Approaches to Language: Anthropological Issues 9783110800036, 9789027976604

Table of contents :
General Editor’s Preface
Preface
SECTION ONE: INTRODUCTORY
Introduction
SECTION TWO: LANGUAGE SAMENESS: GENETIC, HISTORICAL, AND CONTACT
Generative Approaches to Historical Linguistics
Where Does Language Borrowing End and Genetic Relationship Begin?
Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution
The Languages Within Language: Toward a Paleontological Approach of Verbal Communication
Pidginization, Creolization, and the “Naturalness” Hypothesis
Correlative Linguistics
SECTION THREE: LANGUAGES: AREAS AND INFLUENCES
The Emerging Linguistic Picture and Linguistic Prehistory of the Southwestern Pacific
Quichean Linguistics and Philology
Morphemes of Southern Quechua and Their Influence on Spanish
Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea
The Aztec System of Writing: Problems of Research
SECTION FOUR: LANGUAGE, THOUGHT, AND SYSTEMS
Clauses and Cases in Southeast Asian Languages and Thought
Identification and Grammatical Structure in Akan and Welsh
Abstractness of Phonology and Blackfoot Orthography Design
Pragmo-Ecological Grammar (PEG): Toward a New Synthesis of Linguistics and Anthropology
Common Cognitive Elements in Combined Verbs (Bengali, Khmer, Bahasa Indonesian, and Vietnamese)
Linguistic Anthropology and the Innatist Fallacy
SECTION FIVE: LEXICON, SEMANTICS, AND FUNCTION
Linguistic Reconstruction and History
Lexical Change in Philippine Creole Spanish
Semantic Categories in the Names of Algonquian Waterways
The Aztec Day Names
The Intransitive Marker “t” in Eskimo
“Stone,” “Hammer,” and “Heaven” in Indo-European Languages and Cosmology
England, and France: An Essay on Historical Lexicography
Structural Analysis of Terms for Parts of the Body in Serbo-Croatian
SECTION SIX: LANGUAGE: SOCIAL FACTORS AND SETTING
Socioeconomic Factors in Language Split: The Case of the Lapp “Dialects” versus the Baltic-Finnic “Languages”
On the Role of Children in the Revival of Hebrew
The Extent of Multilayer Influences on the Gagauz Language
Yanomama Diglossia
Prescriptive Grammar: A Reappraisal
Linguistic Adaptation to Speech Function
Language Competence and Culture Transmission
The Ethnography of Communication and the Teaching of Languages
SECTION SEVEN: DISCUSSION
Summary of Discussion
Biographical Notes
Index of Names
Index of Subjects

Citation preview

Approaches to Language

World Anthropology

General Editor SOL TAX Patrons C L A U D E LfiVI-STRAUSS M A R G A R E T MEAD LAILA S H U K R Y EL H A M A M S Y Μ. N. SRINIVAS

MOUTON PUBLISHERS

· THE H A G U E

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PARIS

DISTRIBUTED IN THE USA A N D C A N A D A BY ALDINE, CHICAGO

Approaches to Language Anthropological Issues

Editors

WILLIAM C. McCORMACK STEPHEN A. WURM

MOUTON PUBLISHERS · THE HAGUE · PARIS DISTRIBUTED IN THE USA A N D C A N A D A BY ALDINE, CHICAGO

Copyright © 1978 by Mouton Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of Mouton Publishers, The Hague Distributed in the United States of America and Canada by Aldine Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois ISBN 90-279-7660-0 (Mouton) 0-202-90073-8 (Aldine) Jacket photo by Cas Oorthuys Cover and jacket design by Jurriaan Schrofer Indexes by Society of Indexers, Great Britain Printed in Great Britain

General Editor's Preface

Anthropologists who see linguistics as a part of their larger whole may wonder in reading this book—even without its three companion volumes— if the part is not as large and complex as the whole, and possibly inclusive of it! Or rather do the breadth and complexity lie in the five settings in which the Editors here consider language? In either case, and whatever one's view of the interrelations of the transformational-generative approach and psycho-socio-historical-areal views of language, here is a book rich in variety coming from a worldwide Congress that was no less so. Like most contemporary sciences, anthropology is a product of the European tradition. Some argue that it is a product of colonialism, with one small and self-interested part of the species dominating the study of the whole. If we are to understand the species, our science needs substantial input from scholars who represent a variety of the world's cultures. It was a deliberate purpose of the IXth International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences to provide impetus in this direction. The World Anthropology volumes, therefore, offer a first glimpse of a human science in which members from all societies have played an active role. Each of the books is designed to be self-contained; each is an attempt to update its particular sector of scientific knowledge and is written by specialists from all parts of the world. Each volume should be read and reviewed individually as a separate volume on its own given subject. The set as a whole will indicate what changes are in store for anthropology as scholars from the developing countries join in studying the species of which we are all a part. The IXth Congress was planned from the beginning not only to include as many of the scholars from every part of the world as possible, but

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also with a view toward the eventual publication of the papers in highquality volumes. At previous Congresses scholars were invited to bring papers which were then read out loud. They were necessarily limited in length; many were only summarized; there was little time for discussion; and the sparse discussion could only be in one language. The IXth Congress was an experiment aimed at changing this. Papers were written with the intention of exchanging them before the Congress, particularly in extensive pre-Congress sessions; they were not intended to be read aloud at the Congress, that time being devoted to discussions—discussions which were simultaneously and professionally translated into five languages. The method for eliciting the papers was structured to make as representative a sample as was allowable when scholarly creativity—hence self-selection— was critically important. Scholars were asked both to propose papers of their own and to suggest topics for sessions of the Congress which they might edit into volumes. All were then informed of the suggestions and encouraged to rethink their own papers and the topics. The process, therefore, was a continuous one of feedback and exchange and it has continued to be so even after the Congress. The some two thousand papers comprising World Anthropology certainly then offer a substantial sample of world anthropology. It has been said that anthropology is at a turning point; if this is so, these volumes will be the historical direction markers. As might have been foreseen in the first post-colonial generation, the large majority of the Congress papers (82 percent) are the work of scholars identified with the industrialized world which fathered our traditional discipline and the institution of the Congress itself: Eastern Europe (15 percent); Western Europe (16 percent); North America (47 percent); Japan, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand (4 percent). Only 18 percent of the papers are from developing areas: Africa (4 percent); Asia, Oceania (9 percent); Latin America (5 percent). Aside from the substantial representation from the U.S.S.R. and the nations of Eastern Europe, a significant difference between this corpus of written material and that of other Congresses is the addition of the large proportion of contributions from Africa, Asia, and Latin America. "Only 18 percent" is two to four times as great a proportion as that of other Congresses; moreover, 18 percent of 2,000 papers is 360 papers, 10 times the number of "Third World" papers presented at previous Congresses. In fact, these 360 papers are more than the total of all papers published after the last International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences which was held in the United States (Philadelphia, 1956). The significance of the increase is not simply quantitative. The input of scholars from areas which have until recently been no more than

General Editor's Preface

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subject matter for anthropology represents both feedback and also long-awaited theoretical contributions from the perspectives of very different cultural, social, and historical traditions. Many who attended the IXth Congress were convinced that anthropology would not be the same in the future. The fact that the next Congress (India, 1978) will be our first in the "Third World" may be symbolic of the change. Meanwhile, sober consideration of the present set of books will show how much, and just where and how, our discipline is being revolutionized. Including its three companion volumes on Language and man, Language and thought, and Language and society, readers of the present book have a rich selection of other titles to interest them in the present series—books on the way the species has evolved, on cognitive and psychological anthropology, on literature and folklore, on theories of culture and structure, and discussions of how humans react and interrelate in all parts of the world. Chicago, Illinois February 27, 1978

SOL TAX

Preface

A general session on "Language in Anthropology" of the IXth International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences (Chicago, Fall 1973) was organized by McCormack at the invitation of Professor Sol Tax, President of the Congress. It evolved over more than a year on the basis of relevant papers volunteered to the Congress, and an equal number of papers solicited by McCormack, notably at international linguistics congresses in Europe in 1972, under gratefully acknowledged travel support from The Canada Council of Ottawa and The Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research of New York City. What started out as a single session ended up as several subsessions, of which four major topical ones have yielded the World Anthropology volumes entitled Language and man, Language and thought, Approaches to language, and Language and society. Wurm joined this undertaking at the invitation of Professor Tax upon the recommendation of McCormack and assumed full responsibility for the conduct and written summaries of the session discussions at Chicago based on precirculated papers. Wurm chaired essentially all subsessions of this general session, i.e. an opening informal subsession, the four formal topical subsessions, a fifth one on language in anthropology at large, and four ad hoc gatherings of self-selected membership. At his invitation, he was accompanied by Dr. Nguyen Dang Liem of The University of Hawaii, who acted throughout as his assistant and discussion coordinator. Wurm's subsequent written summaries of discussions were aided by the prepared texts of the formal discussants and tapes of most of the proceedings. For three years, from mid-1972 until finalization of the resultant books, Anna Pikelis McCormack acted as administrative and editorial associate

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Preface

to McCormack. All operations behind the scenes have carried the stamp of her extraordinary competence. For further and efficient assistance, she joins McCormack in thanking Mrs. Charlotte Stewart, secretary for the Department of Linguistics of The University of Calgary. The subsession on "Approaches to Language" was entitled "Language Evolution" at Chicago, and had for its discussion theme "linguistic models of language and language change." As only an hour of time was available for it, discussion was restricted to its three formal discussants and the authors of papers in the subsession. However, all Congress members were explicitly free to contribute additional comments, verbally or in writing, on other occasions. Although McCormack selected and solicited the papers for the subsession on "Language Evolution" at Chicago, editorial discretion for the final contents and the organization of the present volume on Approaches to language rested solely with Wurm. The University of Calgary Calgary, Alberta, Canada April 7, 1975

WILLIAM C . MCCORMACK

Table of Contents

General Editor's Preface Preface

SECTION ONE: INTRODUCTORY

Introduction by William C. McCormack

SECTION TWO: LANGUAGE SAMENESS: GENETIC, HISTORICAL, AND CONTACT

Generative Approaches to Historical Linguistics by Eung-Do Cook Where Does Language Borrowing End and Genetic Relationship Begin? by Irmengard Rauch Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution by Jane H. Hill The Languages Within Language: Toward a Paleontological Approach of Verbal Communication by Ivan Fonagy Pidginization, Creolization, and the "Naturalness" Hypothesis by Elizabeth Closs Traugott Correlative Linguistics by Ashok R. Kelkar

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SECTION THREE: LANGUAGES: AREAS AND INFLUENCES

The Emerging Linguistic Picture and Linguistic Prehistory of the Southwestern Pacific by S. A. Wurm Quichean Linguistics and Philology by Lyle Campbell Morphemes of Southern Quechua and Their Influence on Spanish by Juan A. Hosier Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea by Donald C. Laycock The Aztec System of Writing: Problems of Research by Joaquin Galarza

191 223 235 245 271

SECTION FOUR: LANGUAGE, THOUGHT, AND SYSTEMS

Clauses and Cases in Southeast Asian Languages and Thought by Nguyen Dang Liem Identification and Grammatical Structure in Akan and Welsh by Jeffrey Ellis Abstractness of Phonology and Blackfoot Orthography Design by Donald G. Frantz Pragmo-Ecological Grammar (PEG): Toward a New Synthesis of Linguistics and Anthropology by Adam Makkai Common Cognitive Elements in Combined Verbs (Bengali, Khmer, Bahasa Indonesian, and Vietnamese) by Sunil Sen-Gupta Linguistic Anthropology and the Innatist Fallacy by Germän Ferndndez-Guizzetti

279 297 307

327

363 371

SECTION FIVE: LEXICON, SEMANTICS, AND FUNCTION

Linguistic Reconstruction and History by Lucia Wald Lexical Change in Philippine Creole Spanish by Carol H. Molony Semantic Categories in the Names of Algonquian Waterways by Eugene Green and Celia M. Millward The Aztec Day Names by Herbert Landar

391 401 417 435

Table of Contents

The Intransitive Marker "t" in Eskimo by Jang H. Koo "Stone," "Hammer," and "Heaven" in Indo-European Languages and Cosmology by J. Peter Maher Fran?ois-Xavier Garneau, England, and France: An Essay on Historical Lexicography by Louis A. Chevrette Structural Analysis of Terms for Parts of the Body in SerboCroatian by Jerry L. Liston

χπι

451

457

483

507

SECTION s i x : LANGUAGE: SOCIAL FACTORS AND SETTING

Socioeconomic Factors in Language Split: The Case of the Lapp "Dialects" versus the Baltic-Finnic "Languages" by Raimo Anttila On the Role of Children in the Revival of Hebrew by Aaron Bar-Adon The Extent of Multilayer Influences on the Gagauz Language by N. A. Baskakov Yanomama Diglossia by Ernest C. Migliazza Prescriptive Grammar: A Reappraisal by Frederick J. Newmeyer Linguistic Adaptation to Speech Function by William J. Samarin Language Competence and Culture Transmission by D. P. Pattanayak The Ethnography of Communication and the Teaching of Languages by E. Roulet

525 531 553 561 581 595 615

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SECTION SEVEN: DISCUSSION

Summary of Discussion by S. A. Wurm

639

Biographical Notes

647

Index of Names

659

Index of Subjects

665

SECTION ONE

Introductory

Introduction

WILLIAM C. McCORMACK

THE LINGUIST'S WORLD Of the four volumes resulting from the general session on "Language in Anthropology" of the IXth International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences, Approaches to language follows most faithfully the map of the linguist's scholarly world. That world is complex, but background for the issues treated here are to be found in excellent technical guides to concepts and uses of linguistic analysis (e.g. Bar-Hillel 1972; Bolinger 1975; Southworth and Daswani 1974) and in clarifications yielded by recent research into the history of linguistics (e.g. Hymes 1974a; Hymes and Fought 1975; Robins 1967). Expectations of full demystification would be premature when even the genius of a Noam Chomsky has been devoted, in part, to documenting the philosophical point that linguists do not communicate with one another about their subject with exactness and definiteness (Chomsky 1957; Searle 1972). For example, the influential American structuralist or Bloomfieldian observed a "head in the sand" approach towards opinions of other "schools," and, though members of it occasionally launched lion-hearted attacks on "mentalistic terms" in science, this hardly facilitated a sympathetic exchange of views either (Lounsbury 1961: 281, 289). Currently, the dominant mood among linguists seems to be one of caution about the applicability to linguistic science of any single simplifying concept, of which one that occurs to me is Kuhn's "shared paradigm" (Kuhn 1970), i.e. the idea that scientific knowledge at large is embedded in that which is shared by, or common to, exemplars of problem-solving (cf. Percival 1976: 289; Robins [1967: 209] even questions applicability of

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the related concept of "school"). Indeed, participants to the present book forewent discussion of the topic set by the session organizer, namely, language evolution with special reference to possibilities for unifying synchronic and diachronic linguistic models (cf. Jakobson 1953; Haas 1969: 103), in favor of debating instead over interdisciplinary sociolinguistic postulates as providing guidelines for valid linguistic description and theory (cf. Bright 1966; Labov 1970, 1971, 1973; Weinreich et al. 1968).1 Accordingly, it is worth recalling that it was 1961 when Lounsbury suggested that "disagreement among linguists on fundamental issues in linguistic theory" could be resolved by carrying out half a dozen experiments in psycholinguistics (Lounsbury 1961: 297-298). It was not done; since then, sociolinguistic surveys and "naturalistic" observation of speakers' behavior have encouraged increased emphasis on "social context" in language research; and this has complicated the potential for experimental psychology to resolve linguistic issues (but see Suppes 1974; Hall 1973: 72). At the same time, to judge by the sociolinguists' general neglect of systematizing "objectivists" — who, as it happens, are intimately familiar with naturalistic observations within the field of ethology as now defined (Piaget 1973: 42) — there is small possibility of reconciling sociolinguists to formalist abstract grammar like that advanced by the Chomskyan "school" of transformational generativists (Chomsky 1957). In the abstract, theoretical common ground might be found, and Cook's paper in the present volume indicates that from the Chomskyan perspective this must not be ruled out. But the group discussions summarized at the end of the present volume suggest that agreement over fundamental issues in linguistics will be long in coming. For now, claims made for sociolinguistics to represent THE linguistics most relevant to the situation of modern man are rendered support by consonance with claims for other new "hyphenated sciences," like biochemistry, such as seem to offer clearcut practical applications for human problem-solving. In the present volume too, the elegance of the Chomskyan epistemology, and its agreement with fairly recent trends in physical science (Lounsbury 1961), are overridden by a concern for pragmatism. To anthropological readers, some ambiguities may appear to characterize the debates among linguists reported here. I refer to seeming problems in interdigitating the search for language universals, inspired by the thoughtways of transformational generative grammar, with the facts of 1

Some participants to the book who were absent from the session itself, attending a conference on historical linguistics in Edinburgh (cf. Anderson and Jones 1974), are discussant Hamp and authors Anttila, Campbell, Cook, and Traugott.

Introduction

5

variability in concrete language particulars, observed by "sociolinguistic" students of language behavior. Such ambiguities would likely have been fewer if more linguists invited from among adherents to the generative semantics movement had participated in these debates. Those linguists, like the empiricist philosopher John Stuart Mill (Jespersen 1924), have been diversely concerned with the psychological problem of relating linguistic semantics to the logic of discourse (G. Lakoff 1971: 277), and with "speech acts" and "assumptions about the social context of an utterance, as well as ... other implicit assumptions made by participants in a discourse" (R. Lakoff 1972: 907). Accordingly reputed to be variously within and without the Chomskyan "school" (Bolinger 1975), but here said by discussant Hamp to be also classifiable as sociolinguists, they might by their presence have at least symbolized the possibility for theoretical synthesis of the plurality of approaches to language present in this volume. However, an application of the generative semantics framework, as well as of the caveat of Labov (1973) and other sociolinguists to attend to the evidence of linguistic variability, can here be seen in Traugott's study of the principles of language change evidenced in pidgins and Creoles. Otherwise let me suggest to anthropological readers that virtually all ambiguities present in this volume may be reduced to a simplifying dichotomy taken from the history of ideas about scientific and religious explanation, specifically, Whitehead's distinction between "subjective" and "objective" creeds in the philosophy of science and religion (Whitehead 1925). According to that dichotomy, Chomskyism would be subjective, and sociolinguistics would be objective, in interpreting the process of grammatical patterning in speech. Whitehead's scientific "objectivism," which he traces to recurrence of ancient Greek rationality (1925: 140), is almost the natural-history creed honored and experienced by anthropologists: "the things experienced are to be distinguished from our knowledge of them" (1925: 90), and "the sheer statement, of what things are, may contain elements explanatory of why things are. Such elements may be expected to refer to depths beyond anything which we can grasp with clear apprehension" (1925: 94). "Subjectivism" is another story. For Whitehead, the term "subjective" refers to the "modern" (1925: 140) epistemological belief that "mind" constitutes experienced objects. If for heuristic purposes we here extend his meaning to include the etymological sense of "subjective," i.e. belief in the inherent qualities of objects, then we probably come close to approximating the core-meaning of Chomsky's distinctive approach to language, which he himself claims is part of cognitive psychology. It is noteworthy that Chomsky's brand of subjectivism would be regarded by

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Whitehead as extreme. That is, Chomskyan linguistics is marked by highly abstract, almost mathematical, formalization of grammar, for Chomsky's main philosophico-psychological assumption is that the abstract formal syntactic features of grammar are universal "and thus constitute the innate organization that determines what counts as linguistic experience and what knowledge of language arises [for its speakers] on the basis of this experience" (Chomsky 1968: 24). Whitehead, for his part, regards such formalism as associated with the extreme subjectivism articulated by Descartes. As between the two heads of this dichotomy, objectivism reigns generally unchallenged in the three World Anthropology volumes sister to this one (see Preface, above), but here, contributors debate pro and con the validity of "subjectivism" for linguistic problem-solving. In this volume the paper by Fernändez-Guizzetti is perhaps the most pointed "objectivist" attack on the "subjectivist's" definition of "innate," but many illustrate how Chomskyan conceptions have impacted on the climate of scientific opinion to stimulate expert "outside" evaluation of the psychological and philosophical validity of Chomsky's brand of linguistic inquiry (cf. Habermas 1970; MacCorquodale 1970; Piaget 1970, 1973: 22, 42^4; Stich 1975).

ANTHROPOLOGICAL LINGUISTICS Anthropology has long enjoyed cross-disciplinary communication with diachronic areal linguistics, and thereby been much advantaged for reconstructing past culture contacts and even for revising anthropological concepts of culture-area relationships (Haas 1969; Olmsted 1950; Sherzer and Bauman 1972; Voegelin and Harris 1947). Recent fruits of such intercommunication are duly exemplified here by the papers of Anttila, Baskakov, Campbell, Galarza, Green and Millward, Hill, Landar, Laycock, Mäher, Molony, Samarin, Wald, and Wurm. Since anthropologists have generally welcomed Swadesh's idea that a "universal basic vocabulary" of 100 to 200 lexical items (cf. Southworth and Daswani 1974) undergoes a constant of replacement percentages over time and therefore serves for dating past separation between related languages or dialects, the absence of a lexicostatistical paper from this volume may be regretted. On the other hand, many linguists have reason to receive lexicostatistical assumptions with skepticism. For example, Wurm here observes for the Southwestern Pacific that, "Basic vocabulary items of one language which, according to the postulates of lexicostatistics,

Introduction

7

are 'unborrowable,' can often be found as quite obvious loanwords in another totally unrelated language" (cf. Haas 1969: 73; Rea 1973: and, for revised mathematics, Sankoff 1973). Thus Rauch, in her theoretical essay, presents an alternative typological approach to clarify problems of language borrowing and genetic relationship. A new application of culture-area concepts appears here in the synchronic studies by linguists Ellis, Liem, and Sen-Gupta. Though the grammatical approaches vary, these three papers taken together suggest that cognitive ethnolinguistics, or the study of correlations among language, thought, and culture patterns, may best be carried on within a framework of culture-area distributional analysis. Distribution analysis appears to be a means for solving the epistemological puzzle which has beset this anthropologically interesting field of language and cognition (cf. Cooper 1973: Chapter 5). These same papers are to be appreciated also for their innovative use of logical symbols for linguistic notation, and, in the case of Liem, for his use of Starosta's case grammar (Starosta 1973) with Pike's tagmemic framework (Pike 1967) for interpretation of language and culture. Given the advances in techniques of analysis in cognitive ethnolinguistics, and the current parallel sophistication of the Malinowskian approach to an integrative sociological linguistics (Halliday 1975), it is perhaps time for re-evaluating the old but still common view that this research field has merely "programmatic interest" (Voegelin and Harris 1947: 589). Another mode of analysis which broadens perspective on language and culture implicates a sophisticated concern for the cultural functions of language forms. Thus Maher, in his detailed reconstruction of semantics at relatively great historical time-depth, asserts that "linguistic forms are used in and motivated by cultural contexts of situation." By styling his research interests as "philological," Maher has anticipated revival of that interest among social scientists (Stanton 1976). Still another approach to cultural functions of language forms is to study "diglossia" (Ferguson 1959), as has been done here by Migliazza and Chevrette. The concept of "diglossia" refers to "simultaneous existence and use of two related forms of speech in complementary situational contexts" (Lounsbury 1961: 311). Selection of one or the other of the forms can relate to the speaker's cultural assumption that one language-variety associates with formal or "high" cultural performances, and other languagevarieties associate with more intimate and less prestigious social occasions (Southworth and Daswani 1974: 249-250). Migliazza's present study of Yanomama diglossia adds that social disruption can lead to breakdown of diglossic as well as other cultural functioning. In the case of early nine-

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teenth-century French Canadian diglossia reported here by lexicologist Chevrette, on the other hand, the complementation between English and French persisted in Quebec Province during a period of intense conflict over recognition of French language rights. For pursuing strictly linguistic approaches to semantics, a variety of methods exist (Coseriu and Geckeler 1974; Nida and Taber 1972). Of these, componential analysis is most familiar to anthropologists because it has been applied to kinship nouns to segregate metaphorical usages from the basic "denotata" for kin nouns as provided by the names of positions (father, father's brother, father's brother's son, etc.) on a genealogical chart (cf. Burling 1970; Goodenough 1956; Lounsbury 1963; Tyler 1969). However, Liston here argues that the Serbo-Croatian set of names for body-parts is completely analyzable only when the metaphorical usages are included in the mapping of the denotata themselves. While Liston holds that such extended meanings are cultural, Fönagy gives us a wideranging Freudian interpretation of metaphor which credits group psychological process with linking together language, culture, and personality in his model for language change (cf. Sapir 1921, 1949). Finally, and as part of a plan for "sensible" grammar, Adam Makkai in his paper effectuates a synthesis of neo-Freudian social psychology, William James's functional perspective on epistemology, and cultural semantics. Anthropologists will note that Makkai shares Anttila's regret that cultural anthropology has recently been neglected by certain linguistic theorists — or, perhaps, "repressed" (cf. R. Lakoff 1972). Completing the argument for inclusion of anthropological perspectives, Roulet finds that the anthropological linguist's "ethnography of communication" must be incorporated into language teaching. Thus he would integrate the two disciplines of anthropology and linguistics in one of the most traditional of linguistic domains, that of pedagogical grammar. To conclude this brief survey of anthropological relevance of the present papers, it is noteworthy that these papers were favorably, often enthusiastically, received by formal discussants, who were conscientious in their evaluations of the technical linguistic matter therein. Papers not specifically mentioned in this Introduction, e.g. by Bar-Adon, Frantz, Kelkar, or Pattanayak, find place among the excellent comments offered by those discussants and paraphrased in Wurm's "Summary of Discussion," below. CONCLUSION It was 1911 when Boas advocated the inclusion of linguistics in ethnology, and to judge by the mood of this volume a prognosis for some kind of

Introduction

9

"hybrid" anthropologico-linguistic science would itself seem now to be good. By now we have a much more representative sample of grammatical and historical description of the world's languages than in Boas' time. To be sure — witness the plurality of concerns under the chapter headings of this book as set by linguist Wurm — the task of coordinating the two disciplines is now more complex. But the persisting interest in "ethnolinguistics" as inspired originally by Boas may continue to serve as a bridge for meaningful intercommunication between ethnologists and linguists. The above-mentioned renewal of interest in philology augurs well too, since, as Olmsted (1950) said, the ethnolinguistic project overlaps with philology in three of the five meanings of "ethnolinguistics": use in ethnology of the findings of linguistics; use in linguistics of the findings of ethnology; and study of problems requiring for their resolution the application of techniques from both linguistics and ethnology. Exceedingly noteworthy for anthropology is that linguists here serve notice that they are bent on broadening the scope of linguistics to admix that which they label "sociolinguistics." This determination attends upon new concern with social and cultural parameters as predictive of language meaning and form, but it extends to social and ethical concern with the language problems of mankind as well. This "sociolinguistics" is empiricist and objectivist, and yet its thoughtways turn away from the old Bloomfieldian dogma of behaviorist "psychologism" (Bloomfield 1939; cf. Hymes 1974b; Wisdom 1970). Thus Makkai here finds justification for the sociolinguistic perspective in clarifications accomplished by the functional psychologist and radical empiricist William James, Newmeyer finds it from his Lockean stand on commonsense and liberal values, and both would formulate grammars that would enable a social and moral reconstruction (cf. Bolinger 1975: 590-592). The objectivist creed's unified view of science and human nature implies that such value-stands are important for removing "intellectual pollution," and for empathetically encouraging freedom of expression for members of disadvantaged social groups, respectively. Needless to say, such articulations of a new order of empiricism express that interdisciplinary cooperation is viewed as a necessary foundation for valid linguistic inquiry. Above all, it seems evident that this new creed for sociolinguists does not project a life-style in any sense identifiable with arcane thoughtways or a cloistered existence.

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1974 "Linguistics and semantics," in Linguistics and adjacent arts and sciences, volume one. Edited by T. A. Sebeok, 103-171. Current Trends in Linguistics 12. The Hague: Mouton. FERGUSON, C. A.

1959 Diglossia. Word 15: 325-340. (Reprinted 1964 in Language in culture and society. Edited by Dell Hymes, 429-439. New York: Harper and Row. Reprinted 1971 in Language structure and language use: essays by Charles A. Ferguson. Edited by A. S. Dil, 1-26. Stanford: Stanford University Press.) GOODENOUGH, W. H.

1956 Componential analysis and the study of meaning. Language 32: 195216.

Introduction

11

HAAS, Μ. R.

1969 The prehistory of languages. The Hague: Mouton. HABERMAS, J.

1970 "Toward a theory of communicative competence," in Recent sociology, No. 2: Patterns of communicative behavior. Edited by H. P. Dreitzel, 115-148. New York: Macmillan. HALL, E.

1973 'Prediction: Nixon and the U.S. are going to become gradually negative for both Russia and China, and simultaneously,' a conversation with Charles E. Osgood. Psychology Today 7 (November): 54-72. HALUDAY, Μ. A. K.

1975 "Language as social semiotic: towards a general sociolinguistic theory," in ThefirstLACUSforum, 1974. Edited by A. and V. B. Makkai, 17-46. Columbia, S.C.: Hornbeam Press. HYMES, D.

1974a "Introduction: traditions and paradigms," in Studies in the history of linguistics: traditions and paradigms. Edited by Dell Hymes, 1-38. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 1974b "Anthropology and sociology: an overview," in Linguistics and adjacent arts and sciences, volume three. Edited by T. A. Sebeok, 14451475. Current Trends in Linguistics 12. The Hague: Mouton. HYMES, D., J. FOUGHT

1975 "American structuralism," in Historiography of linguistics. Edited by T. A. Sebeok, 903-1176. Current Trends in Linguistics 13. The Hague: Mouton. JAKOBSON, R.

1953 Results of a joint conference of anthropologists and linguists. Supplement to International Journal of American Linguistics 19 (2). (Reprinted 1971 in Selected writings, volume two, 554-567. The Hague: Mouton.) JESPERSEN, O.

1924 The philosophy of grammar. London and New York: H. Holt. (Reprinted 1965. New York: Norton.) KUHN, τ . s .

1970 The structure of scientific revolutions, second edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. LABOV, w .

1970 The study of language in its social context. Studium Generale 23: 30-87. 1971 "Methodology," in A survey of linguistic science. Edited by W. O. Dingwall, 412-497. College Park, Md.: University of Maryland Press. 1973 "The social setting of linguistic change," in Diachronic, areal, and typological linguistics. Edited by T. A. Sebeok, 195-251. Current Trends in Linguistics 11. The Hague: Mouton. LAKOFF, G.

1971 "On generative semantics," in Semantics: an interdisciplinary reader in philosophy, linguistics and psychology. Edited by D. D. Steinberg and L. A. Jakobovits, 232-296. London: Cambridge University Press.

12

WILLIAM C. MCCORMACK

LAKOFF, R .

1972 Language in context. Language 48: 907-927. LOUNSBURY, F. G .

1961

"Language," in Biennial review of anthropology, 1961. Edited by B. J. Siegel, 279-322. Stanford: Stanford University Press. 1963 "Linguistics and psychology," in Psychology: a study of a science. Edited by S. Koch, 552-582. New York: McGraw Hill. MAC CORQUODALE, K .

1970 On Chomsky's review of Skinner's verbal behavior. Journal of the Experimental Analysis of Behavior 13: 86-99. NIDA, E., C. R. TABER

1972 "Semantic structures," in Studies in linguistics in honor of George L. Trager. Edited by Μ. E. Smith, 122-141. The Hague: Mouton. OLMSTED, D . L.

1950 Ethnolinguistics so far. Studies in Linguistics Occasional Papers, number two. (Third reprinting 1972. New York: Johnson Reprint.) PERCIVAL, W . K .

1976 The applicability of Kuhn's paradigms to the history of linguistics. Language 52: 285-294. PIAGET, J.

1970 Structuralism. New York: Basic Books. (Originally published 1968 as Le structuralisme. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France.) 1973 Main trends in psychology. New York: Harper and Row. (Originally published 1970 as Chapter 3 in Main trends of research in the social and human sciences, Part 1. The Hague and Paris: Mouton/UNESCO.) PIKE, κ .

1967 Language in relation to a unified theory of the structure of human behavior, second edition. The Hague: Mouton. REA, J. A.

1973 "The Romance data of the pilot studies for glottochronology," in Diachronic, areal, and typological linguistics. Edited by T. A. Sebeok, 355-367. Current Trends in Linguistics 11. The Hague: Mouton. ROBINS, R . H .

1967 A short history of linguistics. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. SANKOFF, D .

1973 "Mathematical developments in lexicostatistic theory," in Diachronic, areal, and typological linguistics. Edited by T. A. Sebeok, 93-113. Current Trends in Linguistics 11. The Hague: Mouton. SAPIR, E.

1921 Language. New York: Harcourt, Brace. 1949 Selected writings of Edward Sapir in language, culture and personality. Edited by D. G. Mandelbaum. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. SEARLE, J.

1972 Chomsky's revolution in linguistics. The New York Review of Books 18, no. 12 (June 29): 16-24. SHERZER, J., R . BAUMAN

1972 Areal studies and culture history: language as a key to the historical

Introduction

13

study of culture contact. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 28: 131-152. SOUTHWORTH, F. C., C. J. DASWANI

1974 Foundations of linguistics. New York: The Free Press, Macmillan. STANTON, D. L.

1976 South and Southeast Asia: new concerns of the Council. Items 30, no. 2 (June): 13-17. New York: Social Sciences Research Council. STAROSTA, s .

1973 The faces of case. Language Sciences 25 (April): 1-14. STICH, s. p., editor 1975 Innate ideas. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. SUPPES, P.

1974 The semantics of children's language. American Psychologist 29 (2): 103-114. TYLER, S.

1969

Cognitive anthropology. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

VOEGELIN, C. F., Ζ. S. HARRIS

1947 The scope of linguistics. American Anthropologist 49: 588-600. WEINREICH, U., W. LABOV, Μ. I. HERZOG

1968 "Empirical foundations for a theory of language change," in Directions for historical linguistics. Edited by W. P. Lehmann and Y. Malkiel, 95-188. Austin: University of Texas Press. WHITEHEAD, A. N.

1925 Science and the modern world. New York: Macmillan. (Reprinted 1948. New York: New American Library.) WISDOM, J. O.

1970 "Situational individualism and the emergent group-properties," in Explanation in the behavioural sciences. Edited by R. Borger and F. Cioffi, 271-296. London: Cambridge University Press.

SECTION TWO

Language Sameness: Genetic, Historical, and Contact

Generative Approaches to Historical Linguistics

EUNG-DO COOK

Perhaps the first to state explicitly theoretical inadequacies of the principles of Saussurian structuralism applied to diachronic analyses was Weinreich (1954: 391) who said: ... if structuralism were carried to its logical extreme ... it would ONLY STUDY and since in a perfect system all parts are interrelated ("tout se tient"), it is hard to see how systems could even be conceived of as partially similar or different; one would think that they could only be wholly identical or different. (Emphasis added.)

RELATIONS WITHIN SYSTEMS;

The same criticism applies to the so-called contrastive analysis which was carried out by many of those who believed in the Saussurian theoretical principles (Wardhaugh 1967). This and many other theoretical inadequacies of structural linguistics (Weinreich et al. 1968) were seldom questioned until the early sixties, perhaps because the theory had been fruitful for synchronic study which de Saussure set so clearly apart from diachronic study. This dichotomy has been seriously questioned in recent years, especially by those whose theoretical persuasion is transformational-generative, so that it is now important to examine some salient views of transformational-generative theory as applied to the analysis of diachronic problems and to see what methodological advancement has been made where structural theory has fallen short. Some of the most lively issues in linguistic theory have been and still are concerned with the assumption that a grammar is a set of rules, which are This work is supported in part by the Canada Council, Grant S71-0838. I wish to thank Donald G. Frantz, Ronald Southerland, and Douglas Walker who read an earlier version of this paper and offered me many valuable comments which have improved both the contents and style. However, any remaining errors will be my own.

18 EUNG-DO COOK

ordered at least in part. What follows from this assumption is, in Halle's words (1962), that "different grammars may contain different rules" and "different grammars may have differently ordered rules," and that the differences which are consequences of diachronic processes can be described in terms of rule addition, rule loss and rule reordering. These terms of rule change, although shown to be insufficient to account for all diachronic processes, have been primary notions by which grammatical changes are explained in generative studies. Talking about linguistic changes in these terms, it may not seem much different from the classification of changes in terms of the split, merger, and loss of phonemes. However, apart from the obvious fact that linguists of any theoretical persuasion would prefer rules to lists and inventories, there are other reasons, which will become clearer in the following, why rule changes and phonemic changes cannot be compared in such a simplistic manner. One of the central interests of generative theory has been the study of formal properties of grammar (such as developed by Chomsky and Halle 1968) which will enable one to define, in the most natural and simple way, what is a possible rule synchronically as well as diachronically. The Jakobsonian distinctive feature system which is advanced in generative phonology is a sort of universal language-independent alphabet and provides not only a theoretical basis for comparative and contrastive analyses (recall the Saussurian paradox mentioned earlier), but also a device with which one can capture hitherto unstatable generalizations. One of the most striking early examples offered is a case in Sanskrit as analyzed by Zwicky (1964). The rule involves the underlying s which becomes retroflexed following k, r, i, or u. This can be stated by a rule like the following: fkl

(1)

u What seems extremely unnatural is the fact that the segments which cause the retroflexion do not appear to share any common feature. But the phonological features shared by these segments would not look so heterogeneous if analyzed in terms of distinctive features as is done below: k:

—voc "1

Γ+voc ~j

+compj

' L+consJ

[

+VOC —cons —comp

What is remarkable in this analysis is that the features [voc] and [comp] obtain + or — value opposing each other. With this observation which

Generative Approaches to Historical Linguistics

19

can be expressed by the α convention, Zwicky presents rule (2) in which the segments k, r, i, and u constitute a natural class in Sanskrit. (2)

. - , / r

*voc

ι

/ L—acompj

The advantage of the use of the distinctive feature system is also demonstrated for the method of internal reconstruction. Sarcee offers a remarkable example. The so-called Athapaskan / classifier corresponds in Sarcee to a, i or zero depending on the environment. If the morphophonemic alternations are to be stated in terms of phonemes, either a or i will be chosen as the base form. Whatever the choice may be, it would not provide any clue as to the earlier phonological shape of the classifier. If the same process is analyzed in terms of distinctive features, however, there is good reason to believe that the classifier should be represented in the underlying structure by the two distinctive features [+voc, +cons] in a purely synchronic grammar. This underlying representation specified by the two distinctive features is subject to phonological rules which eventually yield a, i, or zero. Needless to say, the distinctive feature specification does provide a clue as to an earlier phonological shape of the classifier, since there is only one consonant in contemporary Sarcee, namely I which is definable by these two distinctive features (Cook 1971b). Returning now to the problems of rule ordering, Keyser (1963) is one of the earliest to demonstrate that grammatical changes can be described in terms of rule addition and rule reordering. In order to discuss the implications of Keyser's and other similar analyses, I shall summarize the highlights of Keyser's presentation. Words like five and twice have the underlying diphthong at and words like down and out have the underlying au. The phonetic value of the underlying vowel a in these dipthongs is determined by the following rules: (3)

a. b.

a->a/ a->ae/

VC u

The Charleston dialect requires rule (3a), the New Bern dialect requires rule (3b), while the Winchester dialect requires both (3a) and (3b) in that order. In other words, these dialects are descendants of a uniform speech, which is indicated by the same underlying representation and the assumption that all these dialects share the same higher level rules. The notion "rule addition" seems to have been well illustrated up to this point, but any oversimplified interpretation of this anlaysis would obscure more important questions. For example, how real is the underlying representation, both synchronically and diachronically ? Suppose that grammars for these dialects were written independently, each without reference to the

20

EUNG-DO COOK

others. Would the result still be the same? This is an important question especially from a methodological point of view. Before considering this question any further, let us examine Saporta's analysis (1965) of Spanish data: Castilian (C) limes liines

Latin American (LA) liines liines

South Chile (SC) limes 'Monday' limes 'Mondays'

Ιάρίθ lapißes

lapis läpises

läpis läpis

'pencil' 'pencils'

In order to account for the morphophonemic alternations of the plural morpheme of C, Saporta formulates the following rule:

(4) pi Ϋ = any unstressed vowel 0/Vs_ es The plural of 'Monday' is the same as the singular, since it takes the 0 allomorph after the stem-final [es] (Vs), while the plural suffix of 'pencil' is realized by [es], since the stem-final is Θ. In LA, the stem for 'pencil' is considered to have the same underlying form as in C, namely lapid to which rule (4) applies, generating the string [lapiöes]. Thus, the stem-final consonant for the stem 'pencil' distinguishes the class of stems which take [es] for plural from those which do not. Furthermore, LA needs another rule which converts θ to [s], which Saporta posits as: (5,

m

[s]

This rule states the merger of θ and s in LA. What is shown by rules (4) and (5) is that C and LA share the same rule, namely rule (4), but only LA added a new rule to its grammar. Consider the SC forms presented above. The singular and the plural forms are the same for both words. One would reasonably expect the underlying representations to be lunes and lapis respectively, and rule (5) to be irrelevant to the grammar of SC. Saporta, however, does not opt for this analysis; instead, he postulates the same underlying representation as in C and LA for the stem 'pencil', namely Ιαρϊθ. To this underlying structure applies rule (5) followed by rule (4), apparently a clear case of rule reordering.

Generative Approaches to Historical Linguistics

21

This is certainly a clever analysis in which all three dialects are given the same underlying representation and dialect variations are accounted for in terms of rule addition (for LA) and rule reordering (for SC). Given this analysis, C is considered the most conservative since it has not added or reordered any rules. But is this analysis methodologically justifiable? The synchronic grammar of SC does not need the stem-final Θ, nor rule (5); hence, no rules to be added or reordered. It might also be noted that there is no morphophonemic alternation for the plural morpheme in SC, which means that the SC counterpart of rule (4) should be much simpler. Saporta is aware that it would be simpler to describe SC with rule (4) only if the underlying stem-final consonant for 'pencil' is represented by s rather than Θ. Nevertheless, he argues that " to posit different underlying forms for such intimately related dialects seems to obscure rather than illuminate their relationship" (Saporta 1965: 221). Does this statement, then, suggest that one has to make reference to related dialects when one writes a synchronic grammar of a dialect ? Certainly one would not obtain the same result if grammars of the three dialects were written independently, each without reference to the others. What Saporta does may be considered a practice of internal reconstruction in its broader sense, and may be justifiable on that ground. But would the grammar so written be psychologically real? The child learning SC certainly would not have to learn rule (5). The questions raised by Saporta's analysis suggest serious rethinking of the Saussurian dichotomy between synchronic and diachronic. Although there is no well-documented argument against this long-held view, a number of opposing views have been expressed in recent studies of generative orientation. For instance, Chafe (1968: 115) says: Only an unfortunate overemphasis of the distinction between synchronic and diachronic linguistics was for some time able to obscure the otherwise rather obvious consequences which "sound change" has for the nature of phonological system. He goes on to argue further that "it would, in fact, be quite remarkable if the resulting structure were something that could be described without taking such [historical] changes into account" (117). Greenberg (1966: 10) must have had essentially the same view when he said: "no change can produce a synchronically unlawful state and all synchronic states are the outcome of diachronic processes." Stockwell (Stockwell and Macaulay 1972: vii) observes that "the earlier period [of generative studies] was characterized by a Saussurian separation of synchronic and diachronic description; in the later approach a dichotomy has appeared increasingly impractical." This observation is perhaps

22

EUNG-DO COOK

based on such a strong anti-Saussurian view as that expressed by Bever and Langendoen (1972: 40): ... obviously a form of a synchronic grammar which accounts only for the linguistic present and cannot be used to describe the recent linguistic past is unacceptable.

It is naturally desirable, as Kiparsky (1968: 11) points out, but theoretically unjustifiable to have a synchronic grammar to recapitulate diachrony for, among other reasons, "children learning their native language do not necessarily have the interests of linguists at heart." It may be possible, although it may not be justifiable, to a certain degree where diachronic information is available for the linguist to write a sort of "panchronic" grammar. But what if no such data are available? The only method applicable to such a case is internal reconstruction which, as summarized by Hockett (1958: 464), "proposes that what poses, in a purely synchronic view, as a statement of morphophonemic alternations, may in a historical view be a description of a chronological sequence of events." This method of internal reconstruction is further extended to the level of morphology and syntax in generative studies. It is convincingly demonstrated by Klima (1964) that "although motivated by a purely synchronic principle of simplicity ..., the order in which the styles are considered does, in fact, recapitulate comparable aspects in the historical development of the pronouns." Earlier excitement over the success of this method met with a host of problems later discovered when the problem of rule ordering was scrutinized. A typical question frequently asked but not adequately answered is this: "to what extent does a synchronic grammar recapitulate the historical events ...?" (King 1969: 101-102). It is generally assumed that later innovations are described by adding rules to the lower level of phonology. An example, frequently cited to illustrate this point is the case of German obstruents which are devoiced finally as expressed by a rule like the following: (6)

[+obstruent -> [—voice] / # e.g. [t'a:k] 'day' vs [t'a:ga] 'days'

In Sarcee η is deleted finally if the preceding high-toned vowel is other than ι (Cook 1972): (7)

η 0/V # where V φ i e.g. [id-ln-idlä] 'you are proud of yourself' [id · iyidla • n] 'you were proud of yourself'

These low-level phonological rules are results of recent innovations. Not

Generative Approaches to Historical Linguistics

23

all innovations add rules to the grammar, however. In standard Korean, the postposition of genitive function (G) is pronounced as uy (in Yale Romanization), less frequently as ey by older speakers, while the reverse is the case in the speech of younger people. Suppose one were to write a grammar of the speech of younger people whose pronunciation for G is constantly ey, a rule like (8) will do: (8)

G

ey

This would be clearly a case of restructuring of the underlying phonological representation, and will NOT add a rule to the synchronic grammar. Suppose, however, that one is to account for the fact that a certain group of speakers usually pronounce G as uy but occasionally as ey, the latter being preferred in fast, relaxed speech. One might propose rules like the following, considering the second as an added rule: (9)

a. b.

G-+uy uy -> ey (optional)

But the addition of an optional rule does not really account for the fact that the second pronunciation is preferred in a certain style of speech. It is not clear if such a variation can be stated in terms of Labov's "variable constraints" (1969) and even if it could be, it is still questionable whether or not such a fact of language use is part of "performance" or part of "competence" (Labov 1972; Kiparsky 1972). What is clear, however, is that such data reveal clearly the heterogeneous nature of speech form, which has been seriously considered only recently, and Labov, among others, has offered penetrating insights into the mechanisms of sound change observed in speech behavior. Among the three cases of innovation discussed above, only the devoicing of German obstruents and the loss of η in Sarcee are clear cases of rule addition. What should be noted in these changes is that rules are added only when innovations increase allomorphy, e.g. [t'ark] plus the existing [t'a:g] in German and [dla] plus the existing [dla-n] in Sarcee. These examples seem to offer a partial answer to the question raised earlier regarding internal reconstruction in that rule addition reflects relative chronology only if the innovation has increased paradigm irregularity. On the other hand, if innovations decrease paradigm irregularity, i.e. increase the generality of a rule by removing certain constraints in the structural description, or if innovations cause reanalyses of underlying structures, they do not add any rule to the grammar; instead they cause some existing rules to be lost; hence, no relative chronology can be reflected in a synchronic grammar. The following data will illustrate this point further.

24

EUNG-DO COOK

Kim (1972) observes that some stems in Korean have an underlying CC cluster which is reduced to C finally or before another consonant:

tols talk saks

tol tak sak

'anniversary' 'chicken' 'wage'

ccalp

\°ccal\

'to be short'

kaps anc

kap an

'price' 'to sit'

Kim maintains that when a CC cluster is reduced, the more closed member (e.g. k, p, t) remains and the more open one (e.g. I, s, c) deletes. It is of course not true if the first member of the cluster is / as shown above by the words 'anniversary' and 'to be short'. Disregarding this exception, which is not directly relevant to the problem at hand, let us suppose what Kim observes is correct in principle. This generality which Kim calls "the principle of close articulation," however, cannot be formally stated within the current theory of generative phonology as Kim correctly observes. Since there is no way to state the rule adequately and the formal aspect of the rule is not the main concern here, I will formulate the rule as follows for the sake of discussion: (10)

c c ^ c

I — { + c }

What has happened recently in some dialects is that the stem-final CC is reduced to C regardless of environment. This fact can be described diachronically in terms of rule simplification in that the conditioning factor (i.e. C, # ) is removed from the rule. If one were to write a grammar covering both dialects as Saporta did, a rule like (11) would be required in order to account for the dialect in which the change occurred: (11)

CC - > C /

+

However, is this rule necessary for the synchronic grammar of the dialect concerned? Certainly not unless the underlying CC cluster is justifiable independently. The point is that the diachronic process shown by the rule simplification, from rule (10) to rule (11), cannot be reflected in a synchronic grammar of the dialect in which the innovation has taken place, since rule (10) which existed in an earlier stage has disappeared due to the reanalysis of the underlying structure. From a sort of "pandialectal" view, it is a case of rule simplification, but from a unidialectal view it is a case of rule loss.

Generative Approaches to Historical

25

Linguistics

Now, consider a case of rule addition in a northern dialect of Korean. The morpheme which is commonly called S(ubject) M(arker) has two allomorphs in standard Korean: ka occurring after a vowel, and i occurring after a consonant. Similarly, what is called T(opic) M(arker) has two phonologically conditioned allomorphs, namely nun if the stem-final is a vowel, and un otherwise: SM V C

namu-ka salam-i

TM namu-nun salam-un

'tree' 'man'

The morphophonemic alternations observed above can be stated roughly as follows: (12)

a.

S M ^ I f ' ^ — }

What has happened in the northern dialect is that the morphophonemic alternations disappeared since a vowel is inserted if a stem ends in a consonant: SM namu-ka salam-i-ka

TM namu-nun salam-u-nun

Diachronically, this can be considered as a case of rule simplification for this dialect, from rule (12) to rule (13): (13)

a. SM b. TM

ka nun

But this rule simplification does not come without cost since the grammar requires a vowel insertion rule like the following: (14)

r i/C 0 -> \ u / C

+ SM\ +TMJ

How is this rule ordered with respect to rule (13)? For reasons of economy which cannot be elaborated here, the vowels should be inserted before SM and TM are spelled out. This means, of course, that (14) should apply preceding (13) as illustrated by the following derivations: salam + SM salami + salamika

UNDERLYING

(14) (13)

salam + TM salamu + TM salamunun

26

EUNG-DO COOK

What should be emphasized at this point is this: on the basis of comparative data and written records, it can easily be proven that the vowel insertion expressed by rule (14) is a recent innovation, but this relative chronology is NOT reflected in the synchronic grammar in terms of rule order since the vowel insertion rule must precede the morphophonemic rule. Incidentally, it might be interesting to contrast rule (14) with Chafe's assumption (1968: 129) that "phonological change normally takes place through the addition of a new rule to depth I." Rule (14) is certainly not added to depth I, and cases like (14) are not rare obviously as similar observations are reported in Kiparsky 1968) and Postal (1968) among others. To recapitulate major points of the preceding analyses, the devoicing of obstruents in German, rule (6), and the loss of final η in Sarcee, rule (7), are fairly recent innovations, and the added rule in the respective grammars certainly reflects the relative chronology of the historical processes. What is further observed in these cases is that the innovations have increased allomorphy, and each synchronic grammar requires the added rule in order to account for the morphophonemic alternations. However, not all innovations result in added rules in the synchronic grammar. The consonant cluster reduction of Korean, rules (10) and (11), decreases the allomorphy, and the recent innovation, which is a case of rule loss, historically is not reflected in the synchronic grammar. The diachronic process shown by rules (10) and (11) is comparable to what is shown by (12) and (13) in that both are cases of rule simplification, but the effects of these diachronic processes reflected in the respective synchronic grammars are quite different. In the latter case, the rule simplification from (12) to (13) is triggered by the addition of rule (14) which cancels the phonological conditioning by inserting a vowel after the stem-final consonant. Unlike rule (11), which is not required by the synchronic grammar of any dialect, rule (13) is required by the grammar where rule (14) is added. A general conclusion which can be drawn from the above observation is this: innovations which reduce the allomorphy of a synchronic state do not usually appear as synchronic rules, and even if they do as in rule (14) they do not reflect any relative chronology: therefore, it is only the innovation which increases the allomorphy of a synchronic state that appears in a synchronic grammar as an added rule thus reflecting relative chronology. While rule addition is often mentioned to explain the process of sound change (Chafe 1968; Postal 1968), it does not seem to me that rule loss is sufficiently well appreciated, especially its effect on the system of rules. Sarcee offers an interesting example. In the speech of older speakers, the verb morphology preserves what was once a productive process known as

27

Generative Approaches to Historical Linguistics

"the alternation between light and heavy syllables." The light syllable, being closed by a voiceless fricative, and the heavy syllable, being closed by a corresponding voiced consonant, mark the imperfective and the perfective respectively (Li 1930; Cook 1972). Consider the phonetic representations of verb stems given below: IMPERFECTIVE

PERFECTIVE

-Ms

-Iii-z

-yüs

-ywz

\

'to sew' 'to whistle' 'to chew'

ν

-m

Notice that the vowel of the perfective is longer than that of the imperfective. This vowel length, however, is redundant since it is predictable from the feature [+voice] of the following consonant. Therefore, the two aspect forms are derivable from an underlying representation, in which the feature [voice] is not specified, by such rules as: [-voice] / Γ

(15) C [+cont]

"I

/ L + ImpJ [+voice] / Γ

Τ

/ L+PerfJ (16)

[along]/.

C .[avoice]

Rule (16) is a low-level phonetic rule which must be ordered after rule (15), but not necessarily immediately following. The sample derivations below illustrate the application of the above rules (assuming that tone has already been marked): 1US [+Imp]

UNDERLYING

1US [+Perf]

Ws

(14) (15)

ιύζ

U: [long] unspecified S: [voice] unspecified

Ms

Ιύ·ζ

The sound change concerned here is the devoicing of the final fricatives in the speech of younger people, as illustrated by the following data: IMPERFECTIVE

PERFECTIVE

-Iiis

-Ιύ-s

yüs

-yü'S

'to sew' 'to whistle'

The effect of this change is interesting in that the phonological difference of the two aspect categories is marked by the feature [voice] in the speech of older speakers, but the same is marked by the feature [long] in the

28

EUNG-DO COOK

speech of the younger. In other words, the grammar of the younger speakers requires a rule like (17) instead of (15). (17)

Assuming that the underlying stem-final fricative is marked [—voice] by a convention or otherwise, the application of rule (17) is illustrated by the sample derivation given below: lUs [+Imp]

UNDERLYING

llJs [+Perf]

Iiis

(17)

Ιύ-s

What should be noted here is that rule (17) is different from rule (16) in two important respects: it is a higher level rule which performs the function of rule (15) that spells out the grammatical categories, and the phonetic features introduced by this rule are not redundant features. This is an obvious case of rule reordering, triggered by the devoicing of the final fricatives. This is a striking illustration of how an apparently simple phonetic change can set off a chain reaction in a system of rules. As far as the phonetic fact of the change is concerned, the devoicing of Sarcee fricatives is not much different from the devoicing of German obstruents. In the respective system of rules, however, two entirely different things have happened; in German a new rule is added towards the end of the grammar, while in Sarcee much more complex processes took place involving rule loss and reordering. Incidentally, how would the devoicing be accounted for within the system of "phonemes" ? It would be a simple case of phonemic substitution. Furthermore, the Sarcee case is a remarkable demonstration of how "the formalism [system of rules] leads to a conclusion which could not necessarily be anticipated on the basis of a merely verbal statement of the facts" (Kiparsky 1972: 191). One important question that has not been dealt with until now in this paper is the abstractness of underlying representations. One cannot fully answer the question "How much does a synchronic grammar reflect historical events?" without an answer to the question "How abstract is the underlying representation?" since many of the inferences about relative chronology are based on the underlying representation and its phonetic realizations. If one accepts Kiparsky's suggestion (1968) and does not allow so-called "absolute neutralization," not only can some obvious

Generative Approaches to Historical Linguistics

29

"linguistically significant generalizations" not be stated (Kisseberth 1969; Hyman 1970), but also the method of internal reconstruction will be unrealistically restricted. The syllable alternation of Sarcee discussed above in rule (15) offers a remarkable example. Consider the following data, part of which has already been presented: IMPERFECTIVE

PERFECTIVE

-his

-Ιύ·ζ

'to sew'

-γϋ$

-γίι·ζ

'to 'to 'to 'to

-?α·/ -t'üh

-t'ü'W

- Hh

-in

whistle' chew' shoot' look'

The first three pairs are clear cases of syllable alternation which can be accounted for by rules (15) and (16), but the last two pairs of the above are not so transparent. If, in fact, the last two pairs are also cases of the same type of alternation, one has to prove that the underlying representations of the final consonants of the stems 'to shoot' and 'to look' also undergo rule (15). A careful examination of distribution reveals the following facts: [x] and [γ] occur elsewhere but never finally in verbs, and [h] of the imperfective form of the stem 'to look' alternates with [n] medially. These distributional facts suggest that the two verb stems must be derived from underlying strings which have the following phonological structure: IMPERFECTIVE

PERFECTIVE

-füx

-ΐ'ύ-γ

-n-n

'to shoot' 'to look'

Clearly, these forms are outputs of the syllable alternation rule, rule (15) plus rule (16) as the other transparent stems are. Since the stems with the final consonants x, n, and γ are not grammatical, the grammar needs further phonetic rules like the following: a.

(18)

b. c.

χ -> hI γ —> w/u n. h

φ

#

Since [x] and [γ] never occur finally in verbs and [9] never occurs anywhere these three rules will not affect any other strings. In short, the two apparently irregular forms, namely 'to shoot' and 'to look' can be generated by the regular process expressed by rule (15). The three rules in (18) are cases of rule addition which describe recent phonetic changes which have obscured the once productive morphological process. One of the consequences of these phonetic changes is that x, and h (there are verbs

30 EUNG-DO COOK

which have an underlying h) have merged. This and other diachronic processes are well reflected in the synchronic analysis just given — a remarkable result of internal reconstruction. However, is this analysis justifiable from a purely synchronic point of view? Certainly not unless one accepts "absolute neutralization," since [n] never occurs as a surface consonant distinct from [h] or [x]. It is clear how real [n] is historically from comparative and other data, but is it real psychologically as well ? Rule (18c) certainly makes good sense from a descriptive point of view, but would it also make good sense from a psychological point of view? If the answer is "no," because a child does not learn a rule like (18c), then what is historically correct is not necessarily psychologically correct. This observation seems to lead one to choose one of the two alternatives in the event that there is no third alternative, namely one which is real both from psychological and historical points of view. It is not the intent of this paper to offer any definite answers to several important questions raised here. It is hoped, however, that the material presented has offered the reader a chance to pause and think about the meaning of many loaded terms relating to grammatical rules. Especially such notions as rule addition, rule loss, rule simplification, and rule reordering, can be meaningful only if the scope of the grammar is well defined. Similarly, one cannot accept or reject the notion of absolute neutralization without making it clear what the nature of a grammar should be, unless of course, one believes that there can be only one "unique' grammar (Chao 1934). There was a time when the linguist was confident enough to limit the scope of his discipline, to draw a clear line between synchronic and diachronic linguistics, and even to compare structures in the light of a welldefined set of terms. But times have changed. No substantial agreement seems to have been reached on the basic question of what a grammatical rule is. So long as this question remains unanswered, there cannot be any basis for a meaningful comparison, either synchronic-contrastive or diachronic-comparative.

REFERENCES BEVER, T., D. T. LANGENDOEN 1972 "The interaction of speech perception and grammatical structure in the evolution of language," in Linguistic change and generative grammar.

Edited by R. P. Stockwell and R. K. S. Macaulay, 32-95. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Generative

Approaches

to Historical

Linguistics

31

CHAFE, W .

1968 Ordering of phonological rules. International Journal of American Linguistics 34: 115-136. CH AO, Y-R.

1934 "The non-uniqueness of phonemic solutions of phonetic systems," in Readings in linguistics I, fourth edition. Edited by M. Joos, 38-54. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. CHOMSKY, Ν., M. HALLE

1968

The sound pattern of English. New York: Harper and Row.

COOK, E-D.

1971a Vowels and tone in Sarcee. Language 47: 164-179. 1971b Morphonemics of two Sarcee classifiers. International Journal of American Linguistics 37: 152-155. 1972 Sarcee verb paradigms. Mercury Series Paper 2. Ottawa: National Museums of Canada. GREENBERG, J. H.

1966 Language universals. The Hague: Mouton. HALLE, M.

1962 Phonology in a generative grammar. Word 18: 54-72. HOCKETT, c . F.

1958 A course in modern linguistics. New York: Macmillan. HYMAN, L.

1970 How concrete is phonology? Language 46: 68-76. KEYSER, s . J.

1963 Review of Kurath and McDavid (1961). Language 39: 303-316. KIM,

c-w.

1972 "Two phonological notes: Α-sharp and B-flat," in Contributions to generative phonology. Edited by M. Brame, 155-170. Austin and London: University of Texas Press. KING, R. D .

1969 Historical linguistics and generative grammar. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall. KIPARSKY, P.

1968 "Linguistic universals and linguistic change," in Universals in linguistic theory. Edited by E. Bach and R. T. Harms, 170-202. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. 1968 "How abstract is phonology?" Unpublished manuscript. 1972 "Explanation in phonology," in Goals of linguistic theory. Edited by S. Peters, 189-227. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall. KISSEBERTH, C.

1969 Abstract phonology: the evidence from Yawelmani. Papers in Linguistics 1: 248-282. KLIMA, Ε. s .

1964 Relatedness between grammatical systems. Language 40: 1-20. LABOV, w .

1969 Contraction, deletion, and inherent variability of the English copula. Language 45: 715-762. 1972 "Methodology," in A survey of linguistic science. Edited by W. O. Dingwall, 412-497. Linguistic Program, University of Maryland.

32

EUNG-DO COOK

LI, F-K.

1930 Α study of Sarcee verb-stems. International Journal of American Linguistics 6: 3-27. POSTAL, P. M.

1968 Aspects of phonological theory. New York: Harper and Row. SAPORTA, s .

1965 Ordered rules, dialect differences, and historical processes. Language 41: 218-224. STOCKWELL, R. P . , R. K. S. MACAULAY

1972 "Introduction," in Linguistic change and generative grammar. Edited by R. P. Stockwell et al., vii-xvii. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. WARDHAUGH, R.

1967 Three approaches to contrasting phonological analysis. The Canadian Journal of Linguistics 13: 3-14. WEINREICH, U.

1954 Is a structural dialectology possible? Word 10: 388-400. WEINREICH, U., et

al.

1968 "Empirical foundations for a theory of language change," in Directions for historical linguistics. Edited by W. P. Lehmann and Y. Malkiel, 95-195. Austin: University of Texas Press. ZWICKY, A.

1964 Three traditional rules of Sanskrit. Quarterly Progress Report of the Research Laboratory of Electronics (M.I.T.) 74: 203-204.

Where Does Language Borrowing End and Genetic Relationship Begin?

IRMENGARD RAUCH

1. The science of linguistics, through its serious return in the sixties to the search for a universal grammar, has made admissible once again discussion on the origin of language, which had been outlawed at certain learned meetings at about the turn of the century.1 There is now rather widespread acceptance of the theory that in essence all human language is the same. This essence, or base, or kernel is sometimes formulated in terms of a logical system. In less abstract symbolism the universal deep structure base strongly resembles the phrase structure rewrite rule for a sentence.2 The parallelism is probably not accidental and it is no mirage when we find it actualized on the surface in some natural languages (Rauch 1972b: 366). What is perhaps more striking is that at the central core as well as in the peripheral layer the phenomenon SENTENCE is a plurality. In other words, strictly from the semantic point of view, discussions of the primacy of any grammatical category or categorical dispersion are insignificant. They are, however, very relevant when considering the outer appearances of a language. Formulation of a universal base, in whatever terms, is highly suggestive of a view of monogenetic language evolution. Attempts are now underway 1

Discussions on the evolution of language tend to become troublesome because inevitably they appear to degenerate into a stage of mere opinion. It is likely that those engaging in this area ought to reclassify the possibilities. For example linguistic method is very fond of describing language phenomena in binary oppositions. It might be well to keep in mind that traditional parameters may be askew; perhaps the assumption that monogenesis and polygenesis are competing concepts is in error. 2 Compare Fillmore (1968: 31-32) where "the deep structure of (the propositional component of) every simple sentence is an array consisting of a V plus a number of NP's holding special labeled relations (cases) to the sentence" with the phrase structure rule S-^NP+VP.

34

IRMENGARD RAUCH

to probe into the possible composition of layers between the base and the language-specific layer, although the dawn of human language is not necessarily brought into correlation with the universal base. Thus, Birnbaum (1970: 26-33), for example, is primarily concerned with devising a theoretical hierarchy between the outer and inner poles and has, in fact, succeeded in identifying, to an extent, at least two of the intermediate levels. Directly below the surface structure, peculiar to each language, comes the "shallow deep structure" or "infrastructure," which is still language-specific and which is characterized by features whose surface reflexes are sets of syntactic synonyms. Another intermediate layer, which Birnbaum calls the "intermediate layer" proper of the deep structure, is below the infrastructure and above the universal base. There is obviously a strong possibility of several, if not many, sublayerings within the "intermediate" level. The layer is typified by linguistic features common to a set of languages classified by known groupings, e.g. genetic, generic, areal, cultural, and therefore appropriately called "typological deep structure." Birnbaum's delineation of the infrastructure and the typological deep structure is not without realism: for the first layer he cites syntactic ambiguity involving the Russian instrumental, while for the next layer he appeals to a Sprachbund type such as the Balkan languages. The assumption that generalization increases proportionately with depth in generative discussions is a usual one, and as a result Birnbaum's explanation that the infrastructure "will be the richest and most varied, and, consequently, the least generalized of the deep structure layers ascertainable below the surface of any one language" (Birnbaum 1970: 29) appears acceptable. However, this is only acceptable within the continuum of depth and height of one and the same untransformed, unmodified species. That is to say, some layers from the shallow to the profound may represent not a continuation but a change which probably requires diversification. In not accepting this view, one indicates tacit agreement directly or indirectly with strict monogenetic language theory. Birnbaum's aim here, however, is not to clarify language origin but rather to study one continuous abstract general language structure. The effect or outcome of the generalization assumption is quite another matter when it is applied to a time-depth scale of historical languages. Swadesh (1971: 45), who grounds his considerations of the development of language in cultural fact, proposes three stages of language — the eoglottic, paleoglottic, and neoglottic — parallel to ages of culture. Out of the neoglottic era come the recent stages of local, classic, and world language. At first glance the analog to purely theoretical development is not unfavorable and one can conceive that language may have been more

Where Does Language Borrowing End and Genetic Relationship Begin?

35

generalized the further back it went in cultural time. On the other hand, such a view is not entirely consistent with Swadesh's proposition (1971: 74) at the world stage of language: "The number of languages in the world decreases." In a sense, Swadesh's proposition offers a rather startling, unexpected point, and one wonders, without too much reflection, whether it is not possibly symptomatic of an incipient new language stage. This is the sort of thing we are looking for in attempting to ascertain criteria for establishing genetic language differentiation as indicated in the title to this paper. Specifically, the task at hand is to define pre-proto-language strains. The notion of proto-language has interested linguists; however, pre-protolanguage is not, as such, a separate concept. Twaddell (1948: 139) claimed that a proto-language is reconstructed purposefully as an unreal, hypothetical norm, but with an underlying real language. Haas (1969: 31-32) demonstrates the reality of a proto-language by suggesting that Modern English may develop into one in the next several thousand years. Haas thus maintains "that any language is an actual or potential protolanguage." As an aside she admits that between the reconstructed proto-languages and the daughters "there are many things which will inevitably be lost ... and thus be unrecoverable by the comparative method." It seems that this fact should not be regretted; rather, it should be magnified and exploited. The argument in Romance linguistic circles as to whether Vulgar Latin might be equated with Proto-Romance is accordingly well taken, and one ought to side with those who react negatively to it, since it is a visible case in point for explaining that a proto-language does indeed differ from a pre-proto-language stage. In Anttila (1972: 274), proto refers to "a split-off point, a node in a family tree" and pre "refers to anything preceding a node." While not wanting to engage in a quibbling semantic game, it seems important to point out that proto-languages, as reconstructed in diachronic linguistics, are really what Twaddell meant them to be, namely, emic, static constructs, and that the dynamic restructuring between two proto-languages is in the pre-stages. The Romance situation should not be taken as a special case, but rather as typifying a possible distinction between proto-language and pre-proto-language. It is one of the significant contributions of transformationalism to diachronic linguistics that the structure of language is identified by rule change and not by correspondences. I shall attempt here to ascertain features of pre-proto-language, possibly by making relevant correlations out of several spurious observations. So far it has been noticed that the linguistic notion SENTENCE is a plurality at any semantic level. Of further interest is the fact that natural languages are

36

IRMENGARD RAUCH

decreasing in number, which implies language generalization. And third, it appears questionable that human language as a species remains unchanged in the continuum whether through time or in a hypothetical depth construct. There are several principles in linguistic methodology which may aid in forming correlations. Discussion centering on the nature of linguistic change has long been divided between abrupt and gradual change which, in turn, can relate to single or multiple origin. A quite popular characterization is that linguistic change is gradual while linguistic analogy is abrupt. Such a qualification is admittedly oversimplified, but it is what is needed for extrapolating into hitherto unknown fields of thought. If analogy is seen as a borrowing mechanism within a particular language then borrowing outside a language and across languages can be abrupt. On the other hand, a prelude to phonological change, for example, is allophonic swarming, which settles down to a petrified emic construct. Applied to pre-proto-language, be it prehistoric, historic, or contemporary, trial and error diffusion parallel to allophonic swarming seems likely, but the distinguishing moment or the break in the continuum seems more reasonably to be characterized by an abrupt change. In considering the evolution from animal language to human language a so-called sudden leap is in order with the dawn of reflection. In moving from degrees of language relatedness into non-relationship, that is, from a state of degree to a state of kind, a sudden shift in thought appears necessary. Perhaps a valid analogy is birth and death, both of which make a difference in kind and are sudden acts in themselves although they are long in coming. Linguists recognize that there is no such reality as a uniform language or, for that matter, dialect. A dialect is composed of as many idiolects as there are individual speakers of that dialect. One can even argue that each speech act of an idiolect is a unique linguistic occurrence. The point here is not new creations but rather immediate diversification or swarming, so that language is from the start a plurality. Second, the leaps that occur WITHIN human language are not equal to that made το human language. Third, the changes within human language which reproduce themselves are different from the changes within human language produced by heterogeneous birth. Katicic (1970: 37-38) distinguishes between "internal" and "external" language change: internal marking a language not previously iu use, e.g. New High German relative to Middle High German; and external marking the substitution of an already existing language with another such language, e.g. Finno-Ugric superseded by Russian in the Moscow area. What is not reckoned with here is the partial takeover which can be witnessed in numerous so-called hybrid languages the world over.

Where Does Language Borrowing End and Genetic Relationship Begin?

37

Although this seems to be only a matter of degree, it is important in judging the Finno-Ugric: Russian situation, since it is likely that a one-toone or wholesale substitution did not occur, so that in a sense the language in the Moscow area directly after Finno-Ugric was new and had never been spoken before. Of primary interest is the birth of New High German, which was basically by self-reproduction, whereas the birth of another Germanic language, e.g. the notoriously hybrid Old Saxon, was due to many-sided contacts. Language contact means diffusion by borrowing. Borrowing is a mechanism not on a par with language change. It may lead into language change but it is not language change per se. As such it is abrupt and not gradual. What changes the course of borrowing is quite simply "isolation," which is "the only factor by which differentiation can occur" (Stevick 1963: 167). It leads one immediately to think that characterization of pre-protolanguage strains must depend on areal considerations. No one will deny that this is true at least in part. Thus contributions such as that of de Lacouperie on The languages of China before the Chinese (1966) or that of Wyatt (1970) on "The Indo-Europeanization of Greece" are valuable in surveying territorial conditions. Yet, what sort of geographic factors can be brought into play in trying to understand isolating features of a primarily linguistic nature as, for example, phonological dissimilations? The task of explaining phonological assimilations such as vowel or consonant harmonies, quite common to language, is child's play compared to finding the phonological rationale for phonological diversification. At the heart of phonological theory the nature of phonological dispersion is, practically speaking, an untapped well. The best we can do is to appeal to causes like the struggle or defense against homophony, or imbreeding, or the fight for the life of the language itself. It would seem possible then, to regard some stage of any pre-proto-language as a plurality with immediate interlanguage borrowing counterbalanced by inherent abrupt individuation of a kind which genetically relates a set of languages. 2. Choosing to work with the grammatical category "verb" implies no value judgment, no involvement, that is, in considerations of its power within the universal base. There are, however, certain semantic markers within its sphere which are fundamental but quite volatile and thus invite tracing their evolutionary path. The purpose is to lend some credibility to the theory proposed in Section 1. Many linguistic approaches tell us that a passive utterance is, relatively speaking, a late or a secondary development. For theoretical transformationalists one of the hallmarks of their profession is, so to speak, the

38

IRMENGARD RAUCH

passive transform, which generates passive utterances from underlying active sentences (Chomsky 1965), while those observing the unfolding of infant and child speech claim that transitivity, i.e. action upon an object, develops after intransitivity (Ingram 1971). Nevertheless, when we observe the convergence of semantic features within the passive domain, they appear so fundamental that it does not seem farfetched to expect some similar features in animal language. This holds, in particular, where the so-called "territorial imperative" underlying aggression is expressed in one of at least two human and non-human language directions, as doer or as receiver. Data from eight disparate languages3 give an indication of the variegation surrounding the passive: ENGLISH Verb fe+FTEMG+past participle (constraint: simple tenses only), It is being cut·, verb fe+past participle (ambiguous: overlap with the statal), It has been cut; verb get+past participle, It got cut; lexical (some from former reflexive), The book sells well; verb passive infinitive, It is to be sold; verb can-\-passive infinitive, It can be sold; adjective + active infinitive, It is pleasant to do; they, people, one+finite active verb, They say (impersonal).4 4 1 CHINESE Verb chiao 'to cause'+person or thing+verb, na^pen^-shu chiaoi-Vaina2-ch''üi-lal 'That book was taken away by him': verbpei 4 'to suffer'± person or thing+verb, wo^-na^pen^-shu1 peii-t,a1-chiehi-ch,iil-la1 'That book of mine was borrowed by him'; verb ai1 'to endure'+verb aix-ma 'to be abused' (Brandt 1940: 209); verb geei 'give,' Liingtz geei Λα sy-pohJe 'The collar has been torn by him'; unmarked verb (active and/ or passive, dependent on context), Ji bu chy Je 'The chickens are not eating any more' and/or '[As for] chicken, [I] am not going to eat any more'; substantive+past predicate, Ifwu sh woo mae .de 'The clothes, are I-bought ones' = 'The clothes were bought by me' (Chou 1961: 35, 54). AFRICAN Verb+suffix -(ij)wa in Bantu, Schambala -kund-iywa 'be wanted' (phonologically and morphologically constrained); verb+suffix -ala with medial meaning, Kafir -khal-ala 'be offended' (Meinhof 1948: 106, 129); third person plural in Ewe (impersonal), wotsd ta le enii 'They cut his head off' = 'His head was cut off'; unmarked (i.e. active and/or passive), metä Ί [am] photographed]' (Westermann 1930: 138); pronoun i or e+past tense in Tiv (impersonal), i gbwidye un 'People beat him'= 'He was beaten' (Abraham 1940: 15). 3

The identical eight language groups provide data in Rauch (1972b), which correlates certain phonological, morphological, and syntactic features with particular typologies. In the present paper the semantic feature PASSIVE is the focal feature. 4 The data for the passive of the eight languages are not complete; they are sufficient to allow some reasonable conclusions.

Where Does Language Borrowing End and Genetic Relationship Begin?

