spaces, and online. It can mean greater presence in public life through signage, services, film, music, and digital media.

By those measures, the global trend is still declining. But within that decline, there are real, documented successes. These are not symbolic wins. They are working models.

Turtle Island in focus

On Turtle Island, more than 70 distinct Indigenous languages are spoken by First Nations, Métis, and Inuit. According to the 2021 Census, about 237,420 Indigenous people reported being able to speak an Indigenous language well enough to carry on a conversation.

That number represents a 4.3 per cent decrease from 2016, the first recorded decline since comparable data began in 1991. In 2021, only 13.1 per cent of Indigenous people in Canada reported conversational ability in an Indigenous language, down from 21.4 per cent in 2006.

The overall trend is clear. Yet within those same census numbers, there are bright spots that matter.

Between 2016 and 2021, several Indigenous languages in Canada showed measurable growth in the number of conversational speakers. These include Inuktitut, Mi’kmaq, Atikamekw, Blackfoot, Mohawk, Squamish, Heiltsuk, Haisla, Cayuga, Ktunaxa, and Tsuu T’ina, among others. In some cases, the increases were modest. In others, they were dramatic.

This contrast tells an important story. Revitalization is working where communities have sustained immersion programs, language nests, trained teachers, and control over their own language strategies. Where those elements are absent or underfunded, decline continues.

Revitalization is not a quick fix. It is deep, long-term work.

Language in classrooms and communities

Across Turtle Island, communities are rebuilding language through immersion schools and early childhood programs. Language nests, often led by elders and supported by parents, introduce children to their language during the years when language learning comes most naturally.

Programs like the Chief Atahm School in Secwepemc territory in British Columbia began as a small preschool language nest and grew into a full immersion school. Mi’kmaw Kina’matnewey in Nova Scotia has built a network of immersion schools, online courses, and digital dictionaries that support learners from daycare through high school. Mohawk immersion schools in Akwesasne treat English as a foreign language, proving that immersion can halt and even reverse decline.

These programs succeed not because they are flashy, but because they create daily use. Language is not treated as a subject. It is treated as life.

Language on screen

Film and media are increasingly part of that daily use.

There is no single global statistic that captures how many films are made in Indigenous languages. What exists instead is a growing body of evidence and examples. Indigenous-led film festivals, production funds, and streaming platforms are creating new space for Indigenous languages to be heard, seen, and normalized.

On Turtle Island, festivals like imagineNATIVE, Mother Tongue Film Festival, the Navajo Nation Film Festival, Indigenous Ways, and Red Nation International Film Festival create visibility for Indigenous-language storytelling. These spaces do more than showcase films. They create pride, connection, and motivation to learn.

Streaming platforms have also changed what is possible. Alternate audio tracks and subtitled releases allow films to exist in Indigenous languages without limiting their reach. The Comanche-language version of the film Prey marked a historic moment, not because it solved language loss, but because it showed what respect and visibility can look like at scale.

Even so, Indigenous-language productions remain a tiny fraction of global film and television output. Comprehensive global statistics do not yet exist, and the challenges are real.

Dubbing a film requires a pool of fluent speakers, trained actors, translators, and technicians. Many communities simply do not have those numbers. Subtitles are more common, but studies note frequent inaccuracies, especially when very few people are fluent in both the Indigenous language and the dominant one. Modern concepts often lack standardized terminology, requiring translators to create new words or rely on explanation rather than direct equivalence.

Funding and time remain major barriers. Smaller languages are rarely prioritized in production budgets.

Why film matters

Despite these challenges, film remains a powerful language tool.

Films present language in emotional, lived contexts. They show rhythm, humour, tone, and everyday expression in ways textbooks cannot. Subtitles, when done well, support learners at different levels and allow non-speakers to access the stories. Communities consistently report excitement and pride when they hear their language spoken meaningfully on screen, and that pride often translates into increased interest in learning and using the language.

Film does not replace immersion schools or community programs. It complements them. It creates desire.

Ojibwe as a case study

Ojibwe, also known as Anishinaabemowin, is one of the largest Indigenous language groups on Turtle Island. In Canada, about 25,440 people reported being able to speak an Ojibway language in 2021. Yet between 2016 and 2021, the total number of speakers declined by about 5.4 per cent.

At the same time, innovation around Ojibwe learning has expanded rapidly. Digital dictionaries with audio recordings, community-built apps, immersion programs at colleges and universities, and language certificates focused on real-world use are all growing. Among Métis communities, Ojibwe speakers increased by more than 20 per cent between 2016 and 2021.

This is what honest progress looks like. Growth in tools and programs alongside ongoing pressure on speaker numbers. The language is not secure, but it is alive, creative, and being actively rebuilt.

Small habits, big change

Census numbers move slowly. Languages move one conversation at a time.

Every greeting in a text message, every caption on social media, every joke told in the language matters. Apps, films, schools, and programs are powerful tools, but the most powerful tool is still the human voice.

Using even a few words every day with friends, family, or online is not a small thing. Over time, it becomes a pattern. Patterns become culture. Culture becomes continuity.

The global picture tells us what is at risk. The local successes show us what is possible. The work is not finished, but the path forward is visible, and it is being walked every day by communities who refuse to let their languages fade into silence.