39

Verb-F suffix -il-, sev-il- 'to be loved' (phonologically constrained to verbs not in -/- or -vowel-); verb+suffix -(i)n-, al-in- 'to be bought' (ambiguous: overlap with the reflexive); verb-f—(i)n~\—il- (double passive suffix), de-n-il 'to be said'; impersonal verb, yalan söylenir 'lie-telling is done'; passive of verb ol- 'to be, become'+ef- 'to do'+verbal noun, tenkit olunuyor 'He is being criticized'; passive intransitive verb-(-passive verb (impersonal), bu i§ yap-il-ma-y-a ba^la-n-iyor 'This job is being begun to be done'='This job is beginning to be done' (Lewis 1967: 149, 150-151). GERMAN Verb werden 'become'+past participle, Das Papier wird geschnitten 'The paper is being cut'; verb lassen 'let'+infinitive, Ich lasse das Auto waschen Ί cause the car to be washed'='I am having the car washed'; reflexive verb+adverb, Das Papier schneidet sich leicht 'This paper is easy to cut'; verb sich lassen 'let itself'+infinitive, Das Papier läßt sich schneiden 'The paper can be cut'; verb bekommen 'get'+past participle, Er hat es gesagt bekommen 'He was told'; verb kriegen 'get'+past participle, Ich kriege meine Mühe redlich bezahlt Ί am well paid for my trouble'; verb erhalten 'obtain'+past participle, Jedermann erhielt 15 Patronen zugezählt 'Fifteen cartridges were dealt out to each man'; verb gehören 'belong, ought'+past participle, Ein entlaufen Schaf gehört in seinen Stall geliefert Ά runaway sheep ought to brought back to its fold' (last four examples from Curme 1952: 297); lexical, Es soll wahr sein 'It is said to be true'; pronoun man 'one, they, people'+active finite verb, Man sieht ihn niemals 'One never sees him'='He is never seen' (impersonal); verb sein 'be'+ passive infinitive, Es ist viel zu tun 'Much is to be done' (impersonal). SCANDINAVIAN Icelandic verb vera 'be'+past participle, Bökin in var tekin 'The book was taken'; Icelandic verb verda 'become'+past participle, Ρύ verdur 'You will be condemned'; Icelandic reflexive verb, Ekkert heyrist fyrir fossinum 'Nothing is heard on account of the waterfall' (Einarsson 1949: 147-150); Danish verb blive 'become, stay'+past participle (constraint : perfective meaning), J eg blev imiteret i gär Ί was invited yesterday'; Danish lexical+past participle (constraint: promise and/or future), Brevet skal blive sendt '[I'll see to it] the letter will be sent'; Danish lexical+passive reflexive infinitive, Det skal siges 'It must be paid'; Danish reflexive, Der drikkes 0l "There beer is drunk' (impersonal) (Norlev and Koefoed 1959: 180, 183-184). TURKISH

Verb etre 'be'-[-prepositional infinitive, Je suis ä plaindre Ί am to be pitied'; adjective+prepositional infinitive, Facile äfaire 'easy to do'; verb etre 'be'+past participle (constraint: perfective), Paul est frappe par Pierre 'Paul is struck by Peter'; reflexive (constraint: for present to avoid overlap with statal), Ces marchandises ne se vendent pas 'These goods are not being sold'; on 'one, people, they'+finite verb, On ne vend point ces FRENCH

40

IRMENGARD RAUCH

marchandises 'They do not sell these goods' (impersonal); verb faire 'make, do'+infinitive, Je le ferai voir de tous Ί will make it be seen by all'; verb laisser 'let'+infinitive, Je Vai laisse prendre Ί let it be taken'; pronoun) il 'it'+reflexive verb, II se trouve qvCil α raison 'It is found [It turns out] that he is right' (Darmesteter 1934: 570-706, 708-709). ESKIMO Lexical or inherently transitive verb+one pronominal reference (overlap with reflexive), tuquppuq 'He gets killed'; doubly transitive verb nuyuyqußaa 'He wants someone to end i t ' = ' H e wants it to be ended' (Swadesh 1946: 34); subject in the genitive -p suffix+object+transitive verb, angutip netseq toqüpä 'The hunter killed the seal'='Through the intermediary of the hunter the seal is killed' (ergative) (Erichsen 1944: 69). Several grammatical and semantic features in the sphere of the passive repeat themselves among the various languages. Transversing each other's paths are, for instance, the causative and the passive. Forrest (1965: 66-67) cites for Chinese the earliest documented passive as being an intransitive verb plus 'jy 'at the hands of', which relates semantically as a causative to the active.5 This links with the Eskimo ergative; Erichsen (1944: 68) has referred the latter to the Chukchi (a Paleo-Siberian language) ergative in which the subject is in the instrumental. Although the causative is developed in these instances to convey the passive, the doer is rather indirect, possibly for ethnological reasons of the kind that M. Uhlenbeck (Erichsen 1944: 69) proposes: Pour la mentalitd primitive ce n'est pas celui qui exicute l'acte et que, pour plus de facilit6, on appelle 1'agent, qui est ultima causa, des forces secrfetes sont en jeu dont 1'agent est l'instrument docile. [For the primitive mentality, it is not he who performs the act and, because it is easier, is called the agent, who is the ultimate cause; secret forces are in play for which the agent is a docile instrument.] The African (Bantu) -ika causative suffix, which joins medial verbs (Meinhof 1948: 130), and the several impersonal passive formations of African, Turkish, French, English, Scandinavian, and German ought to be inspected with a view to an indirect doer. There is continued semantic intersecting between and among transitive, intransitive, reflexive, and passive. Sweet (1891: 114) observed that a transitive made passive equals an intransitive, giving as an equivalence pair It is seen: It appears. Curme (1952: 331) demonstrates with the German utterance Solche Häuser vermieten sich leicht 'Such houses rent/ are easily rented' a direction of development from reflexive to intransitive to passive. The reflexive as a passive is particularly noteworthy since the 6

Halliday (1959: 56) distinguishes between a passive and an ergative for Chinese, the latter using the verbs ζΐαη or ba.

Where Does Language Borrowing End and Genetic Relationship Begin ?

41

medial may best explain in our terms the primary mood type of the verb in human language at its beginnings. The data indicate another kind of semantic-grammatical feature intimately involved within the passive, namely tense and aspect. African, Chinese, English, and French bear witness to tense constraints and Scandinavian to both tense and aspect constraints. German can also be drawn in on the basis of Lockwood's evidence (1968: 167) of a reflexive verb sich setzen 'be seated' (setzen is causative), which in the older language was expressed by a perfective, thus Old High German gisizzen. The interplay of the features passive, reflexive (medial), intransitive, transitive, causative, impersonal, instrumental, and tense and aspect indicate that some passive features, e.g. action upon a receiver, are integral to the dawn of human language.® The surface expressions may well tell something of pre-proto-language strains. Perhaps linguists will have to consider something other than stock grammatical machinery. The composite semantic feature impersonal-instrumental may be a starting point.

REFERENCES ABRAHAM, R. C.

1940 The principles ofTiv. London: Government of Nigeria, Crown Agents for the Colonies. ANTTILA, RAIMO

1972

An introduction to historical and comparative linguistics. New Y o r k :

Macmillan. BIRNBAUM, HENRIK

1970 Problems of typological and genetic linguistics viewed in a generative

framework. Janua linguarum, Series Minor, 106. The Hague: Mouton. BRANDT, J. J.

1940 Introduction to spoken Chinese. Peking: Henri Vetch. CHOMSKY, NOAM

1965 Aspects of the theory of syntax. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. CHOU, YUEN REN

1961 Mandarin primer. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. CURME, GEORGE O.

1952 A grammar of the German language, second edition. New York:

Frederick Ungar. DARMESTETER, ARSENE

1934

A historical French grammar. London: Macmillan.

DE LACOUPERIE, TERRIEN

1966 β

The languages of China before the Chinese. Taipei: Ch'eng-wen.

Very early underlying features have also been found for the Germanic dental preterite, which is also frequently considered a late formation (Rauch 1972a),

42

IRMENGARD RAUCH

EINARSSON, STEFAN

1949 Icelandic. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press. ERICHSEN, MICHELLA

1944 Ddsinences casuelles et personnelles en eskimo. Acta Linguistica (Copenhagen) 4: 67-88. FILLMORE, CHARLES J.

1968 "The case for case," in Universals in linguistic theory. Edited by Emmon Bach and Robert T. Harms, 1-88. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. FORREST, R. A. O.

1965 The Chinese language, second edition. London: Faber and Faber. HAAS, MARY R.

1969 The prehistory of languages. Janua linguarum, Series Minor, 57. The Hague: Mouton. HALLIDAY, Μ. A. K.

1959 The Language of the Chinese "Secret history of the Mongols." Oxford: Blackwell. INGRAM, DAVID

1971 Transitivity in child language. Language 47: 888-910. KATICIC, RADOSLAV

1970 A contribution to the general theory of comparative linguistics. Janua linguarum, Series Minor, 83. The Hague: Mouton. LEWIS, G. L.

1967 Turkish grammar. Oxford: Clarendon Press. LOCKWOOD, w . B.

1968 Historical German syntax. Oxford: Clarendon Press. MEINHOF, CARL

1948 Grundzüge einer vergleichenden Grammatik der Bantusprachen, second edition. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer. NORLEV, ERLING, H. A. KOEFOED

1959 The way to Danish. Copenhagen: Munksgaard. RAUCH, IRMENGARD

1972a The Germanic dental preterite, language origin, and linguistic attitude. Indogermanische Forschungen. 1972b Were verbs in fact noun subsidiaries? Preprints of the Eleventh International Congress of Linguists. Bologna, 361-367. STEVICK, ROBERT D .

1963 The biological model and historical linguistics. Language 39: 159-169. SWADESH, MORRIS

1946 "South Greenlandic (Eskimo)," in Linguistic structures of native America, 30-54. Viking Fund Publications in Anthropology 6. New York: Viking Fund. 1971 The origin and diversification of language. Chicago: Aldine-Atherton. SWEET, HENRY

1891 A new English grammar. Oxford: Clarendon Press. TWADDELL, W . FREEMAN

1948 The prehistoric Germanic short syllables. Language 24: 139-151.

Where Does Language Borrowing End and Genetic Relationship Begin?

43

WESTERMANN, DIEDRICH

1930 A study of the Ewe language. London: Oxford University Press. WYATT, WILLIAM F., JR.

1970 "The Indo-Europeanization of Greece," in Indo-European and IndoEuropeans. Edited by George Cardona et al. 89-111. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

JANE H. HILL

Throughout the last century, most of the effort of linguists working in North America has been devoted to the study of languages which are rapidly dying, either because of the failure of the communities to replace their population due to war, famine and disease, or due to replacement of the language itself by a world language. In spite of the substantial number of studies done in this context, surprisingly little has been written about the events, both social and linguistic, which surround the death of a language. Instead, the major effort has been devoted to salvaging the structures of the languages. A few authors have pointed out that language replacement offers a promising field for sociolinguistic studies of language loyalty, functional allocation of language use, multilingualism, and the nature of language acquisition; and some preliminary data has been presented by these scholars (Miller 1971, Darnell 1971, Swadesh 1948). Even less work has been done on the question of what happens in a dying language to the structure of the language itself. I know of only one discussion of this problem, that of Dressier (1972) on the phonology of Breton, a case where the language is disappearing very slowly, in contrast to most of the American Indian cases. Are languages that are dying any different in their structure from any other human languages ? Generally it has been assumed that they are not, and that data collected in the context of language death, as long as the informants are carefully chosen, are an accurate representation of the same language in the prime of its life. This is a particularly important question in the context of the recent trend in Research on Cupefio was made possible by grants from the Survey of California Indian Languages, the Center for Research in Linguistics of the University of California at Los Angeles, and the Phillips Fund of the American Philosophical Society.

46

JANE Η. HILL

linguistics to reopen the question of language evolution as a factor in the typology of languages (e.g. Swadesh 1971, Hymes 1961, Kay 1971). As much of our information on what the neoevolutionists call "local" languages comes from languages which are being replaced by world or national languages, we must determine if any of the properties which they exhibit are a function of the process of language replacement. In this paper I hope to demonstrate that certain changes may indeed take place within the language itself, as well as in the social context in which the language functions, and that dying languages may be rather different from "healthy" languages. I also hope to show that these changes which take place work with the social factors in language replacement to make it extremely difficult to revive dying languages, because the dying language may actually become a less efficient communicative medium. Samarin has pointed out that change processes in dying languages may be closely related to the kinds of language change which have been recognized in other situations where languages underwent a narrowing of functional range under contact, changes which he wishes to group under a general heading of "pidginization": "any consistent reduction of the functions of language both in its grammar and its use" (Samarin 1971: 126). He points out that "reduction in language use probably always has some repercussions on language output" (Samarin 1971: 127). This paper will discuss an internal linguistic result of language death. In two Southern California Uto-Aztecan languages, Luiseno and Cupeno, documentation covering the last forty years shows that there have been important changes in three measures of style elaboration: the frequency of shallow surface embedding of two kinds, gerunds and relative clauses, and the number of verbs per sentence. Speakers are still able to produce subordinated sentences or long sentences in the proper grammatical form upon request, but they use these forms in actual discourse at an extremely low frequency, so low that a child learning the language might find it difficult to make adequate generalizations about the use of these forms. The typical pattern of the speakers is a highly restricted code, with a high level of syntactic predictability. The modern speakers prefer to use short sentences with a single surface predicate, and they avoid the special constructions which are proper for subordinate clauses. On the other hand, speakers of forty years ago, as shown in the texts which they recorded, used subordinate clauses with a high frequency, making their syntactic repertoire far more complex and unpredictable. When such variables as age of speaker, individual informant, style of delivery, and recording technique are controlled, it is clear that these differences are a function of language death, indicating in particular the increasing importance of

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

47

English and the narrowing range of the indigenous languages as the indigenous speech communities are being broken up. Cupeno and Luiseno present an unusually favorable situation in which to study the language changes that take place during language death. However, the forty-year depth of documentation and the range of informants and styles involved could be duplicated or even improved upon in many American Indian languages. Both languages are clearly dying, although linguistic revival movements associated with a renewed pride in the indigenous culture of these communities have begun in the last five years. The communities are small, however, and most of their inhabitants live in continual contact with the surrounding Anglo population, attend English-speaking schools, are employed by English speakers, and so forth. Spanish is an additional complicating language factor in this area. It seems unlikely that the language revival movements will actually lead to the return of Cupeno or Luiseno as a substantial factor in the linguistic picture of these communities, although they will at least provide an opportunity for members of the community who have an antiquarian interest in the languages to become acquainted with them. Cupeno is listed by Chafe (1962: 165) as having "under ten" speakers, all over fifty years of age. At the time of my own fieldwork on Cupeno in 1962-1966,1 knew of eight speakers, four men and four women, who were all probably in their late sixties or older. Chafe lists Luiseno as having from 100 to 200 speakers of all ages (Chafe 1962: 166); however, in fact, most of these are middle-aged or older. A few children learn Luiseno, but these children generally lose the language as they reach school age. There are probably no monolingual speakers of either Cupeno or Luiseno. Cupeno speakers tended to be tri- or quadrilingual in Cupeno, English, Spanish, and Cahuilla or Luiseno. One Cupeno man was said to speak little English, but he knew Spanish and Cahuilla. Luiseno speakers often know Spanish and English, and no doubt some of them know other Indian languages as well. The history of the language replacement of Cupeno and Luiseno has not been well documented, but it can be reconstructed in its broad outlines. For the Cupeno, the first contact with Europeans at their remote traditional settlements of Kupa (now Warner's Hot Springs in San Diego County) and Wilakalpa came in 1795, when they were contacted by Franciscan fathers seeking a site for the mission which was to become San Luis Rey. Cupeno oral tradition holds that the Cupeno abandoned their villages and fled into the mountains at the approach of the Spanish, so it is unlikely that any language contact took place at this time. By 1822, the Mission San Luis Rey, and later the Mission San Diego, had established sub-missions

48

JANE Η. HILL

at Kupa and at nearby Santa Ysabel. The missions kept cattle and cultivated wheat with the help of the indigenous population. Franciscan priests apparently were present in the community occasionally from that time until 1834, when the missions were secularized. The first major impact of Spanish, which can be seen now in a very substantial presence of Spanish loanwords in the Cupeno vocabulary, including a number of "function words," began in this period. However, even before this contact the community was probably not monolingual. Many Cupeno trace their descent patrilineally to ancestors in "foreigner" lineages, said to be of Cahuilla, Luiseno, and Diegueno origin. Members of these lineages sang their ceremonial songs in these languages and constituted a separate moiety from the indigenous Cupeno "founding" lineages, which were probably actually of Mountain Cahuilla origin (Bright and Hill 1967, Hill and Nolasquez 1973). Cupeno often married into the surrounding groups, and no doubt some multilingualism developed in the children of such mixed marriages. Nearly all the modern Cupeno speakers report that they can understand Cahuilla, a very closely related language, and some speakers also claimed a tacit knowledge of Luiseno and even Diegueno. English speakers first entered the Cupeno lands around 1840. By 1846, several of the ranches in the area were granted to English-speaking proprietors. Among these were Juan Jose Warner, who was granted properties which included most of the Cupeno territory, and an Englishman named Stokes, who owned the Santa Ysabel Ranch which adjoined Warner's ranch to the southwest. Other Anglos present in the area included a storekeeper and ranch employees, who were always in a supervisory capacity over the Indian peons. The Overland Stage Route later stopped at Oak Grove, a half-day's travel to the north from Warner's Ranch. Several Cupeno women married white men in the years before 1900 (Strong 1929: 192-214). A primary school was established about 1890 and staffed by an English-speaking teacher. Up until 1902, however, Cupeno was still the dominant language of the community. While the Cupeno were in contact with both Spanish- and English-speaking Europeans, they were relatively isolated. One measure of their isolation after 1834 is that, while hundreds of Spanish words were borrowed into Cupeno, there are virtually no English loanwords, and the few that exist are relatively unassimilated. My major informant reported that she spoke only Cupeno until she went away to school when she was ten or twelve years old. In 1902, when the Cupeno community was evicted from its ancestral lands, workers who helped to negotiate the eviction found very few people who spoke English (Lummis 1902). The eviction and the removal of the Cupeno from their traditional settlements in the mountains broke the back of the Cupeno speech com-

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

49

munity. The bulk of the community was moved to Pala, a traditional Luiseno rancheria near the coast, and the site of a sub-mission of the Mission San Luis Rey, into a mixed Luiseno-, English-, and Spanishspeaking community. A few Cupeno were dispersed among the Cahuillaand Luiseno-speaking communities in the mountains, such as Morongo, Soboba, San Jacinto, and Los Coyotes. Many children were sent away to government Indian schools after this period, primarily to the Sherman Institute at Riverside. All present-day "good" speakers of Cupeno apparently learned the language as children before 1902, so that after the expulsion the language must have ceased to be used by children beyond their preschool years. The situation after 1902 can be reconstructed by examining the work of linguists who have worked on Cupeno. The earliest work was a collection of vocabulary lists by A. L. Kroeber (1907). The earliest substantial work, including the body of texts which was used to make the comparisons in this paper, was done in 1919-1921 by Paul-Louis Faye who, however, never published his linguistic materials. Faye's main informants were four women, all in late middle age, although he did record one text, a public address, from a man. From the women he collected the type of traditional oral history which the Cupeno call a'alxily, personal reminiscences of informants, descriptions of old ceremonies, and songs. He also collected "conversations," which are labeled in his field notes as "translations from English." Apparently they were originally prepared or carried on in English, and then put into Cupeno for the purpose of exemplifying verb constructions. Thus Faye's notes suggest that the range of linguistic usage around 1920 was as follows. Older people controlled traditional texts in Cupeno which were, however, somewhat reduced in content from those recorded at the same time from other peoples in the same oral tradition, such as the Desert Cahuilla (Strong 1929). Older people probably spoke Cupeno to one another, but, because Faye was forced to create conversations, one can guess that they were capable of conversing in English or Spanish in his presence. No doubt many small children still spoke Cupeno, but the absence of speakers under sixty years of age in 1962 testifies to the fact that they did not retain the language; thus it was probably little used outside the family. However, from Faye's materials we find that public speeches at ceremonies could still be given in Cupeno, and that praying and singing at ceremonies was in Cupeno. By 1962, the situation was greatly changed. No one under sixty spoke Cupeno, except for an occasional dirty word, the numerals from one to five, and a few primary kin terms. The eight elderly speakers spoke Cupeno to one another when they met, but often shifted into English. A couple of

50

JANE Η. HILL

women controlled fairly substantial repertoires of traditional myths and tales which they had learned as young people. However, the opportunities to recite them must have been few and far between, as the versions which I collected were often mixed up and involved a lot of forgetting and going back to pick up loose threads. These informants undoubtedly could have come up with good versions of the stories had they been given more time for preparation. A new a'alxily, the story of the exile from Kupa, had developed as an addition to the oral history of the tribe. New kinds of discourse, personal reminiscences, and ethnographic reporting had developed to deal with the special context of speaking with linguists and anthropologists — these functions were, of course, present in 1920 as well. Cupeno was never spoken on any public occasion. While all of the speakers with whom I worked controlled the structure of the language well, they had lost a good deal of vocabulary, and it was often impossible to confirm forms which had been collected by Faye in the early twenties. The Luiseno, who lived in precontact times along the coast of California from the area around the mouth of the San Luis Rey River north to San Juan Capistrano and inland as far as the foot of Mount Palomar, were contacted by Europeans much earlier than were the Cupeno. The Missions San Juan Capistrano and San Luis Rey were established in 1776 and 1798, respectively, and intensive missionary activity among the Luiseno continued until 1834. It is difficult to judge the amount of influence of Spanish on Luiseno, as the workers on the language, while observing that it existed, attributed it to bilingualism and therefore failed to record Spanish borrowings. Even before missionization, the Luiseno had acquired the Chingichnish religion, which may have begun as a Christian-inspired cult among the Gabrielino on Santa Catalina Island where the Manila galleons may have stopped occasionally to take on water, but which also had roots in an indigenous shamanistic tradition. The Chingichnish religion served as a focus for conservatism and nativism among the Luiseno which still persists (White 1963), and it is no doubt partly responsible for the relatively high rate of language retention among the Luiseno. White (1963: 119) believes that the Luiseno may have had a fairly large aboriginal population, perhaps as many as 7,000 people. They were always many times larger than the Cupeno, who probably never numbered more than a few hundred. At least twenty aboriginal rancheria sites have been identified for the Luiseno, in contrast to two for the Cupeno. After the contact some Luiseno, no doubt fleeing missionization and disease, moved north and east of Mount Palomar into the present limits of their range at Soboba and Aguanga, in traditional Mountain Cahuilla territory. The most conservative Luiseno communities are the older communities around Rincon in the southeast.

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

51

At the present time the Luiseno language situation is roughly like that of the Cupeno around 1920, with as many as 200 people speaking the language. It is still used occasionally in public, such as at burning ceremonies. No doubt some small children still learn the language, but I have never observed school-age children speaking it. The sort of traditional texts which have been collected for Cupeno and Cahuilla (Nolasquez 1973, Seiler 1972) have not been gathered for the Luiseno, except for some versions in English translation (DuBois 1908). Kroeber and Grace (1960) reported that their Luiseno informants did not readily offer traditional texts; this is probably due to the fact that they worked only with men, who may have been chary of sharing their traditional knowledge, a source of shamanistic power, with an outsider (White 1963). The earliest linguistic work on Luiseno was done by a Luiseno youth, Pablo Tac, who was entered as a neophyte at the Congregation of Propoganda Fide in Rome in 1834. Tac died in 1841, but before his death he prepared a grammatical sketch of his language which contained some texts. The Tac materials are most easily found in Kroeber and Grace (1960). Boscana (1933) collected some words in the language in the early 1800's, which were checked and supplemented by Harrington (1933). Philip S. Sparkman, who owned a store at Rincon, recorded texts and published a brief grammatical sketch (Sparkman 1905). In 1909, Kroeber worked on Luiseno, using Sparkman's materials, and in 1951, he returned to the language in cooperation with George W. Grace. They published a work on the language which incorporated some of Sparkman's materials (Kroeber and Grace 1960). The most recent work includes a grammatical sketch (Malecot 1963a, 1963b, 1964a, 1964b, a dictionary (Bright 1968) and a textbook (Hyde 1971). Cupeno and Luiseno have been in close contact for several hundred years. In the Cupeno myth of the founding, the two wives of the founder are said to have been Luiseno women from a lineage at Smith Mountain known in Cupeno as takcCat 'arrow point, sharp thing'. The Cupeno practiced rituals of the Chingichnish religion which came to them from the Luiseno, and the Cupeno oral tradition specifies that the Cupeno Blacktooth lineage acquired the whirling dance from Luiseno at Ngorivo, near Puerta La Cruz (Strong 1929: 257). Since the removal, the Cupeno and Luiseno communities in the Pauma Valley from Pala east to Rincon have been closely associated for ceremonial and governmental purposes, and a good deal of intermarriage has taken place. However, given the hundreds of years of contact between the two groups, the amount of borrowing between the two languages is relatively low and is limited to the ceremonial

52

JANE Η. HILL

terminologies of the Chingichnish ritual and a few bird and animal names. Nevertheless, the Cupeno and Luiseno, along with the Cahuilla, as briefly described by Seiler (1972), seem to form a single sociolinguistic entity, sharing many attitudes and traditions governing language use. Cupeno and Cahuilla are very closely related languages, with Luiseno somewhat more distant, but it is not too difficult to learn to understand all of the languages if one knows one of them. However, whether even Cupeno and Cahuilla are actually mutually intelligible without some study is questionable; they have generally been regarded as separate languages and there are many differences, even in core vocabulary. For both Luiseno and Cupeno, we have reasonably large bodies of texts, although that for Cupeno is much larger. These texts represent two or, in the case of Luiseno, three different generations of speakers. For Luiseno, we have the 1834 texts from Pablo Tac's grammar of Luiseno, the 1909 texts from Sparkman's materials as confirmed by Kroeber, and the 1951 materials collected by Grace. All of these are brought together in Kroeber and Grace (1960). In addition, there are the texts collected by Malecot around 1960 (Malecot 1964a). There is also a body of Luiseno texts collected by Langacker and his students from Villiana Hyde around 1968 (Hyde 1971). I did not use these latter texts because they were especially devised to illustrate points of grammar and thus undoubtedly display artificial frequencies of some forms. The same problem exists for some of the Tac texts. For Cupeno, we have texts from 1919-1921, collected by Paul-Louis Faye, and from 1962-1966, collected by myself. These collections are included in Nolasquez (1973). Thus for each of the languages we have at least a forty-year time depth, including texts representing a number of speakers and speech styles. When the earlier and later bodies of text for each language are compared, it becomes clear that substantial changes have occurred over this period of time in a particularly noticeable linguistic feature: the frequency of occurrence of subordinate clauses, including clauses involving simultaneous and preceding action (gerunds) and relative and complement clauses. In addition, there is a tendency to have fewer verbs in each sentence in the later texts. Verbs in subordinate clauses are marked in both languages by a special series of affixes which differ from those used to mark tense and aspect in verbs in main clauses. For this reason the presence of subordinate clauses of these types is easy to detect when a text is examined. For the speaker himself, however, the use of these clauses is highly rule-governed and complex, and not always semantically consistent. While rough outlines of the usage of the affixes are presented in Tables 1 and 2, my data contains many problematic examples of the usage

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

53

of the Cupeno forms. The reader should observe that while the two systems differ in some detail, they are largely cognate. Table 1. Subordinating affixes in Cupeflo A.

Gerunds -nuk, -anuk 'having ... -ed, ... -ing'

Subject of gerund same as subject of main clause Subject of gerund different from subject of main clause

Singular subject Plural subject

-qali \ % h f l wmie -wenif

,

,

B. Relative clauses (based on Jacobs 1975) Present Head noun is subject of verb in relative clause

Active -qalet Stative -wenet

Past

-wentim -ish -wentim

Future

-icham -qat

Head noun is surface but not logical subject of verb in relative clause

-et -vel

Head noun is object of verb in relative clause

-ve{y) -ve -pi -vem(i) Sing Plur Sing

Singular Plural

-qatim

-etim -pish -picham -velim

Plur

C. Complement clauses -qat

'in order to' action already taking place action not yet taking place

-qatim -ve(y) -pi

Examples: 1.

muku'ut

hetpeyax

and

she crouched outside

kilmangax

pena'aqway

nengunuk

her son

holding

2.

hanaka

yaqpeyaqali,

isily

pemfawluqal

again

while she was away,

coyote

he arrived

3.

mipetutuchineqal

ataxmi

he told them

the people

pe'miyaxwenive

(-qatim,

(-qali)

nang'awqatim

who would make images -ve)

They were the ones 'He told the people they were going to make images' 4.

mi'u'niqa

kinga

he shows them in the house axwechi

muliCmik

sululaxmVawichi

first

what had come in

(-ish)

that 'He shows them that which had come into the house first' 5.

mVuniqa

yawmi'awluweti

he shows them what was brought

(-et)

{-nuk)

54

JANE Η. HILL

6.

nenguwentim

netim

peyik

hashda

(-wentim)

those who have something chief to him would go 'Those who have something would go to the chief' 7.

pemfhuun

pem'elelichuqal

pemkiy

pemtewashve

(-ve)

Their hearts they felt bad their homes which they had lost 'They were sad about the homes they had lost' 8.

wih

kaarpa

yutyutpe'men

peta

chemtukpi

two

tent

they put up

place

for us to sleep

Table 2. A.

Subordinating affixes in Luisefio

Gerunds

Preceding action Simultaneous action

B.

(-pi)

-nuk, -nik -qanik

subject of subordinate clause same as subject of main clause subject of subordinate clause different from subject of main clause

-qala

Other subordinating affixes (From Hyde 1971: 178) Head noun subject of modifying clause

Head noun object of modifying clause Singular

Head noun subject of main clause

Past Present Future

Singular -mokwish -qat -lut

Plural -mokwichum -qatim -kutum

Head noun object of main clause

Past Present Future

-mokwichi -qati -luti

-mokwichumi -qatumi -kutumi

or -vo -qat -pi

Plural

-voy -qati -piy

Examples: (from Hyde 1971) 1. 2. 3. 4.

hunwuti

tiiwinik,

noo ycfanax

bear

upon seeing, I ran away

tooyaqanik,

Xwaan

ngeengi

laughing,

Juan

went away waxaam

(-nik) (-qanik)

'awaal

po

'oy

dog

that

you yesterday bit

koHmokmsh

peshlish

po

waxaam

bowl

that

yesterday I painted

no'eskanivo

(-vo)

is beautiful

person that

house is sweeping

6.

noo

'ayaliq

*ataaxi

poneeyi

'exngay

wuko'axluti

I

know

person

that

tomorrow

will come

po

woman

that

Xwaan

Juan

waaqiqat

yawaywish

*ataax

Sungaal

kish

(mokwish)

5.

7.

po

takwayaq

is dead

poloov

(-qat)

is nice

popeewlupi

he will marry

yawaywish

is beautiful

(-pi)

(-luti)

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

55

One difference in the two tables is that for Luiseno, following the chart in Hyde, subordinating affixes marked in addition with the object marker -i, are charted separately. Cupeno objects of main clauses can also be marked with the object marker -i, as can be seen in several of the examples (4, 5), but the circumstances under which this is done are not entirely clear. Another difference is that the complement structures in Cupeno are indicated separately, although the same affixes are used. There is no good description of complement structures in either Cupeno or Luiseno. The elements shown in Tables 1 and 2, in addition to being productive affixes, also appear in certain items where they are probably best viewed as fixed forms. I have not counted the affixes appearing in such fixed forms as valid examples of the constructions, and I suspect that a count of the forms would not display any difference between earlier and more recent speakers. For Luiseno, these items include ayalanik 'properly, well,' axananik 'in what manner', michaxaninik 'what, where resembling', poaninik 'its resembling', ivahaninik 'in this way', pominuk 'very much, intensely, hard'. Also not counted were the adjective affix -vo, or the placename affix -vo, e.g. awelvo 'old', palvonga 'in the valley'. For Cupeno, the forms not counted were mixanuk pexanuk 'in some way or other', ixanuk 'thus, so doing', mixanuk 'in what manner, how'. Also not counted were adjectives or place names formed in -ye, or very common verbal nouns formed in -et or -ish, such as xwayaxwenet, 'egg', or wjwish, 'acorn mush'. Tables 3 and 4 show the data for the three indices of elaboration/ restriction in Cupeno and Luiseno. The data is arranged according to approximate date of collection, informant (listed by initials), total number of sentences and verbs in text, and style. Gerunds, other subordinating Table 3.

Changing frequencies of subordinate clause markers and verbs per sentence in Luiseno

Date

Style

Informant

Sentences Verbs in text

1834 1909 1909 1909

dialogue speech letters legend

PT FC FC FC

24 68 16 45

1951 1951 1951 1960 1960

recollect recollect coyote advice recollect

JM WC WC GC GC

31 50 50 50 50

significance gerund-other correlation

Gerund # %

Other # %

Verbs per sentence

44 203 35 176

6 13.6 44 21.1 6 17.1 21 11.9

6 13.6 42 20.6 3 8.5 22 12.5

1.8 2.9 2.2 3.9

462 148 157 52 60

5 19 20 2 6

4 10 22 4 3

2.0 2.9 3.1 1.0 1.2

8.0 12.8 12.7 3.8 10.0

P=.032 p=.63

6.4 6.7 14.0 7.6 5.0

p=.056 not signif.

56

JANE Η. HILL

clause markers, and verbs per sentence are listed in three separate columns. Both raw and percentage figures (n/number of verbs in text, where n = number of subordinate clause markers) are given. Table 4. Changing frequencies of subordinate clause markers and verbs per sentence in Cupefio Date

Style

1920 1920 1920 1920

recollect CN recollect CW recollect SV recollect CN (exile) legend MC legend SV (creation) legend SV (founding) ceremony SV speech DM

50 13 36 15

121 29 92 42

9 1 4 2

25 50

53 99

50

recollect RN recollect FB legend RN (exile) legend RN (creation) legend RN (founding) ceremony RN advice FB coyote RN (traditional) coyote RN (modern)

1920 1920 1920 1920 1920 1962 1962 1962 1962 1962 1962 1962 1962 1962

Informant

significance gerund-other correlation

Sentences Verbs Gerund in text # %

Other # %

Verbs per sentence

7.4 3.4 4.3 4.7

15 6 12 8

12.4 20.4 12.6 18.8

2.4 2.2 2.5 2.8

5 5

9.4 5.0

3 7

5.6 7.0

2.1 1.98

106

5

4.7

13 12.2

2.12

50 43

128 102

4 7

3.1 6.8

23 18.0 48 47.0

2.56 2.37

50 23 16

73 41 22

0 0 0

0. 0. 0.

4 2 1

5.4 4.8 4.5

1.46 1.78 1.37

50

125

1

0.8

3

2.4

2.5

50

101

0

0.

3

3.0

2.5

50 50 50

80 93 47

1 1.2 9 10.0 5 10.5

4 4.8 9 10.0 1 2.1

1.6 1.86 0.94

50

78

2

3

1.56

2.5

ρ .05

3.8

ρ .00 p .001

p=.35

Tables 3 and 4 show clearly that the tendency of the informants in the earlier collections was to use the subordinate clause system with high frequency, with many sentences containing one or more elements indicating the presence of a modifying clause. These informants also tended to use complex and compound sentences of all types at a higher frequency, yielding higher numbers of verbs per sentence in the older material. Among the most recent informants, particularly in the case of the more fragmented Cupeno community, the use of the subordinate clause system drops off to a marginal level, and the stylistic watchword becomes, "Never use one sentence where two or three would do." Thus the most recent

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

57

speakers use a very high frequency of short sentences and prefer coordinate to subordinate constructions within longer sentences. Statistical significance was obtained for the frequency differences for all of the indices except for the number of verbs per sentence in Luiseno. The test used for significance was the Mann-Whitney U-test, a nonparametric analog for the T-test which is especially adapted for small samples of little known material (Siegel 1956). The possibility of a correlation between gerund and other subordinate clause frequencies was also examined, to ensure that these were not actually the same phenomenon but indeed two independent measures of elaboration. The correlation was found to be not significant, by Spearman's Rank-Order Correlation, a nonparametric analog to the Pearson Product-Moment Correlation. 1 It is difficult, in a short paper such as this, to find examples which will capture the stylistic differences between the two groups of speakers, although the differences are quite noticeable to someone who is familiar with the languages. A few sentences may suffice to show the sort of phenomenon which is involved. 1.

oy-up

foowut

ko'ilui,

oy-up

you

rattler

going to bite you

stick

oy-up

chaqwilut

naxaachush,

oy-up

you

going to catch

consumption you

tuupash,

hish

alaxwichi

sky

what

bad

kulagwut

porilut,

going to splinter towglawut

exla

going to see

earth

2

glo'xaqala.

when you are doing

'Rattler is the one who is going to bite you, stick is the one who is going to splinter you, consumption is what is going to catch you, earth and sky are the ones who are going to see you, when you do something wrong' (From a 1909 Luiseno speech recorded by FC [Kroeber and Grace 1960:203].) 2.

a.

pcCshok

worta' po-p

hiicha

aa'kosh

and

there he

what

was sitting there in Pechanga.

b.

pa'kun

haxte

pu-kaami

hgting

then it is said

someone

his son

took

oomokush

c.

pichaanga. woniiik.

over there.

pukaame

qay

wokgwa

po-künga

his son

not

arrived

his house was absent his son

tuqvo

at night 1

ona

po-kaami

po-kupla.

his bed.

I am indebted to Darlene Mood for the statistical analysis of these data, and for suggestions as to how the most revealing counts might be achieved. 2 The Luisefio citations from Kroeber and Grace (1960) have been slightly modified from the original transcription toward one which suits a typewriter; otherwise the original transcription has been retained.

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JANE Η . HILL

d. oomokush was absent oomokush was absent

puyaami we1 paaxe always two three puyaami. always.

hikte wosa' how many four

temet day

And he was sitting there in Pechanga. Then it is said someone took his son over there. His son did not come home, his son was absent from his bed at night. He was always absent, two, three, maybe four days, he was always absent. (From a 1951 Luiseno text fragment recorded by JM in Kroeber and Grace [1960: 182]. They describe this as "first gleanings from an inexperienced informant" [1960: 177].) 3. a. aye me chayawqa net, miyaqa' peshuun melen then and rises chief he tells them his heart much ichga1 pe'miyaxwenivey, mineliqal pemangax good that it is them he looks at for his sake yuyika payka in the cold in the water suunvishpemyingiywenivey. they are the ones who have gone to suffer, b. "meshe qwen miycCa neshuun qwe ichaachu, and truly can I tell you my heart can be good ixqalen, imitewanuk nengax, qweme ixani I speak thus upon seeing from me you you can take away iviy niwimiqaleti, nisetiqaleti". this which weighs upon me which crushes me. Then the chief rises, he tells them that he is very happy; he looks at those who have gone to suffer for his sake in the cold, in the water. "And truly my heart is glad, I say, upon seeing you when you take away from me that which weighs upon me, that which crushes me." (From a description of a burning ceremony recorded by Cupeno SV in 1920. Contains a quotation of a chief speaking.) 4. a. muku'ut pe' tekwevä'ash aye ρέ and it is said the fire-tender then he b. muku'ut pemyaxwen, "emay'ep aye and it is said they said today now mikwawirt," pemyaxwen. call them they said. c. ku'ut aye atax'am pe'mfaw. it is said then people they came. d. muku'ut fyeesta ya'peyaqal and it said is fiesta was running.

hashipeyax. he went. ataxmi people

And it is said the fire-tender went then. And it is said they said, "Now

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

59

we will call the people," they said. It is said then the people came. And it is said the fiesta would go on. (From a description of an eagle ceremony recorded by Cupeno R N in 1964. Note the absence of an attempt to represent the "high diction" of speaking in ceremonies, which is found in example 3.) These examples are purposely chosen to be rather extreme. Nonetheless, after reading a text of any length, one gains the impression that sentences like 1 and 3 are typical of earlier informants, while sentences like 2 and 4 are representative of the speech of the more recent informants. One point should be made about examples 3 and 4. In sentence 3, SV is speaking of a ceremony which she actually saw as a girl, therefore she is not required to use the quotative particle in every sentence. RN never saw an eagle dance because they were discontinued before she was born. Thus she must use the quotative particle in every sentence, which gives a spurious impression of monotony. A more extensive analysis of the data on style change given in Tables 3 and 4 is necessary if we are to appreciate fully that the changes shown in the data are genuine effects of language death and do not represent idiosyncracies of informants, style differences, or something else. A number of variables are separated in the tables. First, each speaker is designated separately. This was necessary to ensure that the rate of use of subordinate clauses or of verbs per sentence was not simply a feature of individual style. Unfortunately for Luiseno, there are no more than one or two informants for each time period, but for Cupeno around 1920, we have five informants. An examination of three informants, CN, CW, and SV, from whom we have texts in a single style, "recollection" (memories of childhood and old days in Kupa), shows that while there is some variation between the three speakers, none of these speakers fell to the negligible frequencies found for the modern speakers in this style for all three indices. Apart from individual speaker differences, another speaker factor that might affect the data is age. The informants were all about the same age (late middle age or older) with the exception of Pablo Tac, the 1834 Luiseno speaker. Hence, it is unlikely that the difference in subordinate clause frequency or verb per sentence frequency is a function of increased senility in the modern informants. The modern Cupeno informants with whom I worked were old people, but they were in good health and showed no signs of senility. They were alert and their memories were excellent. Informant marginality must also be considered. Two of the informants, Luiseno JM and Cupeno FB, are relatively marginal in their communities. For FB, this marginality does not show up in her subordinate clause

60

JANE Η. HILL

frequency, nor is it particularly noticeable in her frequency of verbs per sentence, although it must be remembered that this frequency can be a function of coordination as well as subordination. However, it does appear in her English accent in Cupeno and in the frequency of grammatical errors in her texts. FB lives on a reservation which is mainly inhabited by Serrano and Cahuilla, and she has little contact with other speakers of Cupeno although she is greatly interested in the language. While I did not question her about her background, her surname, which is English, would suggest that her husband or father was an Anglo. FB's data suggests that the phenomenon observed from these data, decline in elaboration, is not necessarily correlated with the degree to which a speaker has "forgotten" the language. For the Luiseno informant JM, however, marginality may be a factor in the low level of all his indices compared to those of WC. (GC, the other modern Luiseno informant, is a woman, a fact which is probably also important.) Kroeber and Grace (1960: 177) comment that JM's texts are largely the production of "an inexperienced informant." They found it difficult to persuade any Luiseno speakers to go to Berkeley to work with Kroeber himself, but eventually JM agreed to go. White's (1963) suggestion that strong sanctions operate in the Luiseno community against disclosing knowledge to outsiders makes this very willingness to go to Berkeley suggest his marginality. Kroeber and Grace (1960: 3) observe that "he proved to be definitely intelligent; however for a number of years he had spent more time in association with whites outside the Luiseno region than in contact with his own people." I suspect that relative marginality, as opposed to "forgetting" the language, would prove to be an important factor in indices of elaboration had we a more substantial sample of speakers. Probably the reason that the Cupeno informant FB does not show up conspicuously, relative to the other modern Cupeno speaker, is that the whole community has disintegrated so much, at least as far as the language is concerned, that marginality of individuals has been overridden by the total situation. In general, the Luiseno informants use a higher frequency of subordinate clauses than do the Cupeno informants, and they also use a higher frequency of verbs per sentence, except for GC. I believe that this difference is largely an index of the extent of language loss or death in these communities, since the Luiseno community was much less broken down at both periods represented here. The Luiseno in 1951-1960 had as many speakers, and much the same functional range of language use, as the Cupeno in 1920. Thus it is interesting that the overall picture in the indices for Luiseno in 1951 is more like that of Cupeno for 1920 than 1962, as can be seen from Table 5.

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

Table 5.

61

Overall averages for Luiseno and Cupefio Gerund

Other

Verbs per sentence

16.6

13.8 9.0 7.94 13.37 17.1 4.53

3.0 2.6 2.04 2.33 2.33 1.67

%

1909 1951 1951, 1960 1920 1920 1962

Luiseno Luisefio Luiseno Cupefio (without DM) Cupefio (with DM) Cupeno

11.1 9.46 5.25 5.9 2.77

%

In the Gerund index, the Luiseno 1951 frequencies are actually higher than the Cupeno 1920 frequencies. However, in addition to the relative degree of language loss and narrowing of function in the two communities, the sex factor is almost certainly involved here. It is somewhat difficult to evaluate this factor, as there is only one female informant (GC) for Luiseno, and only one male informant (DM) for Cupeno. In Table 5 two separate averages are listed for the modern period for Luiseno and for the older period in Cupeno, where the opposite sex informants are found. An examination of the 1951 Luiseno vs. the 1951, 1960 Luiseno averages (the 1960 informant is the woman) shows that all of the averages are lowered by the addition of her. data, and a reexamination of Table 2 will show that GC is conspicuously lower on all indices except for "other" in "advice" texts than the other modern Luiseno speakers. An examination of the 1920 Cupeno averages in Table 5 shows that the addition of D M raises the gerund and, even more, the "other" average, although it does not affect the verb per sentence average. A number of other bits of information seem to point in the direction of a more elaborate speech style in use by men in all periods. I worked with only one male Cupeno speaker, but he preferred to record songs and claimed to be incompetent to recite traditional texts or to record conversations. However, in listening in on his conversations in Cupeno with the other informants, I noticed that his Cupeno seemed very "elegant," in particular that his sentences contained a number of instances of the suffix -ve, past relative or action in progress complement subordinator, which I particularly noticed because I was having such difficulty eliciting examples of this element. Seiler, in discussing the Cahuilla, who seem from many of his remarks to be sociolinguistically much like Cupeno and Luiseno, also notes that the speech of his one male informant was different from that of most of his female informants. "His narrations contained numerous archaisms... the reactions of other native speakers ... and a close examination of the text suggests that he may have made an exaggerated use of particles ... or even

62

JANE Η. HILL

employed expressional features at inappropriate points" (Seiler 1972:5). It should be noted that this informant was probably the most marginal of Seller's informants, having been a lay preacher for a Protestant group; moreover, he appeared to be quite conscious that he was telling stories to a nonnative speaker of Cahuilla. In addition to informant features such as individual difference, age, marginality, and sex, the style of text can also be examined as a possible factor in the indices. The Cupeno divide their traditional oral literature into two genres. The first genre, g'alxily, 'a true story or history', includes stories which we would call myths or legends as well as oral history or events which took place within recent times; it is listed in the tables as "legends." The second style is silyichily 'bedtime or animal stories', including coyote stories. These stories are usually in a relatively light vein and are intended for children; they include many borrowed European stories. A third style differentiated by the Cupeno is yewaywe 'to make a speech, speak a language, pray'. This was recorded in its pure form only from DM, but fragments of this style also occur in ethnographic texts as quotations of statements by ceremonial officials. (See, for instance, the third example given earlier in the discussion on stylistic differences between early and modern speakers.) Two modern speakers recorded "how-to-do-it" texts in a style which is indicated in the tables as "advice." It is somewhat like the "speech" style and may be intended to imitate it. In any case, it has the same high frequency of polite imperatives, which are represented by relative clauses, as in the "speech" style. (Speeches usually were admonitory addresses urging good behavior on the listeners.) The other kinds of texts recorded, personal recollections and accounts of ceremonies, have no special name; they are just yaxe, 'to say, tell'. They are probably not used much except for talking to linguists and anthropologists. Ceremony accounts are listed separately in the tables primarily because of the quotations from speeches which occur within them, which may make their frequencies different from recollection texts at some points. While I have no information on indigenous Luiseno stylistic distinctions (Bright [1968] gives only a'alvu/a'alvi 'to tell a story'), I thought it wise to separate the Luiseno texts by style also. The Luiseno texts include all the styles recorded for Cupeno, except for a description of ceremonies. They also include "letters," which are short texts dictated by FC to Kroeber. One of the letters was actually sent. The 1909 Luiseno "speech" style texts were speeches given at the boys' and girls' initiation ceremonies, which were collected by Sparkman from an earlier Luiseno informant. The versions in Kroeber and Grace (1960) were rechecked by Kroeber with FC in 1909. It is not clear whether the original versions were collected when the in-

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

63

formant was speaking publicly, or whether they were recorded by Sparkman in private interviews. The Cupeno speech was probably recorded by Faye, as it was presented publicly. Faye's notes for this text look particularly hasty, and in an article on the Cupeno Christmas feasts Faye mentions that he heard the speech delivered (Faye 1928: 657). Generally speaking, gerund frequency does not seem to vary much as a factor of style. The exception is the "speech" and "advice" styles, where the Luiseno FC reaches his highest gerund frequency, and where a fairly high frequency is found for FB, a 1962 Cupeno. A high, although not the highest, frequency for 1920 Cupeno is also found in the Cupeno speech. Nongerund subordinators ("other") show considerable frequency shifts across styles. For the Cupeno informants 1920 "recollections" show 12.4, 20.4, 12.6, and 18.8 percent, while the ceremony account, which is also a recollection and an "extemporaneous" style compared to q'alxily, shows 18 percent. On the other hand, the legend or q'alxily texts from this period show in general much lower frequencies, of 5.6,7, and 12.2 percent. The 1920 "exile" recollection should be particularly mentioned here, as this story changed from a recollection to an a'alxily text between 1920 and 1962. In 1920, the text was short, only sixteen sentences, and was probably functioning simply as a recollection for the informant, who was telling in her late middle age of an event that had occurred only eighteen years earlier. The 18.8 figure for "other" subordinators is more consistent with a recollection than with an a'alxily text. By 1962, this text had definitely become an a'alxily story; RN, the informant, stated that it was part of the "same story" as the legend of the founding. By 1962, the text was hundreds of sentences long. As all of RN's "other" frequencies are quite low, the exile legend does not stand out as particularly low. It may be of interest that it shows a higher frequency of "other" markers than do RN's other "legend" texts. This may be an index of its relatively recent incorporation into the repertoire of a'alxily. The same comparison, showing lower figures in subordination for traditional oral history than for extemporaneous recollection, may also occur in the language of the Serrano who live immediately north of the Cahuilla. Kenneth Hill (personal communication) believes that his Serrano recollection texts are much more complicated and unpredictable syntactically than are the myths and tales. The very low frequency of nongerund subordinators in a'alxily or legend texts and in coyote stories is of particular interest because, except for linguistic interviews and occasional conversations between old people, the a'alxily and silyichily, 'animal stories' are the only kind of Cupeno spoken in the presence of other people. The great speeches are no longer given;

64

JANE Η. HILL

the only "advice" texts that I collected were given by FB in lieu of the traditional texts which she felt incompetent to recite. Kroeber and Grace (1960: 177) reported that their Luiseno speakers were reluctant to give traditional texts, but their fragment of a legend from 1909 does display a lower frequency of subordination (although a higher verb per sentence frequency) than does the sample of "speech" style texts. I made a special count on coyote stories, as the 1951 Luiseno coyote story, which was actually a European story, had a surprisingly high frequency of subordinate clauses, particularly for "other" subordinators. Coyote stories have been collected in Cupeno from only one informant, RN in 1962-1966.1 counted forms in both a traditional Cupeno coyote story and a European-derived story from this collection. The traditional story showed the highest gerund frequency of all texts for this speaker, and the modern story was also high, since otherwise the speaker used virtually no gerunds. However, the nongerund frequencies are lower than for other texts. In spite of this, I believe that coyote stories may be more "elaborated" than are a'alxily texts. Certainly RN used them for a display of stylistic autonomy in such areas as vocal qualification and reduplication far more often than she did the a'alxily texts, where there seems to be less scope for improvisation. (It should be made clear that a'alxily texts are not absolutely invariant, like Navajo chants, for instance. The major restriction on them is the motifs that must be included.) In addition to style and informant characteristics, in Cupeno it was also possible to control for topic. The two versions of the creation legend, the founding legend, and the exile text were chosen to cover almost exactly the same material. The creation legend data are from a section about the death of the creator. The founding legend data are from a section where the founder brings a dead bear to life. The exile texts are less similar, in that the 1920 text has only sixteen sentences, but the sixteen sentences chosen from the 1962 text include the material dealt with in the 1920 text: the announcement that the Cupeno would be evicted, and the journey from Kupa to Pala. An examination of Table 4 shows that for these texts, where the subject matter was virtually identical at the two time periods, there is still an enormous difference in the subordination indices between the 1920 and the 1962 speakers. (The verb per sentence index, surprisingly enough, is actually higher for the 1962 speakers for these texts, although the overall index for 1920 is definitely higher than for 1962.) Thus while subordinate clause frequency may vary somewhat with topic, this variable is overridden by the language death factor. All text segments other than these matched topics were selected randomly from the text available in the appropriate style. In cases where less

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

65

than fifty sentences from one informant in a single style had been recorded, all available material was counted. Still another factor which might affect speech elaboration is recording technique. One would imagine that dictated texts, because of the onerous nature of the dictation task, might be less spontaneous and more predictable than texts which were recorded on wire or tape. However, the language death variable again completely overrides this consideration. The 1909 Luiseno and 1920 Cupeno texts were taken from dictation by hand. The 1951 Luiseno texts were recorded on wire, the 1960 Luiseno and 1962-1966 Cupeno texts on tape. Of course the data show that the modern texts, in spite of the recording techniques, are far more predictable and restricted in the array of syntactic devices used. In addition, the linguist's expertise in the language might affect an informant's style of delivery. All of the linguists who have worked on the languages were about equally inexpert in them. Only Sparkman and Pablo Tac actually spoke either of the two languages. At this point I wish to discuss the two points at which the data do not match the general trend toward restricted syntactic repertoire over time: the case of the Luiseno verb per sentence index, which did not change significantly over time, and the case of Pablo Tac, who in spite of the early date of his recordings, shows very low frequencies for all indices. The figure for significance of verb per sentence index in Luiseno, like all the significance figures, includes all the data given in the table. Two such index frequencies for the early period are particularly low: the 1.8 for Pablo Tac, and the 2.2 recorded for the "letters" of FC. Because of the very small size of the overall sample, I believe these particular frequencies were quite important in skewing these data. Pablo Tac, for reasons which will be discussed later, should not be regarded as a typical speaker of Luiseno. The "letters" texts are rather unusual. They are all extremely short, no more than four of five lines each. The "letter" was almost certainly an unfamiliar form to FC. The texts give the distinct impression of being written under pressure, somewhat like the postcards grudgingly sent home by a child at camp. Thus they are probably not a fair representation of FC's usual style, but in a sample of this size they loom very large. In addition, one of the two 1951 informants, WC, had a preference for using long coordinate structures, thus making his verb per sentence index high. I believe that if we had had a larger sample of Luiseno texts, these data would have fallen into line. The verb per sentence and subordination features in Cupeno yielded an interesting result in compiling translations of the texts. The earlier informants used more complex sentences, but these took up less space on the

66

JANE Η. HILL

page because of the shortening effect of Cupeno over English relative clauses. The early texts were thus much longer in English than in Cupeno. The 1962 texts displayed the reverse situation, having a shorter English than Cupeno version. The older Cupeno style was capable of great complexity and compactness of expression, even in comparison with English, but particularly in comparison with the repetitious modern texts. The Luiseno data from 1834, from the work of Pablo Tac, does not follow the anticipated trend to elaboration in the early period. While Tac wrote at a time when Luiseno was spoken by thousands of people, and Spanish had presumably only begun to penetrate the community, his brief texts and examples display a rather low frequency of subordinated elements compared even with one of the 1951 speakers. His verb per sentence frequency is also very low. The reasons for this are complex. First of all, Tac was probably a very marginal Luiseno. As he was only fourteen years old when he went to Rome it is quite possible that he had never been initiated into Luiseno adulthood in the traditional rites, and certainly not into any of the higher levels of the shamanistic cult. Tac must have shown that he was a good Christian so as to have been singled out for education to the priesthood; in order to do this he would have had to have displayed some degree of nonparticipation in the traditional Luiseno religious system. Secondly, he was very young, and a number of important speech styles which display elaboration were probably not learned by young people. In particular, the public speeches made at ceremonies were made by ceremonial officials and heads of lineages, who were men in full maturity. The recitation of traditional oral history was also a speech function primarily of older people. Thus at the time Tac left his Luiseno community he probably would not have learned any of the styles by which a speaker is publicly judged, something which may exert an extremely important pressure toward the elaboration of style. The text used for his "dialogue" style was a children's coyote story, since it was the only text not explicitly designed for grammatical exemplification. Finnally, in Rome, he was of course completely isolated from other speakers of Luiseno, and had to reconstruct his language from memory. When all of these factors are considered, it seems highly likely that Tac's repertoire range of discourse types would have been that of an immature speaker using a restricted code, despite the fact that he probably controlled the full range of the morphological repertoire of Luiseno. In general, the trend exhibited in the data is clear. An important change in speaking style has been taking place over a forty-year period of progressive disintegration of the Cupeno and Luiseno speech communities. This has involved a reduction in the number of speakers using the language

Language Death, Language Contact, and Language Evolution

67

and a narrowing of the range of functions in which the languages were in frequent use. All of these factors are greater at each stage for Cupeno than for Luiseno. The trend to extreme reduction in the frequency of use of subordinate sentences and in the number of verbs per sentence cuts across all other variables, including individual speaker features such as age and sex, style of text, topic of text, and recording technique. One point which should be made clear is that, although the modern speakers use subordination with low frequency, they are by no means unfamiliar with the forms. In this case they differ from the situation of the Auca informant mentioned as an example of language death by Samarin (1971: 130), who apparently had actually purposefully forgotten much of her language due to "psychological depression" dating from the death of several members of her family in a tribal feud (Saint and Pike 1949). The subordinating affixes can be elicited if one asks the appropriate questions. Jacobs (1975) working on Cupeno, and Langacker and his students (Hyde 1971) working on Luiseno were able to collect reasonably good initial accounts of the uses of the subordinating affixes. However, Kroeber and Grace to a degree, and I myself had difficulty describing these elements. I used texts as a clue to new lines of questioning, but the subordinating forms appeared so seldom in the texts that I could not find an appropriate frame of elicitation with which to determine the range of their use. In listening to modern Cupeno speakers (I have no firsthand experience with Luiseno, only overheard conversations), one does not sense a lack of expressive power in their use of their native language. The short repetitive sentences are of course obvious, but to the Anglo listener they actually have the effect of lending to narrations a certain stateliness and dignity. A wide range of derivational and inflectional affixes and a free use of reduplication, lengthening, intonational and stress variations make the narrations of these speakers reasonably varied in expression. I have commented elsewhere (Hill 1972) on the surprisingly wide range of devices that are used to express higher predicates in Cupeno. There is a good deal of evidence that in earlier times, before the profound disintegration of the linguistic community, the more flexible, less restricted style, involving a high level of subordination and long sentences, was the preferred style in Cupeno and Luiseno. One can see this in the very high frequency of subordinating elements that appear in public speeches in both languages. Faye (1928: 657) said of the 1920 speech by DM that "it was meant to be impressive." The Luiseno speeches, given at initiation ceremonies, are intended to convey the dignity and sacredness of the Chingichnish ethics. These may not have been recorded in the original public context, but the Cupeno speech probably was. Thus the

68

JANE Η. HILL

very highest frequencies of subordination occur in the context where a speaker was most likely trying to speak as well as possible, because he was exposed to the judgement of the public. An additional bit of evidence that a style involving a rich use of subordinate structures was highly valued in the old days is provided by Seller's work on Cahuilla. In his introduction to the Cahuilla texts, he observes that his informants particularly admired the speech of one woman, whom he recorded speaking extemporaneously in response to stickman drawings. The Cahuilla said that she was "a particularly representative sample of 'how we speak'" (Seiler 1972: 6). I counted subordinate forms in fifty sentences from this informant and found an extraordinarily high frequency of them, forty examples in fifty sentences, or nearly half of all verbs. This informant tended to use relative clauses embedded after the copula, whereas Cupeno speakers of either generation would almost always use a simple main verb, unless they were trying to speak like a chief. For example, Seiler gives the sentence (Seiler 1972: 195): penew ... kavayunga nehicheqaleve miyaxwin, ραΊίperCik with her on horse back who would go I was water for her kwahimaxqaleve miyaxwin. who would fetch I was. I was the one who would accompany her on horseback, I was the one who would fetch water for her. 8 This kind of sentence is like those which are put in the mouths of chiefs and firetenders in Cupeno recollections of the old ceremonies. If the traditional culture valued highly the use of a style with a high frequency of subordination, yielding great syntactic variety and autonomy, and if the modern informants for Cupeno and Luiseno are among the most traditional people in their societies, then why does their style deviate so far from this ideal? I believe that the answer can be found within a general model of language change. Many authors have claimed that language change in general will tend to be simplifying, rather than complicating, in its structural effects. "Simple" is a notion that is not well defined in linguistics, and I hesitate to use it here, as many scholars will quite properly object that we are unable to give a principled reason why such phenomena as regularizing in morphology, unmarking of feature and order of rules in phonology, restricted coding, loss of inflection, and so forth, should be lumped under a single label. They will point out, in addition, that a language that is tractable in one area will be complicated in the next, such that, for instance, a language which lacks inflectional marking of role relationships will have very strict require-

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ments on word order. In spite of these objections, I wish to go ahead and use something like "simplicity" as a sort of loose cover term, in the hope that it will not obscure my point too much. Kiparsky (1971) has attempted to refine the notion of simplicity (a term which he would no doubt reject) by developing the concept of "transparency," the tendency of changes in rules to avoid such changes as would make it more difficult to retrieve underlying structures from surface alternations. When rules become "opaque," obscuring underlying structure, such rules tend to be lost altogether, thus regularizing the surface forms. The loss of subordination can, I believe, be seen as a sort of shift to a syntactic transparency. Presumably, the semantic structure of a sequence like "I went with her on horseback" is the same in underlying organization whether it appears on the surface in a relative clause, a complement structure, a gerund, or a main clause. To mark such a sentence differently in the different subordinate clauses, and differently in subordinate clauses than in main clauses, is clearly more "opaque" than to surface all sentences with the same markings, as is the case in coordinate structures. And, of course, the loss of these markings is also simpler in the loose sense, in that the speaker is not obliged to control a large repertoire of affixes, each with their own agreement pattern for the case and number of their head noun. The tense-aspect endings of main clauses in Luiseno and Cupeno do not vary with the underlying case of the head noun, and in stative verbs the number distinction as well can be lost in main clauses. Objections have been raised to any generalization which suggests that language change tends to move toward simplicity, and the literature abounds with examples which demonstrate the opposite tendency. Our problem here lies in the fact that we have not controlled for the social context of language change. Linguists have usually assumed an absolutely relativistic stance, holding Yokuts, Schwyzerdeutsch, Wolof, and French to be sisters under the skin, like the colonel's lady and Rosie O'Grady. What may actually be the case is that, where social support of a language is strong in an intact speech community and the functional range of a language covers most of the major areas in which communication takes place, social factors will tend to suppress simplifying trends which appear in the speech of children, making it give way to the hypercorrection and relatively opaque rules of adult speech. This is probably the "normal" condition in speech communities, if we can speak of normalcy in a situation where at least half the languages in the world have disappeared in the last 500 years, and where many speech communities are multilingual. However, a number of examples are known where important "simplifying" trends have developed, sometimes even to the point of impairing communicative

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efficiency. These are all cases where, to use Samarin's (1971) generalization, the functional range of a language has been reduced under contact. A famous example is the elimination of inflection in English during the early Middle English period (although some authors have pointed out that the trend may have begun before this time in a few dialects). This was certainly a shift that reduced the derivational depth and complexity of sentences, at least temporarily. It led to the possibility of ambiguities in interpretation which, as Bever and Langendoen (1971) showed in their discussion of the effects of the loss of inflection upon English relative clause formation, took 800 years of restructuring to erase. The context in which this loss took place was, of course, one in which the Englishspeaking community, which had possessed a focus of standardization in the West Saxon court, was conquered by speakers of French. The focus of standardization in the court was eliminated, yielding not only the inflection loss and other syntactic changes but also the famous dialectical breakup of Middle English. The functional range of English narrowed enormously; it was replaced by French in all the important spheres of national life such as government, the court, the arts, and the law, for hundreds of years. English became for a while a "local" language of a subordinate population, with its range of usage centering in peasant family and village life. Another example of a similar phenomenon is that of Hindi. Modern Hindi is derived from medieval dialects of northcentral India by a complex process of pidginization, creolization, and restandardization. The most analytic north Indian dialects in comparison with the highly inflected classical languages, the so-called Khari Boli of the Delhi area (Narula 1955: 77), became the foundation for a lingua franca used in the bazaars around the Moghul courts in Delhi and Agra, and as the foundation for a pidgin with which Dravidian speakers communicated with the Moghul armies in their territories (Gumperz 1971). Removed by religious, political, and geographical boundaries from a locus of standardization in the literary dialects of the north such as Braj Bhasha and Avadhi; tending in a sort of Creole continuum toward an Arabized Persian or Sanskrit rather than any contemporary indigenous standard; filling a narrow range of functions during a long period; Hindi and Urdu became the highly "analytic" variants that are spoken today, which differ from the medieval languages of north India somewhat as modern English differs from Old English. Aztec provides an example of a trend to reduced elaboration, this time to a restricted range of morphological productivity. Aztec in classical times used a rich and complex set of derivational devices in word formation which has been greatly reduced in the modern dialects in favor of

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fixed forms, often Spanish loanwords (Whorf 1946: 392). Of particular interest is the reduction of compounding. Complex compounds three and four roots long reached an all-time high in the immediate post-contact period, when Aztec actually increased its functional range, as it was used by the conquistadors as the language of government and of the new religion over an enormous area, even exceeding the boundaries of the old Aztec hegemony. In modern times the florid post-conquest style is not found, and the language is now a language of the family and of peasant communities, having been replaced by Spanish in national life and in many areas of local life as well. Perhaps the most extreme form of simplification with the elimination of a supporting speech community is found in pidginization, where the functional range of a language is narrowed to the greatest possible extreme, limited to communication between members of isolated dyads such as trade or master-slave relationships, and in which the pidgin itself is often held in contempt by both parties. Pidgin languages are particularly notorious for their highly analytic surface structures and for their possession of other features which have often been regarded as "simple." In our present case, that of language death, we can see this simplifying trend, the tendency for the structures of the surface to be more like the highly redundant and repetitive underlying structures operating in the Cupeno and Luisefio data. In a single generation the frequency of usage of subordinating markers has dropped to the point where their existence is hardly recoverable, at least in the case of Cupeno, the more decayed of the two languages. These structures were an important feature of a highly valued speech style in the traditional community; however, in the intervening generation, the community, which was the source of social pressure for an elegant and complex style, has been nearly eliminated. In particular, English or Spanish has been substituted at the very point in the functional range of language usage in these societies where social pressures can apply most efficiently: public speaking by adults. When this focus of pressure for the elaborated style was removed, the remaining speakers, in the case of Cupeno, who were young children in 1902 (the critical watershed year for the vitality of the Cupeno speech community), either never acquired a high valuation of the forms or had begun to abandon the more difficult style in the absence of sanctions. I have pointed out that modern speakers "know" these forms and do use them, although very seldom; thus what has developed in Cupeno and Luiseno is more like a restricted code than an actual change in the morphological and syntactic structure of the language. However, the pattern of usage, which a child

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growing up in a Luiseno or Cupeno household today would hear, particularly from women (as would seem likely for a young child), is such that the child may never hear enough of these forms to make adequate generalizations about their usage. He will know only the range of usage found in the restricted code, and in his case the actual narrowing of structure itself will have taken place. Thus the Indian language, which he will know as he moves out of the family into more complex communication networks, will be highly restricted and predictable, or "non-autonomous," to use Kay's (1971) term. It will take longer to say things in this code than in English. (Spanish is no longer an important alternative language in these communities.) Lieberman (1972) has suggested that the speed with which content can be conveyed may be an especially important feature of modern natural languages. Thus the child will be presented at school age with a world language, which is not only the obvious route to success in a larger society but which may actually be a more efficient communication device in an absolute sense, in the speed, compactness, and autonomy of expression with which it provides the child for his new communicative purposes. This may be at least part of the reason why children almost universally abandon the Indian languages, even in the family, when they reach school age. This would suggest that any language revival movement in the case of a dying language would have to be accompanied, not only by legitimate reasons for the revival, but by an awareness on the part of speakers of the language that they must make an effort to use a relatively varied style if they are to provide children with a sufficiently complex communication device. Linguists have in general tacitly assumed that their data on languages, such as the indigenous languages of North America which are in almost all cases rapidly disappearing in favor of a world language, represented full and complete versions of those languages. Occasionally, an obvious exception appeared in the case of languages like Biloxi or Nicoleno, where the data were collected from isolated and senile informants who had clearly forgotten most of their language. Even in these cases, however, it has been found that a speaker recovers his language as he works with a linguist, and it has been assumed that the late stages of work produce a credible set of data even in a language which the informant has not spoken for many years (e.g. see Haas 1950: 9). The data presented here, together with Samarin's (1971) contentions, suggest that this is an assumption which should be made very cautiously. Dressier (1972: 455) has accused workers on North American Indian languages of ignoring opportunities for studying language death phenomena by working only with the oldest and

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most conservative speakers. The Luiseno and Cupeno data given here show that even these speakers may be giving a highly modified version of their language's syntactic resources, even though they have at least a tacit knowledge of the language's full morphological and syntactic, if not its lexical, repertoire. Such workers as Bloomfield (1964) and Darnell (1971) have emphasized that the speech communities which they studied are diverse in the skills exhibited by informants, and very few linguists, especially in situations where only a few speakers remain, will become sufficiently sensitive to social evaluation of language usage to tell the difference between "literate" and "illiterate" speech. In the case of Cupeno and Luiseno, when we compare the existing generation of speakers with their own parents and grandparents, it turns out that nearly all the modern speakers would fall toward the "illiterate" end of the continuum, in spite of the fact that some are highly regarded as traditionalists. These modern speakers may be somewhat aware of the change; RN, the main modern Cupeno informant, used to speak very highly of the speech of SV, one of the 1920 informants, and observed that she herself could never hope to tell the stories as well as SV had, even though RN herself was the most famous and highly regarded Cupeno storyteller of her generation. The Cupeno and Luiseno data cast new light on some older statements about speech style in communities with dying languages. For instance, Newman (1964), in a paper on Yokuts narrative style based on texts collected from the last few speakers of Yokuts, reported that simple rather than fancy sentences were the preferred style in this "community," such as it was at the time of his study. His description of Yokuts narrative style makes it sound uncannily like the kind of usage we have identified in Cupeno or Luiseno as "restricted" or "illiterate" in comparison to older data on the same languages. Newman (1964: 373) speaks of the "bareness and simplicity of expression" found in Yokuts and observes several realizations of this tendency. Yokuts speakers tend to use very few suffixes in forming words and are not distressed by repetition. "A passage such as 'and he walked home. And his friend also walked home. And the people walked home' ... is stylistically appropriate in Yokuts" (Newman 1964: 375). A series of "do" verbs, which allow for vivid imagery, are disappearing in the speech of the present generation of adults, who regard them as "silly." Most significantly, in the context of the Cupeno and Luiseno data, Newman observes: In the same spirit Yokuts avoids expressing subordinate and superordinate relations between its predications. It possesses particles indicating temporal and modal subordination, such as "when" and "if", and suffixes forming subordinate verbs, but these are syntactic tools that Yokuts employs only on rare occasions.

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Its favorite device for relating predications to one another is the particle "ama" that can best be translated as "and" or "and then", an element that achieves only the loosest and most ambiguous style of coordination. The great majority of sentences in a Yokuts text begin with this feeble coordinator. Occasionally a tighter cohesion is attained by the use of another particle meaning "also, again". But the language seldom goes beyond this in its efforts to connect and relate its predications (1964: 376).

Samarin (1971) has discussed much the same phenomenon for Sango, a West African pidgin language, and Tonga, in southeast Africa. Samarin observes that a very high incidence of two connectives which he has observed in Sango does not alone demonstrate that Sango is a pidgin, unless other factors such as recording technique, topic, genre, style, etc. are taken into account. He observes, in addition: For example, the rather uninteresting narrative style of Sango, with clauses strung along in a close parallel to the actual events that took place, is very much like the narrative style of Tonga, another African, but Bantu and natural, language. What characterizes Tonga is a redundant style which uses four devices: staging, overlapping, repetition, and synonomous expressions. For what is translated as "the whites followed up to the Bembezi and there was a great battle," Tonga has the following: "again we ran away, we came here to the Bembezi. When we had come here to the Bembezi the whites followed us, and came and found us at the Bembezi. They found us at the Bembezi, there was a very great battle" (Samarin 1971: 140).

I believe it is of great interest to the evaluation of this example that Tonga is precisely the sort of speech community in which one might expect this sort of style. Tonga means "slave" in Ngoni Zulu and actually refers to several groups of people who underwent terrific depopulations in the mfecane or wars and migrations that followed the outbreaks of the Zulu under Chaka and Dingaane. They were again decimated in the Zulu wars. Omer-Cooper (1969) reports that the Tonga, during the period when they were subjects of the Zulu chiefs, were frequent victims of massacres that occurred when Zulu officers attempted to find scapegoats after defeats. He reports that when the refugee Tonga near the southern shore of Lake Nyasa were first encountered by missionaries in 1878, "they were in a pitiable condition" (Omer-Cooper 1969: 81). I do not wish to imply that all stylistic manifestations of this type must necessarily indicate impending language death, or a brush with language death in the past. I do suggest, however, that a commendable relativism such as that displayed by Newman might take a back seat to suspicion when we encounter these cases. What has seemed to be an ethnocentric judgement of these styles may have been based on good basic intuitions about the nature of variation in human languages. And, of course, even

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where such styles are recorded in vital speech communities, only collection of a discourse in a traditional setting among other native speakers, preferably by a linguist who was known in the community to be competent in the language, would guarantee that the speaker was not simplifying for the benefit of a naive collector. While, on the one hand, the Cupeno and Luiseno data suggest that we should be suspicious of any claims that the data collected on dying languages represent an accurate reflection of the usage found in the languages in their prime, on the other hand, they suggest that any evolutionary statements in language typology should be undertaken only with great caution. Kay (1971) has claimed that "non-automony," realized in various ways, with one example being a restricted code, is an appropriate index to a "local" level of language evolution. There is evidence from Cupeno and Luiseno that in the past a highly elaborated, complex, and autonomous style was the most valued in spite of the small size and homogeneity of these communities. Any claims about the nature of "local" languages should be based only upon data from communities in which the language still covers a reasonably full range of traditional functions. Contact situations in which a world language replaces a local language over even part of its functional range evidently include some language change. Some of this change may be in the sort of "simplifying" and restricting direction which has been discussed here. Hence evolutionary evidence should be based on cases where historical research can recover the full traditional range of usage, and where data on indigenous opinions on the value of various speech styles are available. Ideally, they should be based on cases where a depth of documentation shows, not that the language has changed in the direction of restriction, but that the traditional elaborated forms and the full repertoire of syntactic devices are still in use. Otherwise, any statements that are made about the nature of local languages may have far more to do with language death and language contact phenomena than they do with evolutionary phenomena.

REFERENCES BEVER, T. G., D. T. LANGENDOEN

1971 A dynamic model of the evolution of language. Linguistic Inquiry 2: 433-464. BLOOMFIELD, LEONARD

1964 "Literate and illiterate speech," in Language in culture and society.

Edited by Dell H. Hymes, 391-396. New York: Harper and Row. (Originally published 1927.)

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BOSCANA, GER0NIMO

1933 Chinigchinich. Santa Ana: Fine Arts Press. BRIGHT, WILLIAM

1968 A Luiseno dictionary. University of California Publications in Linguistics 51. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. BRIGHT, WILLIAM, JANE H. HILL

1967 "The linguistic history of the Cupeno," in Studies in southwestern ethno· linguistics. Edited by Dell H. Hymes and William Biddle, 351-391. The Hague: Mouton. CHAFE, WALLACE L.

1962 Estimates regarding the present speakers of North American Indian languages. International Journal of American Linguistics 28: 162-171. DARNELL, REGNA

1971 "The bilingual speech community: a Cree example," in Linguistic diversity in Canadian society. Edited by Regna Darnell, 155-172. Edmonton, Alberta: Linguistic Research. DRESSLER, WOLFGANG

1972 "On the phonology of language death," in Papers from the eighth regional meeting of the Chicago linguistic society. Edited by Paul M. Peranteau et al., 448-457. Chicago: Chicago Linguistic Society. DU BOIS, CONSTANCE G.

1908 The religion of the Luiseno Indians of Southern California. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 8: 69-186. FAYE, PAUL L.

1928 Christmas fiestas of the Cupeno. American Anthropologist 30: 651-658. FUCHS, ANNA

1970 Morphologie des verbs im Cahuilla. The Hague: Mouton. GUMPERZ, JOHN

1971 "Language problems in the rural development of North India," in Language in social groups. Edited by Anwar S. Dil, 12-24. Stanford: Stanford University Press. (Originally published 1957.) HAAS, MARY

1950 Tunica texts. University of California Publications in Linguistics 6. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. HARRINGTON, JOHN P.

1933 "Annotations," in Chinigchinich, by Geronimo Boscana. Santa Ana: Fine Arts Press. HILL, JANE H.

1972 Cupeno lexicalization and language history. International Journal of American Linguistics 38: 161-172. HILL, JANE H., ROSCINDA NOLASQUEZ

1973 MulWwetam: the first people. Banning, Calif.: Malki Museum Press. HYDE, VILLIANA

1971 An introduction to the Luiseno language. Edited by Ronald W. Langacker. Banning, Calif.: Malki Museum. HYMES, DELL H.

1961 "Functions of speech: an evolutionary approach," in Anthropology and

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education. Edited by Frederick C. Gruber. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. JACOBS, RODERICK

1975 Syntactic changes: a Cupan Uto-Aztecan case study. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. KAY, PAUL

1971 "Speech style and linguistic evolution." Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Anthropological Association, November 1971, New York City. KIPARSKY, PAUL

1971 "Historical linguistics," in A survey of linguistic science. Edited by William O. Dingwall. College Park: University of Maryland Press. KROEBER, A. L.

1907 Notes on Shoshonean dialects of southern California. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 4: 65-165. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. KROEBER, A. L., GEORGE W . GRACE

1960 The Sparkman grammar of Luiseno. University of California Publications in Linguistics 16. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. LIEBERMAN, PHILIP, E. S. CRELIN, D. H. KLATT

1972 Phonetic ability and related anatomy of the newborn and adult human, Neanderthal man, and the chimpanzee. American Anthropologist 74: 287-307. LUMMIS, CHARLES

1902 The exiles of Cupa. Out West 16: 465-479. MALECOT, ANDRi

1963a Luiseno, a structural analysis I: phonology. International Journal of American Linguistics 29: 89-95. 1963b Luiseno, a structural analysis II: morphology. International Journal of American Linguistics 29: 196-210. 1964a Luiseno, a structural analysis III: texts and lexicon. International Journal of American Linguistics 30: 14-31. 1964b Luiseno, a structural analysis IV: appendices. International Journal of American Linguistics 30: 243-250. MILLER, WICK R.

1971 The death of language or serendipity among the Shoshoni. Anthropological Linguistics 13: 114-120. NARULA, S. S.

1955 Scientific history of the Hindi language. New Delhi: Hindi Academy. NEWMAN, STANLEY

1964 "Linguistic aspects of Yokuts style," in Language in culture and society. Edited by Dell H. Hymes, 372-377. New York: Harper and Row. (Originally published 1940.) OMER-COOPER, J. D.

1969 The Zulu aftermath. Evanston, 111.: Northwestern University Press. SAINT, RACHEL, KENNETH L. PIKE

1949 "Notas sobre fonemica huarani ('Auca')," in Estudios acerca de las

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lenguas Huarani (Auca) Shimigae y Zapara. Instituto Linguistico de Verano. Quito: Publicaciones Cientificas del Ministerio de Educacion. SAMARIN, WILLIAM

1971 "Salient and substantive pidginization," in Pidginization and creolization of languages. Edited by Dell Η. Hymes, 118-140. London: Cambridge University Press. SIEGEL, SIDNEY

1956 Non-parametric statistics for the behavioral sciences. New York: McGraw Hill. SEILER, HANS-JAKOB

1972 Cahuilla texts with an introduction. Indiana University Language Science Monographs 6. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. SPARKMAN, PHILIP S.

1905 A sketch of the grammar of the Luiseno language of California. American Anthropologist 7: 656-662. STRONG, WILLIAM D .

1929 Aboriginal society in southern California. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 26. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. SWADESH, MORRIS

1948 Sociologic notes on obsolescent languages. International Journal of American Linguistics 14: 226-235. 1971 The origin and diversification of language. Chicago: Aldine-Atherton. WHITE, RAYMOND C.

1963 Luiseno social organization. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 48: 91-194. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. WHORF, BENJAMIN L.

1946 "The Milpa Alta dialect of Aztec," in Linguistic structures of native America. Edited by Harry Hoijer, et al. Viking Fund Publications in Anthropology 6. New York: Viking.

The Languages Within Language: Toward a Paleontological Approach of Verbal Communication

IVAN F0NAGY

THE STATUS OF THE VERBAL SIGN: SIGNIFICANCE OF A CENTURIES-OLD DEBATE The physei theory (motivation of the verbal sign) as formulated by Cratylus has been refuted within the very framework of the Platonian dialogue by Hermogenes, a disciple of the sophist philosophers, using the same arguments as those used in modern linguistics (see Plato 1950:434,435a, 384d). How can one explain, then, the fact that the discussion has continued from antiquity through the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, and right up to the present time? Which unfinished task, which forgotten secret, makes us continuously turn back to this question (Engler 1962, 1964; Todorov 1972)? The inability of either theory to concede to any of the arguments advanced by the opposite theory may be explained as being due to the complexity of the problem, thus justifying diametrically opposed opinions. The 4,000 year-old controversy would, in that case, be the dramatic expression of an INHERENT CONTRADICTION in the subject under discussion.

Degree of Arbitrariness of Monemes The very existence of the term ONOMATOPOEIA implies that the vocabulary of a language is divided into two sets: arbitrary signs as opposed to those which cannot be so considered. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to find a way of proving the existence of a natural link between the phonic — articulatory and/or acoustic — substance of a sign, on one hand, and the specific properties of the object it denotes, on the other. It might be possible

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to measure the sound of thunder spectrographically and compare it to that of the word tonnerre 'thunder' in order to point out certain common features. How does one go about proving, however, that the phonic substance of glisser 'to glide' resembles the dynamics of gliding, or the absence of such a resemblance? How does one go about confirming or refuting a hypothesis of isomorphism between roughness and the articulatory movements producing the word rude 'rough' ? In order to establish whether the words tonnerre (French), donner (German), and tonitrus (Latin) are either motivated or arbitrary, they should be compared to the corresponding words in nonrelated languages, e.g. Hungarian dörgesjdoeTge^l, which is also considered to be onomatopoeic. Furthermore, it would be necessary to determine numerically whether these words have more in common with each other than with words in the category that is considered arbitrary. For such a comparison, one needs to know the degree of accidental resemblance between French, Hungarian, German, and Japanese words. As soon as the degree of accidental resemblance is known, it would then be feasible, although tedious, to determine a THRESHHOLD OF RESEMBLANCE beyond which different words belonging to nonrelated languages may be considered motivated. When words beginning with the letter k in a Hungarian-German dictionary (Haläsz) are compared by mechanically applying the same analytic principles of phonic variance (Fönagy and Baräth n.d.), it appears that the average variance in the group of words considered as onomatopoeic (by monolingual lexicons) is 11.6, whereas that of other words is 29.1. This difference is undoubtedly significant. Lexical units belonging to the motivated subset are often distinguished by certain FORMAL FEATURES, such as the presence of phonic elements not belonging to the phonological system of the language, and by the frequency of certain sequences of phonemes which are excluded from, or extremely rare, in the major part of the vocabulary. It may be the general nature of this phenomenon that explains, or even justifies, our indifference to this strange AMBIVALENCE of human language whereby two opposite and mutually exclusive principles, namely, motivation and arbitrariness, are combined in its lexical system. There is a fundamental divergence between most of the spoken styles, which use a vocabulary mainly composed of arbitrary signs, and POETIC LANGUAGE, which reestablishes the principle of motivation in its supersigns-verse (Macdermott 1940; Lynch 1953; Hymes 1960; Fönagy 1961). A similar tendency to motivation is found in the system of GRAMMATICAL SIGNS. The relationship between signifiant and signifie is undoubtedly more arbitrary in the case of the accusative or the second person than in

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the case of reduplication marking such features as semantic intensity, superlative quality, plurality, spatial or chronological distance, repetition, or reciprocity, in nonrelated languages. Motivation and Prosody The diversity prevailing in articulated signs, composed of phonemes, is hidden by the fundamental divergence which contrasts articulated signs (lexemes and morphemes) with prosodic signs as a whole: speed of speech, pause, phrasal stress, and intonation never totally escape the principle of motivation. In previous publications, I have tried to point out that the conventions which determine pitch movements — sometimes even within a margin of error of a quarter-tone — by assigning a more or less precise meaning to intonational forms still tolerate a link of motivation between signifiant and signifie (Fönagy 1956, 1971a). Dwight Bolinger (1964) compares intonation to an incompletely tamed horse. Andre Martinet considers it as a kind of glottal mimesis (1962: 28). In Hungarian, the metaphorical term hanglejtes 'intonation', (lit. 'vocal dance') seems to suggest a similar interpretation. In emotional intonation patterns, the natural links are stronger and more manifest than in grammaticalized ones (Kaiser 1953). Trubetzkoy, however, goes too far in describing emotional intonation as natural, and grammatical intonation as arbitrary (Trubetzkoy 1939: 24-46, 198-202). Both are always CONVENTIONALIZED MOTIVATED SIGNS, and it is this inherent contradiction in intonation that makes it so difficult to correctly handle the pitch patterns of a second language. The intonational system is an essential component of language, a system which is always halfway between prelinguistic (gestural) communication and linguistic communication in the strict sense of the term. What is indispensable is precisely its particularity, its divergence which enables it to express preconceptual contents which are otherwise barely expressible by means of doubly articulated signs. As for its complexity, its internal diversity, its different functions — such as the expression of emotion, the signalling of moral, intellectual attitudes, the distinction of modal categories, the disambiguation of syntactic structures — these seem to go back to different stages of semiologic evolution. The Motivated Sign: An Active Sign Motivated and arbitrary signs are distinguished by the degree of intimate relationship between signifie and signifiant. The signifie approaches the

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signifiant, penetrates it, materializes in it, and is transformed into signifiant. Therefore, the phonic substance of the motivated sign contains to some extent the signifie or even the denoted object. The word tonnerre denotes and reproduces a meteorological phenomenon. The pitch pattern representing sadness or joy recaptures the elements of these emotions; it reproduces on the vocal level their underlying archetypal or magical activity (Darwin 1872; Crile 1915; Sartre 1960). This vocal recapitulation, however, goes considerably beyond the merely symptomatic level. The reproduction is voluntary, organized, and highly condensed. X-rays and acoustic analysis reveal the complexity of vocal performance which stems from a quasi-symptomatic and symbolic code. This prelinguistic code, which contains only motivated signs, is dominated by the prelogical mind or PRIMARY MENTAL PROCESS (Freud 1940-1946: volume 3, pp. 183-191). Disgust, disdain, and hatred are expressed, among other ways, by pharyngeal and laryngeal constriction (Trojan 1952: 183-191; Fönagy 1962). This constriction is a simple reflex when refusing or rejecting undesirable food. Through an unconscious identification of similar things or of more or less analogous phenomena or, in other words, by means of a metaphorical process, the same symptom will be set in motion or be reproduced when approaching an undesirable person or when under the influence of an unpleasant, "hard to swallow" idea. By extension, this symptom goes beyond itself and is thus transformed into a motivated sign. In spite of its archaic nature, vocal encoding is remarkably complex. Even such a simple vocal gesture as reduction of the pitch range in response to fright or anguish is the result of a series of "magic" mental operations. Uniform pitch level or reduced distance between pitch levels corresponds to the position of a man being hunted who holds his body absolutely still so as to escape the notice of his pursuer (Fonagy and Magdics 1963). The transformation of the attitude of the body into sound passes through at least four stages: 1. an imaginary event (hunting, escaping, or the act of hiding oneself) must be dramatized, mimed, and physically reproduced; 2. this total reproduction must then be reduced to certain essential movements: huddling, immobility, muscular tension; 3. this mimetic act must undergo a second and more important restriction : it must be limited to the vocal apparatus without sacrificing any of its essential dynamic traits; 4. to be perceptible, glottal mimesis must be projected into sonorous space, where it appears in the form of a spatial movement. Each of these four stages takes us further away from reality. The final

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stage can be compared to the initial one and accepted as more or less equivalent only by positing a certain number of "magic" preliminaries: an imaginary situation must become confused with reality; part of the movements performed must be accepted as being the totality of the movements (pars pro toto); and the changes in frequency produced by the glottal movements must be invested with substance, detached by hypostasis from their source, and then be regarded as objects moving through space (see Aristoxenus). In looking over the extensive domain of affective prosody, one finds the usual magic processes. The violent emphatic accents which "hit" the syllables at rhythmic intervals during a quarrel bring to mind the practice of sticking nails into a figurine of wax or earth in the practice of sympathetic magic. The quick and violent contractions of the expiratory muscles releasing bursts of air from the lungs are supposed to remove and eject the "poison" causing the stress, and thus overwhelm the enemy. Latin ictus and Russian udarenie, meaning 'blow, beating', both preserve an aggressive vision. The aggression is at the same time directed against the verbal product: stress, glottal stops, and irregular pauses punctuate the sentence which, just like the wax figurine, is a substitute for the target object. The prosody associated with the IRONIC sentence goes even further toward dramatization in the way it is able to condense a three-act tragedy: it has a protasis, containing a clearly marked menace; an epitasis, giving a seemingly favorable turn to events; and a catastrophe, when the conspirator strips off his mask and the listener, apparently carried to glorious heights, comes suddenly tumbling down (Fönagy 1971b: 574-576). The speaker is, in turn, the threatening father, then the ingenuous child, finally reappearing as the father executing his threat. Due to the imitative magic, the pitch movements will have the same effect as analogous body movements, and the tone will be SHARP or TENDER according to the speaker's intentions. They may carry the partner up to the clouds or make him fall back down to earth.

Action Language: Unconscious Signs The degree of motivation of the sign may be considered, without too much danger of being mistaken, as a MEASURE OF ITS ANTIQUITY. Actually, this is a simple reformulation of the commonplace idea that it is only slow, progressive demotivation that can transform a human activity into a verbal sign.

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In the beginning was probably not the Word (The Gospel According to St. John 1.1) but the unconscious sign which is interpreted as a real activity, purely and simply by the person acting, and is seen only as a sign by some other person observing the first person. Husserl (1913) carefully distinguishes presigns or indicators from actual signs, a distinction which is found in the German terms Anzeichen 'indicator,' and Zeichen 'sign'. Action-language and speech always go hand in hand to reinforce, differentiate, or contradict the verbal message. Polite phrases between a husband and wife such as pardon me!, excuse me!, may express temporary indifference to the other person and dramatize some verbal message sue has "you have become like a stranger to me." On the other hand, the verbal expression of tenderness, especially if excessive, may rightly grieve a partner who remembers the time of real tenderness, an emotion which is always difficult to verbalize. Tenderness is expressed by the absence of verbal expression; conversely, the use of verbal expression may be a way of masking the absence of tenderness. An extreme form of this contradiction is antinomy, a classic example being the Cretan liar maintaining that Cretans always lie. In Sanskrit poetry, alamkära reveals one of the contradictions between the verbal message and the factual message. A sentence like: "Why should I tell you unpleasant things?" is considered by Mammata as äksepa or 'apparent renunciation', which makes it possible to express plainly and clearly something about which one pretends to say nothing. Action-language plays a considerable role in psychotherapy. In spite of the real or apparent verbal exuberance of a patient suffering from schizophrenia, it is often only his factual messages which are revealing. The psychiatrist is forced to use the same factual language since the patient appears almost incapable of receiving real verbal messages (Eissler 1951; Searles 1965; Sechehaye 1951: 112). Such patients are vividly interested in factual messages and show an embarrassing lucidity concerning the psychiatrist's involuntary factual messages (Searles 1965: 405). Verbal messages are partially convertible and often are actually converted into factual messages. One of Lilian Rotter's patients was unable to have lasting relationships with her sexual partners. After a certain period of harmony, she would "suddenly turn her back on them." In the course of analysis, it appeared that the patient dramatized in this way her secret desire to be approached a tergo. This was a message of which neither the recipient nor the transmitter was aware.1 As the next stage in the evolution of signs, we shall study those activities 1

Quoted from a paper presented at the Hungarian Society of Psychoanalysis, 1943.

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which become minimized or turned into trifles. We are referring to the SYMPTOMATIC AND ACCIDENTAL ACTS (parapraxis,) interpreted by Freud (1940-1946 [1901] vol. 4,ch.9) as unconscious semiotic activity, but generally considered as "insignificant" and "nervous" manipulations, and involuntary clumsiness. In the unconscious, the act of breaking off the tips of matches or tearing a sheet of paper to shreds may substitute for a homicidal act or represent some kind of rupture, just as in the case of sympathetic magic. The unconscious thus restores full importance to a demotivated symptomatic act. On the conscious level, symptomatic acts are almost nonexistent. An act committed by mistake is considered to be a real activity which does not attain its goal. This does not mean that it is devoid of importance as a signal. The involuntary destruction of a statue given, for example, as a wedding present, is rightly not interpreted as a "magic" attack upon the wife or the marriage, yet it still hurts the woman. Certain mistaken and symptomatic acts have always been interpreted as omens, good or bad, depending on the nature and content of the unconscious act which is grafted onto the conscious act. Each "erroneous act" contains two components: (a) a useful, practical activity; (b) a signalling activity which is the factual expression of an unconscious thought or secret impulse. This integration foreshadows the mechanism of verbal style.

Imperfect Demotivation and Verbal Magic The enormity of the task involved in the progressive demotivation of motor activities may be understood by looking at the difficulties children have in accepting the principle of the arbitrariness of verbal signs (Fönagy 1971a, 1972), and by considering the universal nature of the numerous attempts at POETIC REMOTIVATION (sound imitation, syntactic imitation, lexical and grammatical metaphor), PATHOLOGICAL REMOTIVATION (Goldstein 1933; Bleuler 1950: 349; Freud 1940-1946: volume 10, pp. 295-303), or MAGIC REMOTIVATION, both old and new (Havers 1946; Benveniste 1966: 308-314). The principle of nomen est omen has always been upheld. The point is sufficiently illustrated when one thinks of the universal status of APPRECIATIVE and DEPRECIATIVE word pairs denoting sensual or conceptual objects; these can be rendered either beautiful or ugly by the mere force of the verb: patriotism and chauvinism; internationalism (socialist) and cosmopolitanism (capitalist); objectivity and bourgeois objectivism

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(cf. Barthes 1964: 24-26). This is by no means a verbal trick peculiar to our own times. Quintilian (Institutio Oratoria 9, 3, 81) contrasts "private luxuriousness" (privatam luxuriant) with "public magnificence" (publicum magnificentiam). In spite of their opposition, euphemism and cacophemism stem from the same principle: the overestimation of the power of words and their incomplete separation from designated objects. Both attempt to resolve intrapsychic and social conflicts by verbal means. Euphemism tolerates the thing but suppresses the word that designates it; cacophemism substitutes verbal for real pleasure. Sanskrit poetry, in particular, appreciates vulgar terms made decent by the use of a comparison or a suggestive figure: Les nuages fatigu6s de porter le lourd fruit des entrailles, se laissent choir en gemissant au sein du plateau [The clouds, weary of carrying the heavy fruit of the bowels, let themselves droop down while moaning at the plateau's bosom] (Dandin 1, 96, quoted by Jenner 1968: 47). All verbal politeness — and politeness is essentially verbal — tacitly assumes the magic power (malevolent or benevolent) of the word, of idioms, and it tends to create a verbal universe distinct from the real world. In this purely verbal universe, the speaker imposes severe restrictions on himself by sacrificing his narcissism; it is the person with whom he is speaking who is put on a pedestal. Most performative functions (as opposed to constative function) brought to light by Austin (1962), such as verdictives ( Ί convict'), exercitives ( Ί order'), commissives ( Ί promise'), "behabitives" ( Ί apologize') are deeply rooted in the belief of the magical power of verbal action. In a certain sense, language — even the most advanced — invokes verbal magic. The belief in the identity between the word and the object it designates is but a caricature, a naive expression of the semiological identification between a series of articulatory movements or lines scratched on paper, on the one hand, and a remote (perfectly dissimilar) object, on the other. The first metaphor was the substitution of a sign for an object. It is only by the degree of investment of emotional (libidinal) energy of signs that verbal magic can be distinguished from linguistic practice. ARTICULATION OF THE SENTENCE AND SYNTACTIC ARCHAISMS The Origin of Children's Sentences All authors — philosophers, psychologists, biologists, linguists, and parents — who have ever taken an interest in the origin of language and

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in the genesis of children's sentences, agree on one point: the origin is a nonarticulated utterance (Taine 1876; Darwin 1877; Lindner 1898; Bühler 1929: 234; Meumann 1902). Systematic recordings of the sounds made by two children from their first months through their teens have made it possible to closely follow the progressive articulation of this phrasal nucleus (Fönagy 1972). Newly formed two-word and three-word sentences are easily dissolved into isolated one-word utterances. Monoremes and articulated sentences are found together, side by side, in the course of a single vocal emission: Ott. ott. add oda [There, there, give it! (lit. 'give there')] (Pierre 1; 8) Vizem. vizet. vizet iszol [My water, water (accusative) you drink the water] (Pierre 1;8) Api. api. api Cicahoz, api gyere be Cicahoz! [Daddy, Daddy, Daddy to Pussy, Daddy come see Pussy] e

e

a

e d

e

e a

t

a

a

j

t

o

t

a

d

a (1) Tea! (Pierre 1;7)

a a

(2) Tea!

(3) Give!

e

d ο d Give

a (4) tea!

The dominant sequences in this period reproduce and recapitulate the development of the preceding months and possibly even that of the last tens of thousands of years. Similar DEVELOPMENTAL SEQUENCES are revived in later recordings, especially during lively (or acrimonious) discussions, when the children are six and eight years old.

Poetic and Everyday Regressions

It is more surprising to discover similar irregularities in Hungarian, French, English, or German poetry. ... für dich, für dich, Es hat mein Herz für dich geschlagen! (Heine, "Es kommt der Tod") Hark! the flow of the four rivers Hark the flow! (Elizabeth Browning, "Farewell from Paradise")

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These irregularities are not restricted to poetry. There is a striking resemblance between the developmental series of the two Hungarian children and certain "dislocated" structures of modern French (Bally 1921). Regarde, ce gar£on, il itait ä Trouville! [Look, this boy, he was in Trouville!] (recorded conversation) This is comparable to: Oda! Autot! Νέζηί autot! [There! Car! Look at car!] (Pierre 1;8) In both cases the completely articulated sentence is preceded by two nonarticulated sentences. In an example quoted by Charles Bally, seven ejected nuclear sentences precede the grammatical one: Ah ςα! dites done, vous, lä-bas, oui, vous, parfaitement! quand aurez vous fini de causer ? 'Ah that! say, you, there, yes, you, right! when will you stop chatting?' (1921 : volume 2, p. 209). The ejected sentence is, in most cases, a subject or a virtual object or, at least, its pronominal substitute is the subject or object of the articulated sentence. Les enfants, suffit de les comprendre [Children, just understand them] (Queneau, Zazie dans le metro) Kanal. Kivitte api [Spoon. Papa has taken it out] (Eva 1 ;7) Dislocation occurs in other Romance, Germanic, or Finno-Ugric languages. David Fokos-Fuchs (1934) cites numerous examples from Zyriene, Irene Sebestyen from Samoyed (1957), and Schwyzer analyses similar syntactic structures in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin (1947). Intonation faithfully reflects the ambiguous status of the ejected words, the embryonic sentences. In a regularly articulated sentence, Mätyäs itt maradt 'Mathias is always there', the pitch descends downward from the first stressed syllable carrying the main stress. There is just a slight rise at the beginning of the second stress group (Figure la). In the dislocated variant of the same sentence, Mätyäs, az itt maradt 'Mathias, he is always there', a pause separates the prijet ("element thrown forward") from the complete sentence; the ejected word Mathias has rising and falling pitch but does not reach the base level (Figure lb). A similar intonation is often observed in French sentences (Figure 2). It is, of course, necessary and possible to generate dislocated sentences (containing "appositions") in a modern grammar by using such devices as deletion rules. In that case, the syntactic regression will be concealed by the complexity of the rules which generate the regressive structure. In the transformational history, the archaic sentence will appear as a late one.

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This also corresponds to linguistic and psychological reality: regression is a step backward, but it is a late step which is necessarily, and by definition, preceded by a more advanced stage. Rejets ("elements thrown backward") dB 10

ΛΛ/U/v^

Hz 200

(a)

\

180 160 140

V

120 100 'm a c a /'o ι

ι

20

40

.

t ma ι

60

r a t ι

ι

so

L

ioo c s e c

dB 15 10 5

Hz

(b)

225 200 1 80 1 60 14 0 120 100

Λ ma _L 20

/

c

α 40

_L 60

80

Λ zot

_L 100

ma 120

ra

t

J_ J_ 140 C S e C

Figure 1. (a) A regular Hungarian sentence: Mätyäs ott maradt 'Mathias stayed there', (b) The dislocated variant of sentence (a): Mdtyäs, az ott maradt 'Mathias, he stayed there'. (In the figures, the top graphs show sound pressure measured in dB and the lower graphs show fundamental frequency measured in Hz.)

and prejets ("elements thrown forward") often occur in children's language as well as in modern French in normal statements which have the accepted word order. Teat. Teat. Add oda, teät [Tea. Tea. Give, tea] (Pierre 1 ;8) Api. Elment. Elment, api [Daddy. Gone. Gone, Daddy] (Pierre 1 ;6)

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dB 20

16 10

(a) W

ÄJlA/^uv

Hz 2 50 l· \ 2 25 - / S

\

200 180

1S0

10

(b)

Hz 250 225 200 180 180

\

'^smsqiapeUsytsasmat tdäla g I a _l 30

dB

λ Λ ' .

s

I I I ' I I I 40 60 80 100 120 140 CSeC

,ΛΆ.

AJVA.

χ

epqisagdi f 20

40 80

^

la y a _L J_ 80 100 120 140 CSeC

metlvjtdUabj e t ο katd i η I ι ι ι I ι I ' 20

40

80

80

100

120

140 C S e C

Figure 2. (a) A regular French sentence (recorded conversation): je me suis aperfue de ςα ce matin dans la glace Ί noticed that this morning in the mirror', (b) A dislocated sentence with a rejet: et puis ςα griffe, les chats 'and then they scratch, cats', (c) Another sentence with a rejet: mais eile viendra bientöt, Catherine 'but she will soon come, Catherine'. The rejet immediately follows the preceding sentence

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Un roi! sous Fempreur, j'en ai tant vu, des rois! (Victor Hugo, "Reverie d'un passant")

The same semantic rhythm is found well before the nineteenth or twentieth century, as in "Le jeu de Robin et de Marion" by Adam le Bossu (thirteenth century). Vends ä court! Tantost, vends (Verse 520)

and similarly in many other poetic texts: Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,... (Coleridge, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner")

The syntax of affective language undoubtedly borrows many other elements from children's language. ELLIPSIS, for example, is already implied in dislocated constructions with a rejet. Et gal regarde!! le Panthdon!!! (Queneau, Zazie dans le metro) Ottan. N6zd. Νέηί. [There. Look. Lady] (Pierre 1 ;7)

One finds literary reflections of emphatic ellipsis combined with dislocation in the literature of all ages. Et le sheik s'dcria: "Mais, Cid, aujourd'hui, quoi. Que s'est-il done passd?"... (Victor Hugo, Bivar Legende des siicles, IV) But thou, Ο Lord, how long? (Psalms, 6,3)

It is the context which explains a monoreme. An articulated sentence, on the other hand, EXPLAINS ITSELF, interprets itself, and thereby gains a certain independence from the context. It breaks away from the concrete situation (see Table 1). Table 1. Relative frequency of "archaic" structures in different verbal styles (expressed in percentages) Verbal style

Scientific prose* Dialogue** (modern novel) Conversation: (a) slow onset (b) lively continuation

Prejets

Elliptical Monoremes sentences

Rejets

Adverbs 0.9

—

Other Adverbs 0.2

Other

5.0

12.7

1.0

8.3

16.3

23.0

8.3 3.9 4.4

21.0 10.1 10.9

4.2 2.0 2.2

19.8 10.6 9.2

34.7 14.0 20.7

24.7 6.0 18.7

0.1

—

* Vendryes, Le language, Chapter 1. ** Queneau, Zazie dans le metro, Chapters 1 and 2.

—

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Again, habit stops us from being amazed at the everyday coexistence between nonarticulated, implicit sentences corresponding to the speech of an 11 to 15 month-old child, on the one hand, and, on the other, the almost completely emancipated verbal expressions which are context-free, such as legal texts or formal logic.

A Fossil Category Dislocation is a grammaticalized infraction, a syntactic regression tolerated and recorded by language. By restoring the inarticulated clause, it is language which offers speech an archaic category, the category of wordsentences or phrasillons, according to Tesniere (1959: 96). This diminutive suffix -illon stresses the precociousness of such sentences, whereas the term "word-sentence" (in German, Satzwort 'sentence-word') expresses their ambivalent nature. Finno-Ugric linguists have often studied the problem of archaic sentence structure. Monoremes such as Finnish Kala! 'fish' and Hungarian Fecske! 'a swallow' are reminiscent of the Uralic sentence which does not formally distinguish verbs from nouns or adjectives (Sebestyen 1957: 49). Bärczi also considers word-sentences to be ancestral forms (1953: 72). In Impressionist poetry, where the absence of the verb often suggests specific stylistic messages (Fonagy 1964), this reduced structure occurs frequently: La nuit. La pluie. Un ciel blafard ... (Verlaine, "Effet de nuit") Statistical analyses (Fönagy and Baräth n.d.) show that monoremes are practically absent from scientific texts, but are frequent in spontaneous conversation, especially when it gets lively (see Table 1). Regressive tendencies often meet: nonarticulated word-sentences are generally motivated (Kelemen 1970) and may contain sounds which are not part of the phonemic system of the language in question or may contain only one vocal gesture.

CONTEXT AND FREEDOM: SEMANTIC REGRESSIONS Semantic Regressions in Everyday Speech There are two kinds of monoremes in children's language which represent, at the same time, two successive periods of mental and verbal develop-

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ment. Monoremes which designate an object and express, by prosodic factors and gestures and especially by context, an inclination toward this object, belong to the second period. They are preceded by other monoremes directly relevant to a particular situation and which react globally to it. In both my children's speech, the cry [ajii:] from the word Anyu 'Mummy' meant, during the first period, neither their mother nor any other object. It was simply a cry of distress or displeasure which had no significance in the narrow sense of the word (Stern 1928; Bühler 1929; Cohen 1952; Fönagy 1972). The verbal cliche is the adult form of the archaic, situation-bound monoreme. As the metaphor suggests, the cliche is distinguished from the free sentence by its preassembled, fixed nature. In contrast to Eva and Pierre's cry [ajii:], the cliche is articulated and, as a rule, analyzable, but it ceases to be analyzed from a certain point on. The essential function of the cliche is to react globally to any given situation. This function goes beyond its meaning, which ends by being totally absorbed into the conative function. This is generally the case in greetings and expressions of politeness. No one would translate a sentence like Bonjour, Madame by its actual semantic value (e.g. 'Good-day, Madame'). The translator will choose an English or Hungarian sentence exclusively in terms of the situation or the social context. The divergence of inherent semantic value from contextual value is particularly evident in modern French (i.e. Parisian French) where the choice between bonjour and bonsoir depends less on the actual time of day than on other circumstances. For example, if the speakers meet for the first time that day, they can use bonjour until late in the evening (I noted about ten instances of bonjour used after 8 p.m.); if, however, they are about to leave each other, bonsoir can be used from midday on. We are very conscious of the fact that cliches are used in certain typical situations; they are printed in trains, on birthday cards, etc. Compare these cliches transmitted over TV: do not adjust your set; dans quelques instants la suite de notre programme 'in a few seconds our program continues' ; a hiba nem az ön keszülekeben van 'it is not your TV set that is defective' (Hungarian). Likewise, standard phrases in telephone conversations are not translated but automatically replaced by the corresponding phrases in the target language. The introductory forms Mr. Johnson speaking or Cest de la part de Monsieur Dupont are replaced by entirely different formulae in French, German, or Hungarian, whereas their contextual values remain perfectly identical. On the other hand, a "semantic" translation may lead to misinterpretation. The person who might use the sentence in Hungarian corresponding to Cest de la part de Mr. Nagy

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could not possibly be Mr. Nagy himself. A leading specialist of Germanic languages who understood Dutch mainly through literature experienced the bivalent nature of such expressions during a traumatizing telephone conversation. He was trying to contact one of his colleagues in Amsterdam, when the colleague's wife answered the telephone. Mag ik even met Professor G. spreken? [Could I speak with Professor G.7] Met wie? [With whom?] Met Professor G. [With Prof. G.] Met wie? [With whom?] Met Professor G. [With Prof. G.] It was a closed circuit, because the contextual, situational value of the Dutch sentence Met wie? means 'Who is speaking?' This dual value of expressions and the prevalence of the contextual value is just as evident in a number of typical everyday situations (e.g. in shops, at the dinner table, at the information desk). For centuries, authors of "phrase dictionaries" and bilingual or multilingual glossaries have been inspired by these phrasal equivalents. However, there is one serious obstacle to writing a more or less exhaustive dictionary of phrases, namely, that the number of "typical" situations is indefinite; in other words, the so-called "free" expressions in everyday conversation, whether formal or informal, are probably all bivalent. This hypothesis is confirmed by good translations of theater plays and of dialogue in contemporary novels (see Table 2). Table 2. Dual value in translations Original

Semantic value

Contextual value

Je suis tris sensible Nebougezpas! Ο est pas vrai! Fais moi confiance! Non, mais c'est vrai ςα! Il faut etre logique

I am very sensitive Don't move I It isn't truel You can trust me But it is true

Thank you for your kindness Don't bother 1 Incredible! Leave it to me! (often) It is really awful!

You have to be logical

(often) You can't have your cake and eat it too

These hypotheses may be verified either by asking people to provide an appropriate verbal reaction, given the specific context, or by asking them for an appropriate context, given the particular expression. Thus, for example, we asked fifty French subjects to make a complete sentence with the phrase N'hesitezpas... 'Don't hesitate...' They proposed endings such as: ä τη'appeler 'to call me'; ä me demander 'to ask me'; a m'ecrire 'to write me'; ä me telephoner 'to phone me'. Fifty Hungarian subjects were also asked to complete the corresponding phrase Ne habozzon, but they

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added phrases like: 'to get life insurance'; 'to do your shopping for the reopening (of schools, etc.)'; 'join the communist party!' More comparisons of responses between French and Hungarian subjects are given in Table 3. Table 3. Comparison of French and Hungarian responses French subjects

Hungarian subjects

Pendant quej'ypense ... 'While I'm thinking of it ...' ... I should pay the gas bill ... I feel close to you ... you owe me six francs ... I forget all my troubles ... why don't we go to see X ... I don't think of anything else Je ne me voispas ... Ί can't see myself ··.* ... raising two children ... working more than eight hours a day ... as a striptease dancer

... in the picture ... in the mirror ... in this photograph

In other words, the answers of the French and Hungarian subjects diverge according to the CONTEXTUAL (SITUATIONAL) VALUE of the phrases, which appear to be free but are, in fact, bound to concrete situations. In works of poetry, it is the semantic value of the independent element which dominates. In everyday conversation, political speeches, or speeches for certain occasions, however, it is the contextual and situational value which takes the lead. This provides an explanation for the results of a test in which people were asked to guess, phoneme by phoneme, different kinds of texts; they guessed 39 percent of a poetic text, 77 percent of a newspaper editorial, and 81 percent of a telephone conversation between two girls (Fönagy 1961). These experiments indicate that the degree of SYNTAGMATIC COHESION (the attraction exerted by words on each other) is qualitatively different according to the verbal genre used. This qualitative difference makes it necessary for the translator to use two different methods depending on the nature of the text. He will always translate poetry in accordance with the SEMANTIC VALUE of the elements of meaning, whereas in dealing with everyday conversations in a play or a novel, he will primarily take into account the CONTEXTUAL VALUE of the sentences, which will be based on probabilities of its determinants (adjectives and adverbs). This simple formulation conceals the difficulties and complexities implied in the application of these principles. Linguistic competence supposes a perfect coordination of two verbal processes: "free" generation of concrete phrases based on coded elements and syntactic rules, on the one hand, and, on the other, retrieval of phrases already heard in similar situations. The two processes belong to two different evolutionary stages, which are probably tens or hundreds of thousands of years apart. In terms of phylogenetic development,

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an ordinary sentence resembles the phonetic, tactile, and olfactory messages observed in animal communication, which are just as inarticulate or incompletely articulated and globally triggered by a given situation as are human messages. Verbal pathology, in particular the study of aphasia, clearly shows the qualitative difference between the two processes. From the outset, the distinction between "automatic" and "free" communication in the analysis of central aphasia has proved to be indispensable (Jackson 1887; Alajouanine 1956). It is likely that the nonspecific right half of the brain is more important to the encoding of "automatic" or situational messages than of "free" messages (van Lancker 1972; Kraschen 1972).

Semantic Regressions in Poetry Viewed from this position, signs used in poetry are clearly more developed, because they are more emancipated, more detached, freer. The relative independence of monemes and the reduced range of semantic units make it possible for poetry to go further in dissecting the objects described so as to offer us a more detailed, concrete description similar to a mosaic composed of tiny fragments or a television image made up by the effect of a greater number of light rays striking a screen. The consequent degree of emancipation and mobility or freedom is, nevertheless, not the only criterion for understanding the semantic efficiency of a sign. Signs must also be well adjusted to reality, that is, they must break away from the purely individual vision, determined by a momentary, transitory configuration. From this point of view, signs in poetry are less emancipated than those of scientific prose or even everyday speech. Metaphor, in both the wider and narrower, more literal sense given it by Aristotle (see Gruber 1958: Poetics, ch. 21, p. 1457b) and restored by Charles Bally (1905: 192ff.), appears whenever semantic regression reaches the ultimate limits of language. The refusal of the appropriate term, which is a result of collective conceptual thought, indicates that the poet wants to go back to a state of childhood, in-fans, and that he is deliberately ignoring language. By rejecting the appropriate word along with its underlying concept, he faces an unknown, untamed reality. He must capture his new experience by using an inappropriate term. He thus borrows a term from the linguistic code (a product of the collective experience), but assigns it to an object which could not possibly have been associated with the term. He breaks open the shell of the borrowed term, thereby releasing latent

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semantic energies. Without ever leaving the linguistic framework, he reenacts the ancestral act of word creation. Metaphor, therefore, is archaic by its very structure; it is an essentially dynamic structure which contrasts the metaphoric term as a DYNAMIC SIGN with (relatively) stable signs. In Baudelaire's famous lines of poetry from "La Chevelure," Un port retentissant oü mon äme peut boire A grands flots le parfum, le son et la couleur;... the referent (chevelure 'hair') or port retentissant ('resounding harbor') is defined by the very title of the poem, "La Chevelure." The meaning ofport retentissant however, is neither chevelure nor port retentissant. A dynamic term does not, properly speaking, have a meaning of its own. Its real meaning lies in the MENTAL MOVEMENT which seeks to resolve the evident contradiction between the inadequate term and its context by searching for an underlying term and by creating links between this latent hypothetical term (or rather terms) and the obvious (inadequate) one. Even when only one latent (symbolized) term is admitted, the relationship between the obvious term and the latent one remains indeterminate. It can only be determined by an infinite number of explicit sentences (containing only stable monemes) such as: I am resting, my head nestled in your hair like a ship resting in harbor; I cling to your hair, seeking refuge there like a ship in harbor; I am lost with delight in your hair, like one lost while strolling along an immense, resounding harbor... If the dynamic terms of a language are to be situated in relation to the elements provided for by the code, it would be better to compare them to ELLIPTICAL SENTENCES rather than to lexical or grammatical monemes. A sentence which contains a variable moneme necessarily goes beyond its limits by absorbing an indefinite number of underlying sentences. It is in this way that it becomes an adequate expression of a thought in the making, a thought which is still unreal. Metaphoric terms are just as pristine in their content as in their syntax. Since antiquity, we have been aware that metaphor tends to sensualize everything that is not directly accessible to our senses. On the other hand, we know that children continuously transform into perceptible objects those which we generally call "abstract" (Werner 1933: 69). At home, we were once talking about children's books that would be worthwhile republishing because children like them. "And if the book is not sweet?," asked Pierre. A child has no conception of inert objects, being barely able to discern the borderline between plant animals and human-being animals (Gregoire 1947: vol. 2, p. 228). My two children, Eva and Pierre, were playing a sort of guessing game. Eva was thinking of a book but

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Pierre was unable to guess what the object was. When he was finally told which object was meant, he indignantly shouted: "You said it wasn't alive. A book lives!" Fluctuating boundaries between objects and living beings often provide an explanation for the terror children feel at the sight of some inoffensive object, for example, an open black umbrella. Years later, Eva explained: "It was a wolf, it had its mouth wide open." Inert objects are just about as rare in the universe of metaphor as in that of two-year-old children. Metaphor preserves a child-like perspective, reproducing the optical illusions of which children of all nations are victims at a certain age. Sven, the son of Els Oksaar, noticed the sun for the first time at the age of twenty months. The sun happened to be very low on the horizon, which made it seem extraordinarily big: "Yellow ball," the child exclaimed (Oksaar 1970: 353). A "very poetic" error, since poets pretend to commit similarly childish errors. For analogous reasons, the utterance of a three-year-old Hungarian boy could not fail to produce a poetic effect. He was looking at a family picture when the following conversation took place: — Does she still live ? (pointing to his grandmother) — No, she has left us. — She left us in order to return to the picture? In exactly the same way, metaphors condense a myth or fairy tale into a verbal expression, often into a single word. Children rarely produce metaphors before the age of three. They are simply mistaken in interpreting the facts in the peculiar manner which is their own at that age. Metaphor is simply a voluntary return to the age of these errors.

Different Levels of Evolution in the Lexicon Our lexical units thus cover essentially different semantic structures which correspond to stages of evolution at different time depths. The divergence between FREE and BOUND terms (those which appear in cliches) and between DYNAMIC and STABLE monemes is concealed by their external uniformity, the fact that they are all composed of phonemes or letters separated by junctures, in the one case, and by empty space, in the other. Even the category of free, stable monemes as a whole is far from being a homogenous one. Words like atom, triangle, recursivity, and phoneme, on the one hand, and freedom, stress, reactionary, on the other, are of very different semantic qualities. The first series includes only defined words,

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that is, words whose underlying meaning is composed of defined or axiomatic terms. The words used in scientific language are CONVERTIBLE because of their underlying definition. In case of doubt, they may be replaced by a univocal definition of paralinguistic validity. The absence of such a univocal definition in words like freedom and reactionary is a source of eternal controversy, making translation awkward and approximate. To a certain extent, an implicit definition can determine the correct (grammatical) use of these words, but it can never pretend to attain the same degree of clarity as an explicit definition. In fact, the very term "implicit definition" generally covers an indefinite number of more or less divergent definitions. The degree of divergence varies with different words. The contrast between DEFINED and UNDEFINED terms is particularly apparent when a defined term is opposed to its nondefined homonym: besides implication as a univocal term in propositional logic, we have the "same" word being used in everyday speech, where it is subject to different interpretations. The word redundancy is polyvalent in ordinary conversation but convertible into a mathematical formula in information theory. The perfectly clear contours of the word hyperbolic become confused as soon as the word is used outside the field of mathematics; on the other hand, a word as vague as irrational becomes univocal when speaking of irrational numbers. Since undefined terms form the overwhelming majority of words in our vocabulary, it would be difficult to consider their semantic structure as being archaic. Rather, it would be better to consider defined terms as a sort of avant-garde precognition of a future (?) stage of evolution. words, whether appreciative or depreciative, should also be distinguished. They imply adopting a certain position or point of view regarding the proper (objective) content of the word in question; such words contain a tacit instruction: "you should value it," "you should despise it" (cf. Barthes 1964: 25-27)! Defined and undefined, stable and dynamic, free and bound, motivated and arbitrary signs — all these terms are found side by side within a single text or even a single utterance.2 One is accustomed to these sudden switches in semantic level, from more archaic to more advanced. However, how often one regrets not being able to mark the fundamental semantic divergence between these various levels — scientific, metaphoric, everyday usage — by means of different type faces so as to help the reader avoid certain pitfalls. SUGGESTIVE

2

The fundamental distinction between descriptive speech and speech act; locutionary, illocutionary and perlocutionary function (Austin 1962, Searle 1968, Ducrot 1972) is not manifest at the lexical level.

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FUNCTIONAL REGRESSION Withdrawal of the Representative Function The model of the verbal sign proposed by Karl Bühler (1934) represents the sign as a triangle linking three terms: the transmitter, the receiver, and the object of the message. The model provides for three verbal functions: the EXPRESSIVE function; the CONATIVE function; and the REFERENTIAL function. It is undoubtedly significant that Bühler and all those who have recapitulated or commented on his verbal sign theory (Laziczius 1942: 31; Kainz 1943: 217ff.) have always adopted the same sequence: expressive, conative, and referential functions. This sequence is justified by the "logic" of verbal development. A child's first messages are triggered by a concrete situation (mostly mental stress), and the signs he uses do not designate definite objects. The expressive and conative functions are omnipresent in animal communication. The presence of the referential function is rare and subject to discussion (Laziczius 1942: 31; Kainz 1943: 217ff.). The expressive function best resists the pathological disintegration of language (Kainz 1943: 282ff.). The psychopathology of everyday life also gives numerous examples of functional regression. Under the shock of a strong emotion or of a vivid and surprising impression, a speaker may give up the referential function of the verbal sign. Exclamations and curses disrupt the links between monemes and referents. On the other hand, the most advanced languages foresee these situations by providing speakers with word-sentences which have no conative function {Halt! Hush! Hey!) or only an expressive function {Oh! Gosh! Ah!). There are obvious connections between functional, syntactic, semantic, and semiotic regression (return to motivation). In proportion as the referential function is lost, the structures become simpler or incompletely articulated. On the other hand, expressivity implies a return to the motivation of the sign. The expressive function, whose only aim is the immediate relief of mental stress, transforms signalling activity into REAL ACTIVITY: the expression must literally EX-PRESS or eject the object which creates the tension instead of designating it by arbitrary or demotivated signs. Remotivation of vocal or syntactic activity creates problems for the segmentation of signs. The unity of intonation and gesture in situations of anger, joy, fright, or irony impedes a segmentation comparable to the syntagmatic articulation of the words anger, joy, fright, irony. Neither does the presence of the signifie in the signifiant facilitate the paradigmatic articulation of the sign. Each change in the prosodic signifiant necessarily entails

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a change in the signifie. Each modulation of joyful intonation expresses a different joy and allows for a gradual transition between different emotions. A smooth transition between the expression of joy and fright, for example, can be made, but this is in contrast to the clear and irreconcilable opposition of the words joy and fright. A modulation of the signifiant is inconceivable in the case of an arbitrary sign. As the expressive function's sole aim is the immediate relief of tension without the intervention of the hearer, it does not stimulate the search for univocal verbal signs. It stems from an archaic situation where the speaker was the only actor (we are still a long way before the creation of Eve), and when expression was still a goal in itself, although it was incapable of bringing about a satisfactory solution.

Verbal "Gripping" and Playful Functions Biihler's model only allowed for three verbal functions. The model proposed by Roman Jakobson (1960: 353ff.) provides additional functions: a PHATIC function, which is supposed to establish and preserve the contact between speaker and hearer; a POETIC function oriented toward the message ("the set Einstellung toward the MESSAGE as such," p. 356), which transforms a message turned toward itself ("focus on the message for its own sake," p. 356) into a message for the sake of the message; and finally a METALINGUISTIC function which accounts for the messages concerning the linguistic code. These three functions correspond to stages of evolution far removed from each other. The metalinguistic function, which presupposes a linguistic consciousness or the discovery of a code which one uses without being aware of its existence, generally appears very late in verbal development (except in the case of a bilingual child), and it is not a prerequisite for the proper functioning of the code which develops independently of its users' intentions. The phatic function is less peripheral than one would think. It is certainly not linked to the invention of the telephone; it is not restricted to the hellos exchanged by people on the telephone seeking a vocal confirmation of the presence of the invisible interlocutor. This function of language is well attested in the primitive civilizations studied by Bronislaw Malinowski (1923), to whom we owe the term. In the course of everyday conversation, when the semantic value of the utterance is often absorbed by its global situational value, a FUNCTIONAL REGRESSION may also be observed at the same time: the lexical elements of the utterance lose their

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representative, denotative capacity, so that the sentence ends by serving merely as a support of the verbal exchange. A rather considerable part of recorded French conversations (11.5 percent) consists of mini-sentences with an exclusively phatic function: BEN, il faudrait... 'WELL, one should ...'; ATTENDS, on est . . . 'WAIT, we are ...'; Au fait . . . 'BY THE WAY . . . ' ; . . . N'EST-CE PAS ' . . . ISN'T IT'; ENFIN, fespere que non 'WELL, I hope not'; VEUX-TU QUE JE TE DISE? 'DO YOU WANT ME TO TELL YOU?'; Cen

fer ait

trois, QUOI ! 'that would make three of them, MIND YOU' ; " . . . TU M'£COUTES ? 'D'YOU HEAR ME?', tu l'as vu, HEIN? 'you've seen him, HAVEN'T YOU?'.

Rejets such as tu Γ as vu, TOI? or echo-phrases in English like do you, don't you are redundant in their modal function; their real justification is to hold the partner's attention and — as I once heard Roman Jakobson say — they are perfectly equivalent to the well-known gestures of certain people grabbing the button or the coat lapel of their partner as if they wanted to keep him from running off. This equivalence of speech and gesture seems to suggest that the phatic function of speech is the verbal manifestation of the GRIPPING INSTINCT (Hermann 1936). When communication becomes reduced to the sole purpose of making itself last, then only anguish of isolation and loneliness are communicated. Is it possible to go even further in functional regression without renouncing language entirely? I think the poetic function of language includes or implies such a paradoxical possibility. In order to demonstrate the omnipresence of the poetic function, Roman Jakobson cites the political campaign slogan I like Ike, where all the syllables contain the same diphthong. He also cites the very explicit preference a girl felt for the epithet horrible, which she attributed to a certain Harry, unconsciously seeking the euphonic effect of the alliteration (Jakobson 1960: 356-358). Many languages (Ural-Altaic, African, American Indian) require vowel harmony, which is a principle requiring that each word be composed of "analogous" vowels having one or more distinctive features in common. Languages have many more poetic constraints such as, for example, the almost universal tendency to have a more acute or more closed vowel precede in "twinned" words (also called identical or similar) such as German Mischmasch, Hungarian lim-lom, or French bric-ä-brac (Zolnai 1964: 159169). Since antiquity, manuals of rhetoric and poetics have advised poets and writers to avoid the clustering of consonants or identical open vowels, since these are likely to provoke a hiatus, i.e. glottal closure, and to prefer vowels to consonants, soft consonants to sharp ones, and "vocalic" consonants to "consonantal" ones, i.e. stops and voiceless obstruents.

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(Demetrius Peri hermeneias 3.176; cf. Herescu 1948). The so-called soft consonants, e.g. m and /, are actually more frequent in poetic texts than in non poetic texts of the same period (Fönagy 1958). In spite of the omnipresence of the poetic function in speech, poetic texts of any given period are distinguished most of all by a considerable recrudescence of redundancy in the signifiant. The recurrence of the same syllable, the same consonant, the same vowel, or even the same distinctive feature is preferred, even established by rule (Skinner 1941; Dolezel 1965; Levy 1965; Knauer 1965). Beside this simple substantial recurrence, there is formal recurrence, the permanence of a sonorous configuration or scheme, determining the modes of recurrence. The importance of this recurrence to the second or third power has been recently demonstrated conclusively (Magnuson 1962; Newton 1969). The "grammar" of euphony seems to recapture the tendencies present in prelinguistic PLAYFUL VOCAL PRODUCTIONS, such as the prattle of a child feeling at ease who — as indicated by the movements of his future speech organs — remembers the pleasant condition of being breast-fed. He produces soft liquid sounds such as palatals, variants of the liquid /, and nasals, especially the labial m, and vowels (sounds generally present in the words denoting this oral activity); in other words, these are the same sounds recommended by authors interested in producing eurythmic effects. The endless repetition of the same syllable, which the child will take up again in singing the same tune and keeping to a certain rhythmic pattern, or in slightly varying the sounds and the melodic pattern — all these are precursors of metric poetry, free verse, and the poetic tendencies inherent in everyday speech. Certain literary genres such as maxims, aphorisms, adages, and proverbs, which often have no metric constraints, are distinguished from nonliterary prose by rules of METRIC SEMANTICS (Fönagy 1968), such as ANTITHESIS, CHIASMUS, GRADATIO, REDDiTio and other structures which were known to classical rhetoric (Volkmann 1885, Lausberg 1960: volume 1, pp. 307-345, 355-374). The very fact that these categories are part of rhetoric (and do not appear only in manuals of poetry) indicates clearly that nonpoetic texts are not free of paraphrastic constraints. Scientific publications are subject to the rules of metric semantics just as are political speeches. A glance at the titles of psycholinguistic publications is sufficient to illustrate the point: Lust und Leid im Witz (Τ. Reik), Sprachstile — Stilsprache (L. Spitzer), The grammar ofpoetry and the poetry of grammar (R. Jakobson), Syntagmatization of paradigms and paradigmatization of syntagms (S. Marcus). Thus, playing with the sounds of language, playing with words, playing with phrases, and playing with ideas is not

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incompatible with communication, even when it is concerned with com munication of the most advanced ideas.

INTEGRATION O F PRISTINE MESSAGES: VERBAL STYLE The main difference between human language and animal communication, on the one hand, and artificial languages, on the other, is the perfect and permanent union of disparate and incompatible messages or the INTEGRATION of preverbal or verbal messages. Two messages, whose structural divergence represents a chronological distance of at least tens of thousands of years, may be found inextricably linked in the same sentence, in the same word, or even in the same sound. The elements of lexical or grammatical arbitrary signs, the phonemes, only appear in speech through concrete sounds necessarily containing vocal gestures. This peculiar symbiosis provides an explanation for everyday phonetic paradoxes shown by X-ray and sonographic analysis (Fonagy 1976). Thus, a closed vowel is sometimes less closed than a mid-vowel. In the utterance £.n? Moi?, pronounced with indignation, the minimal distance between the tongue blade and the palate was three millimeters; and for the vowel /i/ in Igen 'Yes', with indifferent pronunciation, it was five millimeters; while for neutral Igen it was four millimeters. The /i/ in Igen was at the same time transformed into a nasal vowel. [i] [β]

/e/ -> IH

How is one to interpret this crossing-over of vowels? The [e] of the first syllable of Igen was perceived as i by the listeners, whereas the [i] in έη was perceived as e. Thus, the articulatory distortion is automatically rectified by listeners using the context. This does not mean that it is not noticed. The decoder interprets [i] in έ η as an especially tense /e/, and the [e] in Igen as a very lax /i/ or as a careless, indifferent way of pronouncing i. This supposes a PRECONSCIOUS ANALYSIS and breakdown of the concrete sound. The sound is first identified with one of the vowel phonemes, then the realization of this phoneme is compared with the usual neutral articulation, so that the articulatory difference gives way to an interpretation. The listener reduces the distortion to a second latent component which is responsible for the difference. He considers distortion as an expression: [i] [e]

e + tension i + laxness

->

mental stress carelessness, indifference

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These two elements of the sonorous message are different in nature. The first is a fragment of an arbitrary signifiant, the second is a motivated sign. The first is independent and may be represented by a grapheme; the second is a parasite grafted onto the first. This explains partly why the second element is never perceived as an entity by itself, but as a WAY of presenting the first or as an element of style, even if it occupies a slot in the speech chain as an independent segment, such as the glottal stop in an emphatic clause: [il la ?ε]

II la hait

'he hates her'

ft

This will be interpreted as a hard way of pronouncing the vowel — "a strong attack," as the phonetician would say — as an energetic, aggressive way of speaking. This impression or global judgment probably recapitulates some deep semantic analysis of this laryngealized gesture, an unconscious analysis, difficult to reconstruct, which probably takes into account the symbolic nature of the gesture (a prefigured attempt of strangulation by itself), the anal-sadistic nature of the glottal stop (Fönagy 1971b). It might even go back to the diluvial period when the glottal stop expressed a refusal of food, which later became a refusal of all things from the outside. The atmosphere created by a "way of pronouncing" would therefore, in the final analysis, be due to the IRRADIATION of unconscious psychic matter. It is therefore necessary to distinguish two stages of encoding: a FIRST GRAMMATICAL ENCODING which produces sequences of phonemes, and a SECOND ENCODING which adds, through expressive DISTORTION, a series of gestural messages to the original message. It would be impossible to condense both into one act, because distortion presupposes the message on which it must act. The second act of encoding is purely PARASITIC, since it grafts a necessarily secondary message onto the primary one. There is another reason for separating the two encoding acts; they differ in nature. The first message is generated by a linguistic code called Grammar. The second is due to processes, possibly attributable to a prelinguistic code, which would be responsible for the expressive transformations of a symptomatic or symbolic nature. The dual nature of encoding is concealed by the perfect unity of its output, that of concrete sound. Words and sentences undergo the same fate. They must pass through the Transformer (or Detractor). In spite of the great diversity of their outputs, the processes of transformation are relatively simple. Two processes can be distinguished: 1. transpositions or SYNTAGMATIC TRANSFERS, changes of sequence, changes which take place on the syntagmatic axis;

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2. substitutions or PARADIGMATIC TRANSFERS, substitution changes which take place on the paradigmatic axis. I have tried to give a detailed scheme of the operations of the Transformer in an earlier publication (1971c). All these transformations share a common feature: they compress several messages by distorting the primary message. The "false object" may be the simplest form of the compression of two messages, as shown in these lines of poetry: Eine Träne wird er weinen, Und ich weiss nicht, was er weint. (Goethe, "Harfenspieler") The only possible object of weinen 'weep' is the word Träne 'tear'. But this is the only word specifically excluded by the context. One must therefore look elsewhere, but in this direction. The relative pronoun might vaguely designate anything that could arouse tears, or anything that tears express, i.e. the thoughts and feelings associated with tears. In some way, the act of weeping is transformed into an act of signalling by the unusual and ungrammatical use of the verb. The processes which make up the Transformer are all prelinguistic, but they do not belong to exactly the same period. Lexical and grammatical metaphors make us relive the moment of the creation of the conceptual verbal sign. The expressive transformation of sounds takes us back to an earlier period when preconceptual communicative gesticulation was dominant. In all cases, we are taken back to a period when the newly bora Ego was barely distinguishable from its archaic nucleus, the Id. This explains why glottal gesticulation can express unconscious homicidal impulses, and why labial mimesis can reflect a sexual inclination which is denied or not confirmed at the lexical level. Metaphors, which continuously sound out the adjacent areas of Ego and Id, are, so to speak, in the best position to interpret and reveal such gestural messages. The foundations of a psychoanalytical interpretation of phonation are implicitly present in metaphorical expressions like the CHOKED voice caused by repressed hatred, the EFFEMINATE (or softened) articulation of r, a VULGAR articulation of vowels (further back or too open), etc. (Fonagy 1970, 1971c).3 The fact that emotional signs are not explicit obscures the unexpected presence of these messages. It would be foolish to try suing someone for intentional homicide simply because he spoke in a choked voice or used glottalized articulation. Even the most jealous woman would 8

One of the characteristics of the speech of schizophrenics is the DISINTEGRATION of complex messages. Pure preverbal, expressive, or playful phonation (Ostwald 1973:140, 150) appears in isolation instead of being integrated into more complex communication.

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not think of criticizing a friend for having pronounced excessively open vowels in her husband's presence. What is meant by the word style is the expression of PRISTINE CONTENT — incompletely articulated and incompletely analyzed — by means of a PRELINGUISTIC CODE. Our involuntary resistance due to the often embarrassing content of stylistic messages provides an explanation for the tendency to minimize their importance by preventive (magical) formulae, such as its just a manner of speaking, its only a matter of form. However, the demotivated substance, denied by the Ego, does not disappear. It retains its full importance at the unconscious level. The following formula attempts to express this stylistic paradox: expression content

^

unconscious conscious

Demotivation, that is, the transformation of a mental concept into a matter of "form," into a simple "way of speaking" may be considered as a DEFENSE MECHANISM to be added to those discussed by Anna Freud (1937). If not the most important and most powerful mechanism used by the Ego, it probably is the most universal.

SYNCHRONIC MOVEMENT, DIACHRONIC MOVEMENT After having considered the multiple ways of verbal regression and having become aware of the high frequency of the regressive process in emotional speech, familiar language, and poetry, one may still be surprised to see languages develop and become enriched so that they may become more and more complex tools for conveying ideas which are differentiated and elaborated at an exponential speed. First of all, it must be recognized that we have consistently and arbitrarily isolated one phase of a complex, oscillating movement. According to the model of dual encoding proposed earlier (see also Fönagy 1971 c), the new forms of expression, generated by means of archaic processes which constitute the corpus of "stylistic" transformational rules, are gradually incorporated into the grammar, thus implying their demotivation (Figure 3). This change in status of a linguistic element is particularly clearcut in the case of lexical or grammatical metaphor. The word muscle, a stable sign, which has a well-defined semantic field owing to our knowledge of biology and anatomy, comes from the Latin musculus, as is well known. Musculus was also a stable sign with a well-defined semantic field; however, it was very different, as the word meant 'little mouse'. In order to

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Sender

Grammar

prim. mes.

—

/

compl.

t

mes.

Receiver

Transformer

Figure 3. An example of double encoding. Any message produced by grammar necessarily goes through the Transformer where it is (or may be) subjected to changes of a syntagmatic or paradigmatic order at three different levels (phonetic, lexical, and syntactic). A feedback mechanism allows the grammar to take into account any typical distortion

make the transition between the two, one must postulate a period when the word musculus, while still meaning 'little mouse', also stood for 'muscle' — this usage of musculus is found in Isidore de Seville's work — or a period when musculus or muscle meant 'little mouse', yet could nevertheless designate the muscle; therefore it behaved like any variable sign (Figure 4). Admittedly, since such a transitional stage could not last forever, one could think of several means of restoring the equilibrium, that is, returning to a stable state where the signifiant only designates those objects provided for by its own signifie: (a) By suppressing the dotted line, the earlier state is reached when musculus only designated muscles (Figure 4a); (b) On the other hand, the dotted curve may be replaced by a straight line. In this way, an immediate relationship is created between the concept of muscle and the word musculus meaning 'muscle'. At the same time both arrows are to be deleted, in other words, the words musculus 'mouse' on the one hand, and torus 'muscle', on the other (Figure 4b). French and other Romance languages are examples of such a development. (c) It would also be possible to create a direct relation between /muskulusI and the concept of muscle while maintaining 'muscle' and/or musculus 'mouse', that is, creating synonymy and polysemy {musculus 'mouse', 'muscle'). The Anglo-Saxon word mus (and the corresponding term in Old High German) means both mouse and the muscle of the upper part of the arm or calf (Figure 4c). This three-stage model (stable sign a dynamic sign stable sign b) can also be used for describing grammatical changes. Metaphor probably presents a model that can be applied to all linguistic change, including phonetic and prosodic changes (Fönagy 1956, 1971c). It necessarily goes from one relatively "stable" state to another "stable"

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Figure 4. An example of a lexical transfer, (a) The significant /muskulus/ designating the small mouse is assigned, in this instance, to a muscle, (b) This joke goes on and, as time passes, /muskulus/ comes to designate the muscle directly without going through the concept of "mouse". The mouse, in turn, becomes designated by another word, (c) On the other hand, metaphor can be the origin of synonymy or homonymy

one by passing through a period characterized by expressive contradictions. The [e] sound attested in Latin [homenem] hominem was originally a "dynamic sound" or, in other words, a phonic metaphor which, while representing the phoneme /i/, coincided with the [e] corresponding to /e/ in Vulgar Latin and /e:/ in Classical Latin. These two perfectly homophonous [e] sounds were easily distinguished, however, by the very strong stylistic value (vulgarity, negligence) of [e] < /i/ in contrast to the neutral stylistic properties of [e] < /e/. Here, as elsewhere, the natural stylistic value (Bally 1921: 170-202) captures the transformational history of a linguistic element, in this case, the "long" passage from /i/ -> [e] (cf. Figure 5a) as opposed to the remarkably shorter passage separating /e/ from its typical, urban realization [e]. In a previous article (1969), I described a contemporary prosodic change in Hungarian triggered by a melodic metaphor, namely, the transfer of interrogative intonation to imperative clauses. According to experiments, this transfer adds to the imperative clause three different messages: (a) "There is a problem which you might help me to resolve;" (b) "I've just discovered something;" (c) polite attitude. These three new senses of the interrogative intonation recover the HISTORY OF THE TRANS-

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/ 1/

(a)

(b) /

/ /

K. Figure 5. An example of a phonetic transfer, (a) The phoneme /i/ appears (following an expressive distortion) as [e] (which allows it to suggest a stylistic message), (b) Distortion persists, creating a "phonic homonymy" which neutralizes the opposition ije

FER: the gradual weakening of the original modal nature (question -> problem discovery -> weakening of the order). "Syntactic gesticulation" or, in the terminology of classical rhetoric, TRANSPOSITION, such as the front-shifting of the object or adverb in modern French, also creates an increase of value determined by the meaning and the nature of the verbal gesture (emotional regression, relaxed attitude etc.). This NATURAL stylistic value (Bally 1921: volume 1, pp. 170-202), in the course of changing, interferes with the EVOCATIVE value (Bally 1921: volume 1, pp. 203-249) due to the phase displacement which one observes in the grammaticalization of a new expression generated by the Transformer. Front-shifting of the object, e.g. Les medecins, c'est bien connu, c'est tons des cochons, 'Doctors, it's well known, they're all pigs' (Celine 1932: 214), has been grammaticalized in informal everyday French conversation in all social classes, ending as a structure of a familiar type. Fronting of the adverb, e.g. Yesterday, I saw him in Versailles, is equally frequent in conversations and in written prose, and it has lost all stylistic value, properly speaking (cf. Table 1). In French, post-posing introduced by que, e.g. Un beau petrin! que je le dis moi Ά nice mess! let me tell you' (C61ine 1932: 424), only belongs to the subcode of the working class or lower-middleclass, which gives it a "vulgar" tone. Natural (or gestural) and evocative value coincide in the case of Vulgar Latin [homenem] which, in Cicero's time, was the current and grammatical pronunciation among peasants. This reinforced the careless and vulgar characteristics of the phonatory gesture (too lax, not very careful). The diffusion of a lexical, grammatical, or phonetic metaphor depends on its natural stylistic value. On the other hand, its stylistic value changes as it spreads throughout the different social classes and age groups, or as it becomes associated with some particular verbal style. A well-known

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anecdote concerning a phono-stylistic blunder of the French king, Louis XVIII, illustrates this point. Returning from a period of exile, the king had preserved, among other traditions, the pronunciation of the court, which at the time of Louis XVII still preferred /we/ in roi, hi, moi as opposed to /wa/ common among the "little folk." He could not have known that, by the time he was about to ascend the throne, /we/ had become relegated to the countryside and the areas surrounding Paris and that, since it had become extremely vulgarized, his pronunciation of Ο est mot le τοέ Ί am the King' took away much of the intended elan. Thus a phonetic change which started out as a phonic transfer developed further through the SEMANTIC CHANGE of the variants created by the transfer. It is the transfer, or the expressive distortion, which gives a linguistic element the energy necessary for its transformation. The displacement, either along the syntagmatic or the paradigmatic axis, is never accidental, but due to the interference of the linguistic and prelinguistic code; this prelinguistic code provides an interpretation of the deviations for which it is mainly responsible. Because the deviations are interpreted by the speakers as "facts of style" (and not as parallel, simultaneous messages), it could also be said, paraphrasing Leo Spitzer, that there is nothing in language that was not first in style. Linguistic change is necessarily preceded by a stylistic transformation. Artificial languages such as road signs or the symbols of formal logic, which do not have double coding or encoding in two stages, may be modified but do not change spontaneously.4 There is a relation of cause and effect between the SYNCHRONIC MOVEMENT, which is inherent in "stylistic" transformations, and the DIACHRONIC MOVEMENT, which transforms the system. Passing from the synchronic to the diachronic movement may be compared to the transformation of potential STATIC energy into KINETIC energy. Following a syntactic pattern dear to Schiller, change begins where metaphor ends. In order to renew itself without external help, language must draw upon its own source. From this point of view it appears that linguistic change consists of two stages, a RETURN TO THE SOURCE followed by a RETURN TO THE PRESENT:

(a) In the first stage, an imperceptible verbal, phonic, or syntactic 4

According to Wilden (1972:248), linguistic evolution results from the interference of the linguistic system with chance. "The most satisfactory present account of what may happen in evolution is that random variation, probably in the sense of random genetic recombinations, produces novel reorganizations or structures, of which a miniscule number prove to have survival value. These novel structures can thus be conceived of as the results of the interference of noise in the transmission of the genetic information." I think that what appears as 'noise' from the language point of view is in fact a signalling activity dependent on a code which is essentially different from the linguistic code.

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substance, which, as a substance, is nonexistent at the linguistic level under ideal ("normal") conditions of static synchrony becomes apparent by an act of REMOTIVATION. An articulatory or syntactic (change in sequence) movement becomes expressive and significant as a motivated gestural signal. The "erroneous" use of a sign or a lexical or grammatical metaphor sets free latent semantic energies and opens the way to a quasipreverbal contact with the internal and external world, making a reinterpretation possible of phenomena which were previously perceived through a linguistic filter (words, lexical and grammatical categories which imply a certain vision of things). (b) In the second stage, the language reacts strongly and efficiently against these incidents as if they were intrusions. It responds to remotivation by demotivation, and transforms the expressive difference into arbitrary rule. The interaction of the prelinguistic and linguistic codes and the oscillatory movement brought on by their antagonism recapitulates, in the course of linguistic change, the GENESIS of language. Remotivation brings to mind remote origins, whereas prelinguistic communication or demotivation recapitulates the essential stage of verbal evolution when "magic" was being abandoned.

PROSPECTIVE ASPECT OF VERBAL REGRESSIONS Remotivation, which has the capacity for quenching our "thirst for concrete reality" (Bühler 1933:101), makes us partial to it and makes us forget or underestimate the importance of DEMOTIVATION in the building up of language and civilization. Instead of comparing vocal or prosodic gesticulation to conceptual and purely verbal expression, one may compare the emotional or emphatic glottal stop with cases of spastic "disphony" and oral mimesis, and the prosodic performance of anger with an attack of hysteria (Fönagy 1971b, Freud 1940-1946: volume 3, p. 333), or with expressive neuralgia (meaning "your treachery is, to me, like a slap, a punch in the face" [Freud 1940-1946: volume 1, p. 247]) or also with the magic dance of warriors, in order to get a better idea of the long, winding road leading toward the domestication of signals: MINIATURIZATION of body activity, transforming body movements into ABSTRACT (melodic) MOVEMENTS, and integration of these activities into the act of verbal communication. Needless to say, this miniaturization and integration presupposes a SEMANTIC REDUCTION, a reduction analogous to the importance attached to this magical performance (a very considerable reduction of

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emotional investment). It is this double reduction which transforms a PRACTICE, which is an independent activity, into a VERBAL SIGN. Relative to body movements, "transpositions" guarantee even greater independence to expression, SYNTACTIC GESTICULATION can dispense with the speech organs, and may apply to a message transmitted by visual or graphic means. Although it is true that, in this expressive game, words are interpreted in a concrete and quasi-magical manner and displaced like objects, the retreat of emotional investment makes it possible to suspend the belief which underlies the expressive disorganization of the utterance. We are able to deliberately ignore the magical aspect of our performance. On the other hand, too considerable an investment of verbal output made it impossible for one of Searles' schizophrenic patients to do this, and after one session he admitted that all the words he had just pronounced were really cubes (Searles 1965: 396). SEMANTIC DISTORTIONS represent a considerable progress compared to oral, prosodic, and syntactic gesticulation. The gestural aspect of articulation is completely abandoned; instead of considering words as kinds of cubes, one manipulates semantic structures. In spite of the "concrete" and sensual nature of metaphors, it should be understood that, this time, the focus is on the image of an object (Hermann 1936) and is achieved by renouncing the physical relationship between reality and language. Metaphors, contrary to perfectly domesticated words, bring us back to a childlike universe consisting of fairy tales, legends, and myths (Vico 1968). We would, however, be unfair to poetry and language if we were to disregard the basic miracle, which is the magic of the demotivation of these myths and the transformation of these sensorial, magical illusions into a playful discovery procedure (Fonagy 1963). A ten to twenty month-old child hardly uses metaphor, or metonymy, or synecdoche: it already lives in a world of tropes. In order to make tropes or to return "as a tourist" to this enchanted world, it is necessary to have left it forever. The importance of the risk in doing this is shown by the suffering of mentally-ill people, who remain attached or become reattached to this enchanted universe and who are unable to reduce the real world to its proper proportions by means of demotivation — just like the sorcerer's apprentice who forgot the key word. Valamikor lyänyom voltäl [Formerly, you were my daughter] These words by the Hungarian poet Ady (1877-1919) to his mistress Leda — her real name was Adele — do not accuse the poet of any incestuous intentions. Another surprising revelation is found in the same poem:

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Messze 6s m61yen az Idöben έη asszony voltam: termetes, Szerelmetes. [In the far-distant depths of Time I was a woman, corpulent, in love] (Ady, "Ha fejem lehajtom" [Bowing the head]) Daniel Gottlieb Schreber, president of the Senate, had to give up his career and enter an asylum for expressing similarly obsessive ideas. He actually believed that he had been transformed into a woman and, being the future mistress of the Divinity, he would therefore be able to save the world from cataclysm (Freud 1940-1946: volume 8, pp. 230-320). By contrast, the poet's words do not bring about the same consequences because he has demotivated the obsession or, rather, transposed the fantasy into the past. The feeling of having overcome a danger or mastered a temptation probably enhances our aesthetic pleasure; more likely, it is one of the elements by which the beauty of a metaphor is perceived. Would the playful personification of things be just as charming if it were to be accompanied, as its shadow, by the threat of a real resurrection or revolt of these objects? The memory of menacing objects stays alive; one need only step back a bit for all such objects to revive and take on again their menacing appearance. This is what a schizophrenic girl recorded in her diary (Sechehaye 1951). A patient of Searles conceived of almost all objects as human beings waiting impatiently for the moment of their liberation (1965: 570). The transformation of the magical act into metaphor must be preceded by nonlinguistic or cultural transformations. The gradual retreat of emotional investment has transformed the MAGIC CEREMONY or the dramatic evocation of the ancestors into a DRAMATIC REPRESENTATION. At the same time, this transformation implies a reinforcement of the Ego, which succeeds in recognizing the principle of reality. It is followed by the purely EPIC recapitulation of the MYTH, followed by its transformation into story-telling, into simple NARRATIVE where phantasm takes the place of belief. A next step — a hard one — is the transformation of myth and tale into METAPHOR and later into COMPARISON. The epic event must, this time, even abandon its appearance of reality, its phantasmic existence, so as to be transformed into a SIGN, into a pure index of another reality. It is only by abandoning its own imaginary reality that the phantasm may conquer a fragment of the real world. HYPERBOLE is another socialized form of mythical exaggeration, religious

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adoration, and psychotic megalomania. In Hollös and Ferenczi's stories (1922), told by patients suffering from general paralysis of the insane, one continually discovers remotivated, experienced hyperboles. "I sang a song," says a forty-eight year-old typographer, "and all the printing shops of the world united, then came ham, meat, bacon, and goulash, in great quantity." One need only remotivate a hyperbole written by the poet Verhaeren to see how closely it translates another sentence of this same patient: Et je voudrais, par mes poumons, Boire l'espace entier pour en gonfler ma force. (Verhaeren, "Un matin") (The typographer, a lung patient, added, however, that in his world he would remove the lungs of lung patients and replace them with machines.) The father of one of Roheim's hebephrenic patients (1955) related how he was president of the United States for nine thousand years. This dilation of time (due to regression of the oral stage of narcissism when the child is still living in an almost timeless state) is another source of hyperbole in poetry. Es dunket mich wol tüsent jär daz ich an liebes arme lac (Dietmar von Aiste, "Üf der linden obene") No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids, built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; (Shakespeare, "Sonnet CXXIII"^ The SUPERLATIVE recaptures the essence of each hyperbole and integrates it into the grammar. The absolute or emphatic superlative (pulcherrimus 'the most beautiful, of rarest beauty') and the relative or objective superlative represent two consecutive stages in the demotivation of a narcissistic conception of the universe. Paleological conceptions are often demotivated by certain DEPRECATING PHRASES. The dunket mich 'it seems to me' of Dietmar von Aist is one such formula. Every explicit comparison is introduced by a similar expression, in most cases by such as. The subjective and fantastic nature of comparisons introduced by it seems, it seems to me, I thought, etc. makes it possible to break down the comparison into two statements: (a) a delirious statement ("It seems a thousand years I have been lying in my beloved's arms") and (b) a metalinguistic statement ("This statement is just a personal impression"). The loss of such a formula may have very serious consequences. A young schizophrenic (Storch 1924: 57) complained that he had lost his

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virility in the course of intercourse with an older woman. Near her he had felt like a child. Had he lacked the conjunction like, he would have said and felt: "I have become a child." We know that there is no such particle in the pristine, dreamlike monologue; comparison is expressed by identifying or superimposing the two terms; the person being compared to another takes on the name and characteristics (or some of them) of this other person while still retaining his own identity (Freud 1940-1946: volume 3, p. 325). The structure of tropes corresponds to the archaic grammar which results from the "primary mental process" which immediately forms an identification between all that is vaguely similar (Freud 1940-1946: volume 3, pp. 593-614). Certain conjunctions retain the history of a laborious mental process whose end result is the demotivation of an incorrect identification: In English, as is derived from ealswa, where eal is the ancestor of all and swa that of so. The actual concept of comparison is thus achieved by demotivating the identification ("altogether like") or, in other words, by weakening the hyperbole. The other comparative adverb in English, like, comes from lie 'body' (attested in all Germanic languages, cf. German Leiche 'body, corpse'); it suggested a physical identity, like the Old High German gilih (German gleich 'similar') before it became demotivated. The fact that patients suffering from schizophrenia move so easily through time by transforming the past or the future into the present (a sign of instability which leads to the disintegration of the Ego) indicates a certain analogy with the imaginary displacement suggested by the expressive use of tenses in French, English, or German (future past, present continuous, etc.). This "confusion" is the conventional way of expressing the narrator's virtual displacement, his changed position with regard to his narrative. The individualistic, self-contained Ego, completely detached from its environment, is a relatively late psychological acquisition comparable to the achievement of national unity. In cases of mental regression, the Ego is no longer able to fulfill its main role, that of maintaining its integrity. It disperses itself, dissolves into hostile entities, and partially blends into the Ego of others. It is this deep disruption of the organization of the personality which suggested the term schizophrenia. A sick person may waste his energies — Strindberg was to identify himself one by one with the various members of his environment — projecting his own thoughts so as to perceive them as voices attributable to others in his environment or as voices of the enemy or even of divine beings. It should be remembered, however, that it is almost impossible to escape the magic circle or to avoid using those phrases which, at the level of

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expression, presuppose a split, a projection, an introversion of the self: to let oneself, I would never let myself..., he is angry with himself for ..., I am not quite myself today, etc. In many languages, the polite form of address requires us to split the Ego of the person addressed as if he were several persons (French vous) or a third person (Italian Lei), or even a third and fourth person simultaneously (German Sie); it is again as if we were pretending to address one of the emanations of our Ego (Spanish Vuestra Merced, Hungarian Nagysägod 'Your Highness'). European languages show that any PERSON may be substituted for any other person (Fonagy 1971c). Confusion is particularly frequent in affectionate language. A Hungarian mother may call her son "my little father" (kisapäm) and her daughter "my little mother" (kisanyam), thus inverting the Oedipal relations. In some instances she may confound the sexes by saying "my little mother" to her son. At the same time she will call her husband or lover "my son" (fiacskäm) or even "my little father" (apukdm). Thus language reproduces on a formal level all possible confusions : it gives us the same scale of variety as psychosis while sparing us the risks. The transformation of adverbs of place into adverbs of time, and of adverbs of place and time into adverbs of mode, is probably a universal phenomenon (Cassirer 1955: 207). At the same time it reproduces a PALEOLOGICAL CONCEPTION of time and modality. It results from an unconscious identification of spatial, chronological, and causal relationships. In the language of dreams, the last two are expressed by means of spatial order (Freud 1940-1946: volumes 2 and 3). It is certain that speech must satisfy multiple needs which are often contradictory, and that the presence of paleological structures may play the role of a safety valve. But could their only function be the preservation of mental balance? Rather, it seems to me that the SYMBIOSIS OF PALEOLOGICAL AND LOGICAL STRUCTURES is a necessary condition for the development of language. Two prosodic changes in modern Hungarian illustrate the role played by pristine structures in the evolution of language. Prosody, rooted in preverbal communication, allows the expression of preconceptual content. It also allows intonation and stress to gradually TRANSFORM emotional content into content of a conceptual nature. Most languages do not verbally distinguish between concessive (V) and exclusive (V) disjunction: in Romance as well as Germanic languages, both are expressed by the same conjunction. Results of identification tests show that both logical operations are, in most cases, distinguished by intonation, in French as well as in Hungarian (Fönagy and Berard n.d.). Actually, neither French nor Hungarian possesses intonational forms for logical purposes. However,

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French and Hungarian speakers do succeed, in a great number of cases, in expressing exclusive and inclusive disjunction by means of an emotional intonation which is capable of suggesting them. See, for example, the polarization in Hungarian of two melodic lines which separate the terms marking alternatives: Fekete vagy feher 'black or white?' Fekete vagy feh6r This usually denotes an energetic attitude; the absence of tolerance has been generally interpreted as an exclusive disjunction. Articulatory and expiratory vigor is a natural expression of emotional intensity. The "phonic weight" or stress corresponds in the phonetic phrase to the relative importance of the parts of speech or their SEMANTIC WEIGHT (see Table 4). Table 4. Correspondence between stress and semantic weight in Hungarian Stronger stress

Weaker stress

Azalatt aludt 'He slept underneath!' 'Meanwhile, he slept!' (complement of place) (complement of time) Egyszerre csengettek 'They rang at the same time' 'All of a sudden, someone rang' (complement of time) (complement of manner) Elööször evett 'It was the first time he ate' 'First, he ate' (complement of number) (complement of time) 'He works close to him' (complement of place)

Mellette dolgozik 'Moreover, he works' (conjunctive complement)

'He ran with assurance' (complement of manner)

Biztosan futott 'He has probably run' (pragmatic operator)

It is, therefore, the weakening of stress which distinguishes the weaker, "abstract," or metaphorical complement of place (the geographic place being transformed into temporal or moral "place") from the true "concrete" locative complement which retains the original meaning. In traditional Hungarian grammar there is a distinction between the "figurative complement of place" and the others. On the other hand, the stress in circumstantial complements has weakened, resulting in the appearance of a series of conjunctive adverbs. This is a traditional process whereby Hungarian got most of its conjunctions. It may be supposed that the CLASS

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developed in an analogous way from other word classes (adverbs, verbs, nouns, interjections). In any case, it is certain that phonic and semantic weakening has recently given rise to a new class of words, namely the PRAGMATIC OPERATORS OR MARKERS. The borderline between the archaic type of communication (preconceptual and motivated) and the advanced type (conceptual and arbitrary) does not seem impossible to cross. It is not IN SPITE OF their preconceptual, archaic nature but rather BY VIRTUE OF it that intonation and stress give rise to the elaboration of new grammatical (conceptual) categories. OF CONJUNCTIONS

GOING BEYOND? In European literature between the thirteenth and eighteenth centuries, there have been different epochs when allegory was the rage. Apparently, this only pertained to literary history. However, one cannot help but blame language for complicity in the great ease with which any sentence can be transformed into an allegoric narrative by a simple transcription rule whereby the first letter of a noun is written with a capital, e.g. Everyone is taken by Death, deserted by all except Good Deeds standing beside him on Judgement Day. A language like German which today still requires the rule of capital letters could hardly escape conviction. Allegory is just a poetic form of a tendency inherent in each language: a tendency toward hypostasis, the embodiment of qualities, events, or relationships between objects or events by categorical metaphor. Elementary French or English vocabulary is full of words competing boldly with the moralities of the Middle Ages or with Mallarme's poems. It is sufficient to think of nouns or of the nominalization of verbs, adjectives or, less frequently, adverbs like disappearance, lack, absence, which lend an air of external reality to an object present only by virtue of the fact that it has just disappeared, is lost or absent. Looking back at the past, one is amazed by the omnipresence and vitality of magical thought, but, in following the course of evolution, one may be just as amazed at the wonderful performance of language, which — taking advantage of certain paleological tendencies deeply rooted in our consciousness — succeeds in creating a sensitive instrument capable of allowing us to grasp and fix fleeting relationships and to form such complex concepts as "disappearance," "loss," and "absence." These "abstract" nouns contain latent statements which lay claim to a Platonian type of idealism. The word beauty may recapitulate all such statements as: "all I experience as beautiful is the emanation of the same essence," or "pleasant aesthetic sensations are embodied in a divinity."

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Once demotivated, this magical conception has hardly hindered our intellectual freedom in any way, nor has it prevented Greek materialists or Marxists from expressing ideas which are contrary to the magical or idealist thought underlying such words. Each word of natural (nonscientific) vocabulary contains, in most cases (if not all), two or more metaphors. Consequently, the SEMANTIC STRUCTURE of these words is simultaneously heterogenous and homogenous, uniting notions which are distinct (often divergent) at the conscious level, but identical at the unconscious level. The semantic structure of "simple" words belonging to the basic vocabulary such as head, black, to run unites very different notions which, in rational conscious thought, are very carefully distinguished. Compare the various meanings of head listed below: (1) upper part of the body (2) dimensions (the horse won by a head) (3) intelligent person {he has a good head) (4) emotional control {dorCt lose your head) (5) chief, instigator, manager (head of department) (6) participant (ten francs a head) (7) beginning {head of the line) (8) upper part of an inanimate object {head of a pin) (9) upper part of a living organism {head of a flower) (10) part of a machine having a particular function {compression head), etc ... The word black may be applied variously to objects which reflect no light, to those which reflect less light than others {black coffee), to metereological conditions restricting visibility {the sky was black) to a dark, pessimistic mood {black mood), to something bad or evil {black deed, black magic), to clandestine activities {black market), or to something very sad (use of black for mourning), etc. Another example is the verb run. One is running when moving about by means of rapid movements of the legs. The verb also stands for the more or less rapid movement of inert masses {clouds running across the sky), running water), the circulation of some phenomenon {the thought keeps running through my head, a whisper ran through the crowd), a succession in time {three days running), an aspiration or desire {to run for office), etc. When one "peels" off the meanings of a word belonging to everyday vocabulary (like Ibsen's Peer Gynt peeling an onion), one can extract, in most cases, a series of tropes which are linked to a semantic nucleus (the fundamental meaning of the word). The semantic structure of a word is a matter of convention. Nevertheless, the unity of a word is formed by the relationships between its different meanings, and it is the paleological iden-

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tity of these different meanings which is at the base of all preconscious semantic relationships. "Simple" terms or "stable" signs, which are opposed to metaphors posing as variable signs, represent in reality a whole COMPLEX OF FIXED TROPES. This fixture constitutes considerable progress when compared with the floating values characteristic of variable signs. There is an essential difference between the polyvalence of free ("nondomesticated") metaphor and the polysemy of lexical units of the vocabulary. A "living" metaphor suggests an unlimited number of statements; in contrast, the use of a stable lexical sign depends on a limited number of senses, each of which result from an implicit definition. (There is, of course, a considerable difference between implicit and explicit definitions.) Because metaphor belongs to both the preconscious and the unconscious, it is not surprising that the real nature of the relationship between the different senses of a word may escape conscious thought. Freud's analysis of the anal character traits (Freud 1940-1946: volume 7, pp. 203-209) makes it now possible to fully understand why and how the German word schmutzig 'dirty' could acquire the secondary meaning 'stingy, sordid(!)\ In spite of the undeniable impact of the primary process on the semantic structure of words, this structure must still fulfill the requirements of rational and conscious thought, which would reject, for example, any association between the lexical units denoting Jesus, a box of cigars, and male sex, as was reported of a schizophrenic (Kasanin 1946: 105ff.); a similar case was that of a six year-old Hungarian boy who associated the word bdcsi 'uncle, man' with sausages, on the one hand, and a werewolf mask, on the other, the (unconscious) common denominator being paternal authority and power. The ideal case is represented by metaphoric extensions such as musculus 'mouse', 'muscle' where the unconscious identification of strength (masculine) with masculine sex — the mouse being one of the standard symbols of the penis — is corroborated and concealed by a conscious relationship between the movements of a stiff (!) muscle and those of a fictitious mouse hidden under the skin covering the muscle. The semantic structure of GRAMMATICAL MONEMES is not essentially different from that of lexemes. The meaning of the morphemes is no less sedimentary and the layers are again the residues of transfers, of grammatical metaphors. The French prefix dans, the English and German in, as well as the Hungarian suffix -banj-ben, have the following meanings: (1) the place where one is; (2) the period of time, the moment; (3) the circumstances. All three are aspects which are confused in paleological thought. The semantic unity of the grammatical category represented by the socalled POSSESSIVE CONSTRUCTION (Nom^ + of ( + definitive article) +

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Noun2) or, rather, the feeling of semantic unity that French, English, German, or Hungarian speakers share regarding this construction is in contrast to the variety of semantic and logical relations that the construction may cover. Twenty-four such relations are given below. 1. The second term (N2) is the possessor of the object indicated by the first (Nx), e.g. la plume de ma tante. 2. The person designated by N x is a relative of the person designated by N 2 , e.g. le neveu de Rameau. 3. The two persons may have a relationship of affection, love, or friendship, e.g. Lady Chatterley's lover. 4. One person (Nj) depends on another person, a group of people, or an institution (N2), e.g. Priestess of Diana. 5. A group of living beings (N2) depends on a (real or imaginary) living being or group of living beings (Νχ), e.g. Lord of the Flies. 6. The animate object (Nx) is part of a living organism (N2), e.g. la queue du renard. 7. A living being (Nx) is a member of a community (N2), e.g. member of the Board, Chevalier de la Legion d'Honneur. 8. An inanimate object (N^ is part of another object (N2), e.g. the back of the book. 9. A nonsensual, "abstract" object (Nx) is part of another nonsensual object (N2), e.g. Un äge de ma vie primitive (Proust). 10. A special place should be reserved for those constructions in which N j designates the essence, form, numerical aspect, or functional aspect of N 2 , e.g. the subject of the book, the shape of an eight, the style of the writer, the number of inhabitants, the distinctive function of a sound. It might be better to subdivide this multiple category and to distinguish (a) essence; (b) function; (c) formal aspect; and (d) numerical aspect. 11. The first term (Nj) designates the product of an animate object (Ng), e.g. Voeuf de la poule, journal d'un bourgeois de Paris. 12. The first term (Νχ) indicates a phenomenon or event brought about by an inanimate object or another event (N2), e.g. the shadow of the chimney, the consequences of the illness. 13. The first term (Nj) designates the activity of a living being or phenomenon interpreted as the activity of a sensual or nonsensual object (N2), e.g. the desires of Jean Servien, les frissons des bois. 14. In other cases where the active subject is not present in the construction, N x designates its activity, and N 2 the object toward which this activity is directed, e.g. la recherche du temps perdu. 15. Often the activity itself is not expressed but is tacitly understood; here the subject is rendered by N a while N x indicates the circumstances

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of the activity, e.g. the date of a new era (meaning "a new era [begins] at this date"), the wrong position of my thigh (meaning "my thigh [was] in the wrong position"), ecole des femmes (meaning "place where women do their schooling"). 16. The subject may be rendered by N x and the circumstances of the activity by N 2 , e.g. the bulls of the plains (meaning "the bulls [which live] on the plains"), le jour de VAscension ("the day [devoted] to the Ascension"). 17. N x may designate an activity of the subject, which is not named, and N 2 the circumstances of the action, e.g. tillers of the soil (meaning "[those] who till the soil"). 18. N x may correspond to a passive verb indicating the activity of an unexpressed or unknown subject and N 2 denotes the object toward which the activity is directed, e.g. the temptation of Saint Anthony ("Saint Anthony is or has been tempted by X"), the interpretation of dreams ("the dreams are or have been interpreted by X"). 19. In cases where the predicate of the underlying sentence may be deleted, the subject of the passive sentence is expressed by N x and the agent by N 2 , e.g. the chorus of birds ("the chorus [composed] of birds"), the crime of Sylvestre Bonnard ("the crime [committed] by S.B."), Vicole des femmes (which may also be interpreted as "school [attended] by women"). 20. N j may embody an attribute of the animate or inanimate object designated by N 2 , e.g. the silence of the night (the silent night), the banter of his tone (his bantering tone). 21. The two terms of the possessive construction may express a poetic identity. N 2 is being compared to N 1( e.g. the rose of her cheeks ("her cheeks look like roses"). 22. The possessive construction may constitute a superlative in expressions such as the king of kings, the song of songs (figura etymologica). N 2 reinforces N x . 23. N j indicates the scientific study of a subject indicated by N 2 . The same is true in expressions no less characteristic than those such as the world of animals, the species of wild cats, the entirety of human beings. These could eventually be inserted in Group (10) by broadening its framework even more (essence, form, number, group), but then this would force Group (10) further away from Group (9) from which it seems to be derived. I prefer to increase the number of categories. 24. N x indicates the whole of the elements designated by N 2 , e.g. herd of cows. It is possible to reduce the number of groups considerably by a logical

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analysis of their semantic relations. Quine ([1952], 1962) carefully distinguishes kinship from possessive relationships. In both cases, we are dealing with a single function having two variables: f(x,y) The same formula applies to the expressions of Groups (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), and (11) where function / means, respectively, "possesses," "is kin of," "loves," "depends on," "produces." The sequence of argument is fixed in (1), (4), (5), and (11); it is reversible in (3); and, in (2), it may be fixed or reversible according to the type of kinship involved. Groups (4) and (5) are inverse functions, or "converse functions" according to Reichenbach (1947: 233). Function f(x, y) may also be applied to the expressions in Group (19) where / means "determined by," "composed of," etc. and possibly also to Groups (14) and (23), which are distinct from the others by the virtual presence of the first argument or "referent" (Reichenbach 1947: 115), which must remain incognito. The underlying statement in Groups (13) and (20) is a function of the type fix) with only one variable. (From the point of view of logic, it makes no difference that the function underlying (13) is represented by a verbal predicate whereas in (20), it is represented by an adjective.) The logical relation between the two terms of the constructions in Groups (6) and (9) may be made explicit by the formula Ν c Μ Λ Μ c Ν because the set of the tail, for example, is part of the set of the fox, but the opposite is not true. A similar formula η e Μ may symbolize that, in the case of Groups (7) and (8), the first noun is a member or part of the second noun. The latent statements uniting Groups (15), (16), and (17) should be represented by complex functions of a higher level, "functions of higher types" (Reichenbach 1947: 299-310). The functions ( / ) themselves must be specified. Thus, for example, in the case of a construction such as tillers of the soil, which states that "X till the soil," it should be specified that in f(x), where χ stands for the nonspecified subject, / indicates a kind of work w(f), and that this work is performed on the sea s ( f ) . The constructions of Group (24) do not seem to correspond to any logical function. The first noun has the function of a quantifier, and also on occasion as a universal quantifier Vx.

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Formal logic does not propose a special symbol for the operation of poetic identity, as found in Group (21). One must be content to use the symbol for nonpoetic identity: ρ = q It is possible to modify the operator slightly so as to mark the approximate nature of the equivalence: Ρ = q The etymological figure he is the king of kings, it is the song of songs may be reduced to the simple statement f(x), where the argument represents the person or the piece of poetry, and the function specifies whether it is a king or a song. At most, an exclamation mark could be added to strengthen the emphasis: Thus, by logical analysis of the relations, it is possible to greatly reduce the number of groups. However, language goes much further in abstraction by assigning to all these implicit statements the same superficial structure of possession. An explanation for the extension of possessive links to other (nonpossessive) relations probably lies in a paleological identity of strictly possessive and certain other relationships. The relationship between the possession of a valuable object (links of ownership) and the legal, moral, and emotional power that a father exerts over the members of his family (family links) is perfectly clear. This is the case even in conscious and rational thought, especially in the framework of a patriarchal society, reflected by the word family, derived from famulus 'servant', which conceived the family as a group of free people or slaves subordinated to the authority of the pater familias. What could be more natural than to assimilate the possession — the word familia also means 'fortune' — of land and other goods to that of serfs, vassals, and, later on, to the political power that a prince holds over his subjects (political links) ? A series of metaphors — the chains of love, to capture the heart of a woman, to possess a woman, the sacred bonds of friendship, etc. — reflect this fantasy of possession extending to affectionate relationships. The image of a limb belonging to the entire body becomes the model for all sorts of ownership — that of the ties between members of the same family, that of affectionate relationships {he was my right hand, comme si je venais de perdre un bras, als wär's ein Stück von mir), that of all those things which are dear to us. Sensual or nonsensual objects, revived and personified in paleological thought, "own" their constituent parts (cul-de-lampe, the arm of a chair).

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In figurative speech, one also possesses physical or moral ("abstract") qualities. In order to possess them one should first give them substance or independent existence by means of hypostasis by NOMINALIZATION: hardness of a bench, harshness of behavior. An expression such as the French pouvoir calorifique du bois (lit. "Calorific power of wood") does not charm us anymore because of its demotivation and loss of magic, but it could evoke the history of the djinn locked up in a bottle, or the totemistic myths of a tree inhabited by ancestral spirits. Formal logic considers the property or the activity of an argument as a function:/(*). In prelogical thought, the activity of an agent is conceived as a property of that agent in a literal sense, like possession (his courage, his shame). The complex structure of the expressions of Groups (15), (16), and (17) can also be reduced to a simple relationship of possessor and possession: Napoleon's grave is, on a paleological level, the grave belonging to the Emperor, which he uses as his permanent residence; it is not simply "the grave where the Emperor lies." The stars of the heavens also appears as (brilliant and precious) objects, part of the celestial treasure. The possessive structure of ce Londres du soir (Verlaine, There) suggests, when placed on a prerational level, one of the possible Londons, the London of the evening, the London which is possessed by the evening; it is like the Hungarian version of the Bluebeard tale (of Bela Baläzs and Bela Bartok)j which assigns the murdered and thereby immortalized women either to the half light of morning, or to the daylight, or to the evening, or to the night. The semantic structure of the possessive is the recapitulation and precipitation of semantic evolution: the structure brings to mind the successive extensions of the idea of possession. In spite of the diversity which the possessive structure shows in different nonrelated or even related languages, the analogies due to the uniformity and the paralinguistic nature of paleologic mentality appear clearly. The twenty-four groups just analyzed are found without exception in Hungarian. (For a more detailed analysis cf. Fönagy 1975.) I have recently learned5 that these possessive structures are present in Chapsough and probably in other Cherkassian dialects: wonaY°e. m y°e. ö'etaw 'the cat of the family (to the family, its cat)'.

t

t

This structure (m Y°e.) is also found in phrases corresponding to

t 8

t

From a seminar given by Catherine Paris.

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French: mon frire, mon ami, le chef du village, le prince des abzakhs, la tete du gargon, le pied de la table, le dibut de cette annee, la rondeur de la balle, le tricot de ma mere {le tricot fait par ma mere) la bonte de Vhomme, la defaite de Napoleon, les pommes des joues, le beau des beaux, le prince des princes (figura etymologica). The SEMANTIC STRUCTURE of possessive constructions RETRACES the history of DOMESTICATION, and of the continuous differentiation of elementary and autistic thought which gradually adapts to the conditions which reality imposes on it. It is amazing that the animistic mentality is so resistant that it is nearly impossible to avoid having a fairytale vision of the "animal world," and, even if it is replaced by "the ensemble of animals," the hypostasis serves as a reminder of our servitude. It should not be forgotten either that, to a certain extent, this constraint is responsible for discoveries like set theory. The quasi-mythological structure of impersonal verbs like il pleut, es donnert, Jupiter tonat may have helped in making another, not less important, discovery (Spitzer 1926: 160-222). In few languages is the use of the indefinite personal pronoun as frequent and varied as in German. Poetic language, in particular, would have been much poorer if it did not have the pronoun es 'it, that' at its disposal. This magical es may, in poetry, make any verb impersonal. Da winkt's von des Spielmanns Leichenstein ... To whom or what does the (elided) pronoun es refer? Who is this invisible person who has just made a kind of gesture? An apparition? An imagined appearance? The shadow of the moonlight on the trees? It would be hard to find another expression capable of expressing exactly the same uncertainty that this pronoun leaves floating even after the identification of the apparition (Heine, Ich kam von meiner Herrin Haus). It is the mystic uncertainty of a landscape of dreams which causes the same pronoun to appear in another of Heine's poems: Es lag so bleich, es lag so weit Ringsum nur kahle, kahle Heid'; (Heine, "Ein Traum gar seltsam schauerlich") A pronoun which is substituted for a vanished god or which immortalizes the denied divine existence may create, better than any other concrete term, a mysterious atmosphere by directing the eye toward the invisible. The linguist, however, is more attracted by the prospective aspect of the use of the impersonal pronoun. The apparent absence of a denotation or, in other words, the fact that the denoted object will, by definition, be nonidentifiable, makes it possible

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for this construction to denote the unknown. By indicating vaguely, but insistently, the emptiness which marks the absence of a divine or supernatural presence, the impersonal construction was predestined to contribute to the discovery of Id. Ego's archaic kernel (which is mysterious because invisible), exerts just as strong an attraction on the conscious and advanced Ego as the divinity did on the faithful (a divinity who, in the final analysis, was only a projection of the unconscious onto the heavenly screen). The revaluation of the pronoun and its transformation into a noun has given shape and individuality to all that happened in the deep darkness: es träumte mir ... lit. "that which dreamed me" — das Es träumte mir "the That (Id) which made me dream." Allowing that language has an influence on our way of seeing and conceiving things (Humboldt, Sapir, Whorf, Bally, Weisgerber) and that it preserves traces of earlier thought dictated by a preconscious wisdom (Freud 1940-1946; volume 11, p. 95), we are still far from arriving at the true value of the cognitive capacity of language. First of all, language is an indispensible tool of research. It would be an understatement to say that language makes it possible to formulate our conclusions. On the other hand, it would be exaggerated to pretend that it produces them. The inherent and unavoidable poeticization of speech — which continuously brings about mutations and metaphors, puts life into objects again, transforms qualities, their changes, and their absence into entities of substance — is an EXPERIMENTAL VERBAL PLAY which is absolutely necessary for the genesis of new concepts and new ideas. Scientific metaphor, which makes it possible to express the results of a barely intuitive analysis (Euken 1880, Fonagy 1963), illustrates the importance of verbal and playful creation which prepares the road to lasting scientific discovery. Metaphoric terms like clear vowel, hard or soft consonant are due to an exact although unconscious analysis, but they have made it possible to classify and manipulate the ultimate elements of language before knowing them and before having analyzed them with instruments other than metaphor. Lexical metaphor may form new concepts. Grammatical metaphor provides for new relationships between existing concepts, and anticipates and prepares new logical structures, or, by recreating existing logical structures, it revives their creation for us. Words with a well-defined semantic sphere, based on clearly defined concepts, do not lend themselves well to the expression of vague ideas (ideas avant la lettre) and preconceptual mental content. Traditional grammatical structures and their underlying univocal logical structures give a solid framework to what are as yet only vague thoughts, but, for good reason, they cannot contribute to the crystallization of new grammatical or logical structures. It is only by going back to

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the prelinguistic or paleological level that one may express that which is unknown. One is reminded of a famous tale about Baron von Münchausen who succeeded in lifting himself by his hair which was plaited into a pigtail, as was fashionable in his day. Language is a continuous labor which consists of transforming outdated, INADEQUATE MENTAL PROCESSES into NEW VERBAL FORMS and into adequate tools to allow us to manipulate successfully — always more and more successfully — our daily sentimental, social, and scientific experiences. From this vantage point, language appears as permanent metamorphosis, making it possible for man to repeat the experience of Münchausen by surpassing himself. REFERENCES ALAJOUANINE, T.

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discours, societe. Pour Entile Beneviste. Edited by J. Kristeva, J.-C. Milner, and N. Ruwet. Paris: Seuil. 1976 La mimetique buccale. Phonetica 33: 31-44. F0NAGY, I., J. BARÄTH

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FONAGY, I., K. MAGDICS

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1940-1946 Gesammelte Werke, eighteen volumes. London: Imago. GOLDSTEIN, K.

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1947 L'apprentissage du langage. II. La troisiime annee et les annees suivantes. Gembloux: Duculot. GRUBER, G. M. A., editor 1958 Aristotle on poetry and style. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill. HAVERS, w .

1946 Neuere Literatur zum Sprachtabu. Vienna: R. Μ. Rohrer. HERESCU, Ν. Ι.

1948 "Poetique ancienne et moderne au sujet de l'euphonie," in Melanges offerts ä Jean Marouzeau. Paris: Les Beiles Lettres. HERMANN, I.

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1922 Für Psychoanlyse der paralytischen Geisteszerrüttungen. Leipzig: Internationaler psychoanalitische Verlag. HUSSERL, E.

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JAKOBSON, R.

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1943 Psychologie der Sprache II. Stuttgart: F. Enke. KAISER, L.

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Pidginization, Creolization, and the "Naturalness" Hypothesis

ELIZABETH CLOSS TRAUGOTT

For historical linguists of the transformational generative persuasion, pidginization and creolization have presented something of a paradox, since children are supposed to simplify the language, adults to elaborate it (Halle 1962; King 1969; Kiparsky 1968). However, pidgins, spoken and developed by adults, are usually considered "simplified" languages, while Creoles, developed by children as native languages, are more elaborate than pidgins. There has been a tendency to solve the dilemma by ignoring pidgins and Creoles, regarding them as socially peripheral (nonstandard, nonautonomous, lacking in historicity, and, in the case of pidgins, lacking native speakers1) and, in any case, as probably manifesting problems exclusively of performance, not competence.2 But, as has been repeatedly pointed out in the last few years, to ignore languages or dialects that are socially stigmatized and treat variability as a matter of performance only is to ignore some of the most crucial evidence we have for the nature of This paper is a revised version of part of a lecture series on "Historical linguistics and its relation to studies of language acquisition and pidgins and Creoles," Summer Program in Linguistics, University of California at Santa Cruz, August 1972.1 am deeply grateful for the insightful comments on a draft of those lectures by Charles-James N. Bailey, Derek Bickerton, and Dell Hymes, and to Paul Kay and Gillian Sankoff for permitting me to attend part of their seminar on pidgins and Creoles at the University of California, Berkeley, Spring 1972. Errors of judgment and interpretation are my own. 1 The characterization of Creoles as —standardization, —autonomy, —historicity, +vitality (native language use), and of pidgins as —standardization, —autonomy, —historicity, —vitality, is Stewart's (1968). He does, of course, not imply that such a characterization makes them less worthy of study than other languages with more " + values;" on the contrary, much of his invaluable research has been in the area of pidgins and Creoles. 2 Chomsky (1966: 87, Note 40) exemplifies "invented parasitic systems" by "for example, the lingua franca of the Mediterranean coast" (quoted in Bickerton 1971b).

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language, language acquisition (whether of a first or second language), and language change in general (see, for example, Part 8 in Hymes 1964; Weinreich, Labov, and Herzog 1968; most of the articles in Labov 1972; Bickerton 1971a; and Bailey 1973). Accepting this argument in full, I present the following paper as a contribution to the study of language change, and of pidginization and creolization in particular. While I am working within the framework of the new, exploratory view of generative grammar proposed by Fillmore (1972), G. Lakoff (1971a) and R. Lakoif (1972), which addresses itself directly to determining what underlies the language user's control of language use, I am also extending this framework to encompass the dynamic dimension of change. Any theory of language that addresses itself to the problem of determining what underlies the language user's control of language must address itself to accounting for three types of universals (Traugott 1973, 1974a): I.

Linguistic universals which constrain the nature of language (see recent discussions by Chomsky 1973; Emonds 1976; G. Lakoif 1971b; Postal 1970; Ross 1967; and, from a more empirical point of view, Greenberg 1966. See also Stanford University Working papers on language universals, from 1969 onward). II. Perceptual strategies which put constraints on learnability (Bever 1970; Bever and Langendoen 1972; Slobin 1973). III. Natural processes, which put constraints on expression (Stampe 1969; Traugott 1973; Vennemann 1973). Phonological natural processes lead to reduction of contrast. Syntactic (including morphological) processes lead to maximization of contrast. In proposing a return, in modified fashion, to functional views of language, Kiparsky (1972) has suggested a somewhat similar approach to linguistic theory. If we are to explain certain regularities in language, he says: We have to add to the theory substantive conditions which pertain not to the form of grammars (i.e. to the system of rules that generates a language), but to their output.... All these conditions are functional. Syntagmatic, phono tactic conditions can be related to the requirements of speech production. Retention of functional information in surface structure would appear to be motivated by the requirements of speech perception....(Kiparsky 1972: 195).3 The interplay between the principles underlying Universals I—III, com3

Kiparsky relates the retention of functional differences to the requirements of perception. He does not state where these differences originate; I propose they originate in the requirements of syntactic expression (production), on the basis of evidence from early language acquisition (and pidginization).

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bined with the structure of the input, determines the order of acquisition. It appears, from recent studies of bilingualism and foreign language learning, that whatever principles determine first-language acquisition also determine second-language learning (Ervin-Tripp 1970), although the type of input is, of course, rather different from nonnative acquisition. These principles also appear to determine the learning of an already extant pidgin and, in an even more fundamental way, the development of a pidgin within a community. The relationship of the individual to society, particularly the extent to which social factors operate, such as prestige, social mobility, uprooting from the native community, influence of other communities, etc., determine to what extent a language, or rather a dialect,4 will change, and to what extent it will remain relatively constant as new forms and linguistic systems are acquired. If language change is studied in the light of the principles sketched here, the processes of pidginization and creolization, in general, as well as the acquisition of a pidgin or a Creole by an individual, fall naturally into place. I have argued elsewhere (Traugott 1974b) that the supposed paradox of pidgin simplification and Creole elaboration is metatheoretic only, resulting from a concern for drawing conclusions about language change on formal grounds alone and from comparing grammars, or rather subparts of grammars (e.g. phonology only, or syntax only). If, however, one focuses on the actual processes involved in language change and language acquisition, there is no paradox. To summarize, if the grammar of Generation I is compared with that of Generation II, it may be found that the latter is "simpler," that is, its rules are more generalized, or even fewer (see especially Kiparsky 1968); but the statement that the grammar is simpler is merely descriptive. No explanation is possible, since the processes by which the second generation acquires its grammar are not considered. When we consider what is actually going on in language acquisition, that is, that children construct grammars, we see that the explanation does not lie in children's simplification of an adult's grammar (how can they "simplify" something not their own?) but in whether or not the child has elaborated his or her own grammar enough to achieve the complexity of the first generation's grammar. We are concerned, therefore, with degrees of elaboration within each generation, rather than with simplification as such. However defined, whether in the weakest terms as any kind of simplification resulting from contact, or in the strongest terms as the result of "tertiary hybridization" in which speakers of different languages aim at a 4

Bailey's term "lect" (1973) would probably be preferable.

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target language which is not present as a model (Whinnom 1971), pidginization, by definition, involves the development of a nonnative language, typically, though not necessarily by adults. As such, it may be considered in some real sense an elaboration — the internalization of somewhat new rules. However, the addition of these rules is by no means random. While the characteristics of pidgin languages have not yet all been adequately characterized, it is well known that pidgins share remarkable similarities around the world. Tendencies have long been noted toward restricted vocabulary; little embedding, particularly of relative clauses; comparative lack of morphological inflections, but presence of overt, usually analytic markers of negation, conjunction, and aspect; and little allomorphic variation (see, for example, Hall 1966; Hymes 1971: 65-90 and Part 3; Kay and Sankoff 1974). The processes of pidginization must be seen in the light of their reduced function (Samarin 1971). For example, Cassidy (1971) explores pidginization from the point of view of a core of "universals of communication." Of primary importance, he points out, are: (1) the establishment of group identity (/ vs. you, in-groups vs. outgroups); (2) the differentiation between statements, questions, commands, and requests (differences between the latter two depend largely on role identification); (3) the naming of trade objects and basic concepts like time and body parts. As the pidgin is elaborated, he hypothesizes, modifications referring to quality, condition, manner, etc. develop, as do terms expressing aspect, modalities (possibilities, contingencies), and so forth. In a situation of this sort, we would expect to find little embedding (complementation, relativization, if-then, before-after) and similar types of hierarchization, certainly minimal subtlety of expression, because subtlety of discourse is largely contingent upon the presuppositional complexities associated with the use of specific linguistic structures in specific contexts, and with the inferences invited by the speech act. The restricted function of pidgins, therefore, readily explains why there tends to be relatively little difference between underlying (semantic) and surface (syntactic) structure in pidgins (Kay and Sankoff 1974). We would expect greater differences as the functions of a pidgin increase, and indeed, it seems clear that a pidgin like Fanagalo represents a language with considerably closer relationship between deep and surface structure than does a pidgin with the status of a widespread lingua franca such as Neo-Melanesian or Sango. One of the correlates of the relative closeness of underlying and surface structure is the tendency of pidgins to be analytic — the natural syntactic processes of maximum differentiation predominate, giving individual expression to individual concepts. Being native languages, Creoles have more functions than most pidgins,

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but nevertheless fewer than most "standard languages;" they are, for example, typically not used as the language of education or literature, although significant attitudinal changes have, in the past few years, led to far wider acceptance of long-established Creoles in situations formerly reserved for standard languages or koines. Indeed, several Creoles have, after more or less decreolization, become "standard" languages, cf. Sranan and Swahili, to name but two. Greater variety of functions allow for greater variety of combinations; it is not surprising then that embeddings of various sorts develop in Creoles, especially relative-clause embedding such as has been observed by Sankoff in the development of a first-generation creole variety, Neo-Melanesian (which she calls Tok Pisin, in keeping with local usage).5 Creoles tend to develop not only more complex embeddings and word order patterns than pidgins, but also considerably more complex morphological structures. In particular, adverbs and particles become cliticized or even inflectional (Sankoff and Laberge 1973; Labov 1971). This seems to be attributable, at least in part, to the force of the natural phonological processes which lead to maximum cohesion and nondifferentiation. Since pidgins tend to be spoken slowly and somewhat unrhythmically, the force of the phonological processes cannot be expected to be very great in pidgins; in Creoles, however, they can have considerably greater importance since, like other native languages, Creoles are spoken with speed and fluency. The development of Creoles may prove to be even less random than that of pidgins, given that creole speakers do not have a highly developed internalized native language as input to the language-learning process. Attempts to systematically trace the exact nature of the development of first and second generation Creoles has recently begun, most notably with the work of Bickerton and Sankoff, but scattered discussions of creolization® suggest that the processes are similar to those involved in the acquisition of standard languages like English, Finnish, French, and Russian (see, for example, the studies presented in Ferguson and Slobin 1973). Developing Creoles present the investigator with an almost ideal paradigm for language acquisition and language change, because first-generation Creoles develop in situations where there is relatively little identification by 6

See Sankoff (1972). For the presuppositional nature of relative clauses, see Thompson (1971). 8 Attempts to reconstruct the processes of creolization are usually made on the basis of typologies of communication (e.g. Cassidy 1971), or of language contact, including the possibility of relexification (e.g. Taylor 1956,1963a; Whinnom 1965), or assumptions about genetic reconstruction (e.g. Hall 1966; and more tentatively, Goodman 1964) rather than on the basis of acquisitional principles.

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adults with the pidgin, since it is not their native language. When new forms emerge, they are presumably subject to relatively little suppressive judgment by older speakers. Unusually many experiments with language may therefore survive, since there is minimal need to create "cover-up" rules to accommodate to the speech patterns of one's own class — though systematic variation certainly does develop, given the need for communicating with members of other classes (Bickerton 1973). Study of the constraints on transfer of new forms from individuals to larger social groups in newly-emergent Creoles should prove to be of vital importance to the theory of language variation, from both the horizontal axis of change and the vertical axis of synchronic stasis. The thesis presented here is that pidginization involves basic communicative principles, while creolization involves basic acquisitional principles. While acquisitional principles are coming to be fairly well established, those involved in basic communication are less well known. Cassidy's characterization of "universale of communication," though highly stimulating, tells us more about the external reasons for pidginization than about how pidgin structures develop internally within the language user. As Bickerton says, it is of major importance for the understanding of pidginization, and ultimately for the theory of language change, to determine not only what kind of situation can cause pidginization, but also how it is that speakers internalize rules in minimal contact situations, what sorts of rules they internalize, to what extent prolonged contact causes pidgin speakers to revise the rules, how such revision is achieved, and whether the principles of revision are the same or different from other language changes (Bickerton 1971b). Kay and SankofF (1974) hypothesize that selection of shared surface structures is among the principles involved in internalizing rules for pidgins. This hypothesis is based on the assumption that surface constructions shared by distinct languages "are likely to conform more closely to universal deep structure than surface constructions in general." Ferguson (1971), on the other hand, hypothesizes that speakers internalize pidgins by making unconscious reference to certain universal principles of "simplified register." How far these principles are universal and to be counted among universale of Type I, and how far they are learned and hence language-specific or even culture-specific is not yet clear (Ferguson 1975). It is evident, however, from studies of language acquisition that the ability to use "simplified registers" develops very early (Berko Gleason 1971), at least by the age of four and probably considerably earlier. Further studies will resolve the question of whether strategies for simplification are innate or learned,7 or, as is more likely, which are innate and 7

For a very interesting study of an eight year-old's use of simplified register, see

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which are learned. Whatever the origins of these strategies, the similarities of simplified languages and registers, including pidgins, across the world warrant the hypothesis that, at least in part, "simplification" involves selection of structures that represent the broadest (most unmarked) universals of language, and that they are subject to many of the basic natural processes involved in giving expression to the potential universal structures. Activation of unmarked universals of language would explain why, for instance, pidgins typically do not have duals, which are marked with respect to the more basic ± plural system. Activation of basic syntactic natural processes8 would explain why the unmarked underlying structures that are used tend to be expressed analytically, in ways similar to those observed in early language acquisition: for example, plurality, if expressed on the surface, tends to be expressed by numerals, not inflections or clitics. A fruitful area of investigation would be the hypothesis that pidginization involves, in part, a reversal of the suppression, ordering, and limitation of natural processes (Stampe 1969) that occur in native language acquisition, due to contradictory pressures within the processes themselves, and to external social pressures demanding group cohesion through shared linguistic form. More extensive evidence from the locative and temporal systems of languages is given elsewhere (Traugott 1974a) for a hierarchy of markedness in universals of Type I, the nature of syntactic processes, and the relevance of both the hierarchy and the processes to an understanding of how language users internalize rules in pidgin and Creole situations. A couple of suggestive sketches must suffice here, one from the system of locative "prepositions," and one from the tense-aspect system. A consideration of the underlying locative system of languages suggests that languages treat space in a tightly hierarchized way. If we consider the spatial relationships expressed in English by such prepositions as at, in, on, through, over, under, out, from, etc., and in other languages such as Finnish by morphological cases, it is generally agreed that the least marked, i.e. the most inclusive and all-embracing, are, conceptually, at, on, in (Fillmore 1971; H. Clark 1973).9 Of these, at, being one-dimensional, is the least Andersen and Johnson (1973). This study cannot, however, solve the problem of innate versus learned strategies, since the child studied was too old to provide any evidence. 8 I mentioned earlier that relative lack of speed in pidgin speech accounts in part for why natural phonological processes are, by and large, not in operation. Another reason is that phonological structures appear to become fossilized for most speakers in early puberty, and hence not subject to restructuring, which suggests that the processes have become irreversible. In any event, learners of second languages often have considerably greater syntactic than phonological mastery of the languages in question. 9 Fillmore adds via. Being a Latin word, it has special status in English at the lexical

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marked, simply indicating that there is spatial (one-dimensional) relationship between two objects, on is more marked, expressing two-dimensionality, and in is still more so, expressing three-dimensionality. At, on, in are "positive" terms, unmarked with respect to the marked terms from, o f f , out of; being unmarked and inclusive, positive at, on, in themselves are general terms for another subrelationship: static versus directional, hence the contrast, at least in some locutions, between at, on, in and to, onto, into.10 Children have long been observed to learn locatives very early (see especially Slobin 1973). They do not, however, learn them randomly. There seems to be a clear correlation between order of acquisition (i.e. order of internalized, systematic acquisition as opposed to use) and hierarchic ranking. The negative relationships are internalized after the positive, the multidimensional after the single dimensional. Especially interesting studies of the correlation between marking and order of acquisition have been done by E. Clark, with reference to general properties of learning relational words such as long-short, more-less, brother (1973), and to the acquisition of relational locative terms in particular (1972).11 They demonstrate without doubt that acquisition of such terms is not random, but follows principles that correlate with the concept of lexical items as involving combinations of hierarchically ranked features, and suggest prolevel ; conceptually, however, the one-dimensional term for the relationship of "Path" (via) is less marked than the two-dimensional term across, and the three-dimensional through. The Path terms are omitted here to simplify the discussion. 10 H. Clark (1973: 219) charts these as follows, with the addition of via which is omitted here (see footnote 9): Prepositions of Location, and of Location and Direction Number of dimensions

Location

Positive direction

Negative direction

1 2 3

at on in

to onto into

from off out of

11

E. Clark (1972) treats the acquisition of in, on and under. She demonstrates the relatively late acquisition of the negative term under as would be expected from the markedness hierarchy, but she also shows that on is comprehended after in, i.e. tasks are performed more correctly in response to in than to on even up to the age 3 :0. This does not, however, necessarily contradict the at, on, in hierarchy proposed above, since in this study on is not the two-dimensional relationship whereby something can be on a line, on a wall, on a ceiling, but the three-dimensional relationship on top of; as such it pairs with under, not o f f , and is a more complex term. Secondly, Clark shows that perceptual strategies concerning containers versus surfaces are salient at this stage; no necessary correlation between these strategies and linguistic marking in the adult system pertains, though what the exact relationship is is of considerable theoretical significance.

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gression from more general, unmarked features to the more specific, marked ones (e.g. long is comprehended as designating both positive and negative horizontal measurement; short, as the negative term, is properly comprehended much later). How far the order of acquisition is determined by perception, how far by specifically linguistic innate structures, is, however, not yet resolved. Just as in early language acquisition one (positive) member of a relational set is selected and overgeneralized to cover all, or many of the members of the set, so in pidgins there is a tendency to select one form, usually a particle, to signal the range of a great number of the relational locative prepositions in English. They are normally glossed as covering the meanings of the nine English prepositions listed above, and are normally selected from the set of positive prepositions. Their function is clearly one of general spatial relationship, e.g. Neo-Melanesian long (from English along), Sango na, West African Pidgin English fo. More interesting for our purposes is that these particles fall into sets regularly identifiable as of great typological importance in languages. Consider, for example, NeoMelanesian long, which is used not only for all the obviously spatial relationships already discussed (plus others like behind), but also for the "indirect object" relationship (if I give something to John, he is in a locative relation to it), and the punctual temporal (Mihalic 1957). Both the "indirect object" relationship and the punctual temporal are ultimately locative in structure (Anderson 1971, 1973); as terms marked with respect to the basic locatives, they are included with the less marked term, long. In Neo-Melanesian, long is differentiated from na 'and'. However, in Sango, no differentiation is made between coordination and location. One preposition, na (Samarin 1967: 86-100), expresses the whole conceptual set comprising locative coordination (location in sequence), temporal, and possessive (location at a person). This set forms the foundation of spatiotemporal systems in a wide range of languages. In the creolization process, the number of surface expressions for the concepts expressed in Sango by na + Noun, and in Neo-Melanesian by na + Noun, long + Noun increases; differentiations are made at predictable levels of the locative hierarchy. While West African Pidgin English, Sango, and Neo-Melanesian have only one particle expressing the nine relationships at, on, in, to, onto, into, from, o f f , out of (and more), a Creole like Gullah has six: to, on, in (state and direction towards), from, o f f , out (Nichols 1975). In other words, in Gullah the hierarchic relations of the dimensions, and of positive versus negative have been developed, but not those of static versus dynamic. The development of marked forms in any language follows similar principles, for example the development of a dual.

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In languages with long histories, we often find renewal of marked forms originally present but subsequently lost (Kurylowicz 1972), presumably because children can reach down, so to speak, further into the hierarchy of markedness than their input might suggest. The major difference in creolization is that the development of marked surface forms is more common, and does not constitute renewal so much as true innovation (or influence from contact with other languages). The locative relationship is a good example of the hypothesis that pidginization involves development of explicit, surface forms for unmarked universal categories, rather than for marked ones. A brief look at the tenseaspect systems of pidgins versus Creoles may be suggestive of a similar correlation with the order of language acquisition. After acquiring certain locative structures, children begin to acquire temporal ones (the ordering here is predictable from the fact that time is marked with respect to space in language). The temporal forms that typically come in first are periphrastic, not inflectional, expressions of underlying "tense" (past, present, and future, the linguistic system whereby the content of the utterance is related to the time axis of the moment of utterance), particularly adverbs like yesterday, tomorrow. Then periphrastic aspect develops. In English we find completives {finish-up, all-gone) versus noncompletives, in French "passe compose" for punctuals, "imparfait" for nonpunctuals (Ferreiro and Sinclair 1971). Sequencing of discrete events in propositions tends, at this stage, to be expressed and comprehended in terms of sequence of utterances corresponding to the order of events, whether in individual sentences, or coordinated ones. Not until approximately four and a half years old do we find internalized, systematic comprehension of embeddings like before and after (E. Clark 1971; Ferreiro 1971). The final stage involves development of inflectional expression of embedded sequencing, as in he had gone. It is the kinds of structure that precede the stage of sequencing by embedding that we tend to find in pidgins. For example, tense is rarely expressed, except for purposes of emphasis or disambiguation, and then typically by adverbs such as baimbai (future) and olden time.1* Aspect, however, is normally overtly expressed, usually by a particle or verb. For example, in West African Pidgin English we find de for progressive, habitual, and iterative, don for recent completion, wan for inception (Agheyisi 1971); again, in Neo-Melanesian the future is expressed adverbially by baimbai, but completed action is expressed verbally by bin or pinis (Mihalic 1957). Sequencing seems to be typically coordinate. Sentences either simply follow one another, or are coordinated by and, though one 12

However, Bickerton (personal communication) considers the usual claims about relative absence or optionality of tense markers as poorly substantiated.

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also finds expressions of the and then, next, afterwards type, as in Sango na ndä ηϊ, na peko ηί 'afterwards', jusqu'ä 'after a while' (Samarin 1967: Part IV [analyzed text]). Development of inflectional tense markers, of embedded sequencing (before-after), and of inflectionally expressed embedded sequencing ("pluperfect," etc.) occur in Creoles, cf. the discussion of Hawaiian English by Labov (1971), of Kituba by Fehderau (1966), and of Jamaican Creole by Taylor (1963b). Many of these changes, specifically the development of tense inflections discussed by Taylor, seem to be a product not simply of creolization but more specifically of decreolization, that is, heavy influence by the superstrate language. Nevertheless, languageinternal processes also seem to effect these changes; in particular phonological processes lead to reduction of adverbs to particles and of verbs to auxiliaries, as evidenced by Sankoff and Laberge's (1973) study of the surface development of the Neo-Melanesian bai13 (stressed) to bd (unstressed and cliticized).14 We cannot of course expect pidgins to correlate at every point with the primary stages of child language acquisition; this would be nonsense since pidgins, being developed and spoken by adults, are constructed by people with full command of the complexities of adult native languages. Therefore we do not expect the perceptual constraints of earliest acquisition to be relevant to pidginization. For example, we do not expect in a pidgin a failure to distinguish surfaces and containers, or a tendency perceptually to generalize long to the meaning of short, or of brother to all nonadult males, or of past (as fully experienced) into the future (as unknown); hence the use of yesterday to mean tomorrow. We also do not expect confusion of past with future. 15 Speakers of pidgins clearly have internalized the concepts of underlying tense (past, present, and future), however they are expressed in their native languages; we therefore do not have to speculate in pidgins about whether there is or is not an underlying tense; we can simply assume there is (this is substantiated by use of adverbial expressions of tense, and by such claims as Agheyisi's for West African Pidgin English that action verbs are normally interpreted as indicating past tense, stative verbs as indicating nonpast tense (1971: 133)). In language acquisition, 13

As Sankoff and Laberge point out, bai is used more than baimbai in current NeoMelanesian, although it is not mentioned in Mihalic (1957) or most other grammars. Bai may be derived from baimbai·, it means "later," "soon," and "will" (future). 11 Compare also adult Neo-Melanesian pidgin mi gö Ibng haus "I (will) go to the house", but teenage Creole mi go l.aus with cliticized "preposition," also quoted in Sankoff and Laberge (1973). (The suprasegmentale indicate stress.) 16 Consider, for example, the typical conceptual confusion evidenced by the following question from my daughter, then aged 3 years 8 months: It rained the other day. The other day. Was that tomorrow?

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however, it is not obvious whether past, present, and future are built into the Language Acquisition Device, or whether these concepts are derived from perception of reality. What we CAN claim about pidgins is that they suggest heavy reliance on surface expression of relatively unmarked underlying structures, somewhat similar to the kinds of relations between underlying and surface structure observable in early language acquisition. Furthermore, it seems a reasonable hypothesis that in developing a pidgin or learning an already extant pidgin, speakers to some extent "undo" the modifications they have imposed on their grammars in learning their native languages. It is then, in my view, a mistake to consider pidgins as artificial constructs (for a recent claim to this effect see Bailey 1973: 181). While we must avoid the quagmire of claiming that everything that occurs in language is "natural," we must, nevertheless, surely see, in the development of languages that are typologically characterizable as subparts of grammars with greater functional variety, a certain "naturalness," possibly even the key to understanding what fundamental linguistic principles are; naturalness is not a property of native language acquisition alone, but of predictable, systematic principles of language acquisition in general.

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1971 The grammar of case. London: Cambridge University Press. 1973 An essay concerning aspect: some considerations of a general character arising from the Abbe DarrigoVs analysis of the Basque verb. The Hague: Mouton. BAILEY, CHARLES-JAMES N.

1973 "The patterning of language variation," in Varieties of present-day English. Edited by Richard W. Bailey and Jay L. Robinson. Riverside, N.J.: Macmillan. BERKO GLEASON, JEAN

1971 "Code-switching in children's language." Paper presented at the Conference on Developmental Psycholinguistics, Summer Linguistics Institute, State University of New York at Buffalo, New York. BEVER, THOMAS

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BEVER, THOMAS G., D. TERENCE LANGENDOEN

1972 "The interaction of speech perception and grammatical structure in the evolution of language," in Linguistic change and generative theory. Edited by Robert P. Stockwell and Ronald K. S. Macauley. Bloomington : Indiana University Press. BICKERTON, DEREK

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1971 "Tracing the pidgin element in Jamaican Creole (with notes on method and the nature of pidgin vocabularies)," in Pidginization and creolization of languages. Edited by Dell Hymes. London: Cambridge University Press. CHOMSKY, NOAM

1966 Cartesian linguistics. New York: Harper and Row. 1973 "Conditions on transformations," in A festschrift for Morris Halle. Edited by Stephen R. Anderson and Paul Kiparsky. New York: Holt, Reinhart and Winston. CLARK, EVE V.

1971 On the acquisition of the meaning of before and after. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior 10: 266-275. 1972 "Some perceptual factors in the acquisition of locative terms by young children," in Papers from the Eighth Regional Meeting of the Chicago Linguistic Society. Chicago: Chicago Linguistic Society. 1973 "What's in a word? On the child's acquisition of semantics in his first language," in Cognitive development and the acquisition of language. Edited by Τ. E. Moore. New York: Academic Press. CLARK, HERBERT H.

1973 "Space, time, semantics and the child," in Cognitive development and the acquisition of language. Edited by Τ. E. Moore. New York: Academic Press. EMONDS, JOSEPH

1976 A transformational approach to English syntax: root, structure-preserving and local transformations. New York: Academic Press. ERVIN-TRIPP, SUSAN M.

1970 Structure and process in language acquisition. Monograph Series on Languages and Linguistics 23: 313-353. FEHDERAU, HAROLD

1966 "The origin and development of Kituba (Lingua Franca Kikongo)." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Cornell University. FERGUSON, CHARLES A.

1971 "Absence of copula and the notion of simplicity: a study of normal speech, baby talk, foreigner talk, and pidgins," in Pidginization and creolization of languages. Edited by Dell Hymes. London: Cambridge University Press. 1975 Toward a characterization of English foreigner talk. Anthropological Linguistics 17: 1-14.

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editors 1973 Studies in child language development. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

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1964 A comparative study of Creole French dialects. The Hague: Mouton. GREENBERG, JOSEPH H.

1966 Language universals. The Hague: Mouton. HALL, ROBERT A. JR.

1966 Pidgin and creole languages. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. HALLE, MORRIS

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1973 "Some thoughts in natural syntactic processes," in New ways of analyzing variability in English. Edited by Charles-James Bailey and Roger W. Shuy. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. 1974a "Explorations in linguistic elaboration: language change, language acquisition, and the genesis of spatio-temporal terms," in Historical linguistics I. Edited by John M. Anderson and Charles Jones. Amsterdam: North Holland. 1974b "On the notion 'restructuring' in historical syntax," in Proceedings of the Xlth International Congress of Linguists. Edited by Luigi Heilman. Bologna-Florence. VENNEMANN, THEO

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1965 The origin of the European-based Creoles and pidgins' Orbis 14: 509527. 1971 "Linguistic hybridization and the 'special case' of pidgins and Creoles," in Pidginization and creolization of languages. Edited by Dell Hymes. London: Cambridge University Press.

Correlative Linguistics

ASHOK R. KELKAR

1. THE PROPOSAL AND THE FRAMEWORK William Haas has written: Every science may be said to have its origin in some radical complexity: in a new sense of wonder, about something always taken as obvious — a sense of wonder which asks to be transmitted into a sense of understanding. Amid the sophisticated complications of contemporary linguistics, it is still vitally important to remain aware of the simple radical problems of the discipline (1960: 121-122). Haas recognizes two main divisions of linguistics, each with its radical question serving as a point of departure: linguistic analysis and linguistic comparison. Slightly modifying and adapting Haas's formulation of the questions, I shall further subdivide the latter (linguistic comparison) into two: historical and correlative. So we have: (1)

ANALYTIC LINGUISTICS

How do we succeed in understanding one another's speech ? How do we manage to say AND to grasp an endless succession of new utterances with the help of a limited stock of resources? We choose our way through a maze that proceeds from the more general to the more specific patterns. These patterns (which are indeterminate but presumably finite in number — collectively referred to as a system of rules) are what stand between elementary items (which are finite in number — collectively referred to as an inventory) and usable texts (which are denumerably infinite in number — collectively referred to as a corpus). We begin by matching texts, items, and sets of matched sets within the language being analyzed. We examine how a text is reproduced (i.e. rerendered or reexpressed) in the same language system. We examine

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how a text is used in relation to what it symbolizes and the situations into which it fits. (2)

COMPARATIVE LINGUISTICS

Why do we fail when we do ? How does one make sense of this irrational babel of languages (i.e. sets of matched systems, inventories, corpora) ? The answer can be sought either by finding out how languages come to be what they are, or by finding out whether there is some old bag of tricks that each language draws upon. In either case we begin by comparing languages — texts, items, and rules. (2a)

HISTORIC LINGUISTICS

How does a language reproduce itself from one population to another population of users ? What are the patterns of stability, innovation, and diffusion (collectively called primary or linear phylogeny); and of maintenance over a line of descent, divergent descent into a family, and convergent influence over a zone (collectively called secondary or dendroidal phylogeny) that follow from linear phylogeny; and of contact, acceptance, rejection, maintenance, and displacement of language systems within a language network (collectively called tertiary or reticular phylogeny) that link up linear and dendroidal phylogeny to the population of language users ? We begin by seeking out diatopic and diachronic correspondences between texts and then between items, and between systems of rules and, also, by carrying out reconstructions on the basis of such correspondences. (2b)

CORRELATIVE LINGUISTICS

How does a text reproduce itself from one language to another? What are the recurring traits that characterize natural languages as such and natural language types ? What are the recurring patterns of linear, dendroidal, and reticular phylogeny? We begin by seeking out trait correlations — within and across languages, among language traits, and between language traits and traits of users and situations. It will be seen that the crucial differences between (1) and (2), and between (2a) and (2b) lie in the different kinds of collations that constitute the methodological starting point in each case — pattern matchings of analysis, correspondences of history, and correlations of universal and typical features. Before the differences between the three kinds of collations are explicated, it will be useful to offer a few more definitions. The instantiation of a language or a transition dialect in an individual user is an idiolect. The history of an idiolect is linguistic ontogeny, which is thus distinct from linguistic phylogeny. The instantiation in an individual of a language network or of an intersection of language networks is the linguistic repertory of that individual. Patterns of exposure, acquisition, maintenance, overall

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shift, and loss of items and rules within an idiolect (a language) and patterns of contact, acceptance, rejection, and displacement of whole languages (whole idiolects) within a network (repertory) take us beyond linguistics proper into psychology, social psychology, ethnology, sociology, and cultural history of language.1 The instantiation of a language in a given situation is language use. Language use has three modes, namely, production, reception, and reproduction. Reproduction has a little of both reception and production in it, and may be within the framework of a single language (the original and the reproduced texts are both from the same language) or across languages or stages or varieties of that same language. Reproduction — whether intralinguistic or translinguistic — may aim primarily at recapturing the reproducing user's reception of the original (e.g. translation as a form of glossing) or at recapturing the production of the original (e.g. ready equivalents in a traveller's phrase book, translation of a poem as recreation). Translinguistic reproduction may be either transrendition (e.g. of English ['p h o u st] by Marathi ['post3], or translation (e.g. of English I have two sons by Hindi mere do larke hen).2 The distinction between the two matches the distinction between rendition and expression as aspects of production, between recognition and comprehension as aspects of reception, and between rerendition and reexpression as types of intralinguistic reproduction. Reproduction has an important bearing on linguistic ontogeny and phylogeny. Between texts or items or rules, there may be a historical relationship — one may be a successor of the other, or both may be cosuccessors of some third thing. Historical relationships may be based on the descent of the descendent language system from the ancestral language system arising out of childhood transmission from one generation to the next. Alternatively, they may be based on influence arising out of contact between two languages, which may range from bare contact to wholesale, "intimate" bilingualism. Influence involves a three-cornered relationship between the model, the filter, and the replica, which is a successor to both the model and the filter. A replica text is a reproduction of the model from which it deviates because of some filter. If the replica is being offered as a text of 1

In current usage, the terms institutional linguistics or, more fashionably, sociolinguistics have come to lump together indiscriminately these various behavior-oriented extrinsic studies of language as well as that part of correlative linguistics which is concerned with the correlation between intrinsic traits of languages and the traits of users and situations. 2 Catford's proposal (1967:23,56-61) to regard the former as phonological translation is a brilliant insight. I have tried to incorporate it without disturbing the conventional meaning of the term translation.

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the filter language, we speak of the influence as borrowing from the donormodel language to the recipient (filter-replica) language. Borrowing on a large scale brings a new descendent of the recipient language into being. If the replica is being offered as a text in the model language, we speak of the influence as mutation or interference in the model through the mutatorfilter language, the replica being assigned to a mutant of the model. When a language LI is consistently a mutator of L2 into a mutant L2', then L2 is the mutated ancestor of the mutated descendent L2'. Thus, English as used in India by native speakers from England is a descendent of English acculturated to India — let us call it Indianized English. It borrows from Indian languages by transrendition (e.g. bidi, ahimsa) or by translation (e.g. leaf cigarette, nonviolence). But English, as used in India by Indians whether as native or as foreign speakers, is a mutated descendent of English, the various Indian languages being its mutators — let us call it Indian English, or more specifically, Hindi English, Tamil English, AllIndia English etc. It is characterized by transrendition from English (e.g. resulting in homonymy between state and estate in Hindi English or between eights and Yeats in Tamil English), translation from Indian languages (e.g. communal riot, had gone yesterday), transrendition from Indian languages (e.g. jira for cumin seed), and of course plain misexpression (e.g. really speaking for speaking truthfully, feel homely for feel at home). Shared line of descent yields a language chain; codescendent relationship yields a language family; shared influence yields a language zone. The first great task of linguistic prehistory is the reconstruction of earlier states of language. Reconstruction of texts, items, and rules may proceed from a descendent toward an ancestor (internal), from codescendents toward an ancestor (comparative), or from a more remote ancestor and codescendent to a less remote ancestor (reverse).3 Reconstruction of historical relationships of descent and influence between language systems is the second great task of linguistic prehistory. Returning to the three kinds of collations, we may begin by observing 3

Reconstructions, whether internal, comparative, or reverse, provide limited access to prior states of languages or language families. Reconstructing text fragments from historically related text fragments, and phonological items from historically related phonological items, is primary. Reconstruction of nonphonological items, of analytic rules and rule systems, and of texts on the basis of the primary reconstructions is derivative and much less certain. Prelanguages and protolanguages are, at best, relatively short descent subchains. It is misleading to think of them as states of languages and to hope of making a secondary reconstruction of fables in them. Thus, a reconstructed item or rule assignable ro pre-A may conceivably antedate a reconstructed item or rule assignable to proto-A-B, where A and Β are a pair of languages in codescendent relationship. (I owe this last point to Gordon H. Fairbanks [personal communication].)

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that the distinction between correspondences and correlations is reminiscent of the biologist's distinction between the homologies of comparative anatomy (e.g. resemblance between the human hand and the mammalian foreleg pointing to common origin) and analogies of comparative ecology (e.g. resemblance between the hand and the elephantine trunk pointing to common function). Again, pattern matchings and correlations may be distinguished in terms of the three modes of language use. In pattern matching we are observing the exercise of the skills of native production, reception, and intralinguistic reproduction. In correlating of traits we are concerned with translinguistic reproduction. The items brought together in historical correspondences may or may not be translinguistic reproductions. Sanskrit cakra is hardly a transrendition of English wheel (its historical cognate). While Marathi satkar 'act of honoring' would be an acceptable transrendition of Bangla sotkar 'funeral rite' (a shared loan from Sanskrit satkära), one could hardly be a translation of the other. The basic data of historical linguistics are not so much observation of the exercise of the skills of native production, reception, or reproduction, or of translinguistic reproduction, nor, again, the description of languages or language stages. Rather, they are the observation of successor relationships and of derived cosuccessor relationships between texts, items, and rules.4 If historical linguistics is comparative in the sense in which comparative anatomy or comparative physiology or comparative ethology (comparative psychology) is comparative, correlative linguistics is comparative in the sense in which comparative ecology or comparative religion is comparative. For the kind of ambiguity (or is it richness?) that the phrase "comparative linguistics" is thus seen to enjoy, we shall have to find a match, probably in the phrase "comparative literature." 6 The reason behind this twofold nature of linguistic comparison is, of course, the peculiar way in which language instantiations (idiolects) within a language community are like members of a biological species 4

It would seem that at least the present generation of historical linguists of the transformational-generative persuasion are guilty of harping on descent relationships between rules and between systems at the expense of those between text fragments and items. The formulation of succession or cosuccession rules of the latter kind (p ρ or p, b -»• b or Juppiter A dyaus-pitar- pointing to the existence of the compound in the ancestral language or, to take an example involving reexpression rather than rerendition, digged -> dug) is logically prior to the formulation of the succession or cosuccession rules of the former kind (Rule X Rule Y or Rule X null Rule or Rules X followed by Υ ^ Rules X followed by Ζ followed by Y or Rules X followed by Y -> Rules Y followed by X or three-gender paradigm A two-gender paradigm). The Neogrammarian slate cannot (and need not) be wiped clean! 6 We are of course talking of the twofold sense proposed here. Traditionally comparative linguistics has usually been confined to comparative reconstruction in the methodology of linguistic prehistory.

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within a population (Stevick 1963). Like two species (which are not interfertile — cats and dogs do not interbreed: horses and donkeys do, but the mules do not reproduce themselves) and unlike two nonlinguistic institutions, two languages do not yield a mixed idiolect with two ancestors. A child in a bilingual environment ends up by acquiring two languages and not by acquiring a mixed language, though some of his initial efforts at production look suspiciously like one. Granting that pidginization has been a much more common phylogenetic process than linguists have been disposed to grant (Southworth 1971a, 1971b),6 a pidgin is unmistakably the mutated descendent of one language. Marathi (Southworth's example) remains an Indo-Aryan language despite the Dravidian grafting, as much as Finnegan's wake remains English despite Joyce's drastic distortions and conflations within and across the boundaries of English. (The possibility of historical comparison does not entail the possibility of comparative reconstruction, which calls for the postulation of certain other properties as well. See below, Section 2.3, hypotheses [15] and [23].)

1.1. Precursors Correlative linguistics has been talked about previously under other names. Some of the terminological anticipations include Hockett's "contrastive linguistics" coordinate with synchronic and diachronic linguistics (1948); Trager's "contrastive linguistics" inclusive of historical linguistics and coordinate with descriptive linguistics (1952: 6-7); Greenberg's "general linguistics" coordinate with descriptive and historical linguistics (1957a: 86); Halliday's "comparative descriptive linguistics" inclusive of the theory of translation and the theory of transfer comparison by the side of comparative historical, descriptive, and institutional linguistics as divisions of general linguistics (Halliday, Mcintosh, and Strevens 1964: 15-16, 111-112, 120); Ellis's "comparative linguistics" (especially its "allpurpose" version) coordinate with descriptive linguistics (1966); and Hymes' "syncretic linguistics" coordinate with synchronic, diachronic, and diatopic linguistics (1968: 361). Now, has correlative linguistics so understood been actually practiced so far? It certainly has been. As shall be seen below, such traditional concerns as universal grammar (or its later avatar — language universale), historical universale (e.g. the various hypotheses about "progress" in β

One consequence of this is that the excessive emphasis so far in historical linguistics on divergence at the expense of convergence and on succession by descent at the expense of succession by influence has to be corrected.

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language), structural or nonhistorical classification of languages (now being rehabilitated as language typology) and of writing systems (logographic, syllabic, alphabetic), and such innovations as contrastive linguistics and Greenberg's historical typology (1957b) certainly exemplify, though they do not exhaust, correlative linguistics. A good part of Trevor Hill's (1958) institutional linguistics, or of translation theory, or of geographical and social covariation and dialect studies (cf. Footnote 1), or of theoretical and methodological discussions of archiving and surveying of languages (Kelkar 1969b) exemplify or imply correlative methods. It is about time, I feel, that we take stock of the situation and propose at least a tentative but comprehensive framework for reinterpreting past work, initiating future work, and ultimately stimulating the search for a more adequate and more rigorous framework. We shall call this framework correlative linguistics and recognize it as a subframework within the larger framework of linguistics sketched above (Section 1). The presentation that follows is necessarily sketchy and abstract. Too often, perhaps, I have counted on the reader to flesh it out with his own examples and to supply his own footnote documentation.

2. THE IDENTIFICATION OF TRAITS What is a language trait? It is any fact about a language as such (other than correlation with a user trait or a situational trait) that characterizes it as a semiotic system. Thus, the following are language traits: a. having an item: having a retroflex flap, having a distinction affirmative/ negative, having a definite article, having an animate/inanimate distinction (e.g. who?/what?, who/which, man's/*table's [in English]), etc.; b. having a rule or a pattern: having a prohibition on final consonants, having an abundance of heavy nonmedial consonant sequences, having a penultimate accent, having a passive construction, having S-Y-O order in the surface structure of statements, having double negatives, having a rule in the kinship terminology that, if χ is a kin-type Κ to a married male, χ is also Κ to the latter's wife, etc.; c. having a statistical expectation (e.g. expectation of null frequency, of nonnull frequency, of comparative frequency) about items in some inventory, rules in some system, or texts in some corpus: lacking a retroflex flap, having more polymorphemic words than monomorphemic words in the lexicon (or in a representative subcorpus of occurrent texts), using fusion morphs more often than additive morphs, tolerating homonymy in functors, tolerating homonymy in nonfunctors, using animate-to-inanimate

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shift less often than using inanimate-to-animate shift, lacking a writing system, etc. It will be seen that the concept of trait is wide-ranging enough to accommodate negative traits, quantified traits (e.g. having words with the average length of 2.1 morphemes), and the more sophisticated epistemic traits as proposed by Bazell (1958) (e.g. being more amenable to analytic model A than to analytic model Β in phonology, grammar, etc.). But then the following are not, strictly speaking, language traits — rather they are disguised: a. language-user traits: having more than a million users, having more monolingual native users than multilingual native users, having more nonnative users than native users, having no live speakers, having no native users, having no native female literate users, etc. (typically, we shall have to add, "at any given time"). b. situation-of-use traits: having been used as a medium for schooling, in use exclusively at homes of native speakers, having been designated as a national language, not used for love letters, in use when close rapport between participants exists, in use when secrecy is desired, etc. (typically, some of these do not correlate with whole languages but with specific items, rules, or patterns). Let us call these extrinsic language traits, to distinguish them from language traits proper or intrinsic language traits. As we shall see, we need to speak of extrinsic language traits too.

2.1.

Translinguistic Reproductions

Identifying an extrinsic trait or a purely phonetic intrinsic trait in a language would seem to be easy enough. Even if it is not easy, that would be a headache for demographers, anthropologists, experimental psychologists, or whoever, but not for linguists as such. How do we identify an intrinsic trait, other than a purely phonetic one, within a language ? More importantly, how do we know that two languages possess the same trait? If one were to adopt an ad hoc approach to the establishment of the categories of the linguistic analysis of a language, the identification of intrinsic traits across languages would seem to be an insuperable problem. How could one say that two languages share the phonological unit /r/ or the grammatical distinction N/V or A/V or the semantic distinction visible/ invisible, if one said that the use of the same symbol or label in relation to two languages is no more than a convenience? Indeed, such an impasse probably delayed the resumption of the concern for language universals

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and language typology in the "descriptive" era of linguistics. In those days linguists delighted in pointing out that the "adjectives" of one language are apt to be translated by the "nouns" (or the "verbs") of another language, or that the unit /p/ participating in the commutation p:ph:b:bh in one language is not commensurate with the substantively identical /p/ participating in the commutation p:b in another language, or that the case of /r/ realized as an apical trill, uvular trill, apical flap, or laminal obsulcate7 in various languages is a hopeless one. Equally delightful (or exasperating, according to one's inclination) was the transrendition of both [ph] and [p] in English as [p] by a native user of Marathi, a language which has both sounds in contrast, or the lexicographer's difficulties in offering a translation gloss for English have in Hindi or for Hindi ju{ha in English. A removal of this impasse involves a change in the model underlying analytic linguistics. Indeed one may claim that one's correlative comparisons cannot be any better than one's linguistic analysis. I should broadly accept this claim, but immediately qualify it in some ways. To begin with, does this claim lead us into postponing any serious correlative comparison until after analyzing all the languages in accordance with some one model deemed to be acceptable, or, at least, until after finding some way of "translating" available descriptions with varied underlying models to some uniform model? Bazell (1958) and, following him, Lyons (1962)8 have already indicated a way out of this impasse, offering thereby to turn adversity into opportunity by proposing a new tool, which I earlier christened "epistemic trait." A more radical solution, however, would be to accept language users' translinguistic reproductions (transrenditions as well as translations) as the basic data of correlative linguistics rather than the descriptions of individual languages churned out by some favorite analytic model. Two languages will be deemed to have the same trait, not so much because the same item label or rule formula turns up in the analysis of them, but because texts exemplifying the item or the rule in question in each language are transrendered or translated by texts exemplifying the corresponding item or rule. This proposal would lead us to see that one's linguistic analysis cannot be any better than one's correlative comparisons. A model of linguistic analysis is subject to the check of data-oriented correlative comparison to prevent it from ignoring genuine relatively deeper resemblances: cases in point are the salutary effect of Jakobson's 7

An obsulcate like [J] or [?] is a transverse-groove fricative or approximant, while a sulcate like [s] or [S] is a fricative or approximant with a longitudinal short or long groove. 8 Cf. also Lounsbury (1953: 11-24), Robins (1959: 137ff.), Matthews (1965: 141-142; 1970: 110) for similar pointers toward reading a spectrum of language types into a spectrum of language models.

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proposal (1966) for a correlative inventory of phonological minima, or of Fillmore's proposal (1968) for a correlative inventory of grammatical cases. Proposals to economize analytic statements by leaving unstated the appearance of universale or near-universals in the language in question (e.g. by marking conventions) also stem from insights arising out of correlative comparison. In general, the search for formal universale is also the search for the foundations of linguistic analysis. A model of correlative comparison, on the other hand, is subject to the check of data-oriented linguistic analysis to prevent it from ignoring genuine, relatively deeper differences: cases in point are the salutary reminders that languages can differ profoundly in their handling of the structure and function of syllables or in their handling of word order, gapping, and what Halliday (1970: 43) calls cohesion features.

2.2. Initial and Consequent Collations of Correlative Linguistics 2.2.1. THE SELECTION OF THE DOMAIN. Theoretically, the domain of correlative comparison encompasses every human language — extinct, dead, or living, with perhaps a sideways glance at Esperanto or Rudolf-Carnapese. Taking on this whole domain or language population is obviously not feasible. The languages are not all accessible, let alone the data on all translinguistic reproduction possibilities. Even if one confines oneself to all those that are accessible and not undeciphered, the linguist's attention span is limited, even if it were to be reinforced by computer memory. Fortunately, all these ambitious undertakings are unnecessary — at least immediately. Years of two-languages-at-a-time comparisons are necessary before a respectable group of testable hypotheses can be assembled, and before at least the major problems of collation and validation in this field are mastered. Refinements of sampling and quantification of correlation will also come to our aid, provided we see the point in exploring the whole gamut from perfect correlation (linguistic impossibilities and necessities) to near-zero correlations (mere possibilities). Finally, there may even be some virtue in selecting a subdomain. Such a subdomain, as distinct from the maximal domain, may be based on any of the following criteria or any combination of them: a. Membership of a language family (or subfamily) based on shared descent or of a language chain (or subchain) based on shared line of descent. b. Membership of a language network (or subnetwork) based on shared influence in a certain epoch.

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c. Sharing of a certain language-user trait or traits. d. Sharing of a certain situation-of-use trait or traits. e. Belonging to a certain phase of culture history (e.g. feudalism, preagricultural or tribal societies enclaved within societies of a later phase, modern industrial societies) — it will be noticed that under (e), there is a merger of the criteria in (c) and (d). The overall picture that will emerge after correlative comparison within such a domain may or may not confirm significant generalizations, e.g. Indo-European languages are suffixing, and Slavic languages palatalizing; Arabic has been borrowing by translation rather than transrendition throughout its long history; Standard Average European (to borrow Whorf's nomenclature [1941 and 1956b: 138]) favors S-V-O order, havelike verbs, subject-predicate cleavage, "meaningless" proper names, and standardization of noncasual languages, and it does not favor clicks (consigned to paraphonology) or tones (confined to accented syllables, and that in very few languages). 2.2.2. SELECTION OF THE SUBSYSTEM. Just as one can conveniently and profitably confine oneself to a subdomain, one may also confine oneself to a subsystem — say, phonology, graphonomy, syntax, kinship terminology — from which to select the traits for study. Selecting just one trait or a pair is the limiting case and the starting point of study by subsystem. 2.2.3. SCHEMATA OF CORRELATIVE COMPARISON. Given the domain or language population, an inventory of its members, and a repertory of traits likely to occur within that domain, one can then establish, measure, and evaluate correlations of the following sort: a. Between a trait and a given member language (given the language L, L possesses or lacks the trait Tl). b. Between a trait and membership of the domain (given the member languages of the domain D, L always or sometimes possesses or lacks the trait T l ; thus, Tl may be universal, near-universal, type-yielding, or negative universal in respect of D). 9 c. Between one trait and another and membership of the domain (given 9

In current usage, the term language universal is used loosely not only in the sense of universal trait in the maximal domain, or even in a subdomain, but also in the sense of any perfect correlation within a linguistic domain (i.e. any correlation of types [b] to [h] that has "always" or "never" in it). This is sometimes confusing and leads to awkward collocations like "regional" or "conditional universals." By confining the term language universal to perfect type (b) correlation in the maximal domain, one can speak of a perfect correlation within a stated linguistic domain when one needs a more inclusive term.

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the member languages of the domain D, if any language L possesses or lacks Tl, then L always or sometimes possesses or lacks T2; thus, T1 and T2 may be compatible or incompatible, may form a syndrome of cooccurring and possibly implicating traits, may form a spectrum of competing, possibly conflicting traits, and so on; [a spectrum of traits may be based on either of two considerations: the traits may be varying renditions or expressions associated with a more "abstract" item or they may be varying functions or interpretations of a relatively less "abstract" item]; if LI possesses Tl, L2 possesses a nonidentical T2, and Tl and T2 transrender or translate each other, then LI and L2 are type-different in respect of the trait-couple T l : T2). d. Between a sequence of a trait and successor trait, on the one hand, and any language sequence in the domain (given that LI is an ancestor, mutated ancestor, donor, or mutator of L2 in respect of trait sequence within the domain D, if LI possesses Tl, then L2 always or sometimes possesses or lacks T2 as successor to T l ; thus Tl T2 is an ordered sequence of traits; if Tl = T2, then Tl -> T2 is a stable sequence of traits; if Tl T2 occurs and T2 -> Tl does not, it is an irreversible sequence; if LI ->• L2 represents stages in a domain made up of ontogenetic chains, then Tl -» T2 is an ontogenetic sequence of traits, and so on). e. Between a dendroidal or reticular phylogenetic pattern (e.g. a family tree or a network of a certain shape) and a domain of phylogenetic chains (specific dendroidal or reticular phylogenetic patterns and specific linear phylogenetic patterns, as noted in (d) above, may be thought of as intrinsic traits of the domain as such, rather than of individual members). f. Between a trait and an extrinsic trait and membership of the domain (given the member languages of the domain D, if any language L possesses or lacks Tl, then L always or sometimes possesses or lacks the extrinsic trait ETI; thus, an isogloss is a special subtype of correlations of type (f); the trait of an intrinsic trait may be thought of as an extrinsic trait). g. Between a trait sequence and an extrinsic trait sequence and membership of the domain (given that LI is an ancestor, mutated ancestor, donor, or mutator of L2 in respect of a trait sequence within the domain D, if LI possesses Tl, L2 possesses T2, and Tl -> T2, then it is always or sometimes or never the case that LI possesses ETI, L2 possesses ET2, and ETI ->• ET2; the sequence may be phylogenetic or ontogenetic). h. Between an intrinsic trait of a subdomain and an extrinsic trait of a subdomain and membership of a larger domain (given the member subdomains of the domain D, if any subdomain SD possesses or lacks the domain trait DTI, then SD always or sometimes possesses or lacks the extrinsic domain trait EDT1).

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Briefly, there are analytic (a, b, c, f), ontogenetic (d, g), and phylogenetic (d, e, g, h) correlations. The ones which involve extrinsic traits, over and above just the membership of a domain (f, g, h), may be called pragmatic correlations. Type (b) correlations may be called conditional analytic correlations. Illustrations of these types of correlation will be provided below (Section 2.3). 2.2.4. EVALUATION OF CORRELATIVE COLLATIONS. Each of these correlations has to be evaluated; this evaluation will not only take into account quantified measurement but will also call for qualitative weighting. Thus, a language with clicks in phonology will be deemed to be more "clicky," i.e. to be better correlated with the trait of having clicks, than a language with clicks in paraphonology. Locating a trait in five closely related languages is certainly less impressive evidence of its widespread character than locating it in five historically unrelated cases. The membership of a subdomain will be deemed to be better correlated with a trait if more "key" members of the subdomain have it than if fewer "key" members have it. Whether a member is a "key" member or not will, presumably, be determined on the basis of the possession of certain extrinsic traits. In determining the trait syndromes, the trait spectra, and the trait sequences with respect to a domain, some traits will probably be deemed to be "key" traits. In general, if T1 is subsumable under T2 (e.g. having an alveolar click, and having a click), T2 is more important than T1. Occasionally, however, even a highly particularized trait may assume a diagnostic value for some purpose — for example, the greasy ( s j z ) isogloss in American English. An isogloss is, to begin with, merely a correlation between (a) a trait and (b) the extrinsic trait of the language user's residence or social position or situation of use, and (c) membership of a domain of differentiated languages of the same family and network. It is expected that a good many of these isoglosses will turn out to be diatopic historical correspondences based on descent and influence. In other words, correlations are being subjected to evaluative criteria that are essentially historical. It is not difficult to extend the concept of the isogloss to diachronic correspondences and correlations. Thus, we can speak of a fascicule of isoglosses marking two stages in the history of a language. Finally, there are "correspondences" that serve as the basis of internal reconstruction, e.g. djt nonfinal and t final in German; aji and oje as masculine/feminine markers in different Marathi paradigms, to give a phonological and a grammatical example, respectively. A proposal to call these either correspondences or correlations or isoglosses is attractive enough. Internal reconstruction would then be assimilated to comparative

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reconstruction. It must be borne in mind, however, that this last move would require a major extension of our notion of linguistic comparison. We shall thereby be recognizing that there is a minor but important overlap between intralinguistic, analytic collations and interlinguistic, comparative collations. I think this is well worth the logical maneuvering called for. We shall sketch the outline of a suggested maneuver below (Section 3.1).

2.3.

A Sampling of Hypotheses

We now proceed to cite, without approval or disapproval and largely without comment, some examples of hypotheses involving correlations differing in the correlated terms, in conjectural strength, and in evaluative status. Hopefully, these will serve to indicate what correlative linguistics should look like. I must say that I have not always taken the trouble to recast the familiar formulation of the hypothesis into exact conformity to the schemata proposed above (Section 2.2.3). We shall begin with some analytic examples (1-11), then offer an ontogenetic example (12), and conclude with linear (13-18, 24-27) and dendroidal (19-23, 28-34) phylogenetic examples. Some of these are pragmatic and thus involve extrinsic traits (11, 24-27, 28-34). 1. Both English and French share a trait: my oldfriend and mon vieil ami are ambiguous in the same way. Both refer either to one who has been a friend for a long time or to one who has been alive for a long time; an old soldier goes the same way but an old hat, an old man, the old wife, the older wife don't. Marathi and Hindi lack this trait. It will be interesting to explore other Indo-European, Indian, and European languages. 2. A number of languages in Negro Africa use the same metaphor — a door is called a "mouth of the house" (Greenberg 1957a: 70). 3. Some metaphor types predominantly go in one direction: body-part name for artifact or other inanimate object, physical for mental state, spatial for temporal. 4. High vowels have narrow phonetic ranges; the range of mid vowels is never narrower than that of high vowels. 5. The nasal systems form a trait spectrum: m, m/n, m/n/ij, m/n/r)/n, etc. such that the presence of η implies the presence of m and n, the presence of n implies the presence of m, but not vice versa. 6. A voiceless obstruent is never followed by a voiced obstruent in close transition.

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7. The presence of the number system implies the presence of singular; that of dual implies that of singular; if one member of the number system lacks a marker, it will be the singular number. 8. The following traits form a syndrome: S-V-O as statements; V - S - 0 and v-S-V-0 (or S-V-s-O) as questions; and Si~V^-Oi-and-S 2 -0 2 as gapping transforms (where ν and s stand for dummy verb and subject respectively). 9. The following traits form a syndrome: all syllable boundaries equally open as transitions; tone contrasts; and syllables, morphemes, and words invariably or predominantly coterminous. 10. Every language has a phonology; only some languages have writing systems. 11. The "deeper" a trait is (in some determinate sense of "deeper" independent of "universal") the more nearly universal it is likely to be. In other words, the deep traits constitute a universal syndrome. 12. When the adult language has a vowel system of the type i/e/a/o/u, then the following is a common ontogenetic trait sequence: i ~ e / a / o ~ u i/e/a/o/u. 13. Tamil has miraculously escaped innovations for centuries. 14. The following is an irreversible trait sequence: s/h -> h, i.e. s merges with h, never the reverse. 15. The Neogrammarian hypothesis (underlying comparative phonological reconstruction): phonemes don't split except by way of resegmentation, i.e. the trait sequence "lack of contrast -»· gain of contrast" is a negative universal. (This is at least true of direct or nonmutated descent.) 16. The internal phonological reconstruction hypothesis: the following is a possible trait sequence: Rule (a as a in Environment 1) with Rule (b as b in Environment 1) Rule (a as b in Environment 1) with Rule (b as b in Environment 1) but the following is not: Rule (a as a in Environment 1) with Rule (b as a in Environment 1) Rule (a as b in Environment 1) with Rule (b as b in Environment 1). Note that both sequences are compatible with (15) above. A more generalized formulation, perhaps, would be: phonological alternations are not abridged or lost phonologically, but only through analogical leveling. 17. Loss of contrast and loss of sounds in word-initial position is rare; the same in word-final position is rather common. 18. The number of genders is always reduced, never increased. When it is decreased the masculine gender is never sacrificed. 19. Languages "progress" from a low morphemes-per-word ratio to a high one; this was later replaced by a contrary hypothesis.

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20. If the following are borrowed at all, they are almost always borrowed to fill previous gaps in the system, not to supersede previously existing items: numerals, kin terms, functors, terms for body parts and body functions. 21. Some languages borrow freely through transrendition; others prefer to borrow through translation. 22. Languages split but do not merge; when they split, they do so decorously into two languages at a time. In other words, a language cannot have more than one line of ancestry and more than two immediate descendents. (In wave hypothesis, the first part is questioned in so far as possibilities of the following sort are accepted: LI is ancestral to L2 in respect of T1 but L3 is ancestral to L2 in respect of T2. In a modified family tree hypothesis, such a possibility will be accepted, provided that LI and L3 are barely separated codescendants of L4. [Cf. Southworth 1964 and the notion of transition dialects.]). 23. The following is a recurring pattern in dendroidal phylogeny: a single branch proliferates, the others atrophy, e.g. Latin against Oscan, Umbrian, etc. in Italic; Proto-New-Indo-Aryan against various nonliterary, spoken dialects of Middle Indo-Aryan; Bantu against other branches of Niger-Congo; Classical Arabic against other cognate languages. 24. Grammatical irregularities resist analogical leveling in high frequency items, e.g. widespread suppletion in verbs meaning "go." 25. Lexical hypertrophy (snow in Eskimo, horse and date in Arabic, kinship in Indo-Aryan and Dravidian) correlates with special attention to the referential domain in the nonlinguistic culture. 26. Only dead languages escape change. Languages with only nonnative users resist change with moderate success. Thus, the noncasual language of law, folksong, and written literature tends to be archaic and conservative. Traits associated with certain other situations of use tend to encourage innovations and their diffusion, which results in a high infant mortality in words and idioms. Examples are slang and occupational jargon. 27. The lexicostatistic hypothesis of glottochronology: the percentage rate of replacements within the basic vocabulary over a given length of time is constant over long periods. The basic vocabulary consists of those meanings whose expressions resist borrowing and are near-universal categories. 28. The age and area hypothesis of glottochronology: the diffusion of innovations proceeds at a relatively constant rate (geographical area and dispersal over time). This is at least valid for preindustrial societies.

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29. The language-branching hypothesis of glottochronology: a language diverges into branches at a relatively constant rate (number of terminal branches and their dissimilarity from each other over time), e.g. the relatively low diversity in American English and Bantu indicate recent colonization. 30. The following is a recurring pattern in language networks: one of the language systems gains nonnative users from among the native users of other language systems; this is the auxiliary dialect/language phenomenon. 31. The following is a recurring pattern in language networks: a plethora of unrelated or distantly related languages in a small mountainous area, e.g. the Caucasus, northwestern California, the Nilgiris, the HindukushKabul River Valley-Gilgit zone. 32. Donorship in borrowing goes with high social or political status or with donorship in some field of nonlinguistic culture (e.g. Italian musical terms in English); mutatorship in interference goes with low social or political status. 33. A mutant language system has fewer contrasts than either the mutated ancestor or the mutator (filter) languages, e.g. Marathi English has fewer intonational patterns than either native English or native Marathi. (This is an example of a "poverty" trait.) 34. Language contact without bilingualism but with acute need of communication results in pidginization. Creolization may or may not follow. If it does follow, the Creole either sheds its "poverty" traits through innovations or is displaced by its ancestral language or borrows heavily from it.

3. THE GOALS AND APPLICATIONS OF CORRELATIVE LINGUISTICS By isolating universal, negative universal, and near-universal traits of language systems, language families, and language networks within the maximal domain, we arrive at a far more detailed characterization of natural language systems, as such, and their history. The validation of analytic and historical models is aided. (By relating such traits later to extrinsic traits, especially universal, negative universal, and near-universal extrinsic traits of natural languages, we open the way for comparing the so-called natural languages with other sign systems and cybernetic systems in man and nature, and for seeking explanations for them. This of course takes us outside linguistics proper. Examples of the relevant extrinsic traits are: every native user of every language plays all the roles — rendition, expression, recognition or scanning, comprehension, rerendition, and

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reexpression; language is usable with eyes closed, hands full, mouth full, and feet in locomotion; every language can be acquired without difficulty before the age of six by any child not deaf, dumb, an idiot, or left to the wolves.) By isolating spectra of type-yielding traits of language systems, language families, and language networks within the maximal domain, we come to see the full spectrum of possibilities. This can often serve as a needed cross-check on the excessively bold or excessively timid claims and hopes of analytic universals. Thus, while linguists may differ as to the number of "strata" or "components" in a language, they often seem to agree that the number is the same for all languages. In such matters it may turn out to be the case that what were considered rival analytic models are actually opposed language types. (This is, after all, the point of Bazell's proposal of what I have called epistemic traits in Section 2.) Alternatively, it may sometimes turn out that what were considered opposed language types appear opposed just because they are applications of rival analytic models. By isolating syndromes, we arrive at generalizations of wider scope and greater relevance. By isolating trait sequences we understand the spectrum of possibilities in language history. This can also serve as a crosscheck on claims for historical universals. The validation of analytic and historical models of specific systems and their histories is aided. By correlating the typologies of languages and language histories with extrinsic traits, we open the way toward explaining either one or other, or both. This also takes us outside linguistics proper into the extrinsic study of language, for which correlative linguistics will provide a firmer base. By working out typologies and universals in subdomains, we arrive at a far more detailed characterization of such subdomains and their history. The subdomain may be a phase of culture history, in which case our understanding of the extrinsic history of language as a human institution is increased. If the subdomain is a language family or a language network, correlative comparison will make explicit the experienced specialist's "feel" for what to expect and what not to expect in dealing with a new body of data within the subdomain: the scholarly surrogate for the native speaker's Sprachgefühl that a Romanist, Dravidianist, or Americanist has for his respective domain. (The native speaker's intuition is limited to a particular language.) The search for successor and cosuccessor relationships in historical linguistics may begin with the search for diatopic and diachronic isoglosses or trait correlations.

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3.1. Proposals for Revising the Schemata Finally, the subdomain may be a pair of languages or a small enumerative set of languages as distinct from the domains defined in historical terms or in terms of extrinsic traits considered above (Section 2.2.1, items (a), (b); (c), (d), and (e)). This will bring out resemblances as well as differences between the two languages, and throw light on the processes of transrendition, translation, and the bilingual's receptive and productive skills in general involving the members of the domain. The traditional concerns of error analysis, of the language teacher's comparisons between model and filter language and attempts to anticipate ease of learning and errors, and of the translator's comparisons and attempts to recommend or warn against certain translations all become relevant at this point. The presentation of the results of correlative comparison between a pair of languages may be either nondirected or directed toward one or the other of the two languages.10 The limiting case of such an arbitrarily enumerated subdomain is of course the subdomain of only one language — considered earlier as type (a) correlation. In such a "domain" there will be "universale," "negative universale," "syndromes," but no type-yielding traits, no spectra, no trait sequences. By working with such a subdomain in relation to larger domains, one can arrive at the typological characterization of the language. The stresses and strains set up by competing traits within a language could be exhibited as quasi-spectra (yielding quasi-isoglosses) internal to a language. Such a presentation would also serve to provide the initial collations for internal reconstruction. By allowing itself the privilege of squinting at negative traits and statistical expectations, it will also illuminate a straight analytic presentation in various ways. To the list of types (a) to (e) of subdomains presented in Section 2.2.1, one more may be added: (f) Belonging to an arbitrary enumerated set — typically of one language or of two or three languages — which may be called an arbitrary domain. 10

The name transfer grammar (Harris 1954) or transfer comparison (Halliday, Mcintosh, and Strevens 1964: 120) has been suggested for a directed presentation of correlative comparison between a pair of languages. It will consist of transrendition rules (French to English: the vowel of French pur is somewhat like ew in English pew) and translation rules (English to French: English goes and is going are both usually rendered by the present of aller in French). An excessive reliance on such rules, often in an oversimplified version, was typical of a good deal of traditional second language teaching (in the present case, for teaching French rendition and expression skills to English-knowing learners). Transfer comparison may of course bring out resemblances as well (English adjectives normally translate as French adjectives).

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An arbitrary domain with only one member may be called a singulary domain. The list of schemata (a) to (h) of correlative collations presented in Section 2.2.3, now stands revised. Schema (a) now reads as follows: (a) Between a trait and membership of a singulary domain (given the member L of the singulary domain D, L wholly or partially possesses or lacks the trait T1; thus, if L partially possesses traits T1 and T2 which are in competition, L may be said to possess the quasi-spectrum T1-T2; the sum of traits and negative traits that L possesses, and that excludes universale and negative universals of the maximal domain, may be called the trait profile of L; two trait profiles may be similar in all respects or in respect of some traits). Schemata (b) to (h) remain as they are except for the added stipulations that the domain in question may be an arbitrary subdomain but not a singulary arbitrary subdomain, and that the trait in question may be a negative trait or trait syndrome of positive and/or negative traits. (A trait profile is, of course, a special case of a trait syndrome; and a sequence of trait profiles is a special case of a sequence of trait syndromes.)

3.2. Bearing of Correlative Linguistics on Certain Problems of Theory It is worth noting here that the discussion of both universals and typologies in analytic, ontogenetic, and phylogenetic areas is expected to throw light on certain interrelated notions whose precise content and mutual import have remained rather poorly explored so far. I have in mind the following vaguely intuitive insights: a. That in any language system the items and the rules range from the inner core to the outer margin. Thus, paraphonology, graphonomy, and onomastics are barely parts of the system. Paraphonology has presumably grammatical and semologic analogues. If script and orthography are marginal, Morse code, Pitman shorthand, and other surrogates of writing are even more so. Proper names tend to be excluded from dictionaries. "Given" names like William, Rover, Ritz, Philharmonic, One who knows, the Age of Reason are probably less marginal than passively "inherited" or "borrowed" names like Shakespeare, the Malagasy, India, Swahili; "household" names like Shakespeare (THE Shakespeare, that is), Einstein, London, the English, the Thames (the one which can be set on fire) are less marginal than more "obscure" ones like Thomas Peacock, Bournemouth, Aurangabad, the Middle Kingdom. Again "native" or unmarked elements in phonology and vocabulary are more central than elements in phonology

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and vocabulary that are marked "borrowed" or "learned" {chair is of course "native" or unmarked in this context, no matter what the etymologist has to say). The notion of "basic" vocabulary is also relevant here. Mixing metaphors further, deep rules have been set against low-level rules. (Compare Section 2.3 [11].) Formal universals (e.g. all languages have phonemes, morphemes, form classes, and transformations) are deemed to be more important than substantive universals (e.g. all languages have vowels, consonants, and intonation; nouns, verbs, and predications; animate/inanimate, special markers for speaker and listener). Moderately slow, deliberate speech has been set against rapid, or extra slow, or extra casual speech — all of which tend to obliterate segmental and prosodic contrasts. Derivation but not inflection can be consigned to small print or left out. b. Linguists in their commendable desire to avoid linguistic ethnocentrism fight shy of "loaded" characterizations like "exotic" or "implausible" or "strange" in describing traits like implosive, dental slit fricatives, voiced aspiration, elongated gender, or the pervasive cleavage between ordinary and honorific in the vocabulary (seen in Javanese and Persian). But it will not be too difficult, and will probably be worthwhile, to replace these characterizations by more carefully and objectively defined distinctions. For example, "displaced" articulations like labiodental, apicolabial, retroflex, dorsopostvelar, uvular, and pharyngeal articulations are less common than nondisplaced ones like bilabial, apicodental and apicoalveolar, dorsovelar, and glottal articulations. c. A similar comment may be offered on another set of epithets usable in relation to trait sequences. Some changes are dubbed "natural" or "plausible" or "progressive" or "economizing" or "balance-restoring;" while others are dubbed "strange" or "degenerative" or "costly" or "imbalanceproducing." This is obviously connected with the nonexotic/exotic dichotomy. A change "restoring" nonexotic patterns is presumably more likely than a change bringing in exotic features. At least sometimes the implied value judgements make obvious sense, for example, hypertrophy of homonyms or synonyms; the dozen senses of hari- or the several dozen synonyms for "water" in Sanskrit are suspect, not expectable in a "living" language. So the alleviation of homonymy and synonymy in functors and contentors is a readily accepted explanatory motivation in discussions of linear phylogeny. Again, a change, filling a "hole" in a phonological, grammatical, or lexical paradigm, has something "natural" about it.

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3.3. Applications of Correlative Linguistics Enough has been said on this subject. As examples of application from the general to the specific, see the sample hypotheses (Section 2.3). Applications from correlative linguistics to other parts of linguistic theory, applications from correlative linguistics to the extrinsic study of language, and, finally, applications from theory to practical concerns have all been hinted at in Sections 3, 3.1 (first two paragraphs), and 3.2.

4. ON THE METHODOLOGY OF LINGUISTICS IN GENERAL By methodology in linguistics, I understand the procedures that take us from observations of the exercise of the skills of production, reception, and reproduction on the part of native, adherent, and (if need be) other speakers, from observed subcorpora, and from tentative determinations of successor and cosuccessor relationships between texts, items, and rules to maximally validated presentations of analytic systems, of linear and dendroidal phylogenetic processes, analytic and phylogenetic universale, and typologies of subdomains and of the whole domain in every human language, living, dead, or extinct. To the extent that we are prepared to go beyond linguistics proper into behavior-oriented, text-oriented, and system-oriented studies of language, we can also offer explanations that bring in matters extrinsic to language as well. (The exercise of receptive skills, it may be noted in passing, also includes the giving of metalinguistic judgments, for example: that two texts or text fragments are or are not reproductions of each other in the same language or across different language systems; that a given text is appropriate in a given meaning; and that two texts are homogeneous in language or are in a successor or cosuccessor relationship.) Methodological procedures can be grouped under the following phases: (a) collection and storage; (b) collation and collated storage; (c) analysis or prehension of small-scale patterns, wide-ranging hypotheses, and fundamental paradigms or postulates; (d) presentation and storage of collated and validated presentations; and (e) validation (inclusive of relative evaluation). These different phases are not equally amenable to the use of mechanical aids (consider sound recording, photocopying, data processing, and storage and retrieval systems) or of well-defined (especially algorithmic) procedures as opposed to rough-and-ready, heuristic, ad hoc, or intuitive procedures (consider alphabetization, formulation of generative

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routines, ear-phonetic transcription, "semantic transcription," assemblyline phonemics ä la early Pike, and specified format for formulating hypotheses and presentations). We may make the following comments: (1) A prehension or discovery is the least amenable to mechanical aids and well-defined procedures; collection, collation, and storage are the most amenable. (2) The traditional prejudice against mechanical aids and procedures, especially in phases (b) and (d), is on the wane. (3) Phonology and graphonomy are more amenable, semantics least amenable to such aids and procedures. (4) Areas requiring the handling of large bodies of data have a greater need for such aids and procedures, e.g. grammar more than phonology, lexicon more than grammar, larger domains more than smaller domains. (5) The prehension and validation of small-scale patterns are more amenable to such aids and procedures; the validation and, even less so, prehension of fundamental paradigms are the least amenable; computer-aided validation of the analysis of specific languages is a possibility.11 (6) The increasing formularization of presentation certainly facilitates validation, but then it probably has a ceiling, if language is in some fundamental sense crude, fuzzy, leaky, open-textured, or ill-defined; it is certainly not an accident that most analytic models intended for actual application provide for a dustbin in which to put sweepings from under the rug — call it usage or idiom or performance or high delicacy zone or nipäta or, even, lexicon. (7) As we come to understand language or any subdomain of it better, the intuitive "feel" of the specialist that aids him in prehension and evaluation will become more widely available as a set of objective formulations; this "vulgarization" of the art of linguistic methodology probably has an upper limit. 4.1. The Methodology of Correlative Comparison When we apply the foregoing wider considerations to correlative comparison as such, we can anticipate rapid advances in the next few years in 11

The recent strictures on the search for mechanical "discovery" procedures apply primarily to phase (c) and to wide-ranging hypotheses and, even more obviously, to fundamental paradigms, where they are quite valid. It is open to question, however, whether the posing of the following dilemma is valid or not — any proposed discovery procedure is either mechanical but invalid or nonmechanical but "uninteresting." (Cf. the exchange between William Haas and Chomsky reported in ICL-9: 994-998.) It is an irony that a distrust of mechanical "discovery" procedures has often been accompanied by a rather naive faith in mechanical "evaluation" or validation procedures (called evaluation metrics of the linear size of the symbol inventory, of a specific rule, and of the whole description of a language), which of course presuppose a highly formalized presentation.

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archiving, i.e. systematic collection, collation, and storage of data, collations, and presentations. Something like the linguistic analogue of the Human Relations Area Files is badly needed. This will materially assist the measurement of the strength of analytic correlations. Phylogenetic correlations call for a different kind of archiving — not of systems and corpora, but of rules of successor and cosuccessor relationships between corpora and between systems. Presumably the refinements in the formalizations (of the kind proposed in Sections 2.2.3 and 3.1) will be of interest to students of comparative ethnography. Correlative linguistics eminently shows the recursive or cyclical character of the linguistic method. We start with initial collations (LI has or hasn't T l , and LI and L2 both have or haven't Tl); propose a hypothesis and validate the collations with reference to consequent or derived collations; if the hypothesis is valid, the new collations based on it suggest other proposals; and so on. The so-called initial collations are themselves hypotheses based on more primitive observations and are separated from the hypotheses by the same scientific leap which resists formalized procedure. It is not strictly necessary, but still perfectly legitimate, to seek justification for this leap in formulating analytic universale in considerations outside linguistics proper. Consider the following conversation: "By one estimate, there are about four thousand languages spoken today, and there must have been many more in the past, some of which have probably left no trace at all," I observe. "How can you verify your universal theory without a knowledge of quite a number of them?" "It is true that we transformationalists have studied only a handful of languages in a really intensive way, but each new language that we study intensively in the future will support the conclusions that we have already drawn. I am confident of this, because it seems to me that if we assume that any infant can learn any language — that no infant is genetically a speaker of a specific language — then every attribute we postulate in order to explain an infant's ability to learn one language must be true of any child's learning of any language, and so must be a universal condition of a universal grammar. Thus, on the basis of the evidence that we have from the study of a few languages we can safely assume that for learning languages there must be a schematism in the mind — a physical mechanism in the brain — that is the same in every human being."12 While the assumption that "any infant can learn any language", given an environment of a certain kind, seems to be safe enough, it is clear that this rationalization of the scientific leap in correlative comparison will have a point only if one can formulate a validation procedure for sorting out those 12

The interlocutors reported are Ved Mehta and Noam Chomsky, respectively (Mehta 1971: 210-211). The point of view attributed to Chomsky may or may not have been correctly reported, but in any case it is a possible point of view.

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traits of a specific language that have to be presupposed by ANY infant's ability to learn THAT language under certain universal conditions from the traits that are, for one reason or another, not so presupposed. By way of concluding, I should like to indicate an epistemologically vulnerable spot. For some, the mention of the Neogrammarian hypothesis as a sample of phylogenetic correlation may have rung a warning bell. It is not quite clear how far this hypothesis (which is currently under fire) is a truth claim that can be proved, refuted, or replaced by a revised truth claim, and how far it is merely a methodological postulate that, in conjunction with the family tree hypothesis (Sample 22 above), makes comparative phonological reconstruction possible. Probably, the same is the case with the claims that transformations are all meaning-preserving or that they all "precede" the lexical pass or the bad odor once associated with context-sensitive rules. Are these truth claims about formal universale or demands for methodological economy? Even assuming that we can find some touchstone with which to answer these questions and make the necessary discriminations, there are three further questions: (1) What bearing, if any, has this distinction on the philosophical distinction between categories involved in category mistakes and classes ? (2) How far is the concept of validation or evaluation applicable to fundamental paradigms or postulates? (3) What bearing, if any, has this distinction on the alleged possibility of nonautonomous facts in linguistics — facts that won't brutally stare you in the face, but will be available only to noses sensitized by certain theories? Are we perhaps dealing with a three-way distinction among universal traits — genuine truth claims, defining traits, and methodological postulates? To say that language has AT LEAST two articulations or strata is offering to define the commonest use of the term language; but to say, with Saussure or Bloomfield or Hjelmslev or Hockett or Ross-McCawleyLakoff, that it has only two, or, with Trager or Chomsky or Lamb or Halliday, that it has at least three, is making a truth claim. To say that the claim that it has, say, eight strata is prima facie dubious is making a methodological demand. Now to which of these three belongs the general conspiracy to agree that all languages have the same number of strata?

A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY OF CORRELATIVE LINGUISTICS The following is a selected, partially annotated bibliography of works on correlative linguistics. (Not all of the items have been seen by me

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personally.) The bibliography includes all references cited in the text of this article. In addition to the specific items listed below, I also recommend the following general sources on correlative linguistics: (a) the archiving issue of IJAL 20 (2) (1954); (b) the translation issue of IJAL 20 (4) (1954); (c) the typology papers in IJAL 26 (3) (1960) and IJAL 28 (4) (1962); (d) the section on language universale in ICL-9 (1962); (e) the section on typology in ICL-10 (1970); (f) the papers in the plenary session on language universale and the section on typology in ICL·-11 (1972); and (g) TLP-2 (1966), - 4 (1972).

Abbreviations AL ICAES-5

ICL-8 ICL-9 ICL-10 ICL-11 IJAL IRAL Lg TLP

Anthropological Linguistics. Selected papers of the Vth international congress of anthropological and ethnological sciences. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 1960. Proceedings of the VIHth international congress of linguists. Edited by Eva Sivertsen. Oslo: Oslo University Press. 1958. Proceedings of the IXth international congress of linguists. Edited by Horace G. Lunt. The Hague: Mouton. 1962. Actes du Xe congris international des linguistes. Edited by A. Graur et al. Bucharest: Academiei Republicii Socialiste Romania. 1970. Proceedings of the Xlth international congress of linguists. Edited by Luigi Heilmann. Bologna and Florence. 1972. International Journal of American Linguistics. International Review of Applied Linguistics. Language. Travaux linguistique de Prague.

REFERENCES AGINSKY, BURT W., ETHEL G. AGINSKY

1948 The importance of language universals. Word 4: 168-172. ASCH, SOLMON E.

1958 "The metaphor: a psychological inquiry," in Person, perception and interpersonal behavior. Edited by R. Tagiuri and L. Petrullo, 86-94. Stanford: Stanford University Press. AUSTIN, WILLIAM M.

1957 Criteria for phonetic similarity. Lg 33: 538-543. (Attestations of unusual phonetic distance between allophones and between phones in successor relationship.) BACH, ΕΜΜΟΝ, ROBERT T. HARMS, editors 1968 Universals in linguistic theory. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

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BAZELL, CHARLES E.

1949 Syntactic relations and linguistic typology. Cahiers Ferdinand de Saussure 8: 5-20. 1958 Linguistic typology: an inaugural lecture. London: School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. (Reprinted 1966 in Five inaugural lectures: language and language learning. Edited by Peter Strevens, 27-49. London: Oxford University Press.) BENDDC, Ε. H.

1966 Componential analysis of general vocabulary: the semantic structure of a set of verbs in English, Hindi and Japanese. 1JAL 32 (2), Part 2. BENVENISTE, EMILE

1954 La classification des langues. Conferences de VInstitut de Linguistique de Γ Universite de Paris 11: 32-50. 1966 Problimes de linguistique generale. Paris: Gallimard. BERLIN, Β., P. KAY

1969 Basic color terms: their universality and evolution. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. BIRNBAUM, HENRIK

1971 Problems of typological and genetic linguistics viewed in a generative framework. Janua Linguarum, Series Minor 106. The Hague: Mouton. BOAS, FRANZ

1911 "Introduction," in Handbook of American Indian languages. Edited by Franz Boas, 1-83. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institute. BOLINGER, DWIGHT L.

1966 Transformulation: structural translation. Acta Linguistica Hafniensia 9(2): 130-144. BROWN, ROGER W.

1970 Psycholinguistics: selected papers. New York: The Free Press. BROWN, ROGER W., ALBERT GILMAN

1960 "The pronouns of power and solidarity," in Style in language. Edited by Thomas A. Sebeok, 354-376. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. CASAGRANDE, JOSEPH B.

1966 "Language universals in anthropological prospective," in Universals in language, second edition. Edited by Joseph H. Greenberg. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. CATFORD, J. c .

1967 A linguistic theory of translation. Language and Language Learning Series. London: Oxford University Press. DINGWALL, WILLIAM ORR

1964 Transformational generative grammar and contrastive analysis. Language Learning 14: 147-160. DI PIETRO, ROBERT J.

1970 The discovery of universals in multilingualism. Monograph Series on Languages and Linguistics 23: 13-22. ELLIS, JEFFREY

1958 General linguistics and comparative philology. Lingua 7: 134-174. 1966 Towards a general comparative linguistics. The Hague: Mouton.

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FASOLD, RALPH W .

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1965 The evolution of grammatical categories. Diogenes 51 (Fall): 55-71. KUZNETSOV, p . s .

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1953 Oneida verb morphology. New Haven: Yale University Press. LYONS, JOHN

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1962 Etymology and general linguistics. Word 18: 1-2, 198-219. MALMBERG, BERTIL

1962 La notion de "force" et les changements phonetiques. Studia Linguistica 16: 38-44. MARTINET, ANDR£, editor 1968 Le langage. Encyclopedie de la P16iade 25. Paris: Gallimard. (On language classification.) MATTHEWS, P. H.

1965 The inflectional component of a word-and-paradigm grammar. Journal of Linguistics 1: 139-171. 1970 "Recent developments in morphology," in New horizons in linguistics. Edited by John Lyons, 96-114. Harmondsworth: Pelican.

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1972 Colour and colour terminology. Journal of Linguistics 8: 21-33. MC CAWLEY, JAMES D .

1970 English as a VSO language. Lg 46: 286-299. MC FARLANE, J.

1953 Modes of translation. Durham University Journal 45. MEHTA, VED

1971 John is easy to please: encounters -with the written and the spoken word. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux; London: Seeker and Warburg. MEILLET, ANTOINE

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1950 Typology of languages. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America 22: 698-701. (Discusses the phonological shapes of words.) MENZERATH, PAUL, W . MEYER-EPPLER

1950 Sprachtypologische Untersuchungen I. Allgemeine Einführung und TTieorie der Wortbildung. Studio Linguistica 4: 54-93. MILEWSKI, TADEUSZ

1950a Podstawy teoretyczne typologii jezykow. Bulletin de la societe polonaise de linguistique 10:122-140. (Discusses the theoretical basis of language typology.) 1950b La structure de la phrase dans les langues indig£nes de l'Am6rique du Nord. Lingua Posnanensis 2: 162-207. (Reviewed by Voegelin 1952.) 1951 The conception of the word in the languages of North American natives. Lingua Posnanensis 3: 248-267. 1953 Typologia syntaktyczna jezykow Amerykanskich [Syntactic typology of American (Indian) languages]. Bulletin de la Societe polonaise de linguistique 12: 1-24. 1954 Phonological typology of American Indian languages. Lingua Posnansensis 4: 229-276. 1955 Comparaison des syst&nes phonologiques des langues caucasiennes et an^ricaines. Lingua Posnanensis 5: 136-165. (Reviewed by Hymes 1956.) 1957 Le probteme des lois en linguistique g6nerale. Lingua Posnanensis 6: 120-136. MOORE, B. R.

1961 A statistical morpho-syntactic typology study of Colorado (Chibcha). IJAL 27: 298-307. MOUNIN, GEORGES

1963 Lesproblimes theoriques de la traduction. Paris: Gallimard. MURDOCK, GEORGE P.

1959 Cross-language parallels in parental kin terms. AL 1 (9): 1-5.

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NEWMAN, STANLEY S.

1954 Suggestions on the archiving of linguistic material. IJAL 20: 111-115. NIDA, EUGENE A.

1945 Linguistics and ethnology in translation-problems. Word 1: 194-208. (Reprinted in Hymes [ed.] 1964 : 90-97.) 1964 Toward a science of translating: with special reference to principles and procedures involved in Bible translating. Leiden: E. J. Brill. (Reviewed by Waterman 1966.) 1969 Science of translation. Lg 45: 483-498. NIDA, EUGENE Α., CHARLES R. TABER

1969 The theory and practice of translation. Helps for Translators 8. Leiden: E. J. Brill. ODENDAL, F. F.

1963 Limitations of morphological processes: a note. Lingua 12: 220-225. (Cf. Uhlenbeck 1962.) OSGOOD, CHARLES E.

1960 The cross-cultural generality of visual-verbal synesthetic tendencies. Behavioral Science 5: 146-149. 1966 "Language universals and psycholinguistics," in Universals in language, second edition. Edited by Joseph H. Greenberg. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. PEDERSEN, HOLGER

1949 Ist eine allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft auf empirischer Grundlage möglich? Archiv Orientalni 17: 236-238. PIERCE, JOE E.

1962 Possible electronic computation of typological indices for linguistic structures. UAL 28: 215-226. PIKE, KENNETH L.

1948 Tone languages. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. POSTAL, PAUL M.

1970 "The method of universal grammar," in Method and theory in linguistics. Edited by Paul Garvin, 113-131. The Hague: Mouton. (Illustrated with reflexivization in English and Mohawk.) RAMANUJAN, A. K., COLIN MASICA

1960 "Toward a phonological typology of the Indian linguistic area," in Linguistics in South Asia. Edited by Thomas A. Sebeok, 543-577. Current Trends in Linguistics 5. The Hague: Mouton. REICHLING, ANTON

1958 What is general linguistics? Lingua 1: 8-24. ROBINS, R. H.

1952 Noun and verb in universal grammar. Lg 28: 289-298. 1959 In defence of WP. Transactions of the Philological Society, 116144. ROMPORTL, M.

1955 Zum Problem der Fragenmelodie. Lingua 5: 87-108. ROYEN, G.

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1932 The expression of the ending-point relation in English, French, and German. Lg Monograph 10. SAPORTA,SOL

1957 Methodological considerations regarding a statistical approach to typologies. UAL 23: 107-113. (Especially phonological typologies.) SCHMIDT, κ . H.

1966 Historische Sprachvergleichung und ihre typologische Ergänzung. Zeitschrift für Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 116: 8-22. SCHMIDT, WILHELM

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1965 Syntactic translation. The Hague: Mouton. TRAGER, GEORGE L.

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1953 Descriptive semantics and linguistic typology. Word 9: 225-240. 1960 The study of the so-called exotic languages and general linguistics. Lingua 9 : 417-434. URE, JEAN, ALEXANDER RODGER, JEFFREY ELLIS

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1965 Structurnaja tipologija jazykov. Moscow: Nauka. (Translated 1968 as Principles of structural typology. The Hague: Mouton.) VAN HOOF, HENRI

1962 Theorie et pratique de Vinterpretation, avec application particuliire ά Γanglais et au frangais. Munich: Max Hüber. VOEGELIN, CARL F.

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1957 Frequencies and inventories of phonemes in nine languages. I J AL 23: 85-93.

SECTION THREE

Languages: Areas and Influences

The Emerging Linguistic Picture and Linguistic Prehistory of the Southwestern Pacific

S. A. WURM

Since the mid-fifties, revolutionary changes on a quite unprecedented scale have taken place in the linguistic picture of the three distinct linguistic worlds in the southwestern Pacific, i.e. the Papuan, Australian, and the southwestern Pacific Austronesian languages.

1. THE PAPUAN LANGUAGES 1.1. The Present Linguistic Picture In the Papuan linguistic world, which is located in the New Guinea area extending from the Timor, Alor, and Halmahera Islands in the west across New Guinea, the Bismarck Archipelago, and the Solomon Islands to the Santa Cruz Islands in the east, the picture of a vast conglomerate of hundreds of unrelated languages, some of them forming small separate groups, has gradually changed to one allowing for a limited number of large separate groups, then to the recognition of links between most of these large groups (Wurm 1971a), to ultimately develop into the present picture in which the 723 Papuan languages recognized to date can be grouped into six large separate phyla comprising 491, 97, 47, 24, and 28 languages and five minor unrelated phylic groups containing a total of 28 languages, with a residue of 8 isolates (McElhanon and Voorhoeve 1970; Wurm 1972a, 1972c; Laycock 1973). The largest of these groups, named the Trans-New Guinea phylum, occupies about four-fifths of the New Guinea mainland and extends through most of its central and southern part from the Bomberai Peninsula in western West Irian to the eastern tail

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end of Papua New Guinea. The second and third largest phyla, named the Sepik-Ramu and the Torricelli phyla, are located in the northern portion of Papua New Guinea, whereas the West Papuan phylum occupies much of the Yogelkop Peninsula in western West Irian and areas adjacent to it, as well as the western island world of the New Guinea area. The East Papuan phylum comprises the Papuan languages of the island world to the east of the New Guinea mainland. The six minor phylic groups are all located in mainland New Guinea, four in the north and two in the northwest, whereas the isolates are scattered throughout the mainland, with their heaviest concentration in its central northern portion. Some northern parts of West Irian are still linguistically unknown, and on the basis of the known small size of the population these are believed to contain not more than five to perhaps maximally twenty unknown languages.

1.2. Language Migrations During the development of the present linguistic picture over the last two decades, a considerable amount of linguistic and interdisciplinary evidence has come to light which allows certain conclusions to be drawn regarding the nature, directions, and chronological sequence of past linguistic migrations into and within the New Guinea area. 1.2.1. LINGUISTIC EVIDENCE. In a nutshell, the linguistic evidence for such language migrations consists of the following (Wurm 1975): 1.2.1.1. Personal Pronouns. The personal pronoun forms encountered in almost all Papuan languages belong to three distinct main sets which contain a few subsets. The distribution of these sets is regionally well defined and cuts across relationship boundaries in many instances. In many languages, separate masculine and feminine forms appear in the third person singular; in some languages which show no gender distinction and which are predominantly situated to the east of the two-gender languages, the third person singular pronoun forms appear to be fused from elements which are formally similar to the masculine and feminine pronouns in the two gender-languages. Similarly, in some parts of southern central New Guinea which seem to have been areas of extensive language contact in view of the mixture of elsewhere separate typological and other features, pronominal forms are encountered which seem to be products of a fusion between pronominal members of two different sets. Such forms reappear further east in well-defined areas along a potential language

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migration route. Furthermore, apparently more archaic pronominal forms of at least two of the sets predominate in western parts of the mainland. 1.2.1.2. Typology and Structural Features. The majority of the Papuan languages belongs to two main types which show considerable distributional parallelism with the occurrence of two of the main pronominal sets mentioned above, with languages containing the third set belonging to either of the types, with that associated with the first of the two main sets predominating. There is, however, considerable mutual influence and overlap between the two main types, and two more minor types are found, as well as some special types of rather restricted occurrence. Here again, mutual influences and overlap are strongly in evidence. Apart from the similarities in the pronoun forms — and in part also in the systems — as mentioned above, there is widespread identity or great formal similarity, in subject and, even more so, object markers with verbs in a wide region within the Trans-New Guinea phylum, stretching from the Huon Peninsula, Finisterre ranges, and adjacent areas through the eastern portion of the highlands of Papua New Guinea, along the northern slope of the highlands ranges to the central "hub" area of New Guinea, and from there to the west to the western end of the highlands in West Irian, and apparently even a little beyond into the Bomberai Peninsula. This phenomenon is most strongly in evidence in the east, and progressively weakens westwards, and largely parallels the strongest distribution of the Austronesian loanwords mentioned below (see 1.2.1.3). There is considerable additional evidence concerning the patterned distribution of typological and structural features in various parts of the New Guinnea area (e.g. Wurm 1964) which allows some conclusions to be drawn regarding possible past language migrations in the area. 1.2.1.3. Austronesian Loanwords. In their work on the establishment of the Trans-New Guinea phylum, McElhanon and Voorhoeve (1970) discovered the presence of a number of Austronesian loanwords, some of them recognizably of Eastern Oceanic type, in the far interior of the New Guinea mainland. Further work by the present writer (Wurm 1975) has shown that such loanwords are present over a wider area than originally assumed by McElhanon and Voorhoeve, as far as the Bomberai Peninsula in West Irian, and that their main distribution parallels that of the occurrence of the subject and object markers mentioned above in 1.2.1.2. Like the markers, the loanwords are most strongly present in the east. 1.2.1.4.

Vocabulary. Lexical evidence parallels that provided by typo-

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logical and structural data in many instances, but there are quite a few cases of marked contradictions between the two types of evidence. Many of these can be explained in terms of extensive borrowing between languages on all levels (see below 1.2.1.5). Vocabulary is most extensively affected by this borrowing, and lexical evidence by itself has, in consequence, been found to constitute a criterion of very doubtful validity in the Papuan linguistic world — it only becomes valuable if supported by additional evidence (McElhanon 1969-1970; Wurm i.p.c). Lexical evidence can become important if it constitutes an obvious substratum feature. So, for instance, a strong lexical substratum of an East Papuan phylum type (see 1.1) is present in the southeastern tail end of the New Guinea mainland in Trans-New Guinea phylum languages (T. Dutton, personal communication). 1.2.1.5. Sociolinguistic Factors. A special characteristic of the Papuan linguistic world is the ease with which features generally believed "unborrowable," or at least not readily borrowable, have apparently been borrowed between languages to a very marked extent. Basic vocabulary items of one language which, according to the postulates of lexicostatistics, are "unborrowable," can often be found as quite obvious loanwords in another totally unrelated language; pronouns, singly and in sets, are taken over by languages from other languages, and the structures of many languages have ostensibly undergone quite drastic changes under the influence of other, at times unrelated, languages. Phonologies can change extensively under such an influence, and the only apparently relatively stable and persistent items and features in Papuan languages which, in consequence, have considerable diagnostic importance in comparative and classificatory work, are constituted by verbs as lexical items, some structural features of verbs and their underlying principles, principles underlying pronominal systems — to a much lesser extent the pronouns themselves as lexical items — and semantic characteristics of groupings of lexical items (e.g. "fire" and "tree" can, in one language, be different meanings of one lexical item, but, in another, the meanings of two different lexical items; such principles are preserved in a particular language even if the lexical items themselves are borrowed into it from another language in which such items have semantic ranges which are completely at variance with those prevailing in the borrowing languages). There are several instances of languages, especially in the Sepik-Ramu phylum, which show differing phonologies, relatively little cognation in nouns, and great differences in the form, not the system, of their pronouns, but which have many verbs and much of their verb morphology in common.

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Instances of languages changing quite rapidly under the influence of other languages can be observed today in the New Guinea area, and, while the reasons for the very extensive nature of mutual language influences in the Papuan linguistic world have not yet been studied in detail, it appears that the prevalence of active and passive bi- and multilingualism in the New Guinea area may well be a contributing factor. The problem of "mixed" languages comes very much to the fore in this connection, and, though this is not the place to discuss it, it seems that the question deserves a reexamination in the light of the results of Papuan linguistics (Wurm 1972a, 1975). At the same time, all the problems briefly touched upon have considerable bearing upon the question of past language migrations. 1.2.2. INTERDISCIPLINARY EVIDENCE. In addition to the linguistic evidence, a considerable amount of interdisciplinary evidence is at hand which helps corroborate conclusions drawn regarding language migrations on the basis of linguistic evidence and which is also of great value in providing answers in cases in which the linguistic evidence is inconclusive. Evidence of this kind is provided by prehistory, such as the valuable recent discovery that the presence of the pig in New Guinea dates back only 5,000 years or less (J. Golson, personal communication), which ties in well with the date at which the Austronesians are believed to have entered the New Guinea area (Wurm 1967) and with the presence of an Eastern Oceanic Austronesian loanword for "pig" in many Papuan languages (see above 1.2.1.3). Physical anthropology also provides important clues, such as the high presence of the Gerbich A negative blood type (D. Laycock, personal communication from P. Booth) which is a unique characteristic of speakers of Torricelli phylum languages and adjacent areas, amongst present-day Austronesian speakers of the Markham Valley, and also in near-coastal areas of the Papuan Gulf. Other kinds of interdisciplinary evidence have been drawn upon in the consideration of possible past language migrations (Wurm 1964, 1966). Cumulative linguistic and interdisciplinary evidence has led to interesting results in such studies (Wurm 1964, 1966; Voorhoeve 1969), and has been relied upon in arriving at the presently held tentative views concerning the past linguistic migrations in the New Guinea area (Wurm 1972a, 1975) which will be briefly outlined below. 1.2.3. THE MIGRATION PICTURE. It appears that the antiquity of man in the New Guinea area is of the order of 60,000+ years (Golson 1966a, 1966b), and it may perhaps be possible to suggest that at least some of the isolates and small groups, as well as the languages of the Torricelli phylum,

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are directly descended from very old languages, or at least contain very old substrata. Of the substrata observable in mostly aberrant and subphylum level, members of the Trans-New Guinea and Sepik-Ramu phyla, some may be quite old too, and the same may well apply to some of the elements found in the West Papuan and East Papuan phyla. In general, however, it seems unlikely that the bulk of the language elements present in the TransNew Guinea and Sepik-Ramu phyla have been in the New Guinea area longer than 10,000 years at the most, with the time-depth probably somewhat greater in the case of the West Papuan and East Papuan phyla. It seems impossible even to venture a guess at this stage, from where and by which route the very old languages and substrata referred to above may have entered the New Guinea area and spread within it. It seems only plausible to assume that they came through the island world to the west of the New Guinea area from a region yet to be determined. Interdisciplinary evidence and the study of languages spoken by Negritos in southeast Asia and on the Andaman Islands may contribute to the solution of this problem. At this point, it may be appropriate to call the reader's attention to Greenberg's work (1960, 1971), where he suggests a connection between the Papuan languages of the New Guinea area and the languages of the Andaman Islanders. The first tangible evidence referring to a much later, though well preAustronesian (i.e. well pre-3000 B.C.) date are indications given by distribution of the pronoun sets mentioned in 1.2.1.1. It appears that the pronoun forms of the first basic set — and with it an archaic lexical and at least in part also typological Trans-New Guinea phylum element — may perhaps have entered the New Guinea area via Timor and Alor from where they reached the Bomberai Peninsula and the south coast of the Vogelkop Peninsula, and proceeded east through the West New Guinea highlands to a central region around the present West Irian-Papua New Guinea border. It is in this general area that the pronominal forms fused from two elements as mentioned in 1.2.1.1 are mainly found — they seem to reflect a strong contact situation between the strata represented by the first basic pronoun set and associated features and the second basic set and typological characteristics connected with it. Such contact situations may have been located both in the "neck" portion southeast of the Vogelkop Peninsula, where the two language migrations seem to have crossed, and in the central and central southern part of the mainland. From this central region, the element characterized by the first main set pronouns appears to have spread centrally to the east to a moderate extent, into the highlands of what is today Papua New Guinea, and to a much greater extent to the southeast, perhaps as far as the Trans-Fly

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and — in addition to moving also in other directions (see below) — along an easterly route inland from the Papuan Gulf and then north into the Markham Valley and Finisterre Range-Huon peninsula area. Archaic fused forms are also found in that region. From there it appears to have penetrated and moved westwards, to some extent, into the highlands and also to have proceeded into the southeastern tail end of the mainland quite strongly, spreading into New Britain and the islands to the east as well to quite some extent. It appears that the penetration of this language migration which could be referred to as the first Trans-New Guinea phylum migration, into the southeastern tail end of New Guinea dislodged another, earlier language group there which moved out to Rossel Island, east of the tail end of the mainland, and to the New BritainNew Ireland area, perhaps superimposing itself upon even earlier languages there; New Britain appears to have been originally inhabited by representatives of a Papuan culture according to prehistoric evidence (see 3.2.2). From Rossel Island the displaced language group which left behind a clearly recognizable substratum on the southeastern tail end of the mainland seems to have later spread to the Bougainville and Vella Lavella Islands in the Solomon Islands chain — probably as a result of Austronesian cultural influence (see 3.2.2) — and largely from the latter to the New Georgia, Rendova, Russel, and Savo Islands in the Solomons, and eventually into the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands far to the east. In consequence, all the Papuan languages located in the eastern island world are interrelated and form the East Papuan phylum (see 1.1) which is a distinct phylum though it shows quite noticeable traces of the influence of the displacing early Trans-New Guinea phylum languages. From the central region near the present West Irian-Papua New Guinea border mentioned before, the language element under discussion appears to have spread also to the southwest, and also to the north where it is typologically and lexically strongly in evidence in the Sentani area near the northeastern coast of West Irian, though the pronouns have been replaced by those of the second and third basic sets. Voorhoeve (1969) found clear evidence in support of a closer connection between Sentani on the northeastern and Asmat on the central southern coast of West Irian, with the nature of the evidence pointing to the ancestral forms or form of both languages having been spoken in a low-lying swampy area. It seems possible to assume that the migration referred to above may have separated the ancestral forms of Sentani and Asmat, with their ancestral area lying centrally in the present-day West Irian-Papua New Guinea border area, perhaps in the Upper Sepik or the Upper Fly region, with the latter being perhaps more likely in view of the fact that an old Trans-New Guinea

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phylum type of language is more strongly represented in the south than in the north. It also seems that the language migration under discussion may have, to some extent, moved to the northeast into the Sepik-Ramu area. The pronoun forms of the second and third basic sets, along with typological characteristics usually associated with the second set, appear to have reached the New Guinea area via northern Halmahera and the northern main part of the Vogelkop Peninsula from where the second set of pronouns and associated typological features seem to have spread into the "neck" portion of the western part of the New Guinea mainland and from there through the southern lowlands of present-day West Irian to what is today the southeast of West-Irian and the Trans-Fly area on the Papuan side. As a set of typological features, this stratum is also present further north in the center of the mainland, and, both in the pronoun forms and the typological features, is strongly in evidence in the northern central coastal and Sepik-Ramu areas. Too little is known about most of the languages of northern West Irian to make a suggestion as to whether this stratum has reached the northern central coastal and Sepik-Ramu areas via a route from the "neck" portion through what is today northern West Irian, or whether it came from the center of the mainland. The former seems perhaps more likely. From the center of the mainland, second basic set pronoun forms have, to a limited extent, moved east through what is today the highlands of Papua New Guinea, into the southeastern tail end, and further east into the islands. The pronoun forms of the third basic set seem to have moved from the Vogelkop Peninsula area along the northern coastal and near-coastal areas all the way across to the present-day Madang District area of Papua New Guinea. From there they appear to have moved southwards through the central part of the highlands area into the Papuan Gulf region, and, to a limited extent, into the southeastern tail end of the mainland and the islands. In the Madang District area and the mainland areas mentioned after it, the languages are members of the Trans-New Guinea phylum and, as such, generally of the type associated with the pronoun forms of the first basic set. The same applies to some of the central northern coastal languages. It may well be that, after moving out of the Vogelkop Peninsula area, the language migration carrying pronouns of this third set was, under Trans-New Guinea phylum language influence, also carrying a somewhat aberrant form of the language type often co-occurring with the presence of pronouns of the first sets. Of the two main language migrations mentioned above in connection with the pronoun forms of the first and second major sets, the second one

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may be assumed to have come earlier, because typological features and pronominal forms associated with it are found in many instances as substratum features in language groups attributable to the first, the TransNew Guinea phylum, migration. Also, the pronoun forms and typological features connected with the second migration mentioned appear in language groups which are regarded as archaic for a variety of reasons. The third migration connected with the pronoun forms of the third set may have been appreciably later than the second set migration, and may also postdate the first, i.e. west-to-east (see above) Trans-New Guinea phylum language migration. Following the assumed migratory movements outlined above, a major disturbing influence appears to have affected the linguistic picture of the New Guinea mainland from approximately 5,000 or fewer years ago in the shape of an Austronesian immigration centering on the Markham Valley. That area appears at that time to have been occupied by a late form of the original Trans-New Guinea phylum languages which were characterized by certain sets of subject and object person markers with verbs, and certain typological features. These languages appear to have started migrating quite extensively some time after the Austronesian contact, which had been prolonged enough to leave a number of basic vocabulary Austronesian loanwords — some of them already mentioned in 1.2.1.3, of Eastern Oceanic type — in them. These migrations followed essentially three directions: north and northwest into the Huon Peninsula, Finisterre Range, and the present-day Madang District areas, and southwest into what is today the Eastern Highlands District as far as the Chimbu District border, and into the Kukukuku (or Anga) area further east where the originally, probably unrelated languages of the Kukukuku people were replaced by a late Trans-New Guinea phylum language with a strong substratum. This subsequently developed into the Anga Stock. The migration into the present-day Eastern Highlands District area may have exercised some population pressure westwards and contributed to a westward expansion of the highlands languages into areas formerly unoccupied or occupied by speakers of languages which penetrated there from the first Trans-New Guinea phylum language migration, perhaps displacing such languages to the south into the area of the Papuan Plateau. The third migration direction was due west and seems to have followed the northern slope of the highlands ranges to the central hub area of New Guinea. All along these routes, and further west, the typological features and Austronesian loanwords are present. From the central hub area, the language migration appears to have continued in several directions: north and northeast into the present-day border area between West Irian and Papua New Guinea and the region

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to the east of it, where the Trans-New Guinea phylum languages superimposed themselves upon unrelated languages brought in earlier by the Sepik-Ramu phylum migration (see below) or languages of other groups, leaving a marked influence upon them in terms of lexical, pronominal, and typological features, with this influence being so strong in some instances that the languages affected are now classifiable as members of the Trans-New Guinea phylum. However, its influence is very weak in the Sentani Lake area in northeastern West Irian. The language migration also seems to have moved to the south, southwest, and southeast, down the Digul, Fly, and Strickland rivers, where its influence is strongly in evidence in the Awju, Bedamini, and Ok families of the Central and South New Guinea stock, and also in the Marind stock. Its influence is still noticeable along the Lower Fly, and peters out in the Fly Delta area and the Trans-Fly. On the southwestern side, its influence peters out west of the Eilanden River in the Kamoro-Sempan-Asmat family of the Central and South New Guinea stock. In view of the weakness of the influence of this second, later Trans-New Guinea phylum migration in both the Asmat and Sentani language areas, it seems unlikely that the similarities between these two languages as observed by Voorhoeve (1969 — see above) may be attributable to this relatively late influence which is common to both. The main direction of the continuation of the language migration under discussion seems, however, to have been towards the west into the highlands areas of West New Guinea right across to the "neck" portion of the mainland, and from there into the northwestern extremity of the Bomberai Peninsula. It could be thought of as a possibility that, under the impact of this late Trans-New Guinea phylum language immigration into the Bomberai Peninsula, a West Papuan phylum language of the Vogelkop Peninsula type already located in the Bomberai Peninsula — such as languages of this type still found today east of that peninsula in the "neck" portion — may, having been exposed to strong Trans-New Guinea phylum influence, have been dislocated and may have moved into the Timor-Alor area. This could offer an explanation for the strong Trans-New Guinea phylum influence in the languages of that area rather than the assumption that the original eastward Trans-New Guinea phylum language migration might have come through the Timor area — the languages of that area may not really be different enough from the Vogelkop Peninsula languages to allow for the great time-depth required to justify this latter assumption. At the same time, Timor must have, at the time of the later westward Trans-New Guinea phylum language migration, already been occupied by Austro-

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nesian languages, and the location of the inland Papuan languages on Timor and Alor where they are encroached upon by the Austronesian languages which surround them may militate against their later intrusion — though they are concentrated in the northeastern end of Timor which is closest to the Vogelkop Peninsula. This question still requires further study. Quite independently from the Trans-New Guinea phylum language immigration into the New Guinea area, and probably preceding it by a comparatively short span of time, another language immigration carrying the ancestral forms of the Sepik-Ramu phylum languages appears to have entered the New Guinea mainland on the north coast approximately in the present-day West Irian-Papua New Guinea border area, and penetrated south, and then to the east and northeast as far as the country between the lower Sepik and the Ramu. These languages appear to have been originally of a comparatively simple basic type, and this type is still largely preserved in the east where only little, if any, influence of the Torricelli phylum languages is discernable in them. In the west, the languages have been subject to a succession of multiple influences from various sources: the unrelated languages and language groups probably ancestral to the area, the Torricelli phylum languages which appear to have pressed southward at some time, the first and the second Trans-New Guinea phylum language migrations, and, in the north, the Sko stock languages which may be the latest to reach the area. As a result, the SepikRamu phylum languages show considerable diversity in their vocabulary and typology, though they are recognizably interrelated, and the language fragmentation there, in relation to the size of the region, is among the highest in the New Guinea area, just as the average number of speakers per language is among the lowest. The assumed southward movement of the Torricelli phylum languages may well be attributable to the influence of the language migration which carried the pronoun forms of the third basic set (see above) along the northern coastal areas — or more probably the foothill areas because of the physical difficulties of moving along the coastal plains — to the present Madang District area and beyond. This is borne out by the fact that a unique blood type characteristic, Gerbich A negative (D. Laycock, personal communication from P. Booth), of the present-day Torricelli phylum language speakers and people of surrounding areas is also encountered among present-day Austronesian speakers in the Markham Valley, obviously betraying the presence of a group there of now Austronesianized, originally Torricelli phylum, language speakers, who may have, perhaps under pressure, moved ahead of the migration of the people carrying the language type characterized by pronoun forms of the third

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basic set and, upon reaching the Ramu, followed it down and crossed over into the Markham Valley. It may be mentioned that the same blood group is also met with on the coast of the Papuan Gulf — directly to the south of the end-point of the presumed migration from the present-day Madang District area (see above) of the language type carrying the pronouns of the third basic set. If it is true that this particular language migration was carrying a somewhat aberrant Trans-New Guinea phylum language type, as has been indicated above as a possibility, this may constitute an added explanation for the comparatively strong presence of Trans-New Guinea phylum influence in much of the Sepik-Ramu and Torricelli phyla areas. A central group of speakers of ancestral Sepik-Ramu phylum languages appear to have moved south into the highlands area, perhaps under the pressure of the Torricelli phylum language speakers who were moving south. In the highlands area, they appeared to have, at a later stage, come into contact with Trans-New Guinea phylum languages and were quite markedly influenced by them. Subsequently, they moved north into the Middle Sepik area and to the north coast, splitting the Torricelli phylum languages into two sections by absorbing the connecting part which constitutes a substratum in them in the north. A small third group of Torricelli phylum languages is found further east on the northern coast of the present-day Madang District — more likely an old refugee group than the result of another break in the original Torricelli phylum area — as a result of the eastern end of the original Sepik-Ramu phylum language migration reaching the coast. The present-day Torricelli phylum languages are quite numerous, but relatively similar to each other, which appears to militate against the assumption of their great antiquity in the area, as has been suggested at the beginning of this chapter. The explanation of this problem may be that most of the original Torricelli-type languages were absorbed by other languages, and disappeared as a result of the various language migrations referred to above, and only one or several very closely related languages survived to become the comparatively recent ancestral language(s) of the present-day Torricelli phylum languages. Among the small groups in the Western Sepik District, the languages of the Sko phylum-level stock may perhaps be relatively late arrivals on the New Guinea scene. They are coastal languages with a tonal morphology which is unique in the New Guinea area, though they also show quite a strong Trans-New Guinea phylum pronominal and lexical influence. The speakers of these languages use tacking sailing canoes, which again are unique in the New Guinea area, and have their closest occurrences in

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present-day Indonesia. This language group deserves careful comparison westwards as it does not seem impossible that its origin, or at least an element in it, may be traceable far to the west.

2. THE AUSTRALIAN LANGUAGES 2.1. The Present Linguistic Picture The present linguistic picture in Australia has emerged on the basis of pioneering work carried out by Capell over many years (e.g. 1956), work by O'Grady, Voegelin and Voegelin (1966), O'Grady, Wurm, and Hale (1966), and a large number of other linguists, with comprehensive discussions presented in Wurm (1971b, 1972e). It seems that the approximately 260 Australian languages which are assumed to be all genetically interrelated, though the extinct Tasmanian languages seem to be unrelated to them, can be assigned to twenty-five distinct so-called phylic families — each of them characterized internally by often very considerable structural similarities, with accompanying markedly low percentages of shared vocabulary cognates in a great number of such cases. At the same time, there is remarkable phonological uniformity throughout most of Australia which may either be attributed to diffusion, or to the apparently complete lack of influence by non-Australian languages over almost the entire continent through many millennia, which may have resulted in extreme conservatism on the phonological level. The very far-reaching phonological innovations and changes in the few areas of Australia in which influence by non-Australian languages can plausibly be assumed (e.g. Cape York Peninsula) seem to bear out this assumption. Of these twenty-five families, twenty-four are located in the northern and northwestern part of Australia and occupy only one-eighth of its total area, whereas the remaining seven-eighths constitutes the realm of the languages of the twenty-fifth family.

2.2. Language Migrations As in the case with the Papuan languages (see 1.2), linguistic and interdisciplinary evidence at hand allows conclusions to be drawn concerning possible past language migrations in Australia. 2.2.1.

THE LINGUISTIC EVIDENCE AND CONCLUSIONS BASED ON IT.

The

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uneven distribution of the twenty-five language families in Australia is in itself a remarkable fact which is more interesting for Australian linguistic prehistory because of the distribution of the groups constituting the large southern family: three of the forty groups composing this family are very large, one of them covering the entire western half of the territory of the family, and the other two a large portion of its eastern half, from the tip of Cape York Peninsula southwards as far as the Murray River on the border between Victoria and New South Wales. Fourteen groups of predominantly smallish geographical extent form a north-to-south central column between these three large groups in the east and west, with a fifteenth group constituting its separate top in northeastern Arnhem Land. Eleven further groups occupy the southern and the eastern coastal and near-coastal areas of Australia in an unbroken stretch extending from the Victorian-South Australian border to a point on the Queensland coast, halfway between the Queensland-New South Wales border and the base of Cape York Peninsula. Five further smallish groups are located on or near the east coast of Cape York Peninsula. Five more small groups, in part doubtful, occupy the western half of the base of Cape York Peninsula and the eastern Gulf Country, and one is on the western islands of Torres Strait. On the basis of a part of this picture, Hale (1964) postulates that the speakers of languages ancestral to the present-day Australian languages entered Australia in the area west of the Gulf of Carpentaria. He basis his view on Dyen's model (1956, 1962) for population spread from linguistically complex to linguistically more uniform areas, and also regards the same area as the center of dispersal of languages within Australia. The linguistic situation described above, and the varying concentrations of a Common Australian vocabulary in different parts of the continent, the geographically marginal distribution of some of the Common Australian reflexes, the often marginal occurrence of lexical cognates in widely separated areas, and the presence of almost exclusively marginally located regional vocabularies in Australia strongly suggest that this state of affairs may be the result of later migrations. Capell (1956, 1962) assumes that these migrations have been those of speakers of original Common Australian who spread their language and imposed it so thoroughly upon earlier languages in Australia that the original linguistic pattern of the premigration period is no longer recognizable. This appears acceptable, and, considering Hales' above-mentioned view concerning the dispersal area of Australian languages, it seems plausible to assume that migrations into other parts of the continent, of some of

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the diverse, but ultimately genetically related, original Australian languages which developed in the north, had antedated the spreading of Common Australian. The latter may very well have been one of these original Australian languages which, at some time in the past, started to spread extensively and powerfully through most of the continent, forcing the earlier languages into marginal areas of the continent in the south, east, and west, and into a central north-to-south column, superimposing upon them much of its vocabulary and features, and influencing them until only such vestiges of them remained as are manifested by the regional vocabularies, widely scattered vocabulary cognates, and characteristics reflecting Common Australian influence and features in aberrant ways. The linguistic situation in the north and in the other parts of the continent, as well as the distribution of the percentages of the Common Australian vocabulary reflexes suggest that the starting point of the diffusion of Common Australian may have been in the northwest, in an area south of the Kimberleys, perhaps close to the coast. From there, Common Australian appears to have spread to the southeast and south. Two further strong sections of it seem to have radiated out from a near-coastal point south of the base of Cape York Peninsula in eastern Australia, and from central New South Wales. It appears that these two centers of dispersal may have resulted from a west-to-east migration of Common Australian in the early days of the spread of the latter, with this migration splitting into a northeastern and southeastern section which became the focal points for a subsequent secondary expansion of Common Australian. At the same time, there has been a strong Common Australian spread into northeastern Arnhem Land where languages with comparatively high Common Australian content are surrounded by typologically and, for the most part, lexically quite different languages with very low Common Australian content. These northeastern Arnhem Land languages apparently spread into their present area as a result of a southwest-to-northeast migration of Common Australian from the region to the south of Arnhem Land, either at the same time as the west-to-east migration of Common Australian mentioned above, or at a later date. The languages show considerable similarity with languages south of western Arnhem Land, and available evidence precludes the possibility that these northeastern Arnhem Land languages may constitute the point of origin of the diffusion of Common Australian through the continent. It may be pointed out that languages in some of the areas with regional vocabularies, in particular Victoria, show typological features which bring them closer to the languages of the assumed original northern dispersal area. Attention may also be drawn to the formal similarity existing

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between relevant function morphemes in the Narrinyeri language in the south and the Yanyula language in the north. It seems plausible to suggest that the ancestors of those present-day languages which show the greatest concentration of Common Australian characteristics have separated the ancestors of the southern languages, whose present-day descendents show regional vocabularies, from the other original Australian languages in the north. At the same time, it seems possible that the Arandic languages of Central Australia may have been separated from the Cape York Peninsula languages, and pushed to the south, by the assumed west-to-east migration of Common Australian which has been referred to above. 2.2.2.

INTERDISCIPLINARY EVIDENCE

2.2.2.1. Prehistory. The most valuable interdisciplinary evidence for Australian linguistic prehistory comes from the study of prehistory. A considerable amount of work in Australian prehistory has been undertaken in recent years under the auspices of the Australian National University, the University of Sydney, the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, the University of California, and other institutions. The essence of the findings is as follows (Mulvaney 1966, 1969, and personal communication to the author). Australian prehistory displays two phases which differ from each other in a technological change from the earlier sole use of nonhafted, handheld, and relatively unspecialized stone artifacts to the subsequent employment of many specialized stone artifacts, including ground axes which were hafted and constituted composite implements. The first phase lasts from the beginning of Australian prehistory — now known to date back to at least 25,000 B.C. and probably much farther — to around 3000 B.C. At that time, the second phase appears with relative suddenness at excavation sites located in geographically widely separated parts of Australia, ranging from central Queensland, New South Wales, and southwestern South Australia to the base of Arnhem Land. In the millennia following 3000 B.C., the rate of technological advance appears to have accelerated. Mulvaney assumes that at least some of the new technology diffused via western and northwestern Australia (Mulvaney 1966, 1969). The situation in Arnhem Land is different. C. White, working under the auspices of the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies and the Australian National University, recently found ground stone axe heads, presumably hafted, at a northern Arnhem Land site in contexts older than

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18,000 years (White, personal communication). In this it may be taken into consideration that stone grinding techniques were in use in New Guinea, in the Eastern Highlands, earlier than 10,000 years ago. This Arnhem Land technology apparently did not spread south during the many millennia between its first appearance and 3000 B.C. It may have diffused south during the time of, or after, the beginning of the technological revolution referred to above — as has been mentioned, ground axes appear in the post-3000 B.C. technological phase in Australia outside Arnhem Land. Information on the prehistory of Cape York Peninsula is inadequate for drawing conclusions at this stage. Work is in progress, and results may be expected in the near future. However, some hypothesis concerning the possible prehistoric picture may perhaps be conjectured when the latest linguistic evidence for the area is taken into account (see below 2.2.3.). 2.2.2.2. Physical Anthropology. Important work in the study of genetic distance between various Australian tribes has recently been carried out on the basis of some new techniques (R. Kirk, personal communication; Sanghvi, Kirk, and Balakrishnan 1971; Kirk, Sanghvi, and Balakrishnan 1972). The results of this work show close genetic links between Western Desert tribes, including the Aranda, at the same time indicating that, of the Western Desert tribes studied, the Aranda are genetically nearest to the Cape York Peninsula tribes, though the genetic distance involved is still very considerable. At the same time, one tribe of northeastern Arnhem Land, whose language belongs to those mentioned above in 2.2.1, shows no close genetic affinity with the Western Desert tribes, and its genetic distance from them is just as great as, for instance, that of Gulf of Carpentaria tribes from the Western Desert tribes. In fact, the northeastern Arnhem Land tribe studied is genetically closer to the Gulf of Carpentaria tribes than to the Western Desert tribes. 2.2.3. THE GENERAL PICTURE. When viewing the prehistoric evidence (see 2.2.2.1) in the light of the conclusions based on linguistic evidence (see 2.2.1), the similarity of the areas from which the diffusion of the new techniques and of the Common Australian linguistic element is assumed to have taken place becomes immediately apparent. There seem to be quite good grounds for suggesting that the introduction of the advanced technological phase into various areas of Australia and the spreading of the Common Australian linguistic element are attributable to an expansion and migration of one and the same people throughout Australia, pre-

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dominantly from a northwestern part of the continent. In other words, the advanced implement-making techniques could well have been first introduced around 3000 B.C. by the speakers of ancestral Common Australian. There is nothing in the linguistic evidence to exclude the possibility that the spread of Common Australian through the continent could have started around that date. At the same time it may be mentioned that social anthropological evidence connected with the boundary of circumcision in Western Australia (Tindale 1940) also supports the other evidence. Arnhem Land clearly stands largely outside this picture — the Common Australian content of the languages there is low, and very rapidly decreasing from south to north — which gives evidence of low-grade influence and diffusion from an area to the south of it. Its prehistoric sequence is also quite different from that observed in much of the continent (see 2.2.2.1). Only the languages of the northeastern corner show a comparatively large Common Australian content, and the languages there which are markedly different from the other Arnhem Land languages, and much more like those situated to the south of western Arnhem Land, appear to have migrated there from the south (see 2.2.1). The situation in Cape York Peninsula is as yet unclear. The findings of Sommer (1969, and personal communication) and Dixon (1970), which are partly based on linguistic field studies in portions of the Cape York Peninsula area on which only limited or no information had been available until they started working there, seem to foreshadow the possibility of this area being linguistically more diverse than previously assumed. In other words, it may come closer to the picture presented by Arnhem Land than has been thought to be the case. Also, the presence of regional vocabularies in southeastern and northern Cape York Peninsula may constitute a factor to be taken into account in considering the area, as well as the fact that the Common Australian element in western parts of the peninsula is much lower than in some of its eastern parts — it is as low as in southern Arnhem Land. Prehistoric work is in progress in southeastern Cape York Peninsula, but adequate results are not yet available. However, when considering the linguistic picture which, especially on the basis of Sommer's recent work, seems to differ significantly from that of most of the rest of Australia and to approximate that presented by Arnhem Land, it seems not improbable that the prehistoric sequence in Cape York Peninsula may also prove to be different from that presented by most of the rest of Australia. The results of recent physical anthropological studies in genetic distance between aboriginal populations of Australia (see 2.2.2.2) offer two important pieces of interdisciplinary evidence for the linguistic picture.

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The demonstration of the fact that, of the Western Desert area tribes studied, the Aranda tribe is genetically closest to the Cape York Peninsula tribes corroborates the linguistic findings which indicate the possibility of some more immediate connection between the Arandic and some Cape York Peninsula languages (see 2.2.1). At the same time, the physical anthropological evidence shows that the speakers of Arandic languages are racially most predominantly Western Desert people, which permits the conclusion that the Cape York Peninsula-type element in the language could have been brought to the area by a numerically very small population only, and that it influenced the language of a much larger local population to some extent. In the case of northeastern Arnhem Land, the results of physical anthropology contradict the linguistic findings (see 2.2.1 and 2.2.2.2). The explanation seems to be that the ancestral forms of the languages there were carried by a numerically very small, but culturally and linguistically very vigorous, people whose languages were adopted by a numerically strong local population, but whose racial influence upon that population was so insignificant as to be no longer detectable. Studies are at present being undertaken to determine the possible reasons for the vigorous expansion of Common Australian and of the new technology from about 3000 B.C. It seems plausible to assume that the speakers of original Common Australian were carriers of the new technology. The problem is still under consideration, but the correspondence of the above date to that of the first immigration of Austronesian people into the New Guinea area (Grace 1964) is quite striking, and it may be borne in mind that it has been posited (Golson 1966b) that contacts between Austronesians and Papuans in the New Guinea area have led to the imparting of new tehnological skills to the Papuans by the Austronesians, with far-reaching effects, including extensive migrations (Wurm 1967). It seems tempting to look for some Austronesian influence to explain the Australian phenomenon, but it has to be remembered that, in contrast to the New Guinea situation, there is no evidence of Austronesian linguistic influence in the northwest of Australia, or anywhere in Australia except for some in southeastern Arnhem Land — an area which has for a long time been regularly visited by Macassar traders in comparatively recent times. 2.2.4. MIGRATIONS INVOLVING AUSTRALIANS AND PAPUANS. Recent work concerned with the question of language influences between the New Guinea mainland and Australia across Torres Strait has revealed the presence of Australian loanwords in languages of the Trans-Fly area of

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Papua New Guinea, and similarities in the phonological type of those languages and the general Australian type (Wurm 1972d). At the same time, the loanwords mentioned correspond in form to those reconstructable for the Cape York Peninsula area before the far-reaching phonological innovations and changes observable in that area (see 2.1) had taken place. It seems plausible to assume that these loanwords penetrated northwards into the Trans-Fly area in the course of a weak expansion of Common Australian into the Cape York Peninsula and beyond (see 2.2.1). At the same time, there is a possibility that some Australian substratum features may be present in the southern part of the New Guinea mainland and, conversely, also New Guinea substratum features on the Australian side, which may be attributable to the original existence of a land-bridge between New Guinea and Australia which may have disapeared only about 15,000 years ago. In the opinion of human geneticists (D. Kirk, personal communication) there is evidence on the human genetic level corroborating the assumption of substrata on both sides of Torres Strait. At the same time, linguistic influences from the New Guinea mainland appear to have made themselves felt in and across Torres Strait some time after the northward Australian influence mentioned above. Miriam, the Papuan language spoken on the eastern islands of Torres Strait, has been recognized as a member of the Eastern Trans-Fly family (Wurm 1971c) which has been subject to strong influence by the Kiwai language of the Fly Delta and coastal Trans-Fly areas, with this influence manifesting itself especially on the phonological level. Miriam phonology is essentially the same as that of Kiwai and contrasts in this with the other languages of the Eastern Trans-Fly family to which it is otherwise relatively closely related. Mabuiag, the Australian language of the western islands of Torres Strait, seems to have been taken over by original speakers of Miriam, because its phonology, though making some allowances for the general Australian phonological type, is very much like that of Miriam, and much of its basic vocabulary is Miriam, not Australian. At the same time, the far-reaching phonological innovations and changes in Australian languages of Cape York Peninsula (see 2.1) seem to be attributable to outside, presumably Papuan, linguistic influence which chronologically postdates the diffusion of Australian loanwords northwards into the Trans-Fly area. It may well be that the southward Papuan influence into and across Torres Strait was the direct result of the effects of the relatively late second Trans-New Guinea phylum migration (see 1.2.3) reaching the Lower Fly and Trans-Fly areas.

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3. AUSTRONESIAN LANGUAGES 3.1. The Linguistic Picture The present linguistic picture of the southwestern Pacific Austronesian world which comprises over 400 languages is considerably simpler than had been the case until a few years ago. As a result of recent work carried out by Pawley (1969a), Tryon (1972), and a number of other linguists, in part on the basis of Grace's earlier studies (1955), it has been found that the linguistic diversity in the New Hebrides-Banks and Torres Islands area, formerly believed to be linguistically very highly diverse, is of a very much lower order than previously assumed, and that, in fact, all the languages located in the area, with the exception of the Polynesian Outlier languages found there, can be included in a single family. At the same time, they belong to two distinct types. One of them shows close links with a large portion of the Oceanic Austronesian languages and constitutes with these what has been termed "Eastern Oceanic" or "General Oceanic." These Austronesian languages are located in the central and northern New Hebrides, including the Banks and Torres Islands, the southeastern Solomon Islands, western New Britain, the south coast of Papua New Guinea, and further east in Fiji, Rotuma, and Polynesia (Grace 1955; Pawley 1969a). Most of the languages of Micronesia may also be included with them, and there is also an influence of this type noticeable in southern, as opposed to northern, New Caledonia. This type is characterized by the following features which are shared by most of the languages (Tryon 1972): a.

A simple phonology with the vowels falling generally on the cardinal points (not applicable to the languages of Micronesia and some other languages). b. A distinct avoidance of consonant clustering. c. A simple noun morphology. d. A simple verb morphology, with free-form verb stems, plus the use of particles to indicate tense and aspect. e. A word store which reflects proto-Oceanic forms to a high degree. The other type of Austronesian languages encountered in the New Hebrides area, excluding the Polynesian languages, is located in Malekula, northeast Santo, south Pentecost, Ambrym, Paama, Epi, and the southern Hebrides. Though they differ more from each other than the Eastern Oceanic languages, they nevertheless share a number of characteristics, and appear to have closer links with at least some of the other aberrant Austronesian languages found in parts of New Britain and New Ireland, on sections of the north coast of Papua New Guinea, the northern and

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central Solomons, the Loyalty Islands and New Caledonia. The strong Austronesian element in the Papuan languages of the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands (Wurm 1969, 1970) also belongs to this type and stratum. The characteristics of the New Hebrides languages of this second type — characteristics also largely observable in the Loyalty Islands and New Caledonia, the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands and adjacent areas, and in at least some languages of the areas listed above — are as follows: a. Often a complex phonology, with quite numerous vowel phonemes. b. Complex consonant clustering. c. Complex noun morphology. d. Complex verb morphology, frequent absence of free-form verb stems, and an affixing rather than particle tense/aspect indication. e. A rather different word store from the Eastern Oceanic type, reflecting more generally proto-Austronesian forms. Final consonants of the proto-Austronesian forms are often retained, whereas in the Eastern Oceanic type this is not the case.

3.2. Language Migrations As in the case of the Papuan (see 1.2) and Australian (2.2) languages, the available linguistic and interdisciplinary evidence makes it possible to make suggestions concerning possible past language migrations in the southwestern Pacific Austronesian world. 3.2.1. LINGUISTIC EVIDENCE. The linguistic evidence for past migrations into and within the southwestern Pacific Austronesian world is provided by the characteristics and nature of the languages as briefly touched upon above in 3.1, and by the sharing and formal similarity of certain vocabulary items, structural features, and innovations in languages which are sometimes widely separated geographically. So, for instance, the presence of close similarities on the lexical level between some aberrant languages of New Britain and the Austronesian element in the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands languages, as well as the appearance of close phonological and lexical similarities between the latter element and languages in the Loyalty Islands and New Caledonia may be mentioned (Wurm 1970, 1972b). Also, it appears that some of the innovations in and special characteristics of Eastern Oceanic languages of the southeastern Solomons and the south coast of Papua New Guinea make these languages less archaic than Eastern Oceanic languages of the central New Hebrides.

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3.2.2. INTERDISCIPLINARY EVIDENCE. A paradoxical feature of the Austronesian language situation in the southwestern Pacific, i.e. in what is commonly referred to as Island Melanesia, is the fact that the speakers of the Austronesian languages of the area are generally melanid to a varying degree, whereas the Polynesian languages spoken by the light-skinned Polynesians are believed to be the direct descendants of a Fiji-RotumanPolynesian proto-language (Grace 1964), which in turn is directly derived from an ancestor common to it and the central New Hebridean languages spoken by melanid people. It may be mentioned that the view has been expressed that the linguistic situation in Melanesia may have been brought about by an originally Papuan-speaking melanid population having been influenced by Austronesian immigrants whose language had been adopted by the Papuans in a pidginized form (Ray 1926). However, a number of linguistic arguments have been brought forward against such an assumption (Wurm 1967), and it appears likely, on the basis of interdisciplinary evidence (see below), that the few Papuan languages found in the northern part of Island Melanesia are later immigrant languages. In view of this, it seems easier to understand the present situation in Island Melanesia as the result of the first immigration of Austronesian-speaking light-skinned people who continued their expansion through Fiji to the east into Polynesia, with a melanid population speaking aberrant, in part archaic and Papuaninfluenced, languages penetrating into Island Melanesia at a later date and advancing as far as Fiji. It appears that the available interdisciplinary evidence strongly supports this latter assumption. In the first place, there seems to be at least some tendency towards a correlation between skin color and the nature of the Austronesian languages spoken in Island Melanesia: speakers of highly aberrant Austronesian languages appear sometimes to be more dark-skinned than those of languages which are more typically Eastern Oceanic and closer to Polynesian. At the same time, according to Howells (1933), the Fijians, whose language is closest to Polynesian among the Austronesian languages of Melanesia, are melanid only with respect to hair form and skin color, and Howells suggests the possibility that before the eleventh century A.D. Fiji was entirely Polynesian. However, it appears that the strongest interdisciplinary evidence in support of the above assumption (Wurm 1967) is provided by prehistory. Green (1963) argues that the archaeological evidence from both Fiji and New Caledonia would suggest that in these areas an earlier tradition

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related to proto-Polynesian culture antedated the arrival of what today is recognized as a typical "Melanesian" (i.e. non-Austronesian type) archaeological assemblage, while in western Polynesia the present-day cultures developed from this earlier cultural base without the extensive influence of these later "Melanesian" traditions; therefore these areas, and southern Melanesia in general, were initially occupied solely by Austronesianspeaking populations. He adds that, unlike New Guinea and northwestern Melanesia where immediate contact with pre-Austronesians already present there was possible, the traditional sequence, that is Papuans coming first and the Austronesians later, was inverted. Golson (1966b) draws attention to the distribution of the waisted axe, which is typical of the Papuan culture tradition as opposed to the Austronesian, and has been found at sites in the highlands and elsewhere on the New Guinea mainland. Specimens have also been found in New Britain and in the northwestern Solomons; but, while in New Guinea and New Britain both polished and unpolished specimens are accounted for, only polished ones have been found in the Solomons. Golson observes a certain agreement between the distribution of this axe type and that of Papuan languages, and suggests that the polished version of the waisted axe constitutes a technological reflection of contact with, presumably Austronesian-speaking, newcomers. At the same time, he points out that the sole presence of the polished versions in Oceania proper, as well as that of Papuan languages as far to the east as the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands, may have resulted from the newcomers imparting skills and stimulus for ocean voyaging to the Papuans of southeastern New Guinea and the Bismarck archipelago. Golson also mentions the widespread occurrence of the so-called Lapita-style pottery tradition in the southwestern Pacific, which in places like Fiji and New Caledonia has been found to be characteristic of the earliest settlement there, and to be succeeded by quite different pottery traditions. It seems plausible to associate the Lapita-style pottery tradition with the Austronesian-speaking population first penetrating into these areas, and it appears to be significant, in this connection, that the relationship of this style with the Kulanay pottery complex in the Philippines described by Solheim (1957) is particularly close. It seems equally plausible to associate the later pottery styles found at Fijian and New Caledonian sites with the culturally (and racially) non-Austronesian migration subsequently penetrating into these areas, and the similarity between ceramic styles from the upper portions of the ceramic horizons at Fijian and New Caledonian sites may again be of importance for this supposition. It may be mentioned that work carried out in parts of Island Melanesia

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since the publication of the papers mentioned has valuable added support to what has been stated above (Golson and Green, personal communication). If, on the basis of this evidence, it is assumed that a melanid migration entered Island Melanesia after the original Austronesian people had established themselves there, it may be of interest to try to discover the possible reasons and circumstances which may have prompted this melanid migration into Island Melanesia. Another question would be how this migration could penetrate so thoroughly throughout the area, apparently without encountering a strong Austronesian population in several parts of it, in spite of the assumptions made on linguistic grounds that Austronesian languages were present in all parts of Melanesia prior to this migration (Grace 1964). Golson may have provided the answer to the first question with his above-mentioned view that Austronesian-speaking newcomers may have imparted the skill and stimulus for ocean voyaging to the Papuans of southeastern New Guinea and the Bismarck archipelago (Golson 1966b). A clue to the answer to the second question may, in the author's opinion, perhaps rest with an extrapolation from some of Parsonson's statements on the role of malaria in the settlement of the southwestern Pacific (Parsonson 1967). Of considerable interest is his suggestion that the New Hebrides may originally have been free of malaria and that, as a result of migrations directed eastward and southward, the anopheline mosquito, and with it malaria, was carried farther east and south by way of Santa Cruz into the New Hebrides. In the light of this statement it may be suggested that the carriers of malaria were the members of the melanid migration into Island Melanesia who brought with them a considerable natural immunity to malaria, whereas the introduction of malaria into the areas occupied by Austronesians proved fatal to the latter and brought about their rapid decimation. In addition to this interdisciplinary evidence, there is sporadic historical evidence (Parsonson 1967) of the presence of light-skinned people and Polynesian cultural items such as Tongan-style double canoes in parts of Island Melanesia and on the south coast of New Guinea, from the sixteenth century onwards. Parsonson also sees in the presence of artificial islands in Melanesia a proof of westward migrations of people from the east and north, with these migrations starting around 900 A.D. in his opinion. His assumptions concerning such late westward migrations are probably correct to some extent, but it seems that the general conclusions which he draws from his evidence — i.e. that the presence of Austronesians

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in Island Melanesia is to be solely explained in terms of these late migrations — are too ambitious and not tenable in the light of other evidence in hand. 3.2.3. THE GENERAL PICTURE. It seems that the available linguistic and interdisciplinary evidence which has been briefly reviewed above in 3.2.1 and 3.2.2 allows the following conclusions to be drawn concerning the past language migrations in the southwestern Pacific Austronesian world (Milke 1958; Grace 1964; Wurm 1967, 1969, 1970; Pawley 1969b). The original Papuan-speaking world had its eastern boundary in the New Britain area before the first arrival of the Austronesians in the area in about 3000 B.C. or so. It seems that a part of the immigrant Austronesians settled in the northeastern New Guinea and New Britain area — perhaps first in the latter, with local migrations spreading them into the surrounding areas — where they came into close contact with the earlier Papuan population, with cultural, racial, and linguistic results emerging from this contact situation. Subsequent migrations of speakers of Indonesian languages into this area seem likely, and Milke (1958) proposes that the speakers of proto-Eastern Oceanic lived for an extended period in contact with speakers of earlier stages of Philippine, Celebes, and eastern Indonesian languages, and also suggests that, after the breakup of protoEastern Oceanic, the languages ancestral to present-day New Guinea Austronesian languages remained in contact with languages ancestral to present-day eastern Indonesian languages. Traces of these contacts are found in the words with petrified Indonesian prefixes encountered in present-day Austronesian languages of Melanesia. Another part of the immigrant Austronesians appears to have continued moving on to the east immediately, without getting into close contact with Papuans, and apparently proceeded directly to the central New Hebrides which became the focal point for the subsequent Austronesian expansion through Island Melanesia and beyond. By about 2000 B.C. and later, the Austronesians appear to have expanded through much of the New Hebrides, predominantly in a northerly direction, reached the southeastern Solomon Islands and advanced westwards in the Solomon Island chain, and settled in western New Britain and on parts of the south coast of Papua New Guinea. They also migrated into Micronesia, and also expanded eastwards into Fiji and Rotuma, and somewhat later, about 1000 B.C. or later, into the Tonga-Niue area of Polynesia which became the center of the spread of the Polynesians in the subsequent two millennia. At the same time, westward migrations of Austronesians from western Polynesia, i.e. the Tonga-Niue-Samoa area, from about 500 B.C. onward

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appear to have brought Polynesian populations back into the Island Melanesia area and into Micronesia. From the central New Hebrides, a migration appears to have moved southwards, perhaps at a relatively late date, to reach the New Caledonia area. To return to the Austronesians who are assumed to have settled in the New Britain and northeastern New Guinea region and expanded into adjacent areas: the results of the close contacts between them and the original Papuan inhabitants of the area may have manifested themselves in the descendants of these Austronesians who became racially melanid, while at the same time imparting such cultural skills to the Papuans as polishing stone axes (see above 3.2.2) and, most importantly, the building of ocean-going craft. It appears that this Austronesian-Papuan contact area — into which the island world off the southeastern end of the New Guinea mainland may have to be included — became the starting point of a later migration of melanid people, some of whom spoke Papuan languages and limited their migration to spreading eastwards through the Solomon Islands chain as far as the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands. However, the great majority of them appear to have been speakers of modified forms of Austronesian displaying more or less pronounced Papuan influence together with some Indonesian influence from the west (Milke 1958). It appears that these latter people were the carriers of the later melanid migration or migrations which penetrated into Island Melanesia reaching as far as New Caledonia and Fiji. It appears justifiable to assume that these melanid migrations were carried predominantly by men who intermarried with women of the earlier Austronesian, i.e. light-skinned, migration which led to a preservation of language structure to a varied extent, though an accelerated change of vocabulary (Grace 1964) may have resulted from this. (It may be noted that the opposite may be presumed for the New Britain and northeastern New Guinea areas in which the postulated original Austronesian-Papuan contacts may have take place: this seems to have led to the development of modified, i.e. Papuanized, Austronesian languages with relatively low Austronesian vocabulary content and Papuan structural characteristics.) In some areas the melanid immigrants may not have encountered and mixed with a local, light-skinned Austronesian population or may have killed it off, either in warfare or through carrying a new disease such as perhaps malaria (see above 3.2.2). These may be the areas in which the present-day Austronesian languages are most aberrant. What has been said above in 3.2.2 about some tendency towards a correlation between

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the presence of a darker skin color and the aberrant nature of Austronesian languages in Island Melanesia may come to mind in this connection. A particular migration of this kind may be traceable from the New Britain area to the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands and from there to the Loyalty Islands and northern New Caledonia on the basis of the available linguistic evidence (see 3.2.1) which has, for the northern part of this migration, recently recieved some interdisciplinary corroboration (R. Green, personal communication). It seems possible that areas situated between the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands, and New Caledonia, e.g. northeast Santo, may become tied into this migration picture. It seems likely that this melanid migration into Island Melanesia is of a relatively recent date, and that its starting point in time may not be earlier than perhaps 2,000 years ago. Howells' suggestion (1933), mentioned above in 3.2.2, that before the eleventh century A.D. Fiji was entirely Polynesian may have some significance in this connection.

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1972 The languages of the New Hebrides: a checklist and general survey. Pacific Linguistics A35: 43-85. VOORHOEVE, C. L.

1969 Some notes on the linguistic relations between the Sentani and Asmat languages of New Guinea. Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 125: 466-486. WURM, s . A.

1964 Australian New Guinea Highlands languages and the distribution of their typological features. American Anthropologist 66 (4, 2): 7997. 1966 Language and agriculture in New Guinea. New Scientist 31: 216-218. 1967 Linguistics and the pre-history of the south-western Pacific. The Journal of Pacific History 2: 25-39. 1969 The linguistic situation in the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands. Pacific Linguistics A21: 47-105. 1970 "Austronesian and the vocabulary of languages of the Reef and Santa Cruz Islands: a preliminary approach," in Studies in Pacific linguistics in honour of Arthur Capell. Edited by S. A. Wurm and D. C. Laycock, 467-553 Pacific Linguistics C13. 1971a "The Papuan linguistic situation," in Linguistics in Oceania. Edited by T. Sebeok, 541-657. Current Trends in Linguistics 8. The Hague: Mouton. 1971b "Classification of Australian languages, including Tasmanian," in Linguistics in Oceania. Edited by T. Sebeok, 721-778. Current Trends in Linguistics 8. The Hague: Mouton. 1971c Notes on the linguistic situation in the Trans-Fly area. Pacific Linguistics A28, 116-172. (Papers in New Guinea Linguistics 14.) 1972a The classification of Papuan languages, and its problems. Linguistic Communications (Melbourne) 6: 118-178. 1972b "Remarks on lexical similarities between Reef Islands-Santa Cruz and New Caledonian languages," in Langue et techniques, nature et societe:

The Emerging Linguistic Picture of the Southwestern Pacific

1972c 1972d

1972e 1975

221

I: Approche linguistique (publication d'hommage A. Haudricourt), 261266. Paris: Klincksieck. Linguistic research in Australia, New Guinea (and Oceania). Talanya (Journal of the Linguistic Society of Australia) 1: 87-107. "Torres Strait: a linguistic barrier?" in Bridge and barrier, a natural and cultural history of Torres Strait, 345-366. Biogeography and Geomorphology Publications 3. Canberra: School of Pacific Studies, Australian National University. The languages of Australia and Tasmania. Janua Linguarum, Series Critica 1. The Hague: Mouton. Papuan languages and the New Guinea linguistic scene. Pacific Linguistics C38.

Quichean Linguistics and Philology

LYLE CAMPBELL

Written sources in the languages of the Quichean subgroup of the Mayan family (i.e. Quiche, Cakchiquel, Tzutujil; Pokomchi-Pokomam; Uspantec; and Kekchi) have a history of nearly 450 years. This rivals the earliest documents in several European languages (e.g. Finnish 1543, Latvian 1531). Many of the Quichean documents are treatises on the languages themselves, i.e. dictionaries and grammars, and are therefore valuable sources of documentation for sound changes posited in these languages based on comparative evidence. The purpose of this paper is to point out the value of this philological documentation in Quichean historical linguistics.

SCRIBAL PRACTICE To understand the value of Quichean philology, one must understand the orthography. I will discuss Quichean scribal practice as a whole, but a full understanding would require discussion of the peculiarities of each individual scribe. In general, both Indian and Spanish scribes used Spanish orthography with a few modifications to account for phonemes which had no Spanish equivalents. However, there is great variation among scribes as to consistency and accuracy in their recordings. χ was the orthographic symbol used to represent /§/, which is also the phonetic equivalent of Spanish χ in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It was an alveopalatal fricative. h or fj was described by the scribes as equivalent to the Latin value and not Spanish. It was /x/, a voiceless velar fricative.

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k always represented /q/, a voiceless postvelar or uvular stop. The phoneme /k/ was signaled, as in Spanish, by qu- before i or e, and by c otherwise. Similarly, the phoneme /s/ was signaled in various ways by ζ, ς, or s. The s was rare, and scribes often varied quite freely in the choice of symbol, writing the same word on one occasion with one symbol and on another with another symbol. b always represented /b'/, a voiced imploded bilabial stop. The orthographic symbols ν and u alternated quite freely, as did y and i, which was the general practice in Europe at the time. They were intended to represent /u/ or /w/, and /I/ or /y/, respectively, with no consistent distinction between vowel or glide interpretation. It was common to write ν and y initially in a word, regardless of whether the word began in a vowel or a glide. Final /w/ was written uh, while final /l/ was Ih. These symbols reflect the voicelessness of these in final position. However, /r/ and jyj also have voiceless variants in final position, but these were never written rh or yh. The phoneme /t'/ (a glottalized alveolar stop) is rare in Quichean words; it was written tt, th, or just t, depending upon which scribe had written it. In addition to these and others with direct Spanish equivalents, special non-Spanish symbols were created. Their origin is credited to Francisco de la Parra, who wrote a dictionary entitled Vocabulario trilingüe Guatemalteco, but which unfortunately is lost. This was written between 1544 and 1560 (the year of his death). The symbols were devised to represent glottalized consonants and came to be generally used among missionary priests of the era. They were the following: ε tresillo, an old form of the number three reversed; it represented /q'/, a glottalized postvelar or uvular stop. 4 cuatrillo, an old form of the number four; it was for /k*/> a glottalized velar stop. 4, cuatrillo con coma, was for j f f , a glottalized alveolar affricate. 4f} a combination of cuatrillo and h, was for /c'/, a glottalized alveopalatal affricate. In actual practice, scribes varied widely in their use of these symbols. For example, Pedro Moran (1720) in his Pokoman dictionary at times used almost any of the Parra symbols to represent any glottalized consonant; occasionally he even used the plain versions for the glottalized counterparts. Others, especially the earlier scribes, were quite consistent. For example, de Vico (ca. 1550) and Pantaleon de Guzman (1704) were meticulous in their use of the Parra symbols. Finally, it is important to note that /*>/ (glottal stop) was represented by

Quichean Linguistics and Philology

225

various conventions. De Guzman (1704) usecP over the vowel which had a /"V following it. The scribe of the anonymous Quiche dictionary (1787) adopted the convention of writing double vowels when a glottal stop followed. Others often wrote ' over the vowel. Thus, /ce·*7/ would be variously che, che, or chee, 'tree'; /po 7 t/ would be pot, pot, or poot, 'native blouse' (huipil).1

DOCUMENTATION OF CHANGES Armed with dictionaries written at different dates, one would imagine it an easy task to trace the dates certain sound changes began and to establish changes in the form of various rules. However, there are complications which make this difficult. For one, even though we have the dates of many dictionaries and grammars, we cannot be certain that they are not copies of older works. The missionary "linguists" had a habit of copying and amending older works, and we can rely on the date of composition only in cases where we know the history of the document. Another problem stems from the fact that there are several dialects in each Quichean language, and we would expect the linguistic features which separate dialects to turn up in the documents, but this is not often the case. A dictionary compiled in one area often lacks typical features of that dialect, because it was copied from work done in another area, or because the priest had worked in other dialect areas as well. Thus, one must be cautious in the conclusions drawn from the material preserved. In the following sections I will indicate some valuable information provided in the documents. Palatalization of Velar Stops There is a rule in many of the dialects of the various Quichean languages It is interesting to note that Quichean scribal practice supports no particular theory of phonology. For generative phonology to be supported, the writing would have to be essentially morphophonemic, but there are no cases of morphophonemic symbols. There are, however, cases of autonomous or taxonomic phonemic symbols employed in morphophonemic processes (e.g. jn + ρ or b'l were written most often as mp or mb, showing the results of a nasal assimilation rule in these languages). Supporters of classical (autonomous) phonemics cannot, however, gloat over this failure of Quichean scribes to write morphophonemically, since some of their orthographic conventions did not represent phonemic symbols either. Thus the sequences Ih and uh to represent voiceless [j] and voiceless [\y] are not "phonemic" in anyone's definition of the term, since they represent allophonic variants of /I/ and /w/ in final position. 1

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LYLE CAMPBELL

which palatalizes a velar stop (k or k') when it is followed by a nonround vowel and q, q\ or jc, i.e.: k)

> kvO /

nonround V •jjj* )

}

Previously it was believed that this was a Proto-Quichean rule (cf. Grimes 1969), but the documents show that this rule did not apply in ProtoQuichean. The distribution of this rule through modern dialects of the languages is presented in Map 1. For Cakchiquel we have the following progression. The Solana Cakchiquel dictionary (said to have flourished in the 1500's) had no palatalized velars. Some examples are: 4ak

'flea'

(k'aq)

cak

'red'

(kaq)

queh

'deer'

(ke-x)

'sling' (honda) (ikaq') rochoch queh 'stable' (rococ ke-x) (literally 'its-house deer') 2 The Vare(l)a dictionary was compiled ca. 1600, but was based on an earlier work by Parra (discussed above) and Pedro de Betanzos (who wrote his Arte de la lengua de Guatemala, ca. 1545), all lost. Therefore, it is not possible to be certain whether Varela presents Cakchiquel as spoken in 1600 or as spoken in the mid 1500's in the works he used. In either case, Varela lacks palatalization: ica£

icah

'axe'

(ikax)

ica

'sling'

{honda)

queh

'deer'

(ke-x)

x4ak

'fingernails'

(ikaq')

(unas) (isk'aq)

3

Coto (ca. 1691) wrote a dictionary, adding his own knowledge to vocabularies prepared earlier by Juan de Alonso, Maldonado, Saz, Varela, and the Calepino Cakchiquel. He gives the following examples: ca£

'guava'

(ikaq')

cak

'red'

(kαφ

yeah

'axe'

(ikax)

By the 1700's palatalization was starting to show up. Pantaleon de Guzman (1704) gave the following examples in his dictionary: 2

The Varela dictionary exists in more than one copy; the scribe who copied the version in the Gates Collection of Brigham Young University Library mistakenly gave Varea as the author's name, and many references gave Varea instead of the correct Varela (also Barela). 3 The copy of Coto's dictionary in the Gates Collection has the date 1651, by which it is listed in various references, but this seems to be an error; 1691 is more nearly correct.

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LYLE CAMPBELL

y£ah 'axe' (ikax) yx4ak 'fingernails' (isk'aq) γοαξ 'sling' (ikaq') queh 'deer, horse' (Ice·jc) quieh 'deer, horse' mama quieh 'horse' Apparently the only word with a palatalized velar was the word for 'horse, deer' (which formerly meant only 'deer'). For Quiche, the same progression holds. Vico (ca. 1550) had the following in his dictionary: cae 'guava' (ikaq') cak 'red' (kaq) yca£ 'sling' (iikaq') 'axe' yeah (ikah) Basseta's Quiche dictionary, written in 1690, is very extensive, but presents two problems. It involves entries copied from other dictionaries, as well as Basseta's own additions, and it perhaps represents the Quiche of Rabinal and Cubulco (since these are mentioned in the dictionary). If it is from Rabinal and Cubulco, then it represents a dialect of Quichi which even today lacks velar palatalization. In any event, the dictionary presented these forms: cae 'flea' (kaq) cae 'red' {kaq) rochoch queh 'stable' (rococ ke-x) By 1787 we find dictionaries of Quich6 with palatalized velars represented. The anonymous Quich6 dictionary made at Sacapulas was copied by Fermin Joseph Tirado. It contains some Quiche glosses taken from the earlier Calepino Cakchiquel, as well as contributions by an anonymous Franciscan. It has: yeah 'axe' (ikax) 4ak 'flea' (k'aq) rochoch quieh 'stable' chahal quieh caballerizo From the above, it is easy to see that Cakchiquel and Quiche did not have palatalization of velars until quite late. However, early Mam documents demonstrate that Mam did indeed have the palatalization rule. De Reynoso (1644) gave these examples: kiak 'flea' (now kPaq) kiahe 'four' (now k^a-x-) kiakik 'wind' (now kVaqH-q') kiahol 'son' (now k^a-x(o-)l)

Quichean Linguistics and Philology

kiah cheh

229

'flour' 'horse'

(now Wax) (now ce-x Northern Mam, k^e-x Southern Mam) The fact that Mam had the rule early, while Quiche and Cakchiquel did not, leads to the conclusion that the rule of velar palatalization spread as a wave from Mamean to Quichean. This conclusion is further supported by the fact that the rule has developed much further in Mamean (cf. Kaufman 1969) than in Quichean, and that it has reached only part of the dialects of the various Quichean languages (see Map 1).

\φ\ in Kekchi andPokomchi-Pokomam The second case of documented sound change to be considered involves the change of Proto-Quichean *e to s in both Kekchi and PokomchiPokomam. In several earlier classifications of the Mayan languages, Kekchi and Pokomchi-Pokomam were grouped together as a single subgroup, either apart from the other Quichean languages, or as an independent branch within Quichean (see McQuown 1956). It seems that some scholars arrived at this classification in the belief that the change of *e to s represented a common innovation in Kekchi and Pokomchi-Pokomam. However, the earlier writings on these languages demonstrate that this is not the case, and that the change actually happened after the Conquest. The earlier situation in Pokomchi is especially well-preserved in de Zuniga's dictionary (ca. 1608) of the San Cristobal Cahcob (Alta Verapaz) dialect. The following are some of his entries, with his specific remarks on the pronunciation: azbez, atzbez; vatz, vaz 'older brother' azeel; 'scoff' (burla) zelah, tzelah 'to laugh' azeh, azih, atzih, atzeh hermanear, tomar un hermano mayor Of these de Zuniga says: "Some say it with tz, atzeh, and others with only z, azeh, azih, or atzih; say it as you please. Most say azeh, as also do most say vaz, 'my elder brother', with z, and some, with tz." litzlotic, lizlotic; better with 'sparkle' (relumbrar, resplandezer como tz (mejor con tz) las estrellas) pitzpotic, or more common, 'the swelling of a flea, tick, or chigger pizpotic bite' pamaz, pamatz 'a little animal like lice that eats trees and makes its nests in them'

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LYLE CAMPBELL

tutzub, or better, tuzub

'vine; fruit like grapes' (unaparra silvestre) 'addition, balancing weight' (contrapeso) 'dirt, filth, stain' 'rock' (penasco, guijarro) 'laugh, job' (no gloss) (no gloss) 'oak' (la encina)

tzab, or more common, zab tzahn, zahn, tzahnil, zahnil tzalah, or zalah tzeel, zeel tzilot, zilot more common tzinah, zinah more common tzinuh, more common than zinuh tzoncot, zoncot 'fence' (cerco, vallado, seto) tzoc, but here more common 'measure of a full height with arm than zoc raised, to tip of fingers' tzop, tzopah, zopah, zopanic 'threshold, brink' (el salto, franco) tzototzic, or zotozic, better 'round, circular, like the rainbow' (el the latter arco u el aro) tzub, zub is better 'the profit of what is sold' De Zuniga has preserved the information needed to determine that the sound change of *e to s was in progress in the early part of the 1600's. We can postulate, on the basis of his data a variable rule in which 0 became s under various sociolinguistic conditions. Moran (ca. 1720) wrote what he called a dictionary of "Pokomam," the dialect of Amatitlan. However, it is not possible to absolutely attribute his forms to that dialect, since he copied de Zuniga's dictionary, noting differences in his Amatitlan dialect from the San Cristobal dialect of de Zuniga's work. I have taken the following examples from Moran: ah zeel / ah tzeel alaz I alatz azvez I atzvez ah itz

'laughter' (resueno) 'descendents' 'elder brother' 'witch (brujo) (now ah is)

For Kekchi, the de Morales (1741) dictionary shows that the change had not taken place before the Conquest. Some examples are: tzum tzuc tzimaj tzununk, sununk

'companion' 'gnat' 'bow, arrow' 'smell'

(now sum) (now suq) (now simax) (now sunu(:)nk)

There is, then, ample evidence that the change of to s in Kekchi and Pokomchi-Pokomam happened after the Conquest, well after these were distinguished as separate languages, and that the change can therefore have no importance for the internal classification of languages of the

Quichean Linguistics and Philology

231

Quichean subgroup. The change probably began in Pokomchi-Pokomam and spread to Kekchi later.

Verbal Aspect in Cakchiquel Modern Cakchiquel dialects have morphemes which mark tense, and these vary greatly in form both within individual dialects and across dialect boundaries. This variation can be explained (at least in part) by rather recent changes which are documented in early written material on Cakchiquel in which a tense system developed out of an earlier aspect system in the verbs. The early artes and grammars of Cakchiquel nearly all present verbal paradigms in the same format (no doubt largely due to copying), showing aspect instead of tense. Some of these are Ximinez (c. 1720), Flores (1753), Torresano (1754), Angel (1793), and the anonymous 1692 grammar published by Brinton (1884). These are unanimous in presenting an aspect system in which x- (i.e. /s[) marks completed action, and t- marks incomplete aspect for essentially transitive verbs, while c-jqu- (i.e. /k/) marks incomplete aspect of essentially intransitive verbs. A "present" sense of this incomplete aspect was indicated by the particle tan before the verb forms (e.g. tan tinban Ί am doing it now'; tan tivoquegah Ί now [presently] believe it'). The reflexes of the particle and the incomplete aspect marker have produced present tense morphemes in the modern dialects. The present tense morphemes are nd- or n- for transitives, and ng-, ny-, or y- for intransitives, depending upon the dialect. Their provenience is: tan + /-verb > tan + d-verb > η + rf-verb > nd- verb (or «-verb) tan + fc-verb > tan + g-verb > η + g-verb > ng-verb (or ny-, ^-verb) The tan particle was shortened and eventually joined to the aspect marker to produce a real present tense. Evidence from earlier written sources shows that the Cakchiquel "tense" system was not formerly radically different from that of other Mayan languages. However, armed only with evidence from the modern dialects, we could not determine this. Thus, the documents prove important for determining Cakchiquel and ProtoQuichean verb morphology.

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LYLE CAMPBELL

REFERENCES ANGEL

1793

Vocabulario de la lengua Cakchiquel. Gates Collection, B - 7 5 # l . Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah.

ANON.

n.d.

Diccionario de Quiche. [Copied by Fermin Joseph Tirado in 1787 at Santo Domingo Sacapulas.] Gates Collection, Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah.

BASSETA, DOMINGO

1690

Vocabulario Quiche. Gates Collection, B-19#l. Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah.

BRINTON, DANIEL G.

1884 A grammar of the Cakchiquel language of Guatemala. Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 21: 345-412. COTO, THOMAS

1691

Vocabulario Cakchiquel. Gates Collection, B-73#l. Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah.

DE GUZMAN, PANTALEON

1704 Compendio de nombres en lengua Cakchiquel. Gates Collection, B-156 #1. Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah. DE MORALES, JUAN

1741 Arte en lengua Kekchi. Gates Collection, D-8 # 1. Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah. DE REYNOSO, DIEGO

1644

Vocabulario de la lengua Mame. (Reprinted 1916 by A. M. Carreno, Sociedad Mexicana de Geografia y Estadistica. Mexico City.)

DE VARELA, FRANCISCO

ca. 1600 Calepino de vocabulario Cakchiquel. Gates Collection, B-26#l. Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah. [Spelled Varea in this copy.] DE VICO, DOMINGO

ca. 1550 Vocabulario Cakchiquel. Gates Collection, C-l 1 #7. Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah. DE ZUNIGA, DIONYSIO

ca. 1608 Diccionario Pocomchi. Gates Collection, Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah. FLORES, ILDEFONSO JOSEPH

1753 Arte de la lengua metropolitana del reyno Cakchiquel ο Guatemalico. Special Collections and Archives. Brigham Young University Library, Ptovo, Utah. GRIMES, JAMES L.

1969 The palatalized velar stop in Proto-Quichean. International Journal of American Linguistics 35: 20-25. KAUFMAN, TERRENCE

1969 Teco — a new Mayan language. International Journal of American Linguistics 35: 154-174.

Quichean Linguistics and Philology

233

MC QUOWN, NORMAN A.

1956 The classification of the Mayan languages. International Journal of American Linguistics 22: 191-195. MORAN, PEDRO

1720 Arte breve y compendioso de la lengua Pocomchi de la provincia de la Verapaz compuesto y ordenado por el venerable Padre Fray Dionysio de Cuniga para los principiantes que comiegan a aprender, y traducido en la lengua Pocomam de Amatitlan. Gates Collection, Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah. SOLANA

n.d. ca. 1580 Diccionario Cakchiquel. Gates Collection, B-110#113. Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah. TORRESANO, ESTEVAN

1754 Arte de lengua Kakchiqueldel ussa. Gates Collection, B-69 #3. Brigham Young University Library, Provo, Utah. XIMENEZ, FRANCISCO

ca. 1720 Arte de las tres lenguas Cakchiquel, Quiche y Tzutuhil. Microfilm Collection, number 26. University of Chicago.

Morphemes of Southern Quechua and Their Influence on Spanish

JUAN A. HASLER

When the Spaniards conquered the lands to the south of Peru, they were supported by large numbers of Peruvian followers (yanakuna). The yanakuna (yarn- 'to aid', -kuna 'plural marker') usually established themselves as military and agricultural colonies in the occupied territories, generally facing the Spanish dwellings on the opposite bank (cimpa) of the river. This settlement pattern has resulted in a large number of areas being named La Chimba, such as the one known today as La Vega, in Santiago de Chile. At the time that these new settlements were being founded in the conquered territories, the Peruvians in the area were always significantly greater in number than the Spaniards. Cördoba was founded in 1573 by fifty vecinos and six thousand Indians. When Santiago de Chile was founded in 1541, there were 5,000 yanakuna Indians and 150 Europeans, a remarkably large number, among whom there was only one Spanish woman. Since the white conquerors were hardly ascetics, it was to be expected that a considerable number of indigenous females would be found within the group, possibly Peruvian women. After the conquest, the Indian wives of the Spanish men had at their service maids who were also Peruvian, thus adding considerably to the proportion of Peruvians in the female population of Chile. This situation could not help but leave traces in the language of the new settlers, traces which increased over the generations due to the presence of Indian nursemaids, even though the official language of the country was Spanish. These traces are most eloquently seen in the well-known lexical borrowings into Castilian from Indian languages throughout South America. But much more interesting and less well-known are the nonlexical influences on Spanish. The following discussion will treat several facts

236

JUAN Α. HASLER

which are equally observable in Spanish and Quechua as they are spoken today in Santiago de l'Estero, 1 in Argentina. The qicwa dialect of Santiago de l'Estero is a subdialect which seems to have gone unnoticed by researchers, but which I have briefly summarized in an earlier article. PERSON MORPHEMES The relationship between an object and its possessor, like the one between an action and its agent, is expressed by NP. This abbreviation represents a complex of morphemes, Ν being a base whose common form is /n/ and Ρ being the person marker. There are three markers for person in the singular (I, you [familiar], he) and four for the plural (we exclusive, we, you, they). The realizations of Ρ are quite regular, as are those of N, except in the cases discussed below. Without going into further details of the manifestations or realizations of the variable N, let us now present the group NP, remarking first that in the formulae which follow, the letter i can correspond to phonematic /y/, whereas the letter y can be phonetic [i]: first person singular Ν + i; second singular N- + ki; third singular Ν + # ; first plural (we exclusive, we without you) Ν + ku; first plural with second singular (we and you also) Ν + öis; second plural Ν + kicis; third plural Ν + ku. This works for the verbal endings as well as for the possessive; there are, however, certain differences in the future. There are four manifestations of the base N; these are /n/, jy], [χ], and # . The sound [χ], which I prefer to write with its Spanish sign j can be considered to be an allophone of fqj. The sign # means zero. Thus, N n counts as /n/; N y counts as /y/; NJ is /q/ = [χ]; and N # never appears. All of the relationships between items and possessors and between actions and agents (with the exception of the future tense) are expressed with the markers outlined in Table 1. Table 1. Relation functions of NP Ν + Ρ

Between action and agent

Between object and possessor

Pronouns

Ν + i Ν + ki Ν + #

Nn + i N n + ki Nn + #

Ν* + i Ny + ki Nn + #

nuqa qam pay

I you he, she

Ν + ku Ν + cis

Νν + ku N n + öis

Ny + ku N n + cis

nuqayku nuqancis qamkuna paykuna

we we you they

Ν + kiöis Ν Λ-ku 1

N n + kicis N n + ku

Ny + kiöis

N n + ku

This article was submitted in French; while making the English translation the spell· ing de l'Estero has been conserved, the Spanish form being del Estero.

Morphemes of Southern Quechua and Their Influence on Spanish

237

Examples: amu + N n + / + amuni Ί am coming'; tata + N # + i = tatay 'my father'; amu + N n + ki = amunki 'you come'; tata + N y + ki = tatayki 'your father'. After a consonant, there is a -ni- preceding NP: tata + s + ni + N # + i — tatsniy 'my relatives' (the -s being the sign of the plural); tata + s + ni + N y + ki = tatasniyki 'your relatives'. In verbal constructions, the past tense is formed by using the morpheme ra + NP; the future is formed with special morphemes + NP (see subgroup (b) of Column A in Table 2). Examples of both tenses are given with the verb amu 'come'.

ra ra ra ra ra ra ra

+ + + + + + +

Nn Nn Nn Ny Nn Nn Nn

+ + + + + + +

Past i ki Φ ku cis kicis ku

amuram amuranki amuran amurayku amurancis amurankicis amuranku

sa + NI Nn nqa + Ν* sa + NJ su + N n Nn nqa + N n

+ + + + + + +

Future # ki φ ku cis kicis ku

amusaq2 amunki amunqa amusaqku amusundis amunkicis amunqanku

EARLY INFLUENCES In the back-country of Argentina near the Andes, a variety of Spanish very rich in castizo words can be found; this is definitely not the case in the larger cities or in the valley (pampas), where there has been much recent European immigration and where speakers use a form of so-called Spanish which is sometimes quite rough.3 Among the visible marks left by the Spanish-Indian symbiosis of the past centuries are certain archaic Castilian expressions which have entered the indigenous languages (for example, the word tincar 'borax', noted elsewhere by Mansilla [1949]), some Indian words found in Spanish, and several hybrid expressions formed from both languages and used in both languages, such as mana sirve 'that does not serve', mana caxuco4 'he is not obedient' ( < caso, hacer caso); panxaco 2

There also exists the form j k + N J + # , as in /amusuq/=[amösox]. And completely incomprehensible. Mr. Elio d'O., an Italian by birth now living in Santiago de Chile, comments that, whenever he is in Argentina with Chileans, the latter often do not understand the Argentinians, whereas he understands them quite well. This appears to indicate that many solecisms and changed features of present-day Argentinian Spanish stem directly from its being brought in and implanted willy-nilly as a mixed dialect by immigrants from the Italian peninsula. 4 The sound of δ is represented by the letter χ in the orthography of the Iberian peninsula. In Santiago de l'Estero, its origin is indigenous and denotative of the pejorative and 3

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JUAN Α. HASLER

'corpulent' ( < panza). In La Rioja, the exclamation jviday! (yida + NP) 'my goodness!' is often heard. In Chile and in Argentina the word cocavi 'lunch' (from Quechua qukaw + NP 'my travel provision') is quite often used. The influence of Quechua upon the Spanish of the precordillera region of both sides of the Andes is not limited to just these features, however. In Santiago de l'Estero, for instance, there is a linguistic feature used which does not appear veiy often elsewhere. The phenomenon consists of a reduplication which, in the local variety of Quechua, does not indicate reinforcement or augmentation of an idea, as it frequently does in other languages (including Peruvian Quechua); rather, it indicates diminution. Thus, wira wira is not very large but 'a bit large, slightly large' {medio gordo). And this linguistic phenomenon has spread to the local variety of Spanish as well. While in ordinary Spanish flaco flaco means 'very thin', seco seco 'remarkably dry', and tonto tonto 'very stupid', in Santiago de l'Estero these mean precisely the opposite. Therefore, gordo gordo means 'just a little fat', and seco seco means that it is not completely dry, but 'still a bit moist' (medio seco hinds medio mojado). In Chile and in western Argentina, speakers use an exclusive dual form (i.e. a plural comprising just two people, excluding the listener). This feature is just as incomprehensible as seco seco is for one who is neither Argentinian nor Chilean. Nos reimos con Fulana means 'whats-her-name and I laughed'; hablämos con Pedro means 'Peter and I talked about something'; nos casdmos con Pablo does not mean that several women are married to Paul, but only the one who is speaking. In Santiago de Chile there is even a third person dual: se fueron con means 'the two of them left, the two of them went away'.

VERBAL MORPHEMES According to their position in the sequence of morphemes in Quechua, verbal morphemes can be grouped into four categories or classes, which I shall call Base, A, NP, and S. We are already well acquainted with NP. The S class only contains three suffixes (-ta, -qa, -man) which appear only before # (zero, i.e. the end of a word). The morphemes of class A are generally found between the Base and NP, but there are some which occur diminutive. (It is not impossible that this diminutive palatalization of southern Quechua might have its origin in an Indian language substratum; the same phenomenon is found in Chile.)

239

Morphemes of Southern Quechua and Their Influence on Spanish

between the Base and # (zero occupying, in this case, the position of NP, as it were). The Base is the morpheme which expresses — sometimes with the presence of a modifier — the inherent meaning indicated by the other morphemes of the same sequence (or word). No sequence (word) can exist without a Base. The smallest possible sequence is Base + A. To this sequence can be added NP, which makes it Base + A + NP. But NP can also immediately follow Base (Base + NP). Only a Base having an NP can take an S. At the end of a sequence of verbal morphemes, we can only find -s, -sqa, -y, and -q from subgroup (b) of class A; or the various manifestations of NP; or the three manifestations of S. The end of a verbal sequence is often # , but morphemes of another type might follow the verbal ones before the whole sequence ends with # . These morphemes are shown in Table 2. Table 2.

Verbal morphemes

Head

Modifier

a

A b

S final

"verbs"

su, ku, pu, mu mku, iiku α,ρα,γα ri £i, δα, n£a £ia, £ipa, £ipu £inaku, puku

Ska

na pti ra

ta qa man

Base

"adjectives"

NP

Ν

Ρ

naa futures exhortatives "nouns"

na, y, q s, sqa

The class labeled NP is made up of two types of morphemes (see above). This is also true of the two classes, Base and A, which precede NP. The Base can be a single head morpheme, e.g. amu- 'to come', muna- Ho want', or a head morpheme followed by a modifier. The modifiers are mutually exclusive within a single sequence. This means that we do not find more than a single morpheme from the modifier column of Table 2 within one word. These modifiers are: -su-, -ku-, -mu-, -naku-, -ziku-, -α-, -pa-, -ya-, -ri-, -ci-, -ca-, -nca-, -cia-, -öipa-, -cipu-, -cinaku-, -puku-. The function of the modifier is to add information on the direction and the manner of the action, e.g. yurakya 'to whiten' (from yurak 'white' + yd). The A class can also be divided into two subclasses. In subclass (a) we find two morphemes which may at one time have been independent verbs.

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JUAN Α. HASLER

This is doubtless the case for -ska- 'been' (pronounced -cka- by older speakers), which is only the end of the duplication of ka 'to be': kaska < kacka (< *katka?). The other morpheme is -naa- (< *-naya-), which indicates intent, e.g. [paranä-s] = /paranaas/ 'in the process of wanting to rain' (para- 'to rain'). In subclass (b) can be found the exhortatives -cun, -cunku, -γ, -ycis; -na (indicating location in space or time); the future markers, which have already been discussed;5 and the markers of tense/ mood -na-, -pti-, -ra-; and -y, -q, -s, and -sqa. These might interest students of Spanish because of the significant traces which have been left in the Spanish of Santiago de l'Estero. INFLUENCE ON PRESENT-DAY SPANISH The morpheme -q indicates a customary action, to have the habit of doing something, to do something habitually. Just as in French, it is not common in Spanish to emphasize the customary nature of an action. But this is quite often the case in many American Indian languages. And, according to what I have been told by a typical Argentinian artisan — a carpenter born in Italy — in his native language, speakers say io sapevo, io so (fare qualche cosa). If this is indeed the case, the parallelism between the informative function of sapere and of -q is clear and can be found in the language which both the immigrant and the Indian attempt to speak, using the forms el/ella sabe ... instead of the more appropriate forms el/ ella usa ... , el/ella suele ... , el/ella acostumbra ... , Moreover, this saber is not only superfluous in Spanish, but is completely incomprehensible and unacceptable. None but an Argentinian or a north Andean peasant would understand it. 8 The following conversation serves as an example. A young Chilean foreigner, who certainly understood Spanish quite well, having lived for several years in Spain, asked, accentuating the verb in typical Chilean fashion by placing it at the beginning of the sentence: "Do you know where such-and-such a thing is sold?" Q Tu säbes donde venden tal cosa ?) The Argentinian response to the Chilean question was disturbing (the translation attempts to capture the dialectal flavor of the pampas form): "Last year I knew to go to a store where ...". Completely puzzled at this, the Chilean said: "Well, then, if you knew then, you must still know. You wouldn't have forgotten!" And the Argentinian exclaimed, quite irritated: "But of course I know, since I knew to buy a lot 7 of things there!" 6

At the end of section on person morphemes. It is sometimes used by lower-class people of the southern part of Colombia, who, like those in Ecuador, enjoy a cultural Quechua background. β

7

muy mucho.

Morphemes of Southern Quechua and Their Influence on Spanish

241

Let us remark that this use of saber is not the same one encountered in the northern part of the area where American Spanish is spoken, but that it is certainly the same one used — with less insistence than in Argentina — by the lower classes who speak Spanish in the northern Andes (for example, in the south of Cauca) where the influence of Quechua (Inca) is undeniable. I once heard a concierge in Jalapa (Mexico) say, when talking about a certain doctor who had pretensions of being an anthropologist: este rector no sabe mirar para abajo ni derecho, mira por encima de uno. There, saber does not have the function of indicating a habit, but rather of indicating a possibility. In Mexico, this verb is also used in the sense recorded by van Wyk (1969: 9) in the Honduras, in certain expressions like si comer de todo Ί eat everything; I can eat anything'. In summary, it seems that the customary "to know" is only encountered in certain regions and sociocultural levels in America with Quechua influence which, however, does not allow us to confirm that in Argentina it has acquired the added support of the Quechua -q. On the other hand, there can be no doubt that the Quechua morpheme -s- of continuative and durative action is the cause of the misuse of the -ndo in the Spanish of Santiago de l'Estero. This corresponds to en train de 'in the process of' in French. It is found in Middle German {der riter ... mit dem leve \arand ist), in English (is doing), and in the German of the Rhineland (waren Sie am Schlafen?', Sie sind wohl ein neues Buch am Schreiben ?), and is used in a fairly frequent way in Spanish, although not as often as it is in the province of Santiago de l'Estero. It occurs in numerous American Indian languages, but it seems that in the sixteenth century it was used less than it is today, as seen from a comparison of the classical Nahua (sixteenth and seventeenth centuries) with Mexicano or "Aztec." The Indians from the extreme southern portion of the Spanish empire used it in their communications with whites and mestizos, who answered them in this same pidgin Indian: ι Con permiso de quien pasando ? 'with whose permission are you passing here ?' More recently, we find traces of this archaic style in constructions such as ι Qui anda haciendo, amigo, por estos pagos?8 Here is a sample from Argentinian literature, a piece which illustrates more than just this point: — No matando paisano, [«] ridiendo lanzas, les grito Barrasa. Los indios arrojaron las lanzas y Barrasa mando α dos de ellos a que ataran codo con codo a los demas, con las huascas de sus recados. — i Como te llamdis?, ioh!,9 dijo en su estilo cuyano pur ο ... 8

The first expression is found in the nineteenth century classic by Mansilla, Excursiön ά los indios ranqueles. The second is recorded by Hassler (1961: 204). 9 This transcription is connected with the nasal or velar interjection fo], fe], which is heard in many places on both sides of the Andes, i.e. in the precordillera regions.

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JUAN Α. HASLER

— Lincon, contesto el bärbaro. — Veia, joh! Tenis el mesmo nombre de un presidente de Uropa, sigürt dicen, que por eso le hart dado tu nombre a un retazo de Junin. Pero nada te ha Ί valer trdir nombre de gente. Ya podis hacerme un asao pcC jusilarte despues.

[..·] — Lincon, si intendando disparar [=fiee]. jPum!Matando. los crimenes! /Ajusilando!l°

jHincando!/Pagando

In Santiago de l'Estero, expressions such as the following are quite frequently used: ι Que diciendo te has venido olvidando? 'Why have you forgotten it?', Me vengo olvidando Ί have forgotten it', Quiandas teniendo ? 'What's happened to him?', Vienes viajando? 'Are you traveling?'. It appears likely that this might come from imat-nis or imata-nis 'why?' of southern Quechua. If this is the case, we might suppose that the yanakuna Indians and maids brought into Chile used it in this way as well, which would explain its current use in the most southern territory of the Spanish colonial expansion, Chilo6. There is in the Quechua of Santiago a morpheme -qa11 which alternates with [mikuspäqa ~ mikuspä], [t§aymantäqa ~ tgaymantä]. Note that the accent remains in the same position in both cases, preceding the allomorph -qa and the allomorph # . Moreover, the vowels influenced by [q] still show this influence preceding [mi§k6qa ~ mi§k6] = /mi§kiqa/, [uturuqköqa ^ utururjkö] = /uturunkuqa/. Therefore, the phonetic behavior of the zero allomorph is identical to that of -qa. Currently, there can also be found a similar phenomenon of finalsyllable loss in the Spanish adstratum of the cities, in Buenos Aires and elsewhere in Argentina. Street merchants often climb into buses to sell their wares, crying, / ... por sölo den pel, and the vegetable merchants fill the streets with their cries, Jcompre tomd! (spoken just like this, and perfectly well articulated). In the first example, we have a shortening of cien pesos, and in the second, a truncation of tomates; therefore we have a loss of -s ~ -es and of the preceding consonant before absolute zero, i.e. sentence-finally. It is easy to imagine the sort of transformation which this mechanism could have caused in the English word beefsteak: we start from *bifte in the singular, which must then be *biftes in the plural.12 But along with the 10

This passage is quoted from Ceballos (1960: 478). This belongs to a class which is difficult to name. It might be reasonable to call it the class of emphatics. 18 After having written this article, I found in a dictionary that the form *bifte which I proposed has actually been recorded. I have never heard it; from Chile to Mexico, people use biste (though it is spelled bistec). Since it is used so extensively, biste can be considered the normal form in American Spanish. 11

Morphemes of Southern Quechua and Their Influence on Spanish

243

normal plural we have the exclamatory plural, heard not only in the streets, but also in stores, so that a meat vender might say: jsalen die(z) bif! Influenced by this form of the exclamatory plural, a housewife or a cook might say, more quietly: compre do(s) bife(s);13 le servire un bife. And in this way, the Argentinian form bife might have been born. It is a pity that the restaurants of Santiago, the capital of Chile, an essentially imitative country (as noted long ago by the historian, B. Vicuna-Mackenna) no longer offer bistes as they did some years ago, but — given the snobbism of the incorrigible imitators! — only bif es (or, even more frequent, biffes)."

REFERENCES CEBALLOS, ESTANISLAO S.

1960

Viaje alpais de los araucanos. Buenos Aires.

HASSLER, WILLY

1961

El camaruco de Zaina Yegua. Anales de Arqueologia y Etnologia (Mendoza).

MANSILLA, LUCIO V.

1949 Excursion α los indios ranqueles, sixth edition. Buenos Aires: Editorial Estrada. VAN WYK, Η. L.

1969 Algunas aspectos morfologicos y sintacticos del habla hondurena. Bole tin de Filologia (Santiago) 20: 3-16.

13

The suppression of the final -s is of Andalusian origin, but it is frequently apparent in the language of Italians from the pampas areas, for whom the morpheme -s is unknown in their native dialects. 14 This snobbish form can be found posted in large letters on the windows of all the cafes in the area. It is most certainly quite recent and seems to have first appeared in 1968, becoming more common in 1969, and then becoming the predominant form from 1970 on. One of the members of the Academia Chilena de la Lengua (which meets almost weekly to work on the edition of a new dialectal dictionary and, unfortunately, to send neologisms to the Real diccionario de la lengua) was completely surprised when I remarked about it to him. He was not acquainted with the form at all.

Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea

DONALD C. LAYCOCK

The term "Sepik" is one that is well known in ethnographic literature. Less well known are the exact area and type of culture implied by the term; and also very little known is the scanty amount of data on which statements about the area are based. "Sepik" refers, first and foremost, to the Sepik River — seven hundred miles of winding tropical river, forming the valley between the central highlands and the northern coastal ranges. But the river rises high in those central highlands, in an area (Telefomin) which is rarely thought of as Sepik, in cultural terms, at all. Secondly, the term "Sepik" applies to the former Sepik District of Papua New Guinea, now divided into the East and West Sepik Districts. But this area includes coastal Austronesian populations, who know little of the Sepik River, and who frequently object to being called "Sepiks." Thirdly, there is little doubt that the true Sepik (that is, "Sepik River") cultural and linguistic features extend beyond the bounds of the two Sepik districts, eastward towards the Ramu River and beyond, so that it makes little sense to exclude the western Madang District from any account of the Sepik. For these reasons the term "Sepik Basin" of the title of this paper is defined, loosely, as "the area between the West Irian border and the Ramu River, and between the north coast and the northern slopes of the central highlands." The region as defined supports a population (in 1970) of some 290,000 indigenous inhabitants, living in about 1,600 villages, and speaking more than 170 different languages. As the total land area is only about 30,200 square miles, this is probably the most heterogeneous linguistic area in the world.

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DONALD C. LAYCOCK

The linguistic classification of the area has been detailed, as far as it is known at present, by Laycock (1973); this paper follows that classification, an overview of which can be found in the Appendix and on Map 1. To complete our knowledge of man and his activities, it would be necessary, minimally, to have a detailed study of the culture and language of a representative village of every linguistic community. I say "minimally" as there can be wide cultural divergences within the one linguistic community, especially if it is large, while, on the other hand, it seems to be impossible (perhaps even by definition) for two groups to share identical cultures but speak different languages. Such a goal is clearly not realizable, with the manpower of professional anthropologists and linguists available. But it might not be unreasonable to expect to get a coverage of major ethnographic areas — areas, that is, within which the cultural diversity is small, and which present unique features that distinguish them from other ethnographic areas. Because language, not anthropology, is my principal competence, I have equated here "ethnographic area" with "language family." I am aware of difficulties in such an equation: for instance, the well-known groups of Abelam, Iatmul, and Boiken are included in a single language family, the Ndu family (Laycock 1965), though they show marked cultural diversity. Nevertheless, for most of the smaller language families, the equation seems reasonable enough, and it at least has the advantage of not prejudging the ethnographic areas by criteria — such as art styles, social organization, or tambaran cult — which have not yet been objectively defined. Also, not being an anthropologist, I have not attempted to be very explicit about the type of research that needs to be undertaken in any area; I believe this is the subject of another paper being written at this time (Mead 1973). The language families are set out in Map 1; the shading distinguishes adjacent stocks, but similar shadings have no meaning in nonadjacent areas. Generally, we can distinguish in the Sepik region some 11 Austronesian (AN; Melanesian) languages, and 170 non-Austronesian (NAN) languages, in six phyla, and nine or ten isolates. (See Appendix.) None of these phyla appears to be interrelated at a higher level, though there has been a great deal of mutual influence. On present evidence, these phyla would appear to represent distinct populations and, probably, distinct migrations into the New Guinea area; but this is a hypothesis that cannot be pursued here. Map 2 is the same map showing principal research projects in the Sepik region for the last seventy-one years, insofar as they are known to me. It

Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea

247

248

DONALD C. LAYCOCK

1 Slill ill! mill I Iiilliilliiiiiii f 2 fr

5

.ijiflljJiflliliiijlllflflllliy I ! S

"

;?ΐs

s sssssssissssssas

ί

ίιΐϋϋιΐ illLüiih^ilJliiiiimüll iiiiiiifiliiiiiiiiSitiiiiiiiiifiiiiihl 5SSSÄSSS

J3

ri

.3

Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea

249

would be possible, but otiose, to argue about the definition of "principal research projects." The main criteria have been an extended stay in the area and/or a major publication, or the likelihood of significant publication (in the case of still uncompleted projects). But I have also included all workers from the Summer Institute of Linguistics, only some of whom can be expected to publish data on their languages. Specifically omitted are projects involving only collection of ethnographica for museums, and wide-scale survey projects — the second omission effectively eliminating most of my own work in the Sepik region, as well as the survey work of z'Graggen (1971) in the western Madang region. It has been impossible, also, to include all of the smaller accounts of the many German ethnographers and missionaries (especially the contributors to the journal Anthropos) in the first decades of this century; for these the reader is referred to the two bibliographies (Anonymous 1963, 1968). The criteria applied are less strict in the little-studied areas than in wellstudied ones. It would, for example, have been possible to list many names against Iatmul and Abelam, but here one must draw the line; on the other hand, the presence of relatively untried anthropologists in the border area is certainly worthy of mention. For data on the projects, I have drawn heavily on previous sources: the two ethnographic bibliographies (Anonymous 1963, 1968), and surveys such as Haberland (1965), Reeves and Dudley (1969), Richardson and Dudley (1967), Schwartz (1967), Ward and Lea (1970), and the very helpful periodical Man in New Guinea. These sources should be consulted for full details of research projects mentioned. The map of research projects should be looked at negatively rather than positively — that is, while the absence of a marker means that the area is, essentially, virgin territory, the presence of a marker does not mean there is no further work to be done in that area. In areas where, for example, the only worker is a member of the Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL), there is certainly room for anthropological studies — and the existence of SIL work on the language should make the task of the anthropologist much easier. Taking first the eleven AN languages of the area (Sera, Sissano, Tumleo, Ulau-Suain, Kairiru, Kaiep, Kis, Wogeo, Manam, and Sepa), we find the literature fairly extensive. For the western groups (Sera to Ulau-Suain), we have Blaes (1946, 1948), Erdweg (1902), Friederici (1912, 1913), Klaffl and Yormann (1905), Meyer (1932-1933, 1943, 1947), and Schultze (1911); but, because of the early dates, none of this can be regarded as adequate, and restudies are needed. One possible field location would be that of the village of Suain, which lies at a point maximally distant from Aitape and

250

DONALD C. LAYCOCK

Wewak. The road between Aitape and Wewak did not reach Suain before 1974, and there is no good anchorage; this means that Suain villagers have high freight costs on their copra. Perhaps because of these disadvantages, Suain has had at least three small cargo cults within the last ten years, and may well have more before the road reaches it. The western mainland languages are dealt with only by Gehberger (1939, 1950), but there is considerable data on the islanders: the many publications of Hogbin (see References) for Wogeo, and the almost equally extensive publications of Wedgwood (see References) for Manam. If equal coverage could be given the other AN groups of the region, we could agree with Haberland (1965) that "the northern coast is relatively well known." Running through the NAN families in order, we first have those of the Torricelli phylum, consisting of some forty-seven languages strung along the ranges between the coast and the Sepik. Of this group, families # 1 , 3 , 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, and 12 have undergone no study at all; family # 1 3 (the Monumbo family) is also marked on the map as unstudied, but an early grammar (Vormann and Scharffenberger 1914) must be mentioned, as well as linguistic and ethnographic work by Höltker (1964). Of the groups with some study, the first is the Wapei family (#2). A few anthropologists — W. and J. Mitchell (University of Vermont), G. and A. Lewis (London School of Economics), and H. Philsooph (Edinburgh University) — have in the past few years been working in the Lumi area, each in a different language of the family, but I have not yet seen publications. Some unpublished linguistic and anthropological papers have been prepared by missionaries at Lumi (A. and D. McGregor 1961a, 1961b), and there is an SIL team (D. and J. Scorza) working in Au, from the base of the large mission complex at Angugenak. Also in the linguistic family are the Valman, for which we have only old German material, principally linguistic (Vormann and Schmidt 1900; Spölgen and Schmidt 1901; Klaffl and Vormann 1905; Becker 1971).1 Within this family, the Olo alone deserve as intensive a study as the Abelam have undergone, as there are considerable dialect and cultural differences between different groups, especially between Olo speakers living on different sides of the Torricelli Mountains. The Urat family-level language is only now forming the basis of work by a postgraduate student, Allen, in geography at the Australian National University. Though the project is not strictly anthropological, close contact between this worker and Tuzin (see below) makes it likely that the project 1

The SVD missionary, A. Becker, died in 1945, but the extensive texts he collected were not published until 1971.

Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea

251

will also have an anthropological yield, and will extend our knowledge westward along the Torricelli ranges. The best-known group of the Torricelli phylum is, however, the Arapesh family (#10); here we have the work of Mead (1933, 1934a, 1934b, 1935, 1937, 1938-1939) and Fortune (1939, 1942, 1943, 1947) among the Mountain Arapesh and, more recently, that of Tuzin (Australian National University) among a southern Arapesh group at Ilahita (Tuzin 1972,1973). To complete the picture of Arapesh culture that is forming, it is now necessary that work be undertaken among the Bumbita (west of Ilahita and of project #41), and among the coast-dwellers speaking a dialect of the Mountain Arapesh language; on these last we have only sporadic material in the publications of Gerstner (see References), which deal principally with Boiken speakers. The second large group in the Sepik area, that of the Sko phylum, in the area Lake Sentani-Vanimo-Warapu, can be regarded as almost totally unstudied. The total literature, apart from traveller's tales, consists of a tantalizingly brief paper by Thomas (1942) on the Vanimo family, and some old German ethnographic data on the culturally and linguistically very different Warapu, e.g. Erdweg (1901) on the Krisa family. Considerably more is needed to clarify the origins of this group, whose members seem (on linguistic and cultural grounds) to be relatively late arrivals in the Sepik area. The inhabitants of the coastal villages make as much use of the sea as the nearby Melanesians, but they use distinctive tacking canoes, not reversing canoes; 2 and all members of the group speak languages which are as alien to the general run of NAN languages of New Guinea as Chinese is to English. In the extreme east of this area, there is an additional situation worthy of study. The village of Warapu has been amalgamated with that of Sissano, formerly traditional enemies. This has caused linguistic and social adjustments that would well repay intensive study.3 The largest single linguistic group in the Sepik region is that of the Sepik-Ramu phylum first postulated by Laycock (1973), taking in some ninety-one languages, in twenty-seven families. The first group listed, Biksi (#44), is hardly a possibility for field research at present: the group lives in an area of West Irian that is virtually inaccessible from Djayapura, while political considerations would probably make it inappropriate for a fieldworker to proceed there via Papua New Guinea territory. The only information available on the group is a wordlist, partially published in Laycock (1972), obtained from Biksi visitors at Green River. 2 3

Tacking canoes are otherwise extremely rare in Melanesia. Some aspects of the linguistic interaction have been discussed by Laycock (1974).

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DONALD C. LAYCOCK

The next three languages form part of the Upper Sepik stock. Very little work has been done here, although the area is well known to collectors of Upper Sepik shields. For the Iwam (family #17), the only ethnographic account in print appears to be that of Schuster (1969b). SIL teams have worked in the language, in two dialects (R. and J. Conrad — upriver dialect; M. Laszlo and J. Rehburg — downriver dialect), but nothing has been done with the closely related language of Amal, in the swamps north of the Sepik River. Just downstream of the Iwam, the two languages of the Wogamusin family (Chenapian and Wogamusin) must count as virtually unstudied on all levels, though again the villages have been visited by collectors, and research workers in passing. One aspect of Wogamusin culture that could still perhaps be studied is the age-grade and initiation system. In 1959, five grades were mentioned to Laycock, each with a distinctive type of penis-sheathing and particular food taboos. Initiation into the grades includes learning to play melodies on bamboo flutes. The system is no longer operative, owing to missionary influence (there is a Catholic mission at Kubkain), but a great deal of information could still be obtained. The Abau linguistic group, extending from Green River to Yellow River, and along southern tributaries of the Sepik, is unknown ethnographically, except to museum collectors, and still has many remote villages. The missionary couple at Green River, the Baileys, have a good, and scientifically based, knowledge of the language, though they have not published on it; I have indicated this as project # 7 . Family # 2 0 , the Ram family, consists of three languages south of Lumi, in which no work at all has been undertaken. The group is likely to be subjected to strong cultural pressures from Torricelli phylum peoples to the north. However, the basic culture is likely to resemble that of the members of family # 2 1 , on which we have a little information, i.e. Newton 1971, and unpublished linguistic material in the hands of the SIL team of H. Marten and V. Foreman. There is scope for much more work within this group, especially in the remoter mountain villages. Only recently has work been attempted in the Yellow River area (family #22). H. Keim (Museum für Völkerkunde, Berlin) has been to the villages of two languages, Ak and Awun, in 1969-1970, and W. Mitchell (University of Vermont) moved to the Namie-speaking village of Iwani during 1971. The area is remote and difficult, and there is as yet no published material on it. Yerakai — a single language spoken in only two villages — must also count as unknown, though there is some data on myths and cult objects in Newton (1971). The culture probably resembles that of nearby Sepik

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Hill family villages, but the language is closer to that of the Ndu family. The Nukuma family (#24) includes the Kwoma, for which group we have the work of Whiting and Reed (Whiting 1941, 1944; Whiting and Reed 1938), and Kaufmann (1968), as well as a more recent study begun by B. Hayes (London School of Economics). There is also an SIL team (O. and M. Kooyers) working in the language (O. and M. Kooyers and Bee 1971; Kooyers 1975). But there is no comparable study of the Kwange half of the family, further north. The exact cultural and linguistic relationship of this family to the Ndu family is something that needs to be worked out in detail. The Ndu family (#25) is by far the most studied group in the Sepik region. Sketch grammars of most of the languages are available (Laycock 1965), and SIL teams are working in five of the eight languages (N. and S. Draper, P. Wilson, H. Wearne: Abelam; A. and M. Freudenburg: Boiken; L. Schanely: Sawos; P. and L. Staalsen: Iatmul; B. Farnsworth and C. Brown: Manambu). Some valuable data on Iatmul are provided by Staalsen (1966, 1969, 1972). Among published reports relevant to anthropological research we may mention Kaberry (1941, 1942), Lea (1965a, 1965b, 1966), and Whiteman (1965, 1966, 1967a, 1967b) for Abelam; Bateson (1932, 1936) and Staalsen (1966, 1969, 1972) for Iatmul; the list could be extended considerably. For Ngala (Swagup), we have only scattered writings, including the data in Newton (1971); for Boiken, only the extensive, but nevertheless inadequate, writings of Gerstner (see References). Unpublished research in progress includes that of A. Forge (London School of Economics) and P. Gorlin (University of Columbia) in Abelam, and C. Kaufmann (Basel) filming pottery making in a Sawos village. On smaller groups, such as Manambu, Buiamanambu, and Yelogu, there is no anthropological data at all. As the Ndu family alone accounts for almost a third of the total population of the East and West Sepik districts, a strong case can be made for more studies in the area, but preferably not among the already wellstudied Abelam and Iatmul, even though there are many more things we should like to know about them. The groups that cry out for study are the Boiken (especially an inland village, one that has not yet been reached by the road, or introduced to cash-cropping), and the Sawos (Sepik Plains people). Comparisons with Iatmul, Abelam, and Mountain Arapesh culture are desirable; there are linguistic indications, for example, that the Boiken absorbed a former Arapesh-type population, and it would be valuable to confirm this culturally. The Manambu, too, should be studied by an anthropologist, before they become fully acculturated — a fate which villages on the main Sepik River find difficult to avoid.

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The extensive Sepik Hill family — extensive in area, but not in population — has six markers shown: three are SIL workers — W. and S. Dye in Bahinemo, R. and S. Lewis in Sanio, and L. and K. Bruce in Alamblak. A team of anthropologists from the University of Michigan also worked among Sanio speakers in 1966-1967, and plans further fieldwork. (See Dye and P. and W. Townsend 1969; R. Lewis 1972; S. Lewis 1972; P. Townsend 1969, 1971; P. Townsend et al. 1973; and W. Townsend 1969.) Against marker # 5 7 stands also the name of Forge, on the basis of Forge (1960); but no full-scale anthropological work has been undertaken in the area. Three further projects are listed as being among the Hewa, but I think I may be in error here; I believe that the recent work (marker # 3 0 ) of J. F. P. Poole (Cornell University) should be located to the south of marker # 2 8 , among Bimin speakers (Ok family, Trans-New Guinea phylum). If this is correct, then there remain two workers among the Hewa, S. Hatanaka and Steadman (Steadman 1971), both of the Australian National University. The rest of the Sepik Hill family is totally untouched, and some of the southern groups, such as Bikaru, Paka, and Piame, at the head of the April and Wogumasch Rivers, have been contacted only in the last few years. For an anthropologist who does not mind isolation, and who is seeking untouched groups, there may well be a suitable project here, though I would be surprised if these southern Sepik Hill peoples differ much from the Hewa. Perhaps more interesting would be a study of the eastern groups, such as Kaningra, Sumariup, or Alamblak, to determine the degree of cultural and linguistic relationship with the Iatmul to the north. The speakers of the languages of the Leonhard Schultze family (#27) remain totally unknown to anthropologists and linguists. The languages are complex, and are only marginally part of the Sepik-Ramu phylum (and are hence grouped into a separate subphylum in Laycock [1973]); culturally, they remain anybody's guess. One village of the group, that of Paupe (seventy-five inhabitants; no other village found speaking the same language) is undergoing some sort of cultural unheaval: large barges of petrol drums go by every day to the mining company high up the Frieda River. However, few, if any, of the Paupe villagers had by 1971 obtained employment with the mining company; it would be interesting to see if genetic defects caused by inbreeding have anything to do with this (as claimed by some European employees of the mining company). In precontact times, the Paupe villagers could have had virtually no contact with other groups. They are remote from, and inaccessible to, the Iwam, and they live on the fringe of a large uninhabited area. Only if contact was maintained with the Leonhard Schultze villages (distant, difficult of access, and speaking different languages) would exogamy have been possible.

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255

The two families ( # 2 8 and # 2 9 ) of the Lower Sepik subphylum we can take together, as the amount of work to be listed is not great. There is some ethnography by Laumann (1951, 1952), and by Thurnwald (1934) for Angoram speakers (Pondo family); for the Nor family, there is extensive, but dated, work by Schmidt (1924-1926, 1933, 1953), and additional ethnography by Höltker (1967, 1968). This latter group (Murik Lakes) would certainly repay study, as being the principal NAN trading area of the Sepik; Murik villagers apparently acted as middlemen between the seafaring Austronesians of Kairiru, Wogeo, and Watam, and the NAN groups further inland. The system has not yet broken down completely. The lower Sepik villages (Angoram-speaking) are far more acculturated, but it should not be too late to obtain good data on a group that is apparently intrusive into the Sepik River area; even a documentation of initial contacts and early years with German administrators and missionaries would be valuable (the SVD mission at Marienberg was one of the earliest in the territory). Linguistically part of the Nor family are the Yimas, who are mentioned briefly by Haberland (1966), and the Chambri, who are mentioned more extensively, but who are treated in detail only by Mead (1935). Many writers on Chambri Lakes have concentrated on Aibom village, which is Iatmul-speaking,4 and Iatmul culturally; the true Chambri villages of Indingai, Kilimbit, and Wombun would certainly repay further study, though any anthropologist working there would need to be well grounded in linguistics — the language is the most complex in the entire Sepik region. Families # 3 0 (Mongol-Langam) and # 3 1 (Gapun) remain virtually unknown, both linguistically and culturally, except for a brief mention of Bungain by Gehberger (1939, 1950), and a Gapun wordlist by Höltker (1938) — unfortunately so, as each of these groups is unusual linguistically, and shows unidentifiable substratum elements heavily overlaid with elements from the surrounding dominant groups. If this is true culturally as well, then it should be possible for an anthropological study to add to our knowledge of the settlement and cultural interaction in the Sepik area. The Mongol-Langam group, in particular, seems to stand just about halfway between the Yuat family and the Grass family. The Yuat family (#32) has been mentioned by Mead (1935: Mundugumor = Biwat) and Laumann (1954), but there is a lot more to be discovered with this group, which linguistically stands between the Lower Sepik and the Grass languages. At the time of writing, N. McDowell (Cornell University) was planning fieldwork in the Yuat area. 4

Aibom villagers probably originally spoke the Chambri language, or another language of the same family.

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The Grass family languages — four of them, including Kambot — remain unstudied, and even the traditional art of the area (large, single anthropomorphic figures on sago panggal) is not well known. A great deal of work can still be undertaken throughout the group. It would still be possible, for instance, to undertake a study of sexual attitudes and roles in the largest village of the Sepik region, Kambaramba (population 1,600+), which since precontact times has maintained a village economy based on prostitution of women. The Banaro culture perhaps does not differ greatly from that of the Grass area, but it would still be useful to have a modern perspective on the group reported by Thurnwald (1916, 1921). There are still many remote villages in the Banaro area. For family # 3 5 (Arafundi: two languages), the only material in print is that of Haberland (1966); this again would be a highly suitable area for anthropological research. The languages are not complex. For families #36-40, outside the two Sepik Districts, I have not fully reviewed the literature, but there is little of overwhelming significance. Most of the writings of linguistic interest have been reviewed by z'Graggen (1971); the only important anthropological communications known to me in this area are those of Blackwood (1950, 1951) on technology, though there is much German ethnography scattered through the pages of Anthropos. Otherwise, comments are similar to those for the preceding three families; but I cannot speak of this area from personal knowledge. Probably a study of the Rao (#139) would prove rewarding. Leaving the Sepik-Ramu phylum entirely, we now come to the Kwomtari phylum — a small group of three families (seven languages) with no known additional relationships. Total research work, apart from survey work on the languages: nil. Similarly with the small, isolated group known as the Left May phylum; both Schuster (1967) and Schwartz (1967) mention the group as requiring study. Note, however, that the name "Birua" given by these two writers is not a satisfactory designation of the group, or of part of it, since it is simply the New Guinea pidgin word for "enemy," applied to the people in the Left May Hills by the nearby Iwam. Laycock (1973) has listed the languages that make up the group as being Waniabu, Bero, Yinibu, Nimo-Wasuai ( = "Birua"), Po, and Iyo; but this listing is subject to revision. The last classified group in the Sepik region is that of the Trans-New Guinea phylum, an enormous phylum of languages taking in, in geographical extent, four-fifths of the New Guinea mainland. The bestknown representatives of the group are found in the central ranges of New Guinea, where a great deal of research has been carried out in recent

Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea

257

years. It is now known, however, that most of the languages of the West Irian border area belong to the Trans-New Guinea phylum and a certain amount of research has been concentrated there in the last few years. Within the Waris family there have been two recent anthropological projects: A. Gell (London School of Economics) among the Waina (Gell 1971), and B. Juillerat (Sorbonne) in the Amanab-speaking area. In addition, the SIL team of G. and D. Graham is studying the Amanab language. Just south of this, in the Senagi family, we have recent work by P. Huber (Duke University), and continuing work on the Anggor language by R. and S. Litterai (SIL; see R. Litteral [1972], S. Litteral [1972]). There is obviously room for more work in the area, since there are nine Trans-New Guinea phylum languages in this area on the Papua New Guinea side of the border, and a further five in West Irian. In particular, work in the Bewani Mountains (family # 4 8 ) would add a whole new ethnographic area to our Sepik knowledge. Moving southward, we find (family # 5 0 ) the large Ok family, documented principally by the SIL linguists, A. and P. Healey (A. Healey 1962, 1964a, 1964b; P. Healey 1964, 1965a, 1965b, 1966). Further SIL work is being carried on in Mianmin (P. Weston and R. Smith). The Steinkraus's, an SIL team working in Tifal, were tragically killed by a landslide over a village in 1971, but their work is to be continued by a new SIL team. I may not be up-to-date on all anthropological projects in this area, but can mention recent work by G. Morren (University of Columbia) among Mianmin speakers, and Schuster (Schuster 1969a) among Telefol areas. Two additional projects not included on the map are those of B. and R. Craig (University of Sydney) in the Telefol-speaking area in the midsixties, and W. Wheatcroft (University of Chicago) among the Tifalmin in 1970. The Oksapmin — only recently, and still tentatively, included linguistically in the Trans-New Guinea phylum — have come in for serious attention only from the SIL team of M. and C. Lawrence (Lawrence 1971), and from A. Perry (University of Columbia); the latter project also was inadvertently omitted from Map 2. Project # 5 6 , that of M. and J. Dornstreich (University of Columbia) in the village of Gadio (Bisorio-speaking), represents the only research involving the Enga-type population on the northern highlands fringe; this is still a region that needs to be explored linguistically and ethnographically. The last projects to be mentioned are somewhat outside the Sepik region, even as defined in this paper, but are included because of the important multidisciplinary research (project # 6 9 ) directed by R. Bulmer of the University of Papua, New Guinea, and involving, at different times, B.

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Biggs and A. Pawley (University of Auckland) and students in anthropology at the University of Papua, New Guinea. Many of the publications have yet to appear; as a glossocentric linguist, I mention here only an important paper (Biggs 1963) on a type of phonology that is also widespread in the Sepik area — a feature which suggests that the Karam populations may have originally spoken a language belonging to the Sepik-Ramu phylum, rather than, as now, a language belonging to the Trans-New Guinea phylum. Also working in Karam is the SIL team of L. and H. Scholz. Work is also being carried on in the closely-related Kobon language area by an SIL team (M. and M. Dawson), and by an anthropologist, Jackson (University of Auckland). That concludes the research projects. There remain in the Sepik region nine isolates (or ten, if Erem turns out to be different from Pinai — #63). These are languages which show, on present knowledge (which is often slight), no relationship to any others. They are all spoken by small communities and in every case have been heavily influenced by the languages around them; many of their speakers are multilingual. It is certain that they represent remnant populations either of groups that have otherwise died out completely, or of groups remote in distance, so that the linguistic relationships have not yet been perceived. As remnant populations they should be of as much interest to anthropologists as to linguists, if researchers can balance the rewards of studying a unique population against the disadvantages of lack of comparability with other languages and cultures, and of having to learn a complex language for the privilege of communication with only a few hundred people. Summing up: of fifty-six language families which can be classified into larger groups, just one-half (accounting for eighty speech communities) are totally unstudied; of the remaining half, varying judgments can be offered as to whether what has been done is adequate. Add to this nine or ten isolates, and we can see that the Sepik region, in spite of its almost ninety years of fairly intensive contact with Europeans, 5 is in fact lagging far behind the interior (central highlands) of New Guinea,® as far as our scientific knowledge goes. If this situation is not soon remedied, the Sepik will become, not, as now, the Cinderella of New Guinea research, but the Ugly Sister, doomed to miss out forever on whatever good things research can be said to bring. 8

Ignoring sporadic, and usually coastal, contacts by explorers. The first vessel (M.V. Ottilie) sailed up the Sepik River as far as Malu in 1886. β This in spite of the fact that many of the highland areas have become accessible only subsequent to World War II.

259

Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea

APPENDIX: OVERVIEW OF CLASSIFICATION OF SEPIK LANGUAGES Stock MELANESIAN

Language

Family

LANGUAGES

Έ Έ

Έ Έ TORRICELLI PHYLUM - West Wapei

— Wapie-Palei

• West Wapei -

Wapei

Palei

Maimai

— Kombio

— Urat Maimai'·

Wiaki Beli — Laeko-Libuat Kombio

— Arapesh •

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Sera Sissano Tumleo Ali Ulau-Suain Kairiru Kaiep Kis Wogeo Manam Sepa

12 13 14 14 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

One Seta Seti Olo Elkei Yau Yis Au Yil Ningil Alu Galu Gnau Valman Yapunda? Aru Aruop Aiku Nambi Kayik Agi Bragat? Urat Yahang Heyo Siliput Wiaki Beli Laeko-Libuat? Lou Kombio Yambes Worn Aruek Eitiep Mt. Arapesh S. Arapesh Bumbita

260

DONALD C. LAYCOCK

Stock T O R R I C E L L I P H Y L U M (continued)

Family

— Urim — Marienberg -

Urim Marienberg •

— Monumbo

Monumbo

Language

Έ

50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Urim Buna Kamasau Elepi Muniwara Mandi Urimo? Monumbo Lilau

59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

Sko Sangke Wutung Vanimo Krisa Rawo Puari Warapu

SKO P H Y L U M Sko

Vanimo

— Krisa •

SEPIK-RAMU PHYLUM SEPIK SUBPHYLUM

Biksi — Upper Sepik super-stock Upper Sepik

Iwam — Wogamusin

— Ram

Abau Ram -

— Tama

Tama

Middle Sepik super-stock Yellow River

— Middle Sepik-

67 Biksi

Biksi

Έ Έ

• Yellow River •

Yerakai NukumaΈ 1—Ndu-

68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80

Iwam Amal Wogamusin Chenapian Abau Karawa Bouye Autu Mayo Pasi Pahi Mehek Kalou

81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94

Namie Ak Awun Yerakai Kwoma Kwanga Abelam Boiken Iatmul Manambu Sawos Buiamanambu Yelogu Ngala

Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea

Stock

261

Family

Language

SEPIK-RAMU P H Y L U M (continued) I— Sepik Hill

95 96 97 98 99 00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

Kaningra Alamblak Kapriman Watakataui Sumariup Bisis Mari Bahinemo Bitara Sanio Setiali Paka Gabiano Piame Hewa Bikaru

11 12 13 14 15

Walio Pai Yabio Tuwari Papi

Έ

16 17 18 19 20 21

Murik Kopar Angoram Karawari Yimas Chambri

Έ

22 Gapun 23 Bungain

Sepik Hill •

LEONHARD SCHULTZE SUBPHYLUM

Leonhard Schultze •

-Leonhard Schultze

LOWER SEPIK SUBPHYLUM

•Nor •

Nor-Pondo •

—Pondo

GAPUN SUBPHYLUM

Gapun

Gapun

Mongol-Langam-

Mongol-Langam

RAMU SUBPHYLUM

1— Yuat -

[

Yuat

24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

Mongol Langam Yaul Biwat Miyak Mekmek Changriwa Bun

32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41

Kambot Gorovu Adjora Aion, Banaro Alfendio Meakambut Rao Anor Aiome

R a m u super-stock Grass

• Arafundi — Annaberg •

Grass •

— Banaro Arafundi · -| I

KE RaoAi Aian-

Έ Έ

262

DONALD C. LAYCOCK

Stock

Family

Language

S E P I K - R A M U P H Y L U M (continued) — Ruboni

— Ottilien-

— Misegian-

Goam •

KWOMTARI PHYLUM Kwomtari

- Ataitan —

• Kwomtari • — Baibai — — Pyu

LEFT MAY PHYLUM Left May

- Left May

-142 143 144 145 -146 -147 148 -149 -150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 -158

Watam Kaian Gamei Awar Bosman Mikarew Sepen Giri Tangu Igom Tanguat Andarum Itutang Midsivindi Akrukay Breri Romkun

159 Kwomtari

Έ 160 Fas 161 Baibai Έ. 162 Biaka 163 Pyu

164 Waniabu 165 Bero 166 Yinibu 167 Nakwi 168 Nimo-Wasuai 169 Po t— 170 Iyo

T R A N S - N E W G U I N E A P H Y L U M (in Sepik region) - Border

— Waris

— Taikat — Bewani

— Senagi

-Central and South New Guinea

Senagi •

Ok

171 Manem 172 Waris 173 Senggi 174 Waina 175 Daonda I— 176 Simog 177 A m a n a b τ— 178 Awji 1—179 Taikat 180 Pagi 181 Kilmeri 1—182 Ninggera 183 Anggor 184 Dera — 185 Diika-Ekor 186 Telefol 187 Mianmin

Unstudied Ethnographic Areas of the Sepik Basin, New Guinea

Stock

Family

263

Language

T R A N S - N E W G U I N E A P H Y L U M (in Sepik region) (continued)

— East New G u i n e a Highlands

— Oksapmin

188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 L- 196 West C e n t r a l 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 Oksapmin -

Wagarabai Tifal Kati Ninati Kati M e t o m k a Ninggerum Yonggom Faiwol Bimin Kauwol Bisorio Enga Ipili Mendi Kewä Sau Huli Oksapmin

UNCLASSIFIED • 205 -206 • 207 • 208 • 209 • 210 - 211 •212 -213 - 214

Morwap Yuri Busa Nagatman Amto Musian Erem Pinai Wiyaw Aramaue

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1963 1968

Sepik District anthropological bibliography. Department of Anthropology, Canberra: The Australian National University. An ethnographic bibliography of New Guinea. Canberra: Australian National University.

BATESON, GREGORY

1932 1936

Social structure of the Iatmül people of the Sepik river. Oceania 2: 245-291, 401-453. Naven: a survey of the problems suggested by a composite picture of the culture of a New Guinea tribe, drawn from three points of view. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

BECKER, AUGUST

1971

Erzählungen der Valman von der Nordküste Neuguineas. Anthropos 66: 1-51, 397-443, 779-816.

264

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BIGGS, BRUCE

1963 A non-phonemic central vowel type in Karam, a Pygmy language of the Schräder Mountains, Central New Guinea. Anthropological Linguistics 5 (4): 13-17. BLACKWOOD, BEATRICE

1950 Reserve dyeing in New Guinea. Man 50: 53-55. 1951 "Some arts and industries of the Bosmun, Ramu River, New Guinea," in Südseestudien: Gedenkschrift zur Erinnerung an Felix Speiser, 266288. Basel: Museum für Völkerkunde und Schweizerisches Museum für Volkskunde. BLAES, J.

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1901 Ein Besuch bei den Varofu, Deutsch Neu-Guinea. Globus 79: 101-105. 1902 Die Bewohner der Insel Tumleo, Berlinhafen, Deutsch Neuguinea. Mitteilungen der anthropologischen Gesellschaft in Wien 32 : 274-310, 317-399. FORGE, ANTHONY

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1939 1942 1943 1947

Arapesh warfare. American Anthropologist 41: 22-41. Arapesh: a study of the language. New York: J. J. Augustin. Arapesh maternity. Nature 152: 164. Law and force in Papuan societies. American Anthropologist 49: 244259.

FRIEDERICI, GEORGE

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1939 Merkwürdige Steinfunde im Dorfe Kaiep an der Nordküste Neuguineas. Anthropos 34: 406-410. 1950 Aus dem Mythenschatz der Samap an der Nordküste Neuguineas. Anthropos 45: 295-341, 733-778. GELL, A. F.

1971

Penis sheathing and ritual status in a West Sepik village. Man 6 (2): 165-181.

GERSTNER, P.

1933 Eine Schöpfungsmythe aus Neuguinea. Anthropos 28: 487-488. 1937 Zauberei bei den But-Leuten an der Nordküste Neuguineas. Anthropos 32: 967-973.

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1939 Der Yams-Anbau im But-Bezirk Neuguineas. Anthropos 34 : 246-266. 1951 Die Handflügler im Glauben und Brauch der Wewäk-Boikin-Leute in Nordost-Neuguinea. Anthropos 46 : 418-430. 1952a Jagdgebräuche der Wewäk-Boikin-Leute in Nordost-Neuguinea. Anthropos Al: 177-192. 1952b Der Geisterglaube im Wewäk-Boikin-Gebiet Nordost-Neuguinea. Anthropos 47: 795-821. 1953 Aus dem Gemeinschaftsleben der Wewäk-Boikin-Leute NordostNeuguinea. Anthropos 48: 413^*57, 795-808. 1954-1955 Die glaubensmässige Einstellung der Wewäk-Boikin-Leute zu den Krankheiten und deren Heilung (Nordost-Neuguinea). Anthropos 49: 460-480, 50: 319-336. 1958 Jagdgebräuche der Wewäk-Boikin-Leute im Nordost-Neuguinea. Anthropos 53: 268-269. 1963 Der magische Meuchelmord im Wewäk-Boikin-Gebiet (NordostNeuguinea). Anthropos 58: 719-736. HABERLAND, EIKE

1965 Tasks of research in the Sepik region, New Guinea. Bulletin of the International Committee on Urgent Anthropological and Ethnological Research 7: 33-44. 1966 Zur Ethnographie der Alfendio-Region. Jahrbuch des Museums für Völkerkunde zu Leipzig 23: 33-67. HEALEY, ALAN

1962 Linguistic aspects of Telefomin kinship terminology. Anthropological Linguistics 4 (7): 14-28. 1964a "The Ok language family in New Guinea." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Australian National University. 1964b Telefol phonology. Pacific Linguistics B3. HEALEY, PHYLLIS M.

1964 1965a 1965b 1966

Telefol quotative clauses. Pacific Linguistics A3: 27-34. Telefol clause structure. Pacific Linguistics A3: 27-34. Telefol verb phrases. Pacific Linguistics A5: 27-53. Levels and chaining in Telefol sentences. Pacific Linguistics B5.

HOGBIN, H. IAN

1935a Trading expeditions in Northern New Guinea. Oceania 5: 375-407. 1935b Native culture of Wogeo: report of fieldwork in New Guinea. Oceania 5: 308-337. 1935-1936 Adoption in Wogeo. Journal of the Polynesian Society 44 : 208215, 45: 17-38. 1938 Social reaction to crime: law and morals in the Schouten Islands, New Guinea. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 68: 223-263. 1939 Tillage and collection: a New Guinea economy. Oceania 9: 127-151, 286-325. 1940 Native land tenure in New Guinea. Oceania 10: 113-165. 1941 The father chooses his heir: a family dispute over succession in Wogeo, New Guinea. Oceania 11: 1-40. 1943 A New Guinea infancy: from conception to weaning in Wogeo. Oceania 13: 285-310. 1945 Marriage in Wogeo, New Guinea. Oceania 15: 324-353.

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1946a Puberty to marriage: a study of the sexual life of the natives of Wogeo, New Guinea. Oceania 16: 185-209. 1946b A New Guinea childhood: from weaning till the eighth year in Wogeo. Oceania 16: 275-296. 1953 Sorcery and succession in Wogeo. Oceania 23: 133-136. 1964 Wogeo kinship terminology. Oceania 34: 208-209. 1971 "The island of menstruating men," in Religion in Wogeo, New Guinea. Pennsylvania: Chandler. HÖLTKER, GEORGE

1938 Eine fragmentarische Wortliste der Gapun-Sprache Neuguineas. Anthropos 33: 279-282. 1964 Zur Sprache der Monumbo-Papua in Nordost-Neuguinea. Anthropos 59: 860-903. 1967 Erzählungen der Nor-Papua im Murik-Gebiet von Nordost-Neuguinea. Annali Lateranensi 31: 323-534. 1968 Sakrale Holzplastik der Nor-Papua in Nordost-Neuguinea. Ethnologica 4 (8): 455-493. KABERRY, PHYLLIS

1941 The Abelam tribe, Sepik district, New Guinea: a preliminary report. Oceania 11: 233-258, 345-367. 1942 Law and political organisation of the Abelam tribe, New Guinea. Oceania 12: 79-95, 209-225, 331-363. KAUFMANN, CHRISTIAN

1968 Über Kunst und Kult bei den Kwoma und Nukuma (Nord-Neuguinea). Verhandlungen der Naturforschenden Gesellschaft, Basel 79 (1): 63-111. KLAFFL, J., F. VORMANN

1905 Die Sprachen des Berlinhafen-Bezirks in Deutsch-Neuguinea. Mitteilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen (ers te Abteilung) 8: 1-138. KOOYERS, O.

1975 Hierarchy of Washkuk (Kwoma) clauses. Linguistics 147: 5-14. KOOYERS, Ο., Μ. KOOYERS, D . BEE

1971 The phonemes of Washkuk (Kwoma). Te Reo 14: 37-41. LAUMANN, Κ.

1951 Eine merkwürdige Holzfigur vom mittleren Sepik in Neuguinea. Anthropos 46: 808-812. 1952 Vlisso, der Kriegs- und Jagdgott am unteren Yuat River, Neuguinea. Anthropos 47: 897-908. 1954 Geisterfiguren am mittleren Yuat in Neuguinea. Anthropos 49: 27-57. LAWRENCE, MARSHALL

1971 Oksapmin clause structure. Kivung 4: 111-132. LAYCOCK, D O N

1965 The Ndu language family (Sepik district, New Guinea). Pacific Linguistics CI. 1972 Looking westward: work of the Australian National University on languages of West Irian. Irian 1 (2): 68-77. 1973 Sepik languages — checklist and preliminary classification. Pacific Linguistics B25.

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1974 "Sissano, Warapu, and Melanesian pidginisation." Paper delivered at the First International Conference on Austronesian Linguistics, January, 1974, Honolulu. LEA, DAVID A. M.

1965a "Abelam land and sustenance: swidden horticulture in an area of high population density, Maprik, New Guinea." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, The Australian National University. 1965b The Abelam: a study in local differentiation. Pacific Viewpoint 6: 191214. 1966 Yam growing in the Mapik area. The Papua and New Guinea Agricultural Journal 18: 5-16. LEWIS, R. κ .

1972 Sanio-Hiowe paragraph structure. Pacific Linguistics A31: 1-9. LEWIS, SANDRA C.

1972 Sanio-Hiowe verb phrases. Pacific Linguistics A31: 11-22. LITTERAL, ROBERT L.

1972 Rhetorical predicates and time typology in Anggor. Foundations of Language 8: 391-410. LUTERAL, SHIRLEY

1972 Orientation to space and participants in Anggor. Pacific Linguistics A31: 23-44. MC GREGOR, Α., D. Ε. MC GREGOR

1961a "A phonemic statement of the Wapi language." Unpublished manuscript. 1961b "A tentative grammar statement of the Wape language." Unpublished manuscript. Man in New Guinea 1968 A newsletter of anthropological and sociological research in Papua and New Guinea. Department of Anthropology and Sociology, University of Papua and New Guinea. MEAD, MARGARET

1933 The marsalai cult among the Arapesh, with special reference to the rainbow serpent beliefs of the Australian aborigines. Oceania 4: 3753. 1934a Tamberans and tumbuans in New Guinea. Natural History 34: 234246. 1934b How the Papuan plans his dinner. Natural History 34: 377-388. 1935 Sex and temperament in three primitive societies. London: G. Routledge and Sons. 1937 Cooperation and competition among primitive societies. New York: McGraw-Hill. 1938-1939 The mountain Arapesh. Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History 36: 137-349, 37: 319-451, 40:163^19, 41: 289-390. 1973 "An examination of major themes of the Sepik district, Papua, New Guinea." Paper presented at ICAES Conference, Chicago, 1973. MEYER, H.

1932-1933 Wunekau, oder Sonnenverehrung in Neuguinea. Anthropos 27: 423-455, 819-854, 28: 27-53.

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1943 Das Parakwesen in Glauben und Kult bei den Eingeborenen an der Nordostküste Neuguineas. Annali Lateranensi 7: 95-181. 1947 Parak dans le nord-est de la Nouvelle-Guinöe. Anthropos 42: 388389. NEUHAUSS, RICHARD

1911 Deutsch Neu-Guinea. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer. NEWTON, DOUGLAS

1971 Crocodile and cassowary: religious art of the Upper Sepik River, New Guinea. New York: Museum of Primitive Art. REEVES, SUSAN C., MAY DUDLEY

1969 New Guinea social science field research and publications, 1962-1967. New Guinea Research Bulletin 32. RICHARDSON, PENELOPE, MAY DUDLEY

1967 Social science research in New Guinea, 1965. Current Anthropology 8: 424-433. SCHMIDT, J.

1924-1926 Die Ethnographie der Nor-Papua (Murik-Kaup-Karau) bei Dalmannhafen, Neu-Guinea. Anthropos 19: 700-732, 21: 38-71. 1933 Neue Beiträge zur Ethnographie der Nor-Papua (Neuguinea). Anthropos 28: 321-354, 638-682. 1953 Vokabular und Grammatik der Murik-Sprache in Nordost-Neuguinea. Micro-Bibliotheca Antropos 3. SCHULTZE, L.

1911 Zur Kenntnis der Melanesischen Sprache von der Insel Tumleo. Jena: G. Fischer. SCHUSTER, MEINHARD

1967 Vorläufiger Bericht über die Sepik-Expedition 1965-1967 des Museums für Völkerkunde zu Basel. Verhandlungen der Naturforschenden Gesellschaft in Basel 78: 268-289. 1969a Im Herzen Neuguineas: die Eriptaman. Sandoz Bulletin 14: 23-42. 1969b Die Maler vom May River. Palette 33: 1-19. SCHWARTZ, τ .

1967 Anthropological research opportunities in the Upper Sepik. Current Anthropology 8: 438-439. SPÖLGEN, N., W . SCHMIDT

1901 Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Valman-Sprache. Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 15: 335-366. STAALSEN, P.

1966 Phonemes of Iatmul. Pacific Linguistics A7: 69-76. 1969 The dialects of Iatmul. Pacific Linguistics A22: 68-84. 1972 Clause relationship in Iatmul. Pacific Linguistics A31: 45-69. STEADMAN, LYLE

1971 "Neighbours and killers: residence and dominance among the Hewa of New Guinea." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, The Australian National University. THOMAS, κ . H.

1942 Notes on the natives of the Vanimo coast, New Guinea. Oceania 12: 163-186.

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THURNWALD, R.

1916 Banaro society. American Anthropological Association Memoir 3: 253-391. 1921 Die Gemeinde der Banaro. Stuttgart: F. Enke. 1934 "Adventures of a tribe in New Guinea (the Tjimundo)," in Essays presented to C. G. Seligman, 245-260. London: Kegan Paul. TOWNSEND, PATRICIA K.

1969 "Substitute and social organizations in a New Guinea Society." Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan. Ann Arbor: University Microfilms. 1971 New Guinea sago gatherers: a study of demography in relation to subsistence. Ecology of Food and Nutrition 1: 19-24. TOWNSEND, PATRICIA K., S.-C. LIAO, J. E. KONLANDE

1973 Nutritive contributions of sago ash used as a native salt in Papua, New Guinea. Ecology of Food and Nutrition 2: 91-97. TOWNSEND, WILLIAM H.

1969 Stone and steel tool use in a New Guinea society. Ethnology 8:199-205. TUZIN, D .

1972 Yam symbolism in the Sepik: an interpretative account. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 28: 230-254. 1973 "Unity and duality: social and ritual organization of the Ilahita Arapesh." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Australian National University. VORMANN, F., W . SCHARFENBERGER

1914 Die Monumbo-Sprache: Grammatik und Wörterverzeichnis. Anthropos Linguistic Bibliothek. Vienna. VORMANN, F., W. SCHMIDT

1900 Ein Beitrag zur Kenntnis der Valman-Sprache. Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 32: 87-104. WARD, R. GERARD, DAVID Α. M. LEA, editors 1970 An atlas of Papua and New Guinea. Port Moresby: University of Papua New Guinea, and Collins-Longman. WEDGWOOD, CAMILLA

1934a 1934b 1934c 1935

Girls' puberty rites in Manam Island, New Guinea. Oceania 4:135-155. Report on research on Manam Island. Oceania 4: 373-403. Canoes and sea-faring in Manam. Mankind 1: 253-254. Sickness and its treatment in Manam Island. Oceania 5: 64-79, 280307. 1936-1937 Women in Manam. Oceania 7: 401-428, 8: 170-192. 1939 The life of children in Manam. Oceania 9: 1-30. 1948 Trade and the exchange of goods on Manam Island. Man 48: 8. 1950 The recording of native tales. South Pacific 4 (8): 146-147. 1959 Manam kinship. Oceania 29: 239-256. WHITEMAN, J.

1965 A study of the dietary habits of a north Wosera village in the Territory of Papua-New Guinea. Food and Nutrition Notes and Reviews 22: 7-8, 67-74. 1966 Change and tradition in an Abelam village. Oceania 36: 102-120. 1967a A comparison of life, beliefs and social changes in two Abelam villages. Oceania 37: 54-59.

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1967b Magic in Saragum. Oceania 37: 60-63. WHITING, JOHN W . Μ.

1941 Becoming a Kwoma: teaching and learning in a New Guinea tribe. New Haven: Yale University Press. 1944 The frustration complex in Kwoma society. Man 44: 140-144. WHITING, JOHN W . M., STEPHEN W . REED

1938 Kwoma culture: report on fieldwork in the Mandated Territory of New Guinea. Oceania 9: 170-216. Z'GRAGGEN, J.

1971 Classificatory and typological studies in languages of the Madang District. Pacific Linguistics C19.

The Aztec System of Writing: Problems of Research

JOAQUiN GALARZA

Those interested in the Aztec writing system have three great advantages over the specialists in the Maya writing system, namely: 1. Knowledge of the language transcribed by the Aztec signs, Nahuatl a modern language which is still spoken in Mexico by one and a half million people. 2. Continuation of the traditional writing up to the eighteenth century. The survival of the written tradition produced abundant documents in various regions of Mexico. 3. Transcription into Latin characters of a fairly considerable series of phonetic signs (especially those used for names of persons and places) at the beginning of the Spanish Conquest. But, in spite of these advantages and in spite of the research made in the sixteenth century and mainly at the end of the nineteenth century until today, we can observe that SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH on the Aztec writing system is still underdeveloped in comparison with the study of other writing systems. 1. Excluding the very numerous traditional documents, which are still in the native villages, hidden and inaccessible, the KNOWN Mexican pictographic manuscripts are spread out all over the world and are preserved by various institutions. What we need are WORKABLE RESOURCES, such as complete inventories of these manuscripts, where the documents would be classified by country and by institution. The catalogs produced in libraries or other institutions are incomplete or out of date. (For example, in Paris, the great Fonds Mixicain has a nineteenth-century catalog [Boban 1891]; in Mexico, only one institution has a complete catalog, which was only

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JOAQUiN GALARZA

published in 1964 [Glass 1964]; in Chicago, in Texas, and elsewhere there are no catalogs.) It will be another year or two before the first catalog and the first general bibliography of the Mexican manuscripts will be available. This production, put together by a group of Americans formed by Glass, Cline, Robertson, Nicholson, etc., were published in 1976 in the final volumes of the Handbook of Middle American Indians (edited by Wauchope 1964-1976). 2. Among the Mexican manuscript specialists, almost no one has dealt with seeking the development of a SCIENTIFIC METHOD OF WORK, based on DETAILED AND SYSTEMATIC ANALYSIS of the various groups of manuscripts. Each researcher has worked individually, following his own ideas and his own criteria. The analyses of the manuscripts carried out up till now are rarely complete and stop at the interpretation of certain signs, most of these phonetic. Here too, we are lacking tools. In the first place, there are no exhaustive lists of anthroponymic and toponymic glyphs. In the second place, there are few complete lists of phonetic elements. Penafiel's catalog of place names (1885), which has become a classic work of reference, is the only one of its kind and only covers part of a single manuscript: the "List of tributes" of the Codex Mendoza. From this catalog, a very succinct, so-called phonetic dictionary was made by Barlow and MacAfee (1949); this only includes a short series of phonetic elements, without taking into account the pertinent variations (with changes of meaning) which are very numerous in this system. The majority of the research carried out at present on the Mexican pictographic manuscripts is oriented toward obtaining elements, either historical, chronological, or religious, in order to better "illustrate" summary works on the Aztec history, calendar, or religion. The authors of these works are forced to follow the existing interpretations, regardless of whether they are incorrect, incomplete, or just out of date, because they do not have time to seek a new reading of the signs. We lack an analysis of the hundreds of pictographic manuscripts spread out in the Mexican and foreign institutions. That is, we lack research with regard to the WHOLE COMPASS OF THE AZTEC WRITING SYSTEM, in all its aspects, not only for purposes of extracting certain data from it, but also for attempting to read the pictographic documents in full. The Aztec writing system is a complex and curious mixture of pictorial expression blended with phonetic transcription. In this double expression of graphic art and writing, the drawing/painting scribe uses all the means of artistic expression combined with the signs of phonetic transcription in order to form his own writing system. A perspective very different from

The Aztec System of Writing: Research Problems

273

that used in Europe is employed: superimpositions of planes in space, which are then brought back to a single surface. On this surface, where phonetic elements blend with symbolic elements, the search for aesthetic balance is not disregarded by the writer-artists. In the drawing technique, all graphic means are used to enrich the means of written expression. The variants of the phonetic signs are also expressed by graphic means (such as dimensions, position, orientation of the signs) along a plane and in space. This very complex expression was stopped, in the midst of its phonetic evolution, by the Spanish Conquest. Influences of the European drawing technique were added to the existing system and Christian symbols and attributes very soon blended with the traditional phonetic and symbolic glyphs, together with phonetic transcriptions of Spanish names with traditional signs. Scientific research, in the field of Aztec writing, has reached a state where we must, above all, carry out an exhaustive survey of the Mexican pictographic manuscripts preserved in every institution; carry out a systematic and extensive analysis of each group of manuscripts; and obtain the census of the traditional phonetic signs and elements to form comprehensive lists — real dictionaries — which would enable us to carry out more satisfactory, methodical research. It is only along these lines that we will be able to discover the VALID SCIENTIFIC METHOD for deciphering Aztec writing. As a broad knowledge is essential, we believe in a working group in which the ethnologist-historian, the artist, the linguist, and the art historian can obtain positive results together. 3. One of the main difficulties in reading Mexican pictographic manuscripts is that each page is a real "graphic picture." To read each picture, you must take artistic expression into account, since it is a fundamental part of the whole. To find the solution to this reading is to be able to read alternately the pictograms, glyphs, phonetic and symbolic signs, and the elements which seem to be purely decorative but which form a part of the whole writing. These various elements, however, have been drawn in the order fixed by the writer-artist, according to the laws and the conventions of the system. The way to read the manuscript, which is indicated by graphic means, is sometimes difficult to find; but it does exist, and the scribe-drawer has indicated it on each page and in each single document. Now, this present way of reading, these laws, these conventions, this order — they exist; but we do not know them since we lack extensive analyses of hundreds of manuscripts, and especially because we do not have a real scientific method for deciphering this complex system of art and graphic expression.

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Another important problem is that of the training of specialized researchers. All those who have become specialists in Mexican manuscripts have above all, other specialities. That is to say that, while studying Mexican pictographic manuscripts, they are, foremost, archaeologists, ethnologists, linguists, historians, etc. Their isolated efforts only cover certain aspects of the manuscripts and they disregard nearly all the others. Now these individual aspects, combined in the research of a working group, would be very fruitful for the general study of the Aztec writing system. This problem is even more striking when the researcher specializes in the study of classical Nahuatl. He gives preference to the translation of the notes in Latin characters. And unfortunately, very often, the pictographs are judged on European lines, as illustrations of a text written in Latin characters, and not as expressions having an independent existence and forming a whole complex of native writing. For example, in Mexico City, the Nahuatl Culture Seminar, which is comprised of well-known scientists whose work is outstanding, deals mainly with the Nahuatl language transcribed in Latin characters. Even from the standpoint of the Nahuatl language, one very rarely finds a "Nahuatlatologist" who has started to learn the LIVING language before studying the CLASSICAL language. Yet, this procedure would seem to be far more logical. The ideal case would be that of a group of researchers of Nahuatl origin, having Nahuatl as their first language, who would require a much easier training in order to comprehend the classical texts. These native researchers could become "decipherers" of Aztec writing. But up to now we know only one researcher, in Mexico City — L. Reyes Garcia — who possesses these qualifications. Now a project could be developed, that of the creation of a kind of Nahuatl Academy, in a native village, where the teachers would be Indians or mestizos, whose first language would be Nahuatl. They would first of all be responsible for teaching this language to be loved in their own villages, by the young in particular. The new generations go to the towns for instruction and forget their own first language for the sake of Spanish, and then for English — which they learn badly at secondary school. With such a group possessing a thorough training in Nahuatl, one can envisage an analytical study of all those documents which are forgotten in the records and in the villages. The Aztec writing system could then be studied more efficiently and more rapidly.

The Aztec System of Writing: Research Problems

275

CONCLUSIONS Scientific research into the Aztec writing system requires a knowledge of the majority, if not of the totality, of the traditional documents through the eighteenth century, and the extensive, methodical, and systematic analysis of all documents. Furthermore, as there are many of these documents and they form groups, the methods of analysis must correspond to each of these groups. The first step would therefore be to make an exhaustive survey of the manuscripts. The second step would be to seek a scientific method of analysis of each group. The third step would be the analytic work itself, with a survey of the complex signs and of their elements. The fourth and last stage would be the comparison of the results within each group. It is only when these analyses have been completed, following methods based on the same scientific principles, that we will be able to make comparisons between the groups and to obtain scientific conclusions on the whole system, that is to say, on the possibilities and limitations of Aztec writing.

REFERENCES BARLOW, ROBERT H., BYRON MAC AFEE

1949 Diccionario de elementos foneticos en escritura jeroglifica (codice Mendocino). Publicaciones del Instituto de Historia 9, serie 1. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico. BOBAN, EUGENE

1891

Catalogue raisonne de la collection de Μ. Ε. Eugine Goupil (Anc. coll. J. Μ. — A. Aubiri), two volumes. Documents pour servir ä l'histoire du Mexique. Paris: E. Leroux.

GLASS, JOHN

1964 Catalogo de la colecciön de codices. Mexico City: Museo Nacional de Antropologia, I.N.A.H. PENAFIEL, ANTONIO

1885 Nombres geogräficos de Mexico. Catalogo alfab6tico de los nombres de lugar pertenecientes al idioma "Nahuatl." Estudio jeroglifico de la matricula de tributos del codice Mendocino. Mexico City: Of. Tip. de la Sria. de Fomento. WAUCHOPE, ROBERT, editor 1964-1976 Handbook of Middle American Indians. New Orleans: Middle American Research Institute; Tulane University. Texas: University of Texas Press.

SECTION FOUR

Language, Thought, and Systems

Clauses and Cases in Southeast Asian Languages and Thought

NGUYEN DANG LIEM

Cambodian, Cantonese, Lao, Thai, and Vietnamese, although unrelated, have some remarkable linguistic features in common. This study will concentrate on those features found at the clause level. It seems possible that the linguistic similarities may constitute special areal features, which may well be related to the culture and thought patterns of the people speaking the languages. The analysis of clauses and cases in these Southeast Asian languages utilizes linguistic concepts from both tagmemics (Brend 1970, 1972, 1974; Cook 1969; Longacre 1964; Pike 1954, 1955, 1960, 1966, 1971) and a case grammar model (Fillmore 1968, 1969, 1971) called lexicase (Manley 1972; Starosta 1971a, 1971b, 1971c, 1972, 1973; Taylor 1972). Such an eclectic combination of the two theories is not new, either in the field of general linguistics (Cook 1970,1971a, 1971b, 1972; H. Piatt 1970; J. T. Piatt 1971) or in Southeast Asian linguistics (Liem 1971a, 1971b, 1972a, 1972b). As this paper is tagmemically oriented, it recognizes firstly the hierarchical levels in syntax and secondly the grammatical unit or tagmeme as composed of a slot and a filler class. The concept of hierarchies in syntax makes it possible to single out the clause level for this paper, and it is consequently unnecessary to write phrase-structure rules (Chomsky 1965). The grammatical slot of the tagmeme at the clause level has been pointed out by Becker (1967a, 1967b), Fries (1970), and Young, Becker, and Pike (1970) as having not only overt syntactic relationships (case realizations) but also covert meaning relationships (case relations) with the predicative verb. As this paper is also case-grammar oriented, it recognizes the centrality of the verb (Chafe 1970) and the case relations between various nouns and

280

NGUYEN DANG OEM

the predicative verb in the clause (or proposition, in Fillmore's terminology). The type of case grammar utilized here introduces both overt case realizations and covert case relations into the grammar as syntactic features assigned to nouns by verbs (Starosta 1971a, 1971b, 1971c, 1973). Because out intention is to present linguistic data rather than defend the models utilized, theoretical discussions will be kept to an absolute minimum. Also, because of considerations of length, examples will be given only in one language at a time.

CASE RELATIONS AND CASE REALIZATIONS In each of the Southeast Asian languages under consideration, there seem to be twelve case relations, whose definitions are taken from Fillmore (1968, 1969, 1971) whenever necessary: Agentive (AGT): the AGT actant is the "instigator of the event." Objective (OBJ): the OBJ actant is the "most neutral" actant. Dative (DAT): the case of the "animated being affected by the state of, or experiencing the action of the verb." Benefactive (BEN): the BEN actant receives the benefit of the action identified by the verb. Comitative (COM): the COM actant accompanies another actant in the verbal activity or state described. Instrumental (INS). Locative (LOC): the LOC actant indicates the location. Directional (DIR). Time (TIM). Source (SRC). Goal (GOAL): the GOAL actant indicates the location or time toward which action occurs. Extent (EXT): the EXT actant indicates the space or time through which action or state identified by the verb has occurred. The twelve covert case relations are pigeonholed in eleven overt case realizations, some of which are marked by their positions vis-ä-vis the verb, others by prepositions in the languages. The case realizations are: NM Nominative position immediately preceding the verb, no prepositions. Ο Objective position immediately following the verb, no prepositions. D Dative realization with prepositions. I Instrumental realization with prepositions. Β Benefactive realization with prepositions.

281

Clauses and Cases in Southeast Asian Languages and Thought

C Comitative realization with prepositions. L Locative realization with prepositions. Di Directional realization with prepositions. SR Source realization with prepositions. GL Goal realization with prepositions. Ex Extent realization with prepositions. The twelve covert case relations and the eleven case realizations can be charted in a two-dimensional matrix, yielding twenty-five possibilities, as in Figure 1. 1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

NM

Ο

D

Β

C

I

L

Di

SR

GL

EX

1

AGT

1

2

OBJ

2

6

3

DAT

3

7

15

4

BEN

8

16

5

COM

6

INS

4

9

7

LOC

5

10

8

DIR

11

9

TIM

12

10

SRC

11

GOAL

13

12

EXT

14

Figure 1.

17 18 19 20 22

21

23 24 25

Case realizations and case relations

The twenty-five possible combinations of covert case relations and overt case realizations constitute the twenty-five tagmemic slots on the clause level in the languages. Of direct relevance to the thesis concerning the possible relationships between the Southeast Asian languages and their cultures and thought are the tagmemic slots 1 [ + N M , +AGT], 2 [+NM, +OBJ], 3 [+NM, +DAT], 4 [ + N M , +INS], 5 [ + N M , +LOC], 6 [ + 0 , +OBJ], 7 [ + 0 , +DAT|, 8 [ + 0 , +BEN], 9 [ + 0 , +INS], 10 [ + 0 , +LOC], 11 [ + 0 , +DIR], and 13 [ + 0 , +GOAL]. Discussions of these tagmemic slots and examples of them will be found below.

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NGUYEN DANO LIEM

CLAUSE TYPES According to their identificational-contrastive features, such as the nuclear tagmemic slots they are hospitable to and their transform potential (Longacre 1964), clauses in each of the Southeast Asian languages can be classified into eight types, as in Figure 2. 1. Stative Clause Type. The Stative clause type has a stative verb meaning 'have' (Cambodian mtian, Cantonese yduh, Lao and Thai mii, and Vietnamese co), and an Objective case realization and Objective case relation [ + 0 , +OBJ]. Cambodian example: mlian have +verb Π

+stative J

köon child r+O

sah pupil

piir neak two person

'There were two students'.

l

L+OBjJ

2. Copulative Clause Type. The copulative clause type has a copulative verb, a Nominative case realization and Objective case relation [+NM, +OBJ], and a case-unmarked slot [—K]. The copula means 'be' (Cambodian ctia, Cantonese haih, Lao and Thai pen, and Vietnamese la). Cantonese example: keuil he Γ+ΝΜ1 L+OBjJ

haih be Γ+verbl L+cop J

hohk-saäng student [-K]

'He is a student',

3. Qualificative Clause Type. The qualificative clause type has a qualificative adjective verb, and a Nominative case realization and Objective case relation [+NM, +OBJ]. Lao example: khäw he Γ+NMl

L+OBjJ

kefy intelligent Γ+verbl

'He is intelligent',

L+qualJ

4. Submissive Clause Type. The submissive clause type has a submissive verb, a Nominative case realization and Dative case relation [+NM, +DA1], and an Objective case realization and Objective case relation [ + 0 , +OBJ]. The class of submissive verbs is limited to a closed list in each language, and its representative member means 'be adversely affected' (Cambodian ttuuat, Cantonese bei, Lao and Thai thuuk and thiuiuk, and Vietnamese bj). Lao example:

Clauses and Cases in Southeast Asian Languages and Thought

w >

w

284

NGUYEN DANG LIEM

laäw he Γ+ΝΜ "Ι L+DATJ

thmuik affected +verb +subm +adverse

khacäw they

tii beat

'He was beaten by them'.

+0 _+0BJj

It is noted that the [ + 0 , +OBJ] slot here is always filled by a clause, and never by a noun. 5. Ditransitive (Agentive) Clause Type. The ditransitive clause type has a ditransitive verb (which can also be used monotransitively), a Nominative case realization and Agentive case relation [ + N M , +AGT], an Objective case realization and either Dative or Benefactive case relation [ + 0 , + D A T ] or [ + 0 , +BEN], and an Objective case realization and Objective case relation [ + 0 , +OBJ]. Vietnamese example: ong ay he Γ+ΝΜ [_+AGT_

cho give +verb +trans +dat

toi I +0 Ί _+DATj

sdch book

'He gave me books'.

]

Γ+Ο L+OBJ

6. Transitive-Agentive Clause Type. The transitive-agentive clause type has a transitive-agentive verb, a Nominative case realization and Agentive case relation [ + N M , +AGT], and an Objective case realization and Objective case relation [ + 0 , +OBJ]. Cambodian example: kodt he

sii eat

+NM Ί

[

Γ+verb Ί

+AGTJ

L+transJ

baaj rice +0 +OBJ

'He eats rice',

7. Transitive-Dative Clause Type. The transitive-dative clause type has a transitive-dative verb, a Nominative case realization and Dative case relation [ + N M , +DAT], and an Objective case realization and Objective case relation [ + 0 , +OBJ]. Vietnamese example: ong ay he '+NM ' +DAT

biet know +verb +trans —agent

chuyen story

do that

'He knows that matter'.

r+o L+OBJ_

8. Intransitive Clause Type. The intransitive clause type has an intransitive verb, a Nominative case realization and Objective case relation

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285

[ + N M , +OBJ], and, optionally, an Objective case realization and either Locative, Directional, or Goal case relation [ + 0 , +LOC], [ + 0 , +DIR], or [ + 0 , +GOAL]. Cantonese examples: keiiih he •+NM"

+OBJ keiiih he •+NM"

+OBJ keuih he Γ+ΝΜ" L+OBJ_

hdi be at +verb —trans +loc

heung gong Hongkong

heui go +verb —trans +dir dou arrive +verb —trans +goal _

heüng gong Hongkong

+0

'He stays in Hongkong'.

Ί

_+LOCj

'He goes to Hongkong'.

Γ+Ο L+dirj

heung gong Hongkong

'He arrives in Hongkong'.

+0 +GOAL

CLAUSE CLASSES In addition to the dimension of clause types, there is also the dimension of clause classes. There are eleven common clause classes in Cambodian, Cantonese, Lao, Thai, and Vietnamese, shown in Figure 3. 1. Declarative Clause Class. The declarative clause class is the kernel from which all the other clause classes can be derived when appropriate transform rules (Longacre 1964) are applied. All the examples given so far are declarative clauses. 2. Imperative Clause Class. The clauses in the imperative class are identified by their imperative predicates. Cambodian example: kham try

taaw come [+imp]

'Please come',

3. Alternative Interrogative Clause Class. The clauses in the alternative interrogative class have one of their tagmemes followed by a similar one. Cantonese example: (See page 287).

286

NGUYEN DANG LIEM

Clauses and Cases in Southeast Asian Languages and Thought

nei you Γ+ΝΜΊ L+OBJJ

heui keitih go he Γ+ΝΜΊ L+objJ

heui go

a question

287

'Are you going or is he going?'

4. Yes-No Interrogative Clause Class. The clauses in the yes-no interrogative class are characterized by the presence of a negative particle at the end. Being the affirmative counterparts of the negative particle, the clauses themselves can only be affirmative. Lao example: cäw you -fdeclar +affirm_

si future

paj go

boo no [+neg]

'Are you going?'

5. Nominative Interrogative Clause Class. The clauses in the nominative interrogative class have an interrogative Nominative actant. Thai example: khraj who

paj go

'Who went?'

"+NM"

+OBJ +inter 6. Objective Interrogative Clause Class. The clauses in the objective interrogative class have an interrogative Objective actant. Vietnamese example: öng äy he

mua buy

gl what

'What did he buy?'

+o +OBJ +inter _

7. Extra Interrogative Clause Class. The clauses in the extra interrogative class have an interrogative satellite actant, for example, Location, Direction, or Time. Cambodian example: koat he

tdsw (ti) go place

naa where

'Where did he go?'

Γ+0 +DIR +inter_ 8. Dependent Relative Clause Class. The clauses in the dependent

288

NGUYEN DANG LIEM

relative class have the form of an independent declarative clause, and can optionally be introduced by the relative introducer meaning 'that'. Cantonese example: (ngo ji) I know

keiiih he -+o +OBJ +clause

heui-jo went

'(I know) he went'.

9. Dependent Nominative Clause Class. The clauses in the dependent nominative class have their Nominative case realization either omitted or filled by a pronoun meaning 'that, who, which'. Lao example: (khoj huü) I know

waa that

meen right

phäj paj who go

r+°

'(I know) who went.'

1

+OBJ +clause +dep _+NM 10. Dependent Objective Clause Class. The clauses in the dependent objective class have their Objective case realization either omitted or filled by a pronoun meaning "that, who(m), which." Thai example: (ruu) know

waa that

khäw he

siuiu buy

9

araj what

'(I know) what he bought',

11. Extra Dependent Clause Class. The clauses in the extra dependent class fill a satellite tagmemic slot in the embedding clause. Vietnamese example of time extra dependent clause: (öng äy di) khi he go when

toi di 'He went when I went', I go

CULTURE, THOUGHT, AND CLAUSES AND CASES For scholars such as Sapir (1936), Whorf (1956), and Pike (1954, 1955, 1960), language is not a self-contained system; its behavioral aspects are closely related to linguistic aspects, and it is viewed as being only one part of a larger totality of structured human behavior. On the one hand, language is inextricably integrated into other aspects of this behavior totality, and, on the other hand, language constitutes a significant part of this total behavior. Because language is considered to be related to other

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289

aspects of behavior, and because the totality of structured human behavior is what culture is, language is then closely related to culture. Furthermore, behaviorists not only posit the interrelationship between language and culture, but also firmly believe in the interinfluence of language and thought. As Sapir (1931: 578) says: It is quite an illusion to imagine that one adjusts to reality essentially without the use of language and that language is merely an incidental means of solving specific problems of communication or reflection. The fact of the matter is that the "real world" is to a large extent unconsciously built upon the language habits of the group. The analysis of cases and clauses in Cambodian, Cantonese, the two sister languages Lao and Thai, and Vietnamese, in spite of the fact that these languages are unrelated and originally dissimilar, shows remarkable linguistic similarities and speech habits which could very well denote areal culture and thought patterns. The common linguistic features that distinguish these languages from an Indo-European language such as English will be pointed out below, and attempts will be made to link the areal linguistic features to regional patterns of culture or thought whenever plausible. On the clause type dimension, the following similarities can be found among the Southeast Asian languages: 1. The stative clause type in the languages does not have a dummy grammatical Nonimative case realization (grammatical subject), such as there in the English clause there are students. 2. The qualificative clause type in the languages does not have to have a copulative verb, such as be in the English clause he is intelligent. 3. The submissive clause type in the languages differs strikingly from English. It always denotes an effect. The Nominative Dative actant is either adversely or favorably affected by the action of the verb. Unlike English, there is no neutral passive clause type in these languages that is parallel to the construction John was given a book. This particular linguistic feature could very well be the result of sociolinguistic factors that dictate a formalized connotation of either adverse or favorable effect of the action of the verb on the Nominative Dative case. The feature could also very well influence the thought process through a positive effect when one thinks of the Dative case as being realized on the surface structure as a Nominative case marker. It is also noted that, while the rest of the languages have only a passive submissive clause type, Vietnamese has a passive as well as an active submissive clause type, as the following two examples demonstrate (see also Liem 1969).

290

NGUYEN DANG LIEM

öng äy bi (AP) he adversely-affected (they) beat

Γ+ΝΜ Ί L+DATJ

[+verb

öng äy bi he adversely-affected go

Γ+ΝΜ "I L+DATJ

dank 'He was beaten (by them)', (i.e. he was adversely affected by the fact that they beat him).

[

+o +OBJ di

'He was forced to go', (i.e. he was adversely affected by the fact that he had to go).

+verb +subm +adverse

Along with the submissive clause types, the languages can also use the active transitive construction to denote a neutral passive meaning, but the construction is used only with inanimate Nominatives, a fact that proves once again that the submissive clause type is closely related to culture and thought patterns. Vietnamese example: Nhä house

näy bän this sell

This house is being sold',

4. The intransitive clause type has its Locative, Directional, or Goal case relations covertly realized as an Objective slot, as shown earlier in the Cantonese examples given under "Clause Types." 5. All the nominal tagmemes, whether nuclear such as the Nominatives [+NM, +AGT], [+NM, +OBJ], or [+NM, +DAT), or objective such as [ + 0 , +OBJ], [ + 0 , +LOC], etc., or satellite such as the Time [+T, +TIM], etc., are optional when they are clearly understood in larger linguistic units than the clause itself. For example, a Thai will say paj 'go', meaning he did go, in answer to a question "Did you go to school?" This optionality of all the nominal tagmemes could very well be due to a culture trait of the region, in that one ought to avoid using the first person pronoun "I" as much as possible. Furthermore, the choice of personal pronouns is a complicated matter involving the relative social status, age, relationship, etc. of the interlocutors. Thus, to avoid making social blunders by using the wrong pronouns, one can simply omit the second

Clauses and Cases in Southeast Asian Languages and Thought

291

person pronoun when addressing somebody whose rank, age, profession, or relationship with oneself has not yet been clearly established in the conversation. 6. Topicalization is possible for any nominal tagmeme. The process of topicalization is that of placing the tagmeme at the beginning of the clause. This process could be related to a pattern of thought centered around a topic one wants to talk about and a complement (i.e. what one wants to say about the topic). Cantonese example: ni

bun

syü

(haih)

(ngo)

kähm yaht

maai

ge

the

volume

book

(which)

(I)

yesterday

buy

relative marker

r+o Ί

Topicalized I

oBJj

'This book, I bought it yesterday'.

7. Tagmemic repetition. In all the Southeast Asian languages, tagmemes can be repeated in the form of rows of words or expressions which convey more or less the same idea but which support one another in achieving either stylistic embellishment or phonetic rhythm. These repetitions are found not only in literary styles but also in ordinary speech, and are quite common in the speech of people from all walks of life. Thai example, from Nacaskul (1973): catham

?aray cot] phinlt phica.rana:

hay Id ?idt h ?o: thl: thiten

'Before doing anything, you should EXAMINE it phinlt 'to examine' phica.rana: 'to examine' h ridt 'fine, thorough, all through' h 'fine, thorough' thi: thiten 'thorough, fine'

kb:n

THOROUGHLY'.

In the example above, the verbs and manner expressions occur in rows. These types of repetition or elaboration for embellishment or harmony are realized not only on the clause level, but they also occur frequently on the phrase level in the form of four-syllable expressions (Liem 1972b), reduplications, and alliterations. All these elaborations are common linguistic features of the region, and very likely reflect the common cultural and psychological traits of the area. On the clause class dimension, the following similarities can be found among the Southeast Asian languages: 1. In imperative clauses, the Nominative is usually present and is usually filled by title or honorific nouns. This usage of title or honorific nouns in imperative clauses is definitely a cultural trait of the region. It proves that

292

NGUYEN DANG LIEM

social class, profession, and the like are important factors to be considered in all human relations. Cantonese example: wöhng Wong

gingleih manager

heui go

la imperative form

'Manager Wong, go!'

2. The alternative interrogative clause class is used much more frequently in the Southeast Asian languages than in English. In fact, instead of asking the question, How tall is Mr. Wong?, one usually asks the question literally meaning, How tall how short is Mr. Wong ?, in which the interrogative form is an alternation between two contrasting adjectives. One may reasonably assume that such interrogative forms do influence the thought pattern of the speakers. 3. The yes-no interrogative clause, being a question of choice between the positive and the negative sides of the fact, can only have its form in the affirmative. Vietnamese example: öng di khöng ? Mr. go no [+affirm] [+neg]

'Are you going (Mr.) ?'

This form of yes-no question, and the realization-nonrealization (literally, yet not yet question) in Lao, Thai, and Vietnamese (but not in Cambodian) could very likely influence the thought pattern of the speakers in that, when they start to ask a yes-no question, they are really asking a factual question, something very similar to the English question When did you stop beating your wife ? 4. The word order is always Nominative-Predicate-Objective, regardless of whether the clause is independent declarative, interrogative, or dependent. The analysis presented above points out many linguistic and cultural similarities reflecting a common heritage in the way of thinking and living among the people of the region. It is my belief that on any other linguistic hierarchy such as the sentence, paragraph, or discourse, many more common areal linguistic features will be found to reflect the close cultural interchange in the region. REFERENCES BECKER, ALTON L.

1967a "A generative description of the English subject tagmeme." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan. 1967b Conjoining in a tagmemic grammar of English. Monograph Series on Languages and Linguistics 20: 109-122.

Clauses and Cases in Southeast Asian Languages and Thought

BREND, RUTH M.

1970 Tagmemic theory: an annotated bibliography. Journal of English Linguistics 4: 7-47. 1972 Kenneth L. Pike: selected writings. The Hague: Mouton. BREND, RUTH M., editor 1974 Advances in tagmemics. Amsterdam: North Holland. CHAFE, WALLACE L.

1970 Meaning and the structure of language. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. CHOMSKY, NOAM A.

1965 Aspects of the theory of syntax. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. CLARK, MARYBETH

1974a "Passive and ergative in Vietnamese," in South-East Asian linguistic studies. Edited by Nguyen Dang Liem, 75-88. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics, Australian National University. 1974b "Submissive verbs as adversatives in some Asian languages," in SouthEast Asian linguistic studies. Edited by Nguyen Dang Liem, 89-110. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics, Australian National University. COOK, WALTER A.

1969 Introduction to tagmemic analysis. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. 1970 Case grammar: from roles to rules. Georgetown University Languages and Linguistics Working Papers 14-29. 1971a Case grammar as deep structure in tagmemic analysis. Georgetown University Languages and Linguistics Working Papers 1-9. 1971b "Improvements in case grammar." Georgetown University Languages and Linguistics Working Papers, 10-22. 1972 "A set of postulates for case grammar analysis." Georgetown University Languages and Linguistics Working Papers 35-49. Georgetown University Washington, D.C. FILLMORE, CHARLES J.

1968 "The case for case," in Universals in linguistic theory. Edited by Emmon Bach and Robert T. Harms, 1-88. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. 1969 "Toward a theory of case," in Modern studies in English. Edited by David A. Reibel and Sanford Shane, 361-375. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall. 1971 Some problems for case grammar. Monograph Series on Languages and Linguistics 24: 35-56. FRIES, PETER H.

1970 On double function in tagmemic analysis. Anthropological Linguistics 12: 122-135. LIEM, NGUYEN DANG

1969 Vietnamese grammar, a combined tegmemic and transformational approach. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics, Australian National University. 1971a "Clause units in English and Southeast Asian languages in contrast," in Papers from the International Symposium on Applied Contrastive Linguistics. Edited by Gerhard Nickel, 157-174. Berlin: CornelsenVelhagen and Klasing.

293

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1971b "Modern linguistic theories and contrastive linguistics," in Kongressbericht der 3. Jahrestagung der Gesellschaft für angewandte Linguistik. Edited by Gerhard Nickel and Albert Raasch. Heidelberg: Julius Groos. 1972a "Clauses and cases in Southeast Asian languages (Burmese, Cambodian, Cantonese, Lao, Thai, and Vietnamese)." in Proceedings of the Eleventh International Congress of Linguists. Edited by Luigi Heilmann, 231-252. Bologna: Mulino. 1972b Four-syllable idiomatic expressions in Vietnamese. Canberra: Pacific Linguistics, Australian National University. LONGACRE, ROBERT E.

1964 Grammar discovery procedures: a field manual. The Hague: Mouton. MANLEY, TIMOTHY M.

1972 Outline of Sre structure. Oceanic Linguistics Special Publication 12. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. NACASKUL, KARNCHANA

1973 "Common features of some South-East Asian languages." Paper presented at the First International Conference on Austroasiatic Linguistics, January 1973, Honolulu, Hawaii. PIKE, KENNETH L.

1954, 1955, 1960 Language in relation to a unified theory of the structure of human behavior, three volumes. Santa Ana: Summer Institute of Linguistics. 1966 "A guide to publications related to tagmemic theory," in Theoretical foundations. Edited by Thomas A. Sebeok, 365-394. Current Trends in Linguistics 3. The Hague: Mouton. 1971 Crucial questions in the development of tagmemics — the sixties and the seventies. Monograph Series on Languages and Linguistics 24: 79-98. PLATT, HEIDI

1970 "A comparative study of English and German," Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Monash University, Melbourne. PLAIT, JOHN τ .

1971 Grammatical form and grammatical meaning. Amsterdam: North Holland. SAPIR, EDWARD

1931 Conceptual categories in primitive languages. Science 74: 578. 1936 Language, culture, and personality. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. STAROSTA, STANLEY

1967 "Sora syntax, a generative approach to a Munda language." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Wisconsin. 1971a Derivation and case in Sora verbs. Working Papers in Linguistics (Honolulu) 3 (7): 89-112. 1971b Lexical derivation in case grammar. Working Papers in Linguistics (Honolulu) 3 (8): 83-102. 1971c Some lexical redundancy rules for English nouns. Glossa 5 (2): 167-202. 1972 "Case in the lexicon." Paper presented at the Eleventh International Congress of Linguistics. Bologna and Florence.

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1973 The faces of case. Language Sciences 25: 1-14. TAYLOR, HARVEY

1972 Case in Japanese. South Orange: Seton Hall University Press. WHORF, BENJAMEN LEE

1956 Language, thought, and reality. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. YOUNG, RICHARD E., ALTON L. BECKER, KENNETH L. PIKE

1970 Rhetoric: discovery and change. New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World.

Identification and Grammatical Structure in Akan and Welsh

JEFFREY ELLIS

The object of this paper is to examine a correlation between two kinds of meaning found in two unrelated languages, Akan and Welsh, with the implications of this correlation for the general study of cognitive, textual, and other kinds of meaning and of language and the logical and presentational frameworks of thought. First, we examine the set of cognitive meanings covered, for example, by the English to be, referring to various logical relations. Whether all or any of these cognitive meanings should be subclassified as logical meaning or as experiential meaning (see Halliday 1970a, 1970b) is immaterial to the present purpose because what matters is the distinction between cognitive meaning and the kind of meaning to which the other partner in our correlation belongs, i.e. textual meaning. That they correspond to logical RELATIONS in the universe OUTSIDE language but to which language refers is a question distinct from whether, WITHIN language, they belong to logical MEANING. Both Welsh and Akan distinguish these meanings by overt categories of the verb (as distinct from the higher unit clause) or by distinct verbs; English does not. (Overt categories are meant as distinct from the covert voice distinction which, for Halliday [1967-1968: 66-71], differentiates the class "transitive" of be in English referring to identity, from the "copulative" and "intransitive" classes of be referring to class inclusion or membership and location.) The logical relations, etc. needed to formulate the meanings of be forms (see references in Ellis and Boadi 1969: 2-3) are as follows (using the classification of be from Halliday 1967-1968: 66):

298

JEFFREY ELLIS

identity ( = )

John is the tall one

class i n c l u s i o n ( c ) class membership (e)

teachers are people John is a teacher

transitive class (2) in effective clause copulative (0) in J intensive

Ones which are not conventional relations in logic are: existence (quantifier a) n ' location

God isIthere is ' , a God John is here

"Ϊ . . ».. . intransitive (1) in >· t J

Welsh is an Indo-European language, one of the Atlantic seaboard languages sometimes said to show the effects of a pre-Indo-European substratum (see, for example, Lewy 1964; see also Rhys and Jones 1923: Appendix). Other languages showing differentiation in the verb "to be" are Irish, like Welsh a Celtic language, and Spanish and Portuguese. Akan (Twi-Fante) is a language of the Kwa division of the Niger-Congo family, spoken by several million people in southern Ghana. Where English has the single verb be (in different kinds of clauses), Welsh has various verb forms. (It is usual to treat the Welsh forms as parts of one verb, because the distinctions are not made in all tenses, nor outside the third person; if treated as different verbs, they would share most of their forms.) The third person ("singular") present form y mae is found for all meanings in the positive (apart from replies to the interrogative). In the negative and/or the interrogative, yw is found for all meanings except existence or location with an indefinite subject; for these, oes is used. Further differentiations of forms including y mae and yw are found in "inverted order" discussed below. Akan is more straightforward in having distinct verbs, each with its own conjugation as full as its class allows. In Akan, verbs of the Stative or continuative class have a restricted repertory of tenses, so with ye and locational wo. Ne has not only no tenses but no negative in itself (see below and, Ellis and Boadi 1969: 5,13-14, 34, Note 32). For location, most often wo is used, wo1 with the subject as the located, wo2 (also "have") with the subject as the location; for existence, ho 'there' is used; for class inclusion and membership, ye is most often used; for identity, most often ne is used. (Other verbs, like dex 'name', a special case of identity, de2, emphatic predication, di, location in an ordinal series in first or prior position, are peripheral to the present subject; See Ellis, Boadi [1969: 14-31, 34-43].) For the behavior of these forms vis-ä-vis the Ghanaianlanguage equivalent of Welsh "inverted order," see below. Akan is not the only language to have a distinct overt expression for identity. Irish, which like Spanish and Portuguese distinguishes essential

Identification and Grammatical Structure in Akan and Welsh

299

and contingent being (Spanish/Portuguese serjser versus estar, Irish is versus ta), further distinguishes, within the former, identity from other essential being by the presence of a personal pronoun in the complement. For example, is

complement I e an fear

subject \e

'he is the man'

This Irish construction is but one case of a language in which a verb of being exhibits syntactical peculiarities, as is the exceptional sequence of clause elements when the predicator is the "essential being" verb is generally. Compare the following constructions: complement subject is I fear \e 'he is (Spanish es) a man' subject complement tä I se I i n-a fhear 'he is (Spanish estä) a grown man' (Compare on English, Halliday 1967-1968, especially 66-71, see below.) We come now to the other kind of meaning, textual meaning, and grammatical structures associated with it. Halliday defines textual meaning or "the textual function" of language as "... what enables the speaker or writer to construct 'texts', or connected passages of discourse that is situationally relevant; and enables the listener or reader to distinguish a text from a random set of sentences" (1970a: 143). Part of textual meaning is the way in which the organization of the sentence, clause-complex or clause, or the tone group, presents the reference of that part of the text, the way in which the information given at each point is structured, i.e. what is talked about (the given) and what is said about it (the new). (In the propositions of logic, the information exists in abstraction from or [logically, prelinguistically] prior to such presentation inherent in natural languages, cf. Ellis and Boadi 1969: 58.) Halliday (1967-1968: 200ff.) uses the term "information structure" and its elements "given" and "new" specifically for the informational organization of the phonological unit "tone group," in English and similar languages (where "new" is realized by that part containing the tonic syllable). But these seem to be convenient terms to adopt for the more general category, whether realized by intonation within the tone group, or otherwise within grammatical units (cf. Ellis and Boadi 1969: 57). Halliday's term with a meaning nearest to this general category appears to be "theme" in his broad sense (1967-1968: 199ff., 212); but he also uses "theme" in a narrow sense for an element of the thematic structure of the clause (1967/1968: 21 Iff.). This structure is bipartite, the other element being the "rheme," but a clause or clause complex may be analyzable

300

JEFFREY ELLIS

into the two elements at more than one layer; e.g.: In general, peas I don't eat, beans I do. The first division is into theme in general and rheme peas... do\ the second division is into theme peas, and rheme I don't eat; theme beans, and rheme I do. In English, for example, the thematic structure of the clause is bound up with the information structure, both generally and in its realization in the tone group structure. A theme may carry the tonic of a single tone group realizing a clause, e.g. (it's) J A C K (that) does. (More usually, a clause with marked theme will break into two or more tone groups.) Clause or clausecomplex structures that have explicit marking of information structure, in the wide sense, in addition to the phonological (placement of the tonic), e.g., "it is ... that...," are used in written language, where the distinctions of speech are not available for the marked information structure(s) as distinct from the unmarked simple subject—predicator—complement. The presumption is that in reading aloud, the tonic in these marked structures (but not with all themes) will fall on the theme, while in the unmarked structure it will fall on the final part. In Welsh, the informationally unmarked structure is predicator— subject—complement, e.g. prynodd f y mrawd geffyl 'my brother bought a horse'. Only an adjunct may precede the predicator, e.g. yny dref, prynodd f y mrawd geffyl 'in the town my brother bought a horse' (cf. wedi dyfod at y ty, curodd ef wrth y drws 'having come to the house he knocked at the door'). The informationally marked structures are subject—a—predicator— complement, complement—a—(+)—predicator—subject, and adjunct— y—predicator—subject—(complement), etc., where a is the relative pronoun, here realizing subject or complement, ( + ) is the addition of a personal pronominal possessive to the verbal noun, when periphrastic verb forms with a verbal noun are used, and y is the relative particle or pronoun "oblique," For example: Subject: f y mrawd a brynodd geffyl yn y dref 'it was my brother that bought a horse in the town'; ami gnoc a dyr y garreg 'it's frequent knocking that breaks the stone'. Or, resolving the grammatical ambiguity (cf. complement below): f y mrawd sy wedi prynu ceffyl (for sy, see below on be) 'it was/is my brother that (has) bought a horse'. Complement: ceffyl a brynodd f y mrawd 'it was a horse that my brother bought'. Or (as above): ceffyl y mae f y mrawd wedi ei brynu (for y mae, see below) 'it was/is a horse that my brother (has) bought'.

Identification and Grammatical Structure in Akan and Welsh

301

Adjunct: yn y dref y prynoddfy mrawd geffyl 'it was in the town that my brother bought a horse' (cf. wedi dyfod at y ty y curodd ef wrth y drws 'it was after he had come to the house that he knocked at the door'). This "inverted order" with subject first is used in the Welsh Bible without informational marking, as a caique on languages with the subject first in informationally unmarked structure, and has spread in the other Brythonic languages generally at the expense of the original unmarked; the authorities are agreed, however, that in "good" literary Welsh it is used, or should be used, only as informationally marked. The negative of the above structure is formed with initial nid, the interrogative with ai, and the negative interrogative with onid, e.g. nidfy mrawd a brynodd geffyl 'it's not my brother that bought a horse'. In Akan, the unmarked sequence is subject—predicator—complement, and only an adjunct may precede the subject. The marked sequences are subject—na—pronoun—predicator—complement; complement— na—subject—predicator—(pronoun); adjunct—na—subject—predicator— complement; etc., where na is not the relative clause initiator (Akan a) but a word found only in this "front-shifting" use (unless one identifies it with na 'and/but' linking clauses) and '"pronoun" is a personal pronoun used in the same way, with the relative generally, as in Welsh in the possessive, etc., but absent in inanimate outside the subject (Ellis and Boadi 1969: 10). For example, okwasea na ne gnan tew mpen abien 'a fool it is whose sheep breaks loose twice'. In front-shifting Akan is essentially like other Ghanaian languages. Na may be replaced by de(e) for the CONTRAST subdivision of "new", e.g. nanso Ferdinand de onka ho '(all the other little bulls ... would run and jump ...,) but not Ferdinand.' (In the Akan Bible na is found after an adjunct when (to judge by the original and other translations) not informationally but only thematically marked; similarly, other clause elements are front-shifted when they are not "new" by the expected sense, see discussion below of ne.) The negative of the above structure is with initial enye 'it is not' (third person inanimate negative of j e 'be' [usually ksiistsiko 'day' Given the system of rules which derive the various phonetic realizations of all of the vowels (rules a-c and others which express the generalizations stated earlier about variants of vowels), we return to our main question: in this complex sequence of processes, is there a stage at which some units exist which are more easily brought to the conscious awareness of speakers of the language than are units at other stages? We have already

Abstractness of Phonology and Blackfoot Orthography Design

313

seen that the systematic phonetic level has far too much phonetic detail for an efficient alphabet to be isomorphic with units ofthat level. Since the reading process requires recognition of morphemes and morpheme sequences, we might assume that, in general, a representation which provides the most constancy of morpheme shape should be optimal.9 This would seem to point to the systematic phonemic level. But does this level always provide the units with which we can make our alphabet isomorphic?10 Recall that we have four vowels at the systematic phonemic level in Blackfoot: /i/, /i/, /a/, and joj. If, as we have suggested, teaching an orthography involves bringing subconscious units to the native speakers' awareness, then the teachability of a four-vowel Blackfoot orthography will hinge upon the psychological reality of these four vowels. Now, it seems clear that a native Blackfoot speaker's linguistic competence includes the recognition that not all front vowels are the same with regard to their effect upon their environment. This must be so because there are hundreds of morphemes with front vowels in initial or final position, and the native speaker knows (subconsciously, of course) which of these affect their environment (described in rules a-c above11), even when they occur in combinations he has never encountered before. Thus we could say that the existence of two different kinds of front vowels must have psychological reality. However, because the distinction between /i/ and /i/ is not correlated with a phonetic difference in the surface realization of these segments, it is quite a different kind of distinction than that between these and the other vowels. When presenting the other vowels in reading classes, the phonetic difference in the realizations of these vowels can be brought to conscious awareness, and so realities at the two levels are correlated. Thus I would predict that a four-vowel orthography would prove more difficult to teach, in the initial stages at least, because the distinction cannot be reinforced by a phonetic difference.121 have added the 9

Though Chomsky and Halle (1968: 48) make the same assumption, it is not really justified, for, if the optimal orthography assists in constructing mental acoustic images (see above), then there will be many situations where standardization of morpheme shape will result in an acoustic image that is contrary to that expected in a given environment. 10 As redundancy-free feature matrices, the units of the most abstract phonological level seem completely inappropriate for our purposes. However, we use the term "systematic phoneme" here to refer to segments to which segmental and sequential redundancy rules have applied (see Harms 1968: 84-85). 11 Unless, of course, he has never heard a particular morpheme in an environment which will indicate whether it has /i/ or /i/. 12 Unfortunately, no experimentation with such an orthography for Blackfoot has been carried out, primarily because of the success of a three-vowel orthography (see below).

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DONALD G. FRANTZ

qualification "in the initial stages at least" because a four-vowel system would permit extensive reduction of allomorphic representation, with probable concomitant increase in speed of morpheme recognition in the later stages of reading (but see discussion in the following section of complications here, as well as Footnote 9 above). Paul Kiparsky (1968) has proposed for phonological theory a constraint on the abstractness of underlying representations which forbids differentiating systematic phonemes by distinctive features if the phonetic realizations of these phonemes do not contrast in any environment ("absolute neutralization").13 Such segments would have to be differentiated by "rule features" indicating whether or not a given front vowel meets the structural description of rules a, b, and c. Note that this parallels our supposition that the difference in effect of jij and jij on their environments certainly has reality, but this difference is presumably not associated with any phonological feature.14 Kiparsky's proposal then, whether or not it is correct for linguistic theory, deserves consideration as a criterion for orthography design, i.e. as a possible constraint upon the degree of abstractness of units represented by letters of an alphabet, given our earlier assumption that, in general, a reduction in variation of morpheme shape is an aid to morpheme recognition. We will designate this proposed constraint I: I. Abstract sound units which never differ in their phonetic realizations should be represented by the same letter. Despite the relatively strong form of this constraint, the hypothesis we are proposing is that violation of this constraint will result in a less easily taught orthography (at least in the initial stages before rapid morpheme identification becomes more important). Constraint I, then, leads to a three-vowel alphabet for Blackfoot, exactly the number of vowels in the alphabet which has been taught with initial success thus far on the Blackfoot reservation. Up until now, there has been no direct evidence that the three-vowel orthography is not optimal for Blackfoot; on the contrary, once readers are aware that they must think of these vowels as different from English vowels, they seldom have problems tackling new Blackfoot words. Nevertheless, there may be other 13

Kiparsky has since been convinced that cases such as the one discussed above for Blackfoot, in which the distinction between jij and jij is relevant to more than one rule, should not be strictly ruled out (Kiparsky 1971). 14 Unless the human brain innately possesses the knowledge that of two front vowels, the higher (or more tense, etc.) is more likely to have the effects upon its environment seen in rules a-c. This cannot be ruled out a priori (see Stampe 1961).

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reasons for preferring a four-vowel system; these will be touched on in the next section. Before going on to the next section, we present the consonants of the Blackfoot alphabet as follows: p, t,k, m, n, s, x, w, y.15

Abstractness of Sequence Representation (Spelling) The question of abstractness of representation involves more than alphabet inventory. Given an alphabet, decisions must still be made regarding spelling. A classical case is the choice of a symbol for word-final stops in German when the voiced-voiceless opposition is neutralized before a pause. For example Bund 'agreement' is phonetically [bunt], with a prepause [t] that is phonetically no different than the final [t] of bunt 'it is colored'. Proponents of the older dictum, "once a phoneme, always a phoneme" would have insisted that both of these words be represented identically in those environments where they are phonetically the same.16 But in such cases, our earlier stated assumption that, in general, representation in terms of the more abstract units is most efficient, leads to the representation of Bund and bunt as different in all environments (as does the standard orthography of German), because the consonants in question do contrast except in prepausal position, cf. Bünde [bünda] 'agreements' and bunte [bunta] 'colored'. And this is supported by native reaction: it is actually difficult for a native German speaker to recognize that Bund and bunt are phonetically indistinguishable in prepausal position. In such a clear case as this, only someone who was more interested in readability by a nonspeaker of the language than in word recognition by a native speaker could opt for the "once-a-phoneme" representation. But this is a relatively simple case. As we shall illustrate from Blackfoot, much more difficult decisions involving the spelling of sequences of sounds must be made. And it does not seem that any single principle can decide these. In order to present the Blackfoot examples, we need to have a more extensive picture of the processes whereby Blackfoot phones are derived from the underlying systematic phonemes. The following is a simplified set of ordered phonological rules in Blackfoot (from Frantz 1971) which are relavant to the examples we will discuss. 16

In the practical orthography, h is used for χ (velar fricative). It is important to note that native reaction was usually allowed to modify such a rigid stand (see Gudschinsky 1958); thus in those cases where structural phonemics gave too superficial a result, the ultimate orthography was generally much better.

16

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1. w deletion w 0 I # (m) , where w is not the third person prefix wimitaa imitaa 'dog' 2.

Coalescence

sikwimitaa

sikomitaa

'black dog'

3. Semivowel deletion where C φ

1

ninnwa -> ninna 'my father' yooxtookit ->• ooxtookit 'hear me!' 4.

Sibilation X -» ss/i ixka ->•isska

5.

Assibilation

itanitiiwaiki -> itanistsiiwaiksi

'then he told them'

6.

Secondary sibilation ix s/*C s (The asterisk is the "mirror-image convention," see Langacker 1969) sinaakixsini ->• sinaakssini 'drawing' nitsixpiyi -> nitsspiyi Ί danced'

7.

Merger ι i

8. Glottal metathesis ' V" " V' w w ' /—c . y . y kata'issimiwa -> kataVssimiwa 9.

Absorption

tsia -> tsa

'how ?'

10. Assimilation of χ χ χ Ii A

'

'did he drink?'

Abstractness of Phonology and Blackfoot Orthography Design

11.

317

Vowel laxing "1 ~ " i" 0 o /_(s) C A a. 3_ ninna -> ninna 'my father' — >

12.

Stress placement rules [several, but not fully understood]

13.

Vowel devoicing Vx (V,) -> Y J _ # Condition: double V will not devoice in words of less than three syllables. ninna ninng 'my father' 14. Conflation VjX -> Υχχ, where Vi is not stressed (Y x is a voiceless vowel with simultaneous velar or palatal friction) nitoxkvkka nitgxkvkka 'he gave to me' 15.

Glottalization Ψ '

Ρ Ϊ

16.

ninring.

// y / Y — I . w_ s

.V J mnng

m η

}

'my father'

Initial vowel onset (optional) 0 ' /#—V

Using these rules, the derivations of five Blackfoot words are given in Table 1. Underlying forms (UF) are at the top of the columns and applicable rule numbers are listed in the left margin. The forms in the row opposite each rule are the output of that rule. Forms that have been affected by a given rule are italicized. Let us first consider the orthographic spelling of the word for 'seven'. An orthography, designed according to the assumptions and the constraint stated in the preceding section, would permit us to spell 'seven' according to its UF. (But note that this word is unaffected by rules 1-4, so that we are not picking any particular point in the derivation between the U F and rule 5.) Consider now 'his mother4'. While w is a letter of the Blackfoot alphabet presented earlier, so that spelling this word with it would not violate the absolute neutralization constraint (I) for segments, we can predict that spelling 'his mother' with wi in the first syllable would be a hindrance to reading and writing Blackfoot for two interrelated reasons. First, the underlying sequence /wi/ is never realized as [wi] but as either

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Table 1.

Derivations of five Blackfoot words

'pail+3' a UF 1 2 3 4 5 7 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 a b

wlxk+wa Ixkwa Ixkwa Ixka Isska Isska isska isska isska Isska isskg issk$ issk• tsi) are more easily ignored than those of a later rule (siV -> sV). 23 For example, [oxkotokistsi] 'rocks' cannot be from */oxkotok+iti/, because this would lead to *[oxkotoksistsi].

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These two reasons represent factors which must be weighed when decisions are made about spelling conventions. Either of these factors alone might mitigate against a certain spelling, and the two of them together would seem to rule out the possibility altogether. (However, there is at least one environment where [ist] might successfully be written as it; this is after [ks]. There can be no [ksit] in Blackfoot, and [ksist] must be from /kit/. Thus if [ksi] is spelled ki, then kit should represent [ksist] just as efficiently.) I am less certain about [iss] from /ix/; it does seem that all cases of [iss] before a consonant are from /ix/, but there are not very many alternations which show the /x/ source of [ss] straightforwardly. The clearest cases are found in the pair 'pail 3 ' and 'his pail 4 ' in Table 1; but here the situation is complicated by the /wi/ -> ο process. And there are other sequences involving the /i/:/i/ distinction that will be even more problematic.24 Nevertheless, the results of testing a four-vowel alphabet with these problematic sequences might be very enlightening. Finally, in Table 2, we look at derivations of two sequences which are distinct until very late rules, although the initial native reaction is that they be spelled the same. But what is even more puzzling is that this preferred spelling doesn't seem to match the representation of either of these words at any point in their derivations. Table 2.

UF 3 5 6 7 8 11 12 13 15 16

'dive+nom+spec'

'point+nom+spec'

ittay i + x s i n + y i ittayixsini isttayixsini isttayssini isttayssini isttayssini isttayssini isttäyssini isttäyssini isttäy'yssin'flj 'isttäy'yssin'nj

a'yi+xsin+yi a'yixsini a'yixsini a'yssini a'yssini ay'ssini ay'ssini äy'ssini äy'ssinj äy'yssini'nj 'äy'yssin'ijj

nom=nominalizer spec=specific

Notice that, except for the first syllable, the word for 'diving' is identical to 'pointing' after rule 15 has applied. Up to this point in the derivation, the contrast is preserved by the presence versus absence of a glottal stop; this 24

There apparently are deletion rules which must distinguish /i/ and /!/ (see Frantz 1971: 8, rules 12-13).

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contrast is seen in other inflectional forms of the verb, cf. [isttayit] 'dive!' and [a'yit] 'point!' Yet one of the most proficient readers of the Blackfoot alphabet prefers to spell these words as both ending in -ayissini. We may easily explain the absence of a glottal stop in this spelling; this particular person rarely puts them in when writing Blackfoot except in response to a question asking where it belongs in a given word. So further testing with writers who consistently put in unpredictable glottal stops is necessary before we can decide whether to write the glottal stop in both forms or only in the one where it is present in the UF. The i after the y is interesting, for there is such a vowel present in the UF for these words, as we have seen. The ss for [ss] from /xs/ is also interesting, for, had xs been written as the realization of /xs/ here, this would have violated our constraint II against having a unique spelling for a sequence which never has a unique phonetic realization. This is because jixsj will always be realized as either [iss] (as in [ississi] 'fat' from /wixsixsyi/) or [ss] (as in the examples we are discussing), and both of these sequences can have other underlying sources. So we see that, in spite of the fact that the preferred spelling for these words does not conform to any stage of their derivations,25 it does conform to our assumption that the more abstract spelling is best, subject to the four proposed constraints.

SUMMARY Having made the assumption that, in general, a more abstract representation is superior in a phonologically based orthography, we proposed one constraint (I) on alphabet inventory and three constraints (II-IV) on spelling to limit the degree of abstraction where violation of these constraints would seem to lessen teachability of the orthography. These constraints are repeated here: I.

Abstract sound units which never differ in their phonetic realizations should be represented by the same letter. II. Unique letters or sequences of letters must have unique phonetic realizations in at least one environment. III. No segment of the UF is to be represented in the spelling of a sequence if there is never any phonetic evidence for its presence in that sequence. 26

Again we leave open the question as to whether such evidence should be allowed to modify the phonological rule formulation, even though this might result in a less simple set of rules, given the presently accepted notational conventions.

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IV. No two sequences are to be spelled the same if there is no level of abstraction (stage in the derivation) at which they are the same. Conversely, no two sequences are to be spelled differently if there is no level of abstraction at which they differ. In the case of constraint I, it is felt that this is not an absolute one, although we predict that its violation will increase initial teaching difficulties proportionately.26 A few general factors to be considered when making orthographic decisions were also mentioned in passing, as follows: (1) automatic segments not represented in spelling are more "natural" for beginning readers and writers than the presence of letters representing underlying segments that are evidenced only by their effects upon their environment; (2) the more phonetic evidence there is for a particular abstract representation, the more easily it will be brought to a reader's awareness as a spelling convention; and (3) if there is another, less abstract source for a phonetic sequence, the more abstract source will be less easily brought to awareness in spelling.

REFERENCES CHAO, Y. R.

1934

The non-uniqueness of phonemic solutions of phonetic systems. Bulletin of the Institute of History and Philology 4: 363-397. Academia Sinica. (Reprinted 1957 in Readings in linguistics. Edited by M. Joos. New York: American Council of Learned Societies.)

CHOMSKY, N.

1970

"Phonology and reading," in Basic studies in reading. Edited by H. Levin and J. P. Williams. New York: Basic Books.

CHOMSKY, Ν., M. HALLE

1968

The sound pattern of English. New York: Harper and Row.

FRANTZ, D. G.

1970 1971

"Blackfoot writing systems." Unpublished manuscript. Toward a generative grammar of Blackfoot. Publications in Linguistics and Related Fields 34. Santa Ana: Summer Institute of Linguistics.

FROMKIN, v .

1971

The non-anomalous nature of anomalous utterances. Language 47: 27-52.

GUDSCHINSKY, S.

1958 26

Native reactions to tones and words in Mazatec. Word 14: 338-345.

Thus our conclusion about absolute neutralization with regard to orthography parallels Kiparsky's 1971 proposal that it not be absolutely ruled out of generative phonology but be assigned a higher "cost," in inverse proportion to the number of rules which refer to the distinct underlying units that are never phonetically distinct.

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HARMS, R. T.

1968 Introduction to phonological theory. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: PrenticeHall. HARRIS, Z .

1951 Methods in structural linguistics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. KIPARSKY, P.

1968

"How abstract is phonology?" Mimeographed. Indiana University Linguistics Club. 1971 "Historical linguistics," in A survey of linguistic science. Edited by O. Dingwall. College Park: University of Maryland. LANGACKER, R.

1969 Mirror image rules II: lexicon and phonology. Language 45: 844-862. PIKE, Κ. L.

1947 Phonemics: a technique for reducing languages to writing. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. STAMPE, D .

1961

"The acquisition of phonetic representations," in Papers from the Fifth Regional Meeting of the Chicago Linguistic Society. Edited by R. Binnick et al., 433-444. Chicago: Chicago Linguistic Society.

PragmO'Ecological Grammar (PEG): Toward a New Synthesis of Linguistics and Anthropology

ADAM MAKKAI

The thesis of this paper is that grammar is to language as autopsy is to general human medicine. This is not to downgrade grammar. Just as you cannot graduate from medical school without knowing your anatomy, a real understanding of language can only be accomplished by a person who masters the grammar of that language both analytically and synthetically. But as the ability to carve up cadavers scientifically does not make a Whole Physician — and certainly not one who has also insight into the patient's emotional problems — grammatical expertise, indeed theoreticianship, does not make a Whole Linguist. In order to become a Whole Linguist the student of language must look beyond the grammar and understand the society and culture that uses the grammar under investigation. That this is the case has always been known by anthropologists, but modern linguistic theoreticians have been guilty of neglect in the important area of cultural anthropology. This is an odd fact of life indeed, since anthropology has every right to claim the parenthood of modern linguistics. It is even more curious that the inadequacy of grammar to account for language should have become increasingly evident at just the time when grammar, after half a century's worth of subservience to phonology, is beginning to emerge as a meaningful subdiscipline in its own right. But the essential emptiness of previous achievements usually reveals itself to the objective observer at the peak of the cognitive cycle in question. The years 1933 and 1951, the respective publication dates of Bloomfield's Language and Harris' Methods in structural linguistics mark the

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and the APOGEE of the essentially surface-oriented Bloomfieldian paradigm. It took less than seven years to 1957, the publication of Chomsky's Syntactic structures, for linguists to begin asking an altogether different set of questions in view of which the previous high plateau and apogee suddenly seemed shallow and desolate places. Previously static structural relationships could be seen in the light of the new questions as having a potentiality for changing into one another, as if a structural relationship were a PROCESS. The chief term of the new movement, TRANSFORMATION, TRANSFORMATIONAL GRAMMAR, was borrowed from mathematics (for an elaboration on the inappropriateness of this term for natural languages, see below) and the resultant sensation, make-believe though it was, had the power of entertaining the imagination with an impression of dynamic motion, a treat enjoyed previously only in the course of arduous historic studies of languages. The transformer thus luckily escaped the diligence required by an Edgerton, a Thieme, a Sturtevant, a Tedesco, or a Cowgill, and also got rid of the taxing fieldwork of a Boas, a Sapir, or their modern followers Pike, Lounsbury, Longacre, and the three thousand-or-so workers of the Summer Institute of Linguistics deployed around the globe. The Chomskyan paradigm, which started out by being avowedly asemantical (Chomsky 1957), compared to the earlier autopsy-by-candlelight-and-scalpel style of linguistic analysis as a high capacity computer compares to a hand-cranked desk calculator, or to computer-aided postmortems in well-equipped modern hospitals. Excuses for the expiration of certain sentences were now seen from a different vantage point, at a greater power of magnification, as it were. But autopsy is autopsy, no matter how sophisticated or dynamic the methodology. You can dissect the heart of a dead body, but you cannot take the person's pulse; and not being able to take the person's pulse certainly precludes any further guesses as to whether the live patient was easy-going or irritable in the face of challenges. The practitioners of the new paradigm opted for discussing what an abstract body CAN do, and not what a real body DOES. The former was called, with indirect borrowing from Saussure's langue-parole distinction, COMPETENCE, the latter, PERFORMANCE. A generative description of the body's working was based on extrapolation from the cadaver's structure, but a direct observation and recording of the live person's movements and reactions were derided as merely "taxonomical," hence uninteresting. At this stage in linguistics (Lamb, 1964, 1965, 1966), a counter-movement was born which has accurately recognized that autopsy is but the first step in the process of becoming a Whole Physician. It was known as

HIGH PLATEAU

Pragmo-Ecological Grammar {PEG)

329

STRATIFICATIONAL GRAMMAR, and the present writer has devoted numerous

publications to explaining and furthering it (Makkai 1965, 1968, 1969a, 1969b, 1970, 1971a, 1971b, 1972a, 1972b, 1973, 1974, and Makkai and Lockwood 1973). With stratificational theory we have managed to build a humanoid robot that can almost stand up on its feet and exhibit bodily motion, like a marionette pulled by the puppeteer's strings. We have done away with the artificial competence-performance distinction, and speak of IDEAL PERFORMANCE instead (Lockwood 1972); we have avoided the pitfall of transformationalism by speaking of higher-level realizates and their lower-level realizations, but a direct observation and recording of the live person's movements was still not achieved in this theory either, at least not by the time of the publication of Readings in stratificational linguistics (Makkai and Lockwood 1973). 1. Pragmo-ecological grammar (PEG) is an attempt to outline the structure of a theory of language which, in accordance with Hjelmslev's desideratum (Hjelmslev 1943), does not study the disiecta membra of language, but LANGUAGE itself as it functions. Hence the double name, pragmoecological: the theory must be practical, or more precisely pragmatic (in the sense of William James 1965), and must recognize the ecology of language (in the sense of Haugen 1972 and beyond). 1.1. The philosophy of pragmatism can be best illustrated with a quote from William James's lecture, "What pragmatism means." Some years ago, being with a camping party in the mountains, I returned from a solitary ramble to find every one engaged in a ferocious metaphysical dispute. The corpus of the dispute was a squirrel — a live squirrel supposed to be clinging to one side of a tree-trunk; while over against the tree's opposite side a human being was imagined to stand. This human witness tried to get sight of the squirrel by moving rapidly around the tree, but no matter how fast he goes, the squirrel moves as fast in the opposite direction, and always keeps the tree between himself and the man, so that never a glimpse of him is caught. The resultant metaphysical problem now is this: Does the man go round the squirrel or not ? He goes round the tree, sure enough, and the squirrel is on the tree; but does he go round the squirrel ? In the unlimited leisure of the wilderness, discussion had been worn threadbare. Everyone had taken sides, and was obstinate; and the numbers on both sides were even. Each side, when I appeared therefore appealed to me to make it a majority. Mindful of the scholastic adage that whenever you meet a contradiction you must make a distinction, I immediately sought and found one as follows: "Which party is right," I said, "depends on what you practically mean by 'going round' the squirrel. If you mean passing from the north of him to the east, then to the south, then to the west, and then to the north of him again, obviously the man does go round him, for he occupies these successive positions.

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But if on the contrary you mean being first in front of him, then on the right of him, then behind him, then on his left, and finally in front again, it is quite as obvious that the man fails to go round him, for by the compensating movements the squirrel makes, he keeps his belly turned towards the man all the time, and his back turned away. Make this distinction, and there is no occasion for further dispute. You are both right and both wrong according as you conceive the verb 'to go round' in one practical fashion or the other" (1965: 41-42).

It has been pointed out (Lamb, personal communication) that pragmatism in this particular instance could be understood as sensible linguistics: William James seeks and finds the two conflicting semological realizates of the Iexemic expression "to go round." Insofar as stratificational linguistics already has made such disambiguations (see Bennett 1968, 1973), it is true that "pragmatism" means sensible linguistics. As will be seen below, PEG belongs in the family of stratificational grammars for this reason. The pragmatic component of PEG, then, is this: the theory seeks to dissolve interminable metaphysical debates about the nature of language. Some such seemingly unanswerable questions raised during the past fifteen years are: a. Is linguistic theory to be mechanistic on mentalistic? b. Is a language to be described from the point of view of competence or performance ? c. Is sentence syntax in natural languages finite or infinite ? d. Is language acquisition rule-governed, or based on analogy, imitations, i.e. mimicry of the early environment? e. Does a child acquire his mother tongue because of innate ability or because of exposure and overuse of certain basic patterns ? f. Are natural languages stratified, or are they sets of quasi-algebraic rules which will generate well-formed sentences and reject ill-formed ones? g. Is a taxonomy of "rules" inherently superior to a taxonomy of facts ? And so on. Most researchers and students in the field are quite familiar with these questions. The list above is by no means meant to be complete or to be the exact wording of how any linguist would express some of the major issues we are concerned with. It is hoped, nevertheless, that for purposes of illustrating the pragmatic method in theoretical linguistics these seven points will suffice. In what follows I shall attempt to give in a nutshell the appropriate pragmatic answer to each of these apparently irresolvable debates. a. The metaphysical debate between "mentalism" and "mechanism" is a misunderstanding. If "mechanism" is limited to dealing with facts and

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data that can be observed with the naked eye (perhaps aided with the microscope or the telescope), scientists should never have discovered, strictly speaking, that the earth revolves around the sun, and not the other way around. The heliocentric view of the universe does not follow from direct observation, it follows from speculations based on secondary experiments. Speculations, in turn, are mental activities, hence the mechanically simpler account of the rotation of celestial bodies in this solar system was achieved by mental activity. This fairly trivial and well-known explanation is aimed to illustrate that mentalism and mechanism need not be mutually exclusive notions, and that the two approaches can, in fact, be used to shed light on the same phenomena. From the nonirresolvable pseudo-conflict of "mentalism" and "mechanism," it follows that the problem of behaviorism can be similarly dealt with. What is and what is not properly describable under behaviorist assumptions depends on whether we "spell" behavior with a lower-case b or with an upper-case B, impressionistically speaking. If we espouse the lower-case, narrow approach, only those facts of languages should be worthy of scholarly discussion which have been elicited from a naive informant, transcribed phonetically, then phonemicized, and further analyzed into morpheme sequences without attributing mental rules of how the sentence works. Grammatical is what occurs, and ungrammatical what does not occur. On the other hand, if we spell Behavior with an upper-case Β and include the analysis of literary passages, jokes, songs, rituals, and so on, we will have enlarged the scope of our investigation in a way that will include cultural concepts. There are few real linguists who doubt that certain sentences are grammatical only under certain social conditions. This recognition is known as the CONTEXTUAL ADJUSTABILITY PRINCIPLE (Makkai 1971b), and without it linguistics is doomed to remain a dull and narrow exercise in artificial sentence patterns and features below the sentence. We can understand, then, that the pragmatic reevaluation of the concepts of mentalism, mechanism, and behaviorism can help us in elevating linguistics into areas of more rewarding research while maintaining the precision and the scientific rigor that has been achieved during the earlier mechanistic period, b. The pragmatist approach to the competence-performance controversy would thus be stated: it is illogical to suppose that a human being should be capable of outperforming his own competence. The importance of this insight cannot be overemphasized. It happens with great regularity and frequency that people, on the spur of the moment, say things that their grammar, properly speaking, should not allow. Puns, neologisms, jokes, double entendres, allusions are all integral parts of the total use of language. Competence-based rule-oriented grammars are inherently

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unable to account for matters of this sort. Typically, when a generative transformationalist is confronted with the question of artistic use of language, art translation of verse, etc., he will shrug his shoulders and declare that "that's a matter of special performance." What is happening is that the TG theoretician sweeps unpleasant problems under the rug by pleading irrelevance. Let us turn to another example concerning the competence-performance distinction and look at how a pianist functions. Here we see an art whose success or failure depends almost exclusively on practice. But practice is tentative performance intended to build up the performer's competence. What is the competence of a Horowitz or a Rubinstein? His potential performance. But how did he come by his competence ? By practice, which is a kind of low-level performance. Thus in the performing arts, such as music, we see that performance actually antedates competence; it is the very foundation on which competence is built. Now there is reason to believe that human speech is a highly complex musical act, at least in part. Without the constant trial-and-error of early low-level practice, no human being would have any competence on which the rules of his performance could be based for synchronic description. Yet, on the other hand, it is clear that two native speakers of the same dialect can understand each other even if they never met before and even if they discuss matters new to both of them. It follows from these two elementary observations that competence and performance cannot really be separated one from another, except artificially. They are really two sides of the same coin, functioning as a dialectical entity. c. The pragmatist answer to the question of whether natural languages are finite or infinite is relatively the easiest to answer. The question is merely this: What is the game you are playing ? If you start on an "infinite" sentence consisting of an enumeration of the integers of the decimal system: the first number of the decimal system is one, the second is two, the third is three, the fourth is four, the fifth is five ..., you have committed yourself to an unimaginative pattern which is truly infinite, in the mathematical sense of the term. But there are other arguments for the "infinity" of syntax. It is possible to enlarge sentences artificially by adding an arbitrarily large number of embedded clauses by using which or that. The point is that these are abstract, theoretical possibilities that real users of the language only indulge in for the sake of playing memory games, similar to their interest in tongue twisters. It is also true that tomorrow's novels, newspaper articles and poems have not been written yet; hence, the argument goes, syntax is infinite. Here again is a trivial half-truth, magnified out of proportion. That tomorrow's prose, verse, etc., has not yet been

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written does not mean that the basic sentence patteras of a language are infinite within a given time period. Needless to say, problems abound in designating relevant time periods, styles, and dialect, but, nevertheless, it is possible to summarize and say that twentieth century American prose has the syntactic patterns a, b, c, d,... and q, which is true for 79 percent of the adult population between 1950 and 1970, with syntactic patterns w, x, y, and ζ heavily restricted to educated districts of London, England, during the same period of time. If approached from this angle, the "finitenessinfinity" controversy becomes a Jamesian squirrel chase: obviously everybody is right, hence the argument is a nonargument, and the discussants must specify their vantage points, i.e. their specific interests in the game. The mathematically trained linguist is interested in abstract (read: "empty," menschenfremd) theory, hence he ignores differences in society, social class, dialect, the distinction between prose, verse, and journalism; he shuns statistics and strives for elegant formulae destined to have eternal truth. The anthropologically trained linguist is much more modest, hence also much more realistic: he will strive to give a credible account of how people talked during his lifetime, and also what the main topics of their discourse were. The pragmatist judge in these debates would add that in order to understand such debates it is necessary to know who is the sponsor. The TG-mathematician linguist, typically, has been sponsored by the Army and Navy Signalling Corps, and only more recently by the more civilian agencies of the government which are concerned with mental health and the humanities. Hence computerization and machine translation loomed large as desiderata, and real people were largely left out of the account. The anthropological linguist is apt to be sponsored by modestly financed Protestant churches doing fieldwork in the jungle. As the Romans said: sapienti sat. Everybody deserves his sponsor, and the sponsor's prejudices. d. The language-acquisition debate is similarly resolvable by pragmaticist disambiguation of the issues. Experience has shown that an infant of any race, if brought up by people who speak a language different from that of the natural parents of the infant, will acquire the language of their environment as native speakers. Millions of immigrants to the United States alone testify to this basic proposition. Immigration from Western countries to places where "exotic" tongues are spoken are, of course, much rarer, but instances of the latter also occur. I believe it can be stated once and for all that (i) the choice of the mother tongue is determined by the grown-ups who take care of the infant irrespective of race, and that (ii) whether a language is "exotic" or well known makes no difference in this instance. What is remarkable about the human being is that he will learn ANY

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language. Now the TG-Universalist argument usually states that the deep structures of languages are much more similar to one another than the surface structures and that it is the logic of the deep structure relations which is an unconsciously (i.e. genetically) inherited common characteristic of all human babies. There the TG-Universalists have a significant piece of a half-truth which then got magnified out of proportion and, consequently, misunderstood by their own students as well as their opponents. What is common between even two typologically most different languages (say, Eskimo and English) is that being natural human languages of the planet they (i) offer a system of systems between general human cognition and a phonological code, (ii) tend to encapsulate the most common human experiences at the cognitive end of the system (birth-pains, hunger, thirst, self-identity, possession, instrumentality, agency, joy, fear, etc.) expressed by (iii) the common human articulatory organs, and perceived by (iv) the common human auditory organs. That is to say, every human language (v) encodes and (vi) decodes culturally absorbed information; furthermore, there is evidence that a large amount of cognitive development takes place in the infant (recognition of mother, fear of strangers, etc.) before it begins to symbolize these recognitions in terms of the social code that it is about to inherit. This may be summarized as the principle (vii) of the supremacy of cognition over the code. These observations (i-vii) may be regarded as unquestionable universale. How the various grammars of the various languages encountered deal with the general human condition and the infant's future culture may be reflected on various levels of the grammar of the language; furthermore, a large number of languages may share specific similarities due to common historical provenience or typological similarity. It seems idle metaphysics, in view of the above, to distinguish squarely between "rule-governed behavior" and "analogical learning," since on a higher level of sophistication analogies are restatable as rules, and rules may be viewed as the results of analogy. The inheritance issue is, of course, another red herring, and must be properly understood. The human being has a brain which is far more complex than that of even the highest mammals. (For a very convincing discussion of this see Koestler 1967.) It makes little sense, therefore, to argue that we inherit the structure of our languages because we are more sophisticated than the rat or the ape. What we inherit as humans from our parents is our typically human neocortex and its incredible adaptability. Nobody inherits genetically the phrase structure universal whereby S => NP + VP; what we DO inherit is our ability to conform to this heavily prevailing pattern in a large number of human languages. (A consequence of the above finding is that, if sentences

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were not so widely spread all over the world or if their basic structure were somehow different, the human being would use that different structure instead of the familiar pattern above. The language-acquisition debate's pragmatic bipolarization and resultant disambiguation, then, hinges on the logical INTERCONVERTIBILITY OF RULES AND ANALOGY, in the first instance, and, secondly, on the proper understanding of the RELATIONSHIP OF THE HUMAN NEOCORTEX, ITS FLEXIBILITY, AND THE STATISTICS OF HOW COMMON HUMAN EXPERIENCE HAPPENS TO BE ENCODED IN VARIOUS HUMAN

(The answer to question "e" is contained in this section, so we can skip to the last two questions.) f-g. As these two popular pseudo-questions are also interdependent, they will be analyzed as one problem rather than two. They are easy to dispose of. A heap of stuff is a heap of stuff, whether it is facts, words, morphemes, features, or what have you. The most tragicomical aspect of recent TG theory is that, in its attempt to dispose of "taxonomies," it created the most vast and complex taxonomy ever encountered in the humanities. Chomsky and Halle's The sound pattern of English (1968) is the prime example of one kind of taxonomy replacing an earlier kind with pretentions to innate superiority. At this point, the pragmatist's position can only be Carroll's classical point, when Humpty Dumpty speaks to Alice and explains that the real point is "who is to be master." (Read: my taxonomy is not a taxonomy because it is the result of a fashionable theory, hence I am nice and modern; your taxonomy is a dirty and lowly taxonomy because your theory is no theory at all.) Of more interest is the question whether natural languages are stratified or not, whether they are sets of algebraic rules that will generate only correct sentences. The pragmatist's answer here is: look at the data, and then decide what game you want to play, and how far you want to go. If you are not too data-oriented and like to work on just your mother tongue, and if you are not too interested in what real people do in real life situations, it is indeed possible to argue that language is describable by pseudoalgebraic progressions, equations, and rules. The trouble with TG is not that it does not work, but that it works too expensively, noisily, tyrannically, and arbitrarily, to the exclusion of encoding and decoding, psychology, literature, singing, etc., to mention just a few of its deficiencies. Whether any given language has strata or not is again an empirical question. Three seem to be the absolute minimum for human languages (ranging from Chinese to Sanskrit), in this order: 1. Semology-Cognition; 2. Lexology-Morphology; 3. Upper and Lower Phonology. CULTURES.

1.2. I will now turn to the ecological component of PEG. Einar Haugen

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in his The ecology of language (Haugen 1972) gives the relevant bibliographies of work carried out by researchers in this evolving new field. The names range from Uriel Weinreich to Joan Rubin. As a general characterization of the work of language ecologists to date, we can state that the main thrust of the work has been the examination of what happens to different LANGUAGES IN CONTACT, DIALECTS IN CONTACT, and SOCIAL STRATIFICATION. This type of work is then best characterized as the EXOECOLOGY of LANGUAGE. By exo-ecology we mean development, distribution, social characteristics, population statistics, status within national states as minority or majority language, legal situation, chances of survival, educational facilities, and so forth, of individual languages and dialects looked at as entities or cultural bodies. The logical counterpart of the exo-ecology of language is what I propose to call its ENDO-ECOLOGY. Endo-ecology studies and describes the inner relationships of the lower to the upper phono-ecological subsystem; the inner relationship of the phono-ecological subsystem to the morphoecology, and that of the morpho-ecology to the lexo- and semo-ecologies. (These subecologies will be defined and illustrated below.) The synthesis of the exo-ecology and the endo-ecology may be defined as jointly amounting to the PAN-ECOLOGY of the language. The notion of pan-ecology becomes indispensable because of the numerous interactions that exist between a language's exo-ecology and its endo-ecology. Certain lexemes may change because of exo-ecological contacts and this may cause changes in the endo-ecology of the morpheme to lexeme ratio. Pronunciations may also change because of contact with another language, thus leading to recalculations of the relations of the phoneme stock to the available morpheme combinations, and so forth. 1.2.1. The status of diachronic or synchronic account becomes involved in the question of endo- versus exo-ecology as well. The internal evolution of a language examined on its own terms may be called DIACHRONIC ENDO-ECOLOGY, but as students of language are well aware, it happens rather rarely that a language should not, during the course of its evolution, come into contact with other languages which, then, have a modifying influence on its structure. Consider in this regard the fate of English before and after 1066, when the influx of Old French via Normandy altered its vocabulary, its syllabification, phonology, morphology, and semology. The events of 1066 and their results, then, are not a matter of diachronic endo-ecology, but a matter of DIACHRONIC EXO-ECOLOGY. Once suffused with the morphemes, lexemes, and new phonological elements of medieval French, the English language followed its own course of development

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nevertheless, and thus the events of the Great Vowel Shift (1400-1500), though indirectly connected to the fact that Romance words now heavily populated the language, must be viewed as a matter of diachronic endoecology. A proper recognition of the fact that diachronic events come both exo-ecologically and endo-ecologically forces one to recognize that, just as synchronic exo- and endo-ecology reach their synthesis in synchronic panecology, diachronic exo- and endo-ecology reach theirs in DIACHRONIC PAN-ECOLOGY.

2. The endo-ecology of language (i.e. its internal subecologies) has been well understood for some time in stratificational linguistics, even though the ecological considerations were not made explicit in the theory. Lamb (1964, 1965, 1966, and 1969) recognized the stratification of language and proved that this recognition was in fact a continuation of the early insights of Noreen, and the more explicit work of de Saussure, Trubetzkoy, and, most significantly, Hjelmslev. That a language should have not just a lexicon but a MORPHICON and a SEMICON was suggested in Lamb's Outline of stratificational grammar (Lamb 1966). In my usage the i in these terms has been replaced by an e, hence instead of -icons I have -econs in keeping with the contention that these are eco-logies. Speakers of Standard American English use forty-six phonemes (according to the Trager and Smith system), which can be reduced to a few dozen or so articulatory features. The number of morphemes that can be built from these few phonemes, however, is up in the thousands, but still significantly below the number of longer, complex lexemes that can be built by multiply reinvesting the morphemes. For example, the prefix trans- is built of the phonemes /t/, /r/, /ae/, /n/, /z/ (five segmental phonemes), but the single morpheme trans- recurs in a large number of lexemes (cf. translate, transfer, transpire, transmigrate, transduce, transducer, transpose, //imposition, etc.). On a lower level we witness the same phonemes that built the morpheme trans- functioning as building blocks for such morphemes as rat, ran, Nat, -traz (as in Alcatraz), at, and so forth. Lexemes such as transposition and transducer necessitate many words to define them, i.e. the sememes they tie in with for definition in the speaker's cognitive system are very many. Thus we witness the unfolding of a most efficient ecological structure whose basic architecture shows the wisdom of preservation by multiple reinvestment, as shown in Figure 1. 2.1. The inventory of the endo-ecology of a language is its ECOLOGICAL DICTIONARY, with the tactics of each subecology (i.e. the "grammar" of

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CONCEPTUAL WORLD Semo-ecology Lexico-ecology Morpho-ecology Phono-ecology (lower and upper)

ESTIMATED POPULATION millions tens of thousands thousands dozens

Figure 1.

the given subecology) being the ECOTAXIS of that level. First we shall examine the Ecological Dictionary of English (EDE), and afterwards a brief sketch of the ecotaxis of English will be attempted. 2.1.1. Nothing significantly new has happened in lexicography since Gutenberg invented the printing of books. This is not to deny the steady stream of small, step-by-step technical improvements in the field of dictionary making as new and more insights were gained into the nature of the word stock, but all currently available dictionaries (note the single exception below) have this in common: they start with the letter A and end with the letter Z. These dictionaries are characterizable with the invented acronym HABIT for "Heterogenous Alphabetical Inventory." HABIT is ruled by the tyranny of the alphabet. Some HABIT dictionaries offer phonological transcriptions, some do not; some offer etymologies, some do not; some include the biographies of famous people, some do not; again, some include illustrations of objects, others do not. Better HABIT dictionaries indicate if a term is an "Americanism," as is done in the Oxford English dictionary, but one never finds a marker indicating where else that "Americanism" may be found and understood, or where it is definitely NOT understood, or, to what part of the USA it is restricted, if any. Thus entries like hominy and grits, dark horse candidate, wild-cat strike, lame duck president, maverick, and gerrymander, to name just a few, are found marked (US), but the user never finds out that whereas maverick 'loner, outsider' (after a real person named Maverick) is rather frequent, hominy and grits 'a Southern dish' is practically unknown outside certain southern states. Pronunciations are usually given for one dialect only. There is usually no indication given in HABIT dictionaries of how the words no, how, dog, money, matter, ladder, after, London are pronounced in New York City, Boston, Chicago, Tennessee, London, Sydney, or Auckland. HABIT dictionaries list everything according to the established habit, that is, alphabetically. The harder the editors try to be complete, the more dead ballast they have to carry in their dictionaries for the benefit of that nondescript entity known as the "general educated public." Hence con-

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stant problems arise: Just how much chemical information should a good dictionary carry? How many new space terms? Medical terms? Real estate and legal terms? How much of modern slang? And so on. Let us now take a look at how the dictionary could be reorganized to accommodate everything where it is needed and truly useful for the "general educated public" as well as the not-so-well-educated-public; after all, the purpose of a dictionary should be, among other things, to offer a way to foreigners and people with incipient literacy towards a better use and understanding of the language. There is nothing wrong with a dictionary serving pedagogical purposes as well, if that can be simultaneously integrated into its other functions. 2.1.2. What would a TRUE dictionary be like ? The proposed Ecological Dictionary of English (EDE) would be a TRUE dictionary, as opposed to HABIT dictionaries. The letters of this acronym stand for "Thesaurus Rendered Updated Ecologically." It is our contention that the only really significant change in dictionary making occurred when Roget published his first Thesaurus in the latter decades of the nineteenth century in England. In Roget's Thesaurus and subsequent editions thereof, the user finds a handy nest of synonyms worked out carefully for each entry. These SEMANTIC NESTS, as I propose to call them, do fairly good justice to the entries covered, as far as the knowledge and patience of the original compilers permitted. But the markings in Roget, again, are inconsistent. The many attempts at modernization of the dictionary have disturbed Roget's original mode of organization and the additions suffer from not being truly systematic in our sense. And again, everything is arranged according to the tyranny of the alphabet as before. The question arises: why do we find alphabetization a negative rather than a positive feature, and what do we have to offer instead of it? Alphabetization in itself is not all bad, unmotivated though it may seem, since we are used to it, and usually know what letter the entry we are looking for starts with. But have we not all noticed how certain sections of HABIT dictionaries get dirty and worn, with others barely touched? The reason is that entries used by the "general public" tend to be clustered in certain portions of the dictionary and this clustering sometimes agrees with the essentially arbitrary order of the alphabet, and sometimes it does not. (Also note that a student, or a foreigner, or a foreign student will look up different entries in a dictionary than a native speaker specialist in a certain technical field.) What we, therefore, need is a primarily unalphabetized dictionary in which the entries — resembling Roget's synonym groups, but improved —

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would occur not in the alphabetical order but in their order of frequency in the spoken and written language. Such word frequency lists are badly needed and not too easily available: the ones that do exist are mostly oldfashioned and unreliable. One of the best known such word frequency lists is E. L. Thorndike's The teacher's manual of the 20,000 most frequent words in English (1920), republished in an enlarged and improved version in 1952 with the coauthorship of Lorge. The main problem with the Thorndike-Lorge word list is that no indication is given as to a certain word's frequency as it relates to its position in the sentence. For example, is the entry man marked la (i.e. belonging to the 500 most frequent words in English) qua noun, as in John is a nice man, or qua verb, as in John will man the post ? One suspects, of course, the noun to be far more frequent than the verb, but the compilers completely ignore even the traditional school syntax of the Latinate "parts of speech." On the other hand, the RAND Corporation in Santa Monica, California, has forty years' worth of Time Magazine on computerized tape, and search programs for frequencies with syntactic functions indicated could easily be written and made available for the purposes of the EDE. A TRUE dictionary would start, say, with a set of words such as^ej, no, I, you, man, go, get, put, take, run, make, water, eat, food, buy, where, who, today, tomorrow, etc. But how, then, would the user find the entry he is looking for? Let us imagine that the entire corpus consists of these nineteen words only. Also imagine that they occur in the order of frequency listed above (yes the first entry, tomorrow the last). At the end of the dictionary there would be an alphabetical indicator, merely for the sake of convenience, without any definitions. In the present hypothetical case this would look as follows: buy eat food get go I

15

13 14 7

6 3

make 11 man 5 no 2 put 8 run 10 take 9 today 18 tomorrow 19 water 12

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16 17 1 4

Next to the serial number of frequency there would be a page number indicator as well. 2.1.2.1. The two faces of HABIT are the ecology of expression versus the ecology of content. Let us take as an arbitrary example some of the meanings that the verb take can enter into expressing in Standard American English: be taken aback take after somebody take back take down take sy. for sg. take in (1) take in (2) take off (1) take off (2) take on (1) take on (2) take on (3) take over take up take sy. up on sg. take sg. up with sy. take to sy.

'be startled' 'resemble' 'renege on promise' 'write upon dictation' 'consider to be' 'be able to hold physically' 'absorb mentally' 'start to go at high speed' 'become airborne' 'engage in combat' 'employ new workers' 'assume (new) responsibilities' 'assume control' 'begin to study' 'make sy. keep his promise' 'discuss, start discussing' 'have an instinctive liking for'

These seventeen examples are all verbal in nature. On the nominal side we have the following: intake take-off (1) take-off (2) take-over uptake

'capacity' 'parody' 'period during which plane becomes airborne' 'coup d'6tat' 'mental ability, capacity'

There are far more members of the take family, to be sure. The point to be made here is that, as we can see, the examples listed here deal with the verb as expression. In other words, here we have listed some of the occurrences of take, whatever they happen to mean. (Similarly, by the way, in a TRUE dictionary, one would indicate that the prepositional-adverbial particles back, down, in, off, on, over, up, etc., co-occur with these expressions headed by take.

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How would the content side be organized, by contrast? Let us take the meaning (not the expression) 'happen' as an example. We would list, thesaurus-like, the following expressions all of which share denotatively, if not connotatively, the meaning of 'happen': come about, come out, be up, fall out, work out, turn out, etc. Test sentences (examples) would be provided to show the validity of the choices. The matrix sentence in this case would be this is the way it X-ed. We thus have: this is the way it happened, this is the way it came about, this is the way it came out, this is the way it fell out, this is the way it turned out, this is the way it worked out, but *this is the way it was up, because be up as in what's up? 'what's happening?' is restricted to the present tense. Additional expressions for the meaning 'happen' would be transpire {what has transpired, how did it transpire?), come to pass (in the year 1914 it came to pass that ...) etc. One of the shortcomings of the traditional thesaurus is that it fails to give sufficient specification as to when two words can be used as synonyms and when not. The expression this is how it fell out, while certainly carrying the denotatum 'happen', also carries the connotatum 'by chance, accidentally', whereas the expression this is the way it worked out carries the implication that the problem evolved in its own manner and resolved itself without outside interference. In TRUE, then, we would endeavor to imitate what the human brain does when a native speaker of English stores this kind of information unconsciously. TRUE would cross-refer the user from any occurrence of the expression take to all or any one of the possible meanings that have to do with 'get hold of', 'grab', 'acquire', etc., but TRUE, by being genuinely ecological in its orientation, would also show just where the limits of such correspondences are. 2.1.2.2. The morpheme-lexeme ratio deserves special discussion. English has a much smaller number of morphemes than it has lexemes. No currently available dictionary makes that distinction explicitly and no reliable statistics of the morpheme-lexeme reinvestment ratio are available to date. There is only one trans-, re-, de-, in-, con-, per-, pro-, etc. in English, but because of the unpredictability of some of the resultant meanings in combination with the verbal stems -late, -fer, -duce, -ceive, -ject, -primand, -mand, (cf. translate, transfer, transduce, transceixe, *transject, *transprimand, * perdemand, *prodemand, transduce, reduce, deduce, induce, * conduce, conducive, conductor, * perduct, product, production, produce, etc., to mention just a few. Observe the asterisked nonoccurrences, for each of which a "logical" sense could be invented based on the Latin etymologies and current English analogies involved.) TRUE

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would establish, for the first time, a reliable morpheme reinvestment count. Questions raised and answered would include: (1) what is the lexeme-building load of a prefix such as trans- ? what are its statistically most likely meanings (e.g. 'across' from Latin) ? (2) what is the lexeme building load of a verbal stem such as -late, ceive, -duct, -/er? What are the statistically prevalent meanings of these stems based on the Latin etymologies and the contemporary English analogies? Any truly unpredictable anomalies? These morpheme reinvestment counts could show what morphemes are alive and productive in the language, hence available for building names for new technical inventions, and which ones are frozen and unproductive, such as the stem -trol, of the lexeme control. 2.1.3. The next portion of a TRUE dictionary to consider would be the retrodepository, acronymizable as HARD for "Heterogeneous Alphabetical Retro-Depository." HARD within TRUE serves a function which is actually hard to see at first glance, hence its name. It spells the whole dictionary backwards. The words themselves are not spelled backwards, i.e., window is never presented as *wodniw; the principle rather is that the compiling program looks at the last letter of the word first. I will reproduce here a brief sample from Papp (1969): A

Β

C

D

Ε

F

G

BABA PR0BABABA FABABA FÖLDBABA KUGLIBABA JÄTßKBABA ALV0BABA KISBABA The meanings in this instance, are 'doll', 'mannequin', 'wooden doll', 'earthen doll', 'bowling pin', 'toy doll', 'closing-eyes play doll', 'baby'. The categories A-G allow the compiler of HARD to indicate the number of syllables, the number of morphemes, the frequency of usage, the page in the TRUE section where the definition is found, etc. This principle of retro-alphabetization also yields in one cluster all the words of the language that end in the same suffix, say, all the English nouns that end in the suffix -ness, -dom, -ship, or -hood. Interesting and revealing statistical calculations can be made of bi-letter, tri-letter, and quadri-letter word-ends, their rhyming potentials, and so forth. Both the retro-depository and the straightforward alphabetical look-up would be made into appendices to the main body of TRUE itself. The

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overall organization of an Ecological Dictionary, then, would look as follows: a. The expression forms in frequency order with interspersed definitions, cross-reference given to the appropriate semantic nest. b. The contents (meanings) in frequency order; cross-references given to the relevant expression forms. c. The alphabetical look-up with page indicators and section indicators. d. The Retro-Depository. 2.2. The grammar of a language in PEG may be defined as the simultaneous functions of the tactics of each of its subecologies (lower and upper phonology, morphology and lexology, semology and cognition) amounting to the language's ECOTAXIS. 2.2.1. The features/elements of the lower phono-ecology are the articulatory/acoustic concepts of voiced, voiceless, labial, nasal, alveolar, palatal, dorsal, retroflex, etc., high, mid, low, front, back, etc. PEG seeks to unite the most important articulatory features with the most important acoustic ones into one single lower phono-ecology. The reason for this synthetization is that PEG recognizes that human beings speak with their mouths and hear with their ears; besides that, people, for psychological reasons, tend to hear what they think they hear, and what they think they hear is heavily influenced by their articulatory habits. Strange as it may sound, it is nevertheless true that people hear not so much what they actually should be hearing (based on sound spectrograph printouts) but what they expect they might hear. This is one of the reasons, incidentally, why, above a certain age, foreigners with perfect hearing, when learning a foreign language, never lose their "foreign accent": they hear in terms of their native patterns of overlearned and overpracticed articulatory habits. The articulatory-acoustic (henceforth abbreviated ARTICOUSTIC) features/ elements (henceforth abbreviated FEATMENTS) according to what tactic combinations are allowed in the language, will yield the phonemes of the language:

NAS

Figure 2.

LAB

V+

V-

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Phonemes /n/ and /m/, have in common the fact that they are nasal; /m/, /bI, and /p/ have in common that they are labial; /n/, /m/, and /b/ are all voiced, with /p/ alone being voiceless. Thus the tactics of the lower phonoecology, i.e. the taxis of the articoustic featments, describes, yields, reassembles, or if you insist, "generates" the phonemes, the linguistic phenomena of the higher phono-ecology. There are fewer articoustic featments in any natural language than there are phonemes, and the reinvestment ratio of the stock of the lower phono-ecology vis-ä-vis the higher is a matter that deserves careful study and tabulation for both individual languages and typological studies. 2.2.2. The morpho-ecology of a language studies, describes, and explains the behavior of the morphemes in the language as they relate to (i) content, i.e. what lexemic elements they happen to realize and in what alternations, and to (ii) expression. 2.2.2.1. The fact that Indo-European languages have irregular adjective gradation of the type bonus, melior, optimus; malus, peior, pessimus; gut, besser, best; good, better, best; bad, worse, worst is a clear and convincing example of the behavior of the morpho-ecology vis-ä-vis the lexemic subecology. Characteristically, stratificational linguistics (cf. Lamb 1966) has made a great deal of such alternations, describing them in terms of lexo-morphemic alternations. The pragmo-ecological point to be made here is that languages in the course of their evolution act erratically and prodigally, quite similar to nature itself, which has no logical plans as to how many species of cactus will develop during a few million years or as to whether or not a new species of clam will be allowed to develop in certain tropical waters. The point is that phenomena that seem wasteful do happen, and the linguist-anthropologist does best if he accounts for these prodigal facts as reasonably and economically as he can. English (as well as the other IE languages) could be regularized by fiat. Then there would be only one kind of adjective gradation, namely good, more good, and most good, to go along with extravagant, more extravagant, and most extravagant: or good, gooder, and goodest, together with bad, bader, and badest. At present we view these as monstrosities, but they are by no means illogical. The fact that the lexeme good is expressed morphologically by the morpheme bet-it) in front of -er and by be- in front of -st is a phenomenon of lexo-morphemic ecology; quite literally, this phenomenon (or "rule," if you insist) reveals something of the life and habitat of the entity stored in our brains as the adjective good. The lexo-ecology and the morphoecology are inextricably intermingled, as if in real biological symbiosis,

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with certain areas of clear separation and certain areas where the separation is actually impossible. The example of good, better, best constitutes an instance of lexomorphemic symbiosis, where the separation of morphemes and lexemes can only be achieved artificially. Yet morphemes and lexemes have separate existences in the following instances: go is to went as undergo is to underwent; stand is to stood as understand is to understood; stand is to stood as withstand is to withstood; man is to men as man-o'-war is to men-o'-war; venir is to que je vienne as prevenir is to que je previenne, etc. What these examples show is that the multiple reinvestment of morphemes during the course of the natural history of English resulted in morpheme combinations whose meaning is not predictable from the meanings of the individual morphemes, looked at as lexemes in their own right. These larger, multi-morpheme lexemes with an unpredictable meaning are known as LEXEMIC IDIOMS (see Makkai 1972c). The separation of the lexo-ecology from the morpho-ecology would seem an unwarranted luxury if the language under examination had only monomorphemic lexemes and no semantically endocentric (unpredictable) combinations of morphemes. But this is unlikely to happen. Just as morphemes are the result of the multiple reinvestment of the phoneme stock, lexemes, in most natural languages, are the result of the multiple reinvestment of morphemes. In the English lexemic idioms Emperor of Japan, old wife, hot potato, and red herring, (the first two are fish names, the last two mean 'embarrassing' and 'phony', respectively), the participant morphemes once had (and in other environments still have) separate lexemic status with separate sememic realizates, and these past (or elsewhere still active) meanings have a definite shining-through effect, suffusing the meaning of these lexemic idioms with the old, suppressed, literal meanings. The denotatum in each case is the primary or lexical meaning, and the TRANSLUCENT CONNOTATUM is the original literal meaning of the form. What makes lexical idioms unusual is that they, therefore, have two meanings simultaneously, i.e. the REFLECTING DENOTATUM together with the TRANSLUCENT CONNOTATUM. Whether a language has a heavy morpheme reinvestment ratio or not in its lexeme inventory becomes an interesting typological question, but there is little doubt that there are any real languages that do not somehow utilize morpheme reinvestment in the building of new lexemes. The foregoing was a brief account of the upper boundary between

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morphemes and lexemes in the morpho-ecology. The morpho-ecology, however, has a lower boundary with the phono-ecology as well. 2.2.2.2. This area of language is what has been known in structuralist terms as morphophonemics. It is a well observed phenomenon of a vast number of natural languages that the phonemes as realizors of certain morphemes change under the impact of the vicinity of other morphemes. Hence in English we have wife-wives, wolf-wolves, booth-booths (in the latter with alternation between /Θ/ and /ö/). Whereas the morpheme alternants expressing the same idea 'good' in various forms were a matter of the lexemic subecology preying on the morpho-ecology, morphophonemic alternations are a matter of the morpho-ecology preying on the phonoecology. This hierarchy of exploitation clearly resembles the pecking order of biological species in symbiosis elsewhere in nature. The arbitrariness of this downward exploitation can be seen by the fact that the /f/-/v/ alternation seen in wife-wives, wolf-wolves, knife-knives does not carry through logically to such pairs as dwarf-*dwarves, the correct plural being dwarfs, with a good deal of dialect variation left over to behold: hoof-hooves and roof-rooves coexists with hoof-hoofs and roof-roofs in certain areas. 2.2.2.2.1. Just as in the case of the above mentioned lexical idioms, morphophonemic alternation, too, displays antiquity by translucence. Trubetzkoy called the ancestor of the /f/-/v/-alternation an archiphoneme, symbolizable as //VF//, /ν/ and /f/ share the articoustic featments of labial, dental, and fricative; what distinguishes them is the presence or absence of voice. (The same presence or absence of voice differentiates /Θ/ from /Ö/, /s/ from /z/, which are some of the most widespread consonantal morphophonemic alternants in English.) In the sane-sanity, vain-vanity, Spain-Spanish, nation-national type, as well as in the invite-invitation, ignite-ignition, deride-derision type of vowel morphophonemic alternation the regulating feature has been convincingly shown to be a matter of length which, during the century 1400-1500 (the Great Vowel Shift), developed further until it reached the current phonemic realization. All these are well-known facts about English and so the point here is not to repeat but rather to show how they can be interpreted from the basic point of view that a language is an evolving ecology. That morphophonemics and internal reconstruction are complementary disciplines is well-known in linguistic scholarship. What concerns us here, from the point of view of the diachronic endo-ecology of language (for a definition of this concept, see above), is that the historically reconstructed

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protophoneme in most cases coincides with the synchronically most logical "archiphoneme" (or "morphon," as it has been called in stratificational terms). The construct //VF//, then, reveals itself both as a historical and as a synchronic entity, and constitutes an example of the panchronic endo-ecology of language. In the realm of vocalic morphophonemic alternants the "archiphonemes" (i.e. "morphons") //ä// and //!//, depending on whether the length or the shortness prevailed (notice that both a macron and a micron appears on both vowels), evolved into the surface phonemes /ey/, /ae/, /ay/, and /i/, respectively. 2.2.2.2.2. The question arises whether wife-wives and invite-invitation can be handled together from the ecological point of view. The reason is that wife is an old Anglo-Saxon word and invite-invitation was adopted after the Norman-French invasion. The pragmo-ecological answer here is that at the time when invite-invitation was acquired, it (along with thousands of other borrowed elements) altered the English language exo-ecologically. In the 300 years that followed, these Norman-French elements were naturalized to the extent that the phenomenon appears to us in 1973 as an endo-ecological matter. The exo-ecological effect on endo-ecological matters is most crucial, therefore, in the case of developing languages, especially where language planning is involved, as in the case of Bahasa Indonesia, Malay, etc. 2.2.3. The lexo-ecology of a natural language studies and describes the lexicon of a language. Having discussed this in greater detail under the Ecological Dictionary of English (EDE), we shall now pass to an examination of the tactics of the subecologies so far discussed. The ecotaxis of the semology-cognition will be discussed later. 2.2.3.1. The EDE marks for each lexemic entry its function in the ecotaxis. Man is a noun in John is a good man, but a verb in John cannot man the post; they are also separate morphemes, because man pluralizes as men and the verb inflects as man, mans, manned, manning. The ecotaxis of the lexemic subecology distinguishes between SKELETON SENTENCES and COMMUNICATIVE SENTENCES. A skeleton sentence is one which does not display the actual lexeme, but only its ecotactical ("grammatical") function. Chomskyan phrase-structure rules before lexical insertion are all instances of skeleton sentences. A "string" such as S =• (Skeleton 1) DET + (def. art.) + Ν + (sing) + MODAL + (time ± ) + HAVE + EN + V (trans) + DET + (def. art.) + (S) + DET + (def. art.) + Ν + (sing) + V (intrans) + ADV

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is viewed pragmo-ecologically as a skeleton of a sentence, or as an abstract paradigm for a very large number of enate sentences. (This string above does not purport to represent any transformationalist's current or past views; it is simply an abbreviated formula which is easy to read and add real lexemes to.) The string can be clad with real lexemes in two ways: (i) the resultant "real sentence" makes pragmo-ecological sense in a human-to-human communication situation, or (ii) it is an INCURRENCE (that is, an occurring nonoccurrence) perpetrated by an idiot, a fumbling foreigner, a person under the influence of alcohol or drugs, or a playful poet, or a desperate linguist trying to make a point. The Skeleton 1 will admit a tremendous variety of lexical clothing: (a) the man may have seen the boy who ran away (b) the boy should have heard the man who ambled off (c) the dog may have smelled the rabbit that jumped away (d) the elephant could have trampled the mouse that squeaked, etc. These sentences might be regarded as "meaningful," i.e. as communicating a socially recognizable sense. (We are not concerned here with the equally important question whether the sentence is apropos of anything or not, that is, whether it is something said ex abrupto and without motivation, or whether it fits a certain definite sociosemantic context. PEG is judging the adequacy of sentences on all of those criteria simultaneously.) The equally "grammatical" sentences (f) the chair may have seen the trumpet that ran away (f) the trumpet should have heard the fiddle which ambled off (g) the dog may have swallowed the elephant that chanted loudly, etc. are the nonsensical sentences which can be built (if you insist, "generated") on Skeleton 1. 2.2.3.2. The skeleton-building ability of the ecotaxis of the lexemic subecology has been erroneously called "deep structure" in the past. The very concepts "deep" and "surface" are misleading and ill-chosen. The real question is whether the sentence communicates, or whether it merely shows how the sentence might be constructed if it were to communicate. Now PEG does not deny the value of pointing out potential constructions versus actual constructions, but it insists that the distinction be made from the point of view of human communication. 2.2.3.3. At this point the question might be raised how PEG envisages the celebrated question of "transformations" and transformationalgenerative linguistics in general.

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Let us take the basic proposition Brutus killed Caesar and examine the various possibilities that present themselves. In standard TG theory the corresponding passive, Caesar was killed by Brutus is said to be the "passive transformation." In 1957 when TG was still an asemantic theory, this passive transformation was said to be derived by optional transformation rules from the active sentence; later it was proposed that the passive is in fact a modality; and more recently it has been suggested that a quasiactive "deep structure" gives rise to both the active and the passive sentence as surface transformations. (Of course, this is a simplified condensation of the various TG proposals.) In contrast, stratificational theory points out (Lockwood 1972) that a sememic trace, having unordered and (coincidence concatenation) nodes, is realized either as passive or as active, depending on whether the agent (Brutus) or the goal (Caesar) is in focus. PEG recognizes the stratification of language and is a member of the stratificational family of grammars, but with an important distinction: PEG realizes that the proto-proposition is activoid in nature and therefore closer to the actual active than to the passive sentence. To use an analogy introduced by Lamb (1966): if both man and the ape are descendants of a now extinct ancestor, it remains true that the ape, in his cul de sac, is much closer to this extinct ancestor than is man. Therefore there is room to argue that the passive sentence is, in a real sense, not a "transformation," but a variation on the basic theme of the underlying activoid protosentence. But how are we to reconcile this conflict? PEG, on the one hand, does not believe in "transformations," because they are psychologically counterintuitive and do not properly describe what humans engaged in conversation really do. It does agree with stratificational grammar that the same trace (with minor emphases moved around appropriately) can function as the parent of a large number of agnate sentences. The question is this: just what do we humans do when we move the focus marker from the agent to the goal? I suggest that we do something similar to the composer when he takes off on a theme in a sonata and starts to write variations on that theme. It was Caesar Brutus killed, it was Brutus who killed Caesar, it WAS Brutus who killed Caesar, it WAS Caesar Brutus killed, Caesar WAS killed by Brutus, it was killing Brutus did to Caesar, etc., are all such variations on the basic theme Brutus killed Caesar. Here PEG may have one of its best chances to disambiguate a metaphysical debate, namely the disagreement between TG and SG. TG claims that the derivation of one sentence from its prototype is a process; SG claims that it is a matter of simultaneous options. PEG would attempt to point out that we are confronted here with a classical instance of the

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Jamesian squirrel chase. Both TG and SG are right, hence, neither is right; both possess partial glimpses of the pragmo-ecological truth. PEG, like SG, would posit a semo-ecological reticulum (roughly equivalent to the SG sememic trace, on the one hand, and to the activoid "deep structure," on the other) recognizing that the choices between active and passive are simultaneous, and, if conditioned at all, are probably conditioned by stylistic or additional semantic criteria. Yet the fact that the semo-ecological reticulum must undergo minor operations (such as the moving of the focus from agent to goal) is a kind of activity which the speaker performs at will. The passive sentence does not derive from the active via any process, but the semo-ecological operation which takes place in the semoecological reticulum does amount to a minor process, where process is understood more in the sense of "activity" than in the sense "linear progression." In most instances where two related meanings are expressed by two structurally different sentences, two ecologies are involved: the semological-cognitive, and the lexemic subecology. The moving of the focus sememe from agent to goal, then, results both in difference in meaning and a different string of lexemes. The resultant change in meaning can be assigned the label METASEMIOSIS, and the resultant difference in lexotactic arrangement may appropriately be called METALOGOSIS. NOW metasemiosis and metalogosis are most frequently interdependent. As we saw above, Brutus killed Caesar, Caesar was killed by Brutus "tell the same story from a legal eye-witness point of view," and therefore appear to "mean the same." Linguists have become aware, however, that only this gross "legal meaning" is identical and that the active-passive distinction carries real differences in meaning (see Bolinger 1975). If we accept the fact that the active and the passive have a difference in meaning, we can say that the two sentences above show metasemiosis and metalogosis together. Now there seems to be a natural hierarchy prevailing in these changes. Any metasemiosis (change in meaning) is bound to be accompanied by a resultant metalogosis (change in expression), but not conversely: instances of sememically empty metalogosis are everyday occurrences. Consider: It bothered me that he left, versus his leaving bothered me, versus that he left bothered me. (Notice that I am not including the passive I was bothered by his leaving, because the latter puts the emphasis of focus on the goal, the personal pronoun I.) Instances of this sort (sometimes referred to as "unmotivated transformations" or "incidental transformations") are actual cases of sememically empty metalogosis. 2.2.3.3.1.

Transformations in TG do not exclusively belong to sentences;

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morphophonemic transformations also exist. In the early 1957 version of TG these were the "compulsory transformations" (as opposed to the "optional" ones, such as the active-passive distinction); they later became the output of the transformational cycle operating on the surface structure. How does PEG, in view of the metasemiosis-metalogosis distinction, propose to deal with morpheme variants of the same lexemic elements and the phonemic variants of the same morphemic elements ? As we saw above, stratificational theory has managed to deal with the good, better, best type of lexo-morphemic alternation successfully. PEG fully adopts the SG solutions in these instances with minor terminological clarifications. What could be more suitable to describe lexo-morphemic alternation than the term METAMORPHOSIS? Good, then, is said to undergo metamorphosis in ecotaxis with the comparative grade and the superlative grade, yielding better, best. The analogy carries through from here on downwards to the phonology. The fact that the morpheme /wayf/ alternates with another morpheme /wayv/, depending on the ecotaxis of plural versus possessive, (the plural being, of course, /wayvz/ and the possessive /wayfs/) convincingly demonstrates a viability of the metasequence: here we have encountered a case of what I shall call METAPHONOSIS. The hierarchy of the metasystem of grammar shapes up as follows: "only with other changes "alone, or with metasemiosis "alone, or with metalogosis

METASEMIOSIS

agnation, change in meaning

METALOGOSIS

agnation, no change in meaning

METAMORPHOSIS

lexo-morphemic realization and alternation

METAPHONOSIS

morpho-phonemic realization and alternation

{

alone, or with metamorphosis

Figure 3.

2.2.3.4. What are the results of the horizontal combinations of each ecosyntax? (The architecture of Figure 3 is to be viewed as describing the grammar vertically.) The semo-ecology whose VERTICAL DIMENSION is metasemiosis (see Figure 3) yields DISCOURSE BLOCKS in its HORIZONTAL DIMENSION. The lexemic subecology whose vertical dimension appears as metalogosis, yields SENTENCES horizontally. The morpho-ecology's vertical manifestation is metamorphosis, its horizontal yield is WORDS, MORPHEMIC WORDS, and SUBCLAUSES. The phono-ecology's vertical axis is metaphonosis, and its horizontal yield is the SYLLABLE and the SYLLABIC WORD. To be complete, we would have to add the vertical and horizontal

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dimensions of the lower phono-ecology as well. On the vertical dimension we could speak either of LOWER METAPHONOSIS or, using the stem "phonetic," METAPHONETOSIS. The horizontal yield of this subecology would be CLUSTERS a n d SEGMENTS. SEMO-ECOLOGY

{

only with other changes

DISCOURSE BLOCKS

TEXTS

LEXO-ECOLOGY

{

alone, or with metasemiosis

SKELETON SENTENCES

{

alone, or with metalogosis

2 m Η > Ο 73

13 Χ ο on

{

alone, or with metamorphosis

2 m Η >

MORPHO-ECOLOGY

MORPHOLOGICAL WORDS

SUBCLAUSES

UPPER PHONO-ECOLOGY

ID X

Ο Ζ Ο CO co

2 m Η >

SYLLABLES

FEET

LOWER PHONO-ECOLOGY

T5 X

ο ζ tu Η Ο CO

Η* V3

Figure 4.

REAL SENTENCES

SEGMENTS

CLUSTERS

METRIC STANZAS

354 ADAM MAKKAI

Figure 4 depicts the ecotactics (the "grammar") of a natural language as conceived of in PEG. The system owes a great deal to Lamb's stratificational grammar (Stage III, see Lamb 1965 in particular), but Professor Lamb is not to be held responsible for any of the views put forth in this paper. 2.2.4. It is now time to devote our attention to the ecotaxis of the sememic-cognitive subecology. In PEG this is the most important part of the description of how real people actually use a language. Instead of going into great detail here, I would simply like to enumerate a few points of principle. a. Sentences do not occur in isolation, except in grammar books. Thus a sentence such as dogs bark is preeminently ill-chosen for purposes of illustrating the "declarative sentence." Dogs bark only makes sense in the ecological setting (henceforth abbreviated ECOSET) of enumerating the kinds of noises animals make, e.g. in explaining to a young child: Cats miaow, donkeys hee-haw, birds whistle, roosters crow, dogs bark. Now can you repeat this, Johnny ? — or some similar situation. b. The supposed grammaticality or ungrammaticality of individual sentences is correlative with the ecoset in which they were observed. If a foreigner manages to make himself understood even though he piles error upon error, his sentences are correlatively grammatical to the intended speech act he is engaged in. If this weren't so, immigrants to the USA with very bad English-speaking habits could not make a living. The fact that they do, proves that grammaticality is ecoset-relative. c. People seldom soliloquize; people normally talk to other people. The language that gets exchanged between speaker 1 and speaker 2 is correlative with their mutual regard for one another, their respective ages and sexes, their respective superior or inferior social status. We might call this the sociological dimension of the ecoset of normal human dialogue. d. The human personality is not monolithic but structured within the conscious and the unconscious. PEG finds it most convenient to adopt the scheme developed by Dr. Eric Berne, the founder of transactional psychoanalysis in this regard. According to Berne (1969), the human personality has a threefold stratification: parental ego state (roughly the same as Freud's "super-ego"), or the neo-psychic ego state; the adult ego state (roughly analogous the Freud's "ego") or the meso-psychic ego state; and finally, the child ego-state (roughly the same as Freud's 'id') or the archepsychic ego-state. An adult-to-adult conversation would typically be a university lecture, reading certain usage labels, man's ability to process cerebral information without subterfuges, or any ulterior motives.

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A parent-to-child exchange is typically what passes between a mother and her four-year old or, later in life, when we "talk down" to somebody who either solicits this, or actually resents it. A child-to-parent exchange is when a psychologically dependent person whines or complains to his fellow-adult subconsciously treated as a parent figure; in its natural, elementary state this is the four-year old addressing its mother or father about a bodily or emotional need. Parent-to-parent exchanges occur in committee meetings, conferences, or when teachers and parents get together at school. Child-to-child exchanges are the creative, free talk that little children engage in when not suspicious of being overheard by their elders; later in life when liberated adults engage in playful activity, the adults' sex-play, if uninhibited and normal, is a child-to-child type exchange. Berne classifies these types of exchanges as TRANSACTIONS, and PEG, in its attempt at bringing true anthropological relevance back into a nonreactionary, progressive linguistics, finds the notion of transactions particularly appealing. SPEAKER Ι

SPEAKER II

PARENT

PARENT

ADULT

ADULT

CHILD

CHILD

Figure 5.

Berne gives the following example of a "crooked transaction:" An impressionable lady buyer enters a store and tries to choose between two pairs of shoes. The salesman, eager to make a sale, engages her in conversation : SALESMAN: LADY:

"That's the better pair, but you can't afford it." "That's the pair I'll take" (pointing at the more expensive pair).

What has happened here ? We are anxious to point out that no currently available grammatical theory can describe what passes between the salesman and the lady. It could be argued that the sentences aren't even logically related, for the

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lady ought to answer: "Oh, in that case, I'll come back some other time" or: "You are correct on both accounts" and simply leave. But she accepts the salesman's challenge and buys the more expensive pair of shoes she probably cannot afford. According to Berne, what happens in a situation like this is that the adult-to-adult "straight transaction" occurs only on the surface underneath which there is another "crossed" or "crooked" one. The overt "straight" and the covert "crooked" transactions are, of course, simultaneous, and one of the parties is usually unaware of the "crooked transaction." What happens in this exchange is that the salesman's adult cleverly attacks the lady's child, challenging her, as it were, to show that she is no cheapskate. The fact that she accepts the challenge and falls for the salesman's dishonest sales pitch indicates that she has a vulnerable "child" in her unconscious make-up, and that when she says "that's the pair I'll take," she is talking as an adult only on the surface; subconsciously, in fact, she is talking as a child, really saying: "I'll show you that I am no low-class customer who is willing to settle for the cheaper pair of shoes," or something similar. (We reiterate that her child's reply is essentially unconscious.) The sale, i.e. the exchange of shoes and money occurs overtly on the adult level, that is, the sale is concluded, and the transaction ends with the salesman's victory and the lady's defeat. In Berne's terminology both get their "payoffs": the salesman, who is a winner, wins; the lady, who is a loser, loses; hence each gets his/her unconscious psychological satisfaction of the "game" they played. I would not have entered on an explanation of transactional psychoanalysis were it not so sorely needed for a better understanding of how our modern society operates. In an ecology-minded late twentieth-century America when the fates of millions are influenced by mass media persuasion techniques (such as Madison Avenue sales techniques based on motivational research), anthropological linguistics can ill afford to remain unaware of some of the major types of psychiatric motivation that influences the human dialogue. In summary, we may say that the ecotaxis of the cognitive-semantic subecology is, in fact, the main area to which anthropological linguistics should devote its attention. (The exchange between the salesman and the lady above may be unheard of in certain African countries or in Southeast Asia; it may be symptomatic of Anglo-Saxon North America, hence heavily culture-specific.) It is also evident that this is the least explored and least understood area of man's language behavior, and that the work of scholars such as Halliday (see especially Halliday 1973) is an important addition to traditional linguistics. The ecotaxis of the sememic-cognitive subecology could be called

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thought in the sense that we can talk about nineteenth-century Russian thought, or eighteenth century French thought. What we mean by "thought" in these instances is, of course, the most important cultural products of that age, and the cultural trends shown in them. The salesmanlady exchange is a kind of "thought" as well, not very elevating, not very artistic, and with little entertainment value, if any; but it is a characteristic thought-pattern of a certain culture in a certain age. "Thought," then, is not meant here in the cerebro-neurological sense.

THOUGHT,

3. Linguistics, at least in North America, began as a subdiscipline of anthropology. This was to a large extent a reaction to the philosophy and practices of the German Junggramitiker of the nineteenth century, but also due to the fact that there was a real need on this continent to describe Indian languages of which little or nothing was known. It was obvious to Franz Boas that the traditional categories of IE grammars did not apply to the Uto-Aztecan, or the Algonquian languages. "Behaviorism" and "mechanism," for a Boas, would simply have meant that he wasn't going to prejudice the chances of successfully describing Menomini or Ojibwa, if he wanted the data to yield the terminology needed and not to have the old, inherited terminology mold the data into a Procrustean bed. 3.1. Bloomfield's insistence on "mechanism" was a reaction to all things German. During and after World War II, for a scholar of GermanJewish descent it was more than natural to be fearful and suspicious of Sprachgeist, Volkgeist, Zietgeist, or anything that ended in -geist. Bloomfield, however, went too far when, in Language (1933), he declared that he was not interested (as a linguist) in why a person would say the utterance I am hungry. He insisted that it was irrelevant whether the sentence was produced by a hungry beggar or by a naughty child not wanting to go to bed. The lesson to be learned was that I am hungry, as a sentence, is built on the sentence skeleton Pers. Pron. 1st pers. (sing.) + BE + (pres. 1st. pers. sing.) + ADJ. and this kind of X-ray insight into the sentence structure of any language can only help the linguist in his work. Again, it is like anatomy for the student physician. Would you go to a physician who has not been through regular anatomy? I would not. But if you had an infected middle-ear and the doctor gave you some diagrams and a lecture on how the ear is built instead of prescribing the appropriate antibiotic, you would be cheated. The adequate physician is not only one who knows all about the anatomy and physiology of the ear, but is also one who can diagnose the probable reasons for an infection, and suggest the right medicine; furthermore, he is even better if he can make an educated guess that

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the infection took hold in the first place because you were so exhausted. Thus in linguistics today we have reached an age when the skeletal structures of sentences are rather well understood. A synthesis of structuralism, tagmemics, and TG can certainly add up to a lot of information; if on top of it the anthropologist acquires a sound knowledge of stratificational theory, he will be rather well equipped in dealing with "grammar." 3.2. But we are now past the stage when scientific detachment is enough. Leading American philosophers of history (Lukäcs 1968, 1972) have recognized that we live in the post-scientific age. The moral postulates of the post-scientific age include that, among other things, we have to step beyond science WITH the aid of our acquired scientific skills, NOT despite or without them. Stepping beyond "science" simply means that we now have to enlarge the scope of our investigations or that we now have to start applying scientific integrity to areas of culture that were hitherto only discussible in terms of vague generalities. Leading intellectuals in North America have called attention to the fact that our planet is an ecology living rather alone in space. (Alone in the sense that no life form similar to ours exists in this solar system and in the sense that we are unlikely, within this century, to get to other solar systems.) This recognition has led to the environmentalist movement concerned with the preservation of energy, the cleaning up of rivers and lakes, the water we drink, and the air we breathe. Few people have remarked, however, that there is also an intellectual pollution in our society. Egos and charisma dominate; fears and insecurity cower, or vociferously jump on bandwagons. Much work needs to be done to clear up our intellectual pollution as well. Significant work has begun in the area of language as an ecological entity. At the beginning of this paper I referred to that work (by Haugen and others) as the exo-ecology of language, because these scholars have been concerned primarily with how various languages (and dialects) coexist. Due to the insights gained by stratificational theory, however, it can now be said without danger of fadism or exaggeration that the internal organization of languages also shows close kinship to ecological systems. I have opted for the term endo-ecology to express that thought. It is now time for anthropology to reclaim scientific linguistics, to which it gave birth. By understanding that language has both an endo- and an exo-ecology (i.e. its organic inventory, its properly stratified "grammar," and certain territorial and sociological relationships both in the present and in the past), anthropology may be able to rise to the task and become once again synonymous with her most prestigious daughter discipline.

Pragmo-Ecological

Grammar

(PEG)

359

APPENDIX: Author's note (December 8, 1976) This paper was written and delivered more than three years ago. An Italian translation of it has appeared in Studi Italiani della Linguistica Teorica ed Applicata 3 (1-2): 7-55 [1974]) under the title "Grammatica pragmo-ecologica (PEG): per una nuova sintesi della linguistica e dell'antropologia." My thinking has changed somewhat in the meantime. It is not possible to outline here the essence of all of the changes, but the major ones must be mentioned. (i) I no longer believe that metalogosis without metasemiosis is a real possibility, i.e. I have come to believe that every change in expression carries some degree of change in meaning, however small or "delicate" that change in meaning may be. In the examples his leaving bothered me versus it bothered me that he left there is no major semantic change between versions one and two, yet the latter differs from the former in that the SEMANTIC PAUSE occurring between his leaving and bothered me, on the one hand, and it bothered me and that he left, on the other, makes for differences in what is "old" versus what is "new" information in these sentences. In this sense, then, they do not mean the "same" any more. Furthermore, I would no longer use the technical terms "metasemiosis," "metalogosis," "metamorphosis," and "metaphonosis," but would rather suggest using the related Greek prefix ana-; thus we would have ANASEMIOSIS, and ANASEMIOTIC PHENOMENA; ANALEXIS and ANALExiCAL phenomena; (the earlier term doesn't work here for several reasons); ANAMORPHOSIS and ANAMORPHIC phenomena, and finally ANAPHONOSIS and ANAPHONIC phenomena. (ii) In terms of the totality of linguistic structure, I came to the view that linguistic structure is actually PANSEMANTIC, i.e., there is no stratum which has no connection to meaning. It is as if there were a phonosemantics, a morphosemantics, a lexosemantics, and a most abstract semosemantics, where the "semantics" parts form a circle which, in turn, can be identified with the SOCIAL CONSTRUCTION OF REALITY.

REFERENCES BENNETT, DAVID C.

1968 English prepositions. Journal of Linguistics 4: 153-173. (Reprinted 1973 in Readings in stratificational linguistics. Edited by A. Makkai and D. G. Lockwood, 276-296. University. Ala.: University of Alabama Press.) 1973 "A stratificational view of polysemy," in Readings in stratificational linguistics. Edited by A. Makkai and D. G. Lockwood, 297-306. University, Ala.: University of Alabama Press. BERNE, ERIC, M.D.

1969

What do you say after you say hello ? New York: Grove Press.

BLOOMFIELD, LEONARD

1933 Language. New York: H. Holt. BOLINGER, D.

1975 "On the passive in English," in The first LACUS forum, 57-80. Edited by A. Makkai and V. B. Makkai. Columbia, S.C.: Hornbeam Press.

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CHOMSKY, NOAM

1957 Syntactic structures. The Hague: Mouton. CHOMSKY, NOAM, MORRIS HALLE

1968 The sound pattern of English. New York: Harper and Row. HALLIDAY, Μ. A. K.

1973 Explorations in the functions of language. London: Edward Arnold. HARRIS, ZELLIG S.

1951 Methods in structural linguistics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. HAUGEN, EINAR

1972 The ecology of language. Stanford: Stanford University Press. HJELMSLEV, LOUIS

1943 Omkring Sprogteoriens Grundlceggelse. Stockholm. (Translated 1961 by Francis J. Whitfield as Prolegomena to a theory of language. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.) JAMES, WILLIAM

1965 Pragmatism: collected Harvard lectures. New York: World Publishing. (Originally published 1909.) KOESTLER, ARTHUR

1967 The ghost in the machine: the urge to self-destruction: a psychological and evolutionary study of modern man's predicament. New York: Macmillan. LAMB, SYDNEY M.

1964 The sememic approach to structural semantics. American Anthropologist 66 (3), Part 2: 57-78. (Reprinted 1973 in Readings in stratificational linguistics. Edited by A. Makkai and D. G. Lockwood, 207228. University, Ala.: University of Alabama Press.) 1965 Kinship terminology and linguistic structure. American Anthropologist 67 (5), Part 2: 37-78. (Reprinted 1973 in Readings in stratificational linguistics. Edited by A. Makkai and D. G. Lockwood, 229-257. University, Ala.: University of Alabama Press.) 1966 Outline of stratificational grammar. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. 1969 "Linguistic and cognitive networks," in Readings in stratificational linguistics. Edited by A. Makkai and D. G. Lockwood, 69-83. University, Ala.: University of Alabama Press. LOCKWOOD, DAVID G.

1972 Introduction to stratificational linguistics. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. LUKACS, JOHN

1968 Historical consciousness. New York: Harper and Row. 1972 The passing of the modern age. New York: Harper and Row. MAKKAI, ADAM

1965 "Idiom structure in English." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. Yale University. 1968 Review of The phonology and morphology of Ulu Muar Malay, by Rufus L. Hendon. American Anthropologist 70 (2): 234. 1969a The two idiomaticity areas in English and their membership: a stratificational view. Linguistics 50: 44-58.

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1969b Why language is stratified. Kivung 2 (3): 16-51. 1970 "Statistical aspects of phrasal verb idioms in modern English," in Proceedings of the Tenth International Congress of Linguists, 969-972. Bucharest. 1971a The transformation of a Turkish pasha into a big fat dummy. Working Papers in Linguistics [Honolulu] 3: 267-273. (Reprinted 1973 in Readings in stratificational linguistics. Edited by A. Makkai and D. G. Lockwood, 307-315. University, Ala.: University of Alabama Press.) 1971b "Degrees of nonsense, or transformation, stratification, and the contextual adjustability principle" in Papers from the Seventh Regional Meeting of the Chicago Linguistic Society, 479-491. Chicago: Chicago Linguistic Society. 1972a Review of Toward a semantic description of English, by Geoffrey N. Leech. American Anthropologist 74 (1-2): 92-94. 1972b Review of Meaning and the structure of language, by Wallace L. Chafe. American Anthropologist 74 (1-2): 92-94. 1972c Idiom structure in English. The Hague: Mouton. 1973 A pragmo-ecological view of linguistic structure and language universals. Language Sciences 27: 9-22. 1974 Take one on Take: lexo-ecology illustrated. Language Sciences 31: 1-6. MAKKAI, ADAM, DAVID G. LOCKWOOD, editors 1973 Readings in stratificational linguistics. University, Ala.: University of Alabama Press. PAPP, FERENC, editor 1969 A magyar nyelv szovegmutato szotära [The a tergo Dictionary of the Hungarian language]. Budapest: Akad6miai Kiado. THORNDIKE, E. L.

1920 The teacher's manual of the 20,000 most frequent words in English. New York. (Revised 1952 with the co-authorship of P. Lorge.)

Common Cognitive Elements in Combined Verbs (Bengali, Khmer, Bahasa Indonesian, and Vietnamese)

SUNIL SEN-GUPTA

The noematic analysis of language is based on the relation of language and thought. The major feature of thought lies in its character of definition building or in its conception of category. Definition building or conception and thought are connected with each other very closely. The thought process and its results are linked reciprocally. Definition and cognition (the result of thinking), on the other hand, are incorporated in the thought process. They enrich it and determine its further development. Our analysis of lexemes or sememes (lexemes in their monosemantic form) is characterized through homophones. The information-retrieval of the sememe is depicted through a quasi-thought process and followed up with a linear enumeration of cognitemes (cognitive elements) or noemes, which form the structure of meaning of the sememe and have an interlingual character. Noematic analysis is a relatively new area in the semantic componential analysis of a language. In addition to its use in the field of automatic information processing and language learning, it also permits a contrastive study of the structure of meaning in different languages to be made. The basis of noematic analysis lies in the thought process which reflects reality in its highest form—human cognition. The languages discussed in this paper are spoken in a geographically compact area and have similarities in their grammar and structure. The probable variations that are dependent on different social, geographical, environmental, and other factors are minimal. Cognitemes are the basic components of a logically programmed language and possess almost an axiomatic character. In a project at Humboldt University in Berlin, the enormous task of

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analyzing the semantic aspects of different languages has been taken up and certain results are available. The analysis and systematization of sememes in different categories and subcategories show that the individual aspect of the meaning of sememes denoting "Interobjective Energetic Effect" (IEE) and "Unilateral Predicate of Dynamicity" (UPD) are retrievable only through noematic analysis. The verb is a superfluous category in languages like Vietnamese and Khmer, in which the same words or lexemes can be used as nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc. Our classification, based on the structure of logical language, avoids this problem and permits the classification of lexemes according to logical categories and subcategories. In Bahasa Indonesian (a variant of Malayan) the lexemes can be classified in traditional terminology as verbs, where the morphemes /kan/, /per/, /me/, /ber/, /ter/, /i/, etc., are used with the base lexemes to denote action. In this paper we have chosen Bengali as the input language and Vietnamese, Bahasa Indonesian, and Khmer as output languages for the purpose of a contrastive study of the common cognitemes of combined verbs. In the development of Bengali verbs from Old Indo-Aryan, we can see that the basic forms of verbs in Old Indo-Aryan had already started to change in late Old Indo-Aryan. Verbs are considered as the combination of nouns and verbs, like /kr/ 'to do', /gam/ 'to go', /jä/ 'to go', /bhu/ 'to be', etc. In late Sanskrit the displacement of /gam/ 'to go' by the form /gamanam karoti/ is an addition of semantic elements and in no way can be termed a synoseme. This change results from the influence of indigenous languages such as Dravidian, Munda-Kol, Sino-Tibetan, Prakrit, and Apabhramsa. Thus we also get the form /drsta abhabat/ instead of /adrsyat/. The formation of verbs by such a method opened a productive path for creating new verbs. In Old Bengali (in Caryapada) this process was enhanced and the form of the verb developed further, causing a shift from the original verbal morphemes (e.g. /uthi gela/, /nid gela/, /tuli gela/ from /jä/; /sari pariyä/ from /par/). According to the form of morphemes and their combinational pattern, co-verbs can be classified into different groups. The most common pattern is the combination of a noun (adjective, adverb, onomatopoetic interjection, etc.) with a co-verb. This we shall call combinational pattern I, according to our classification (Sen-Gupta 1971). Khmer, Vietnamese, and Bahasa Indonesian, being noninflectional languages, have relatively fewer bound grammatemes to denote functional categories. So the combinational pattern in these languages is not that of Bengali. But combinational pattern I is found in all these languages. The word classes in Vietnamese are not unified in their character, in

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spite of the fact that some classes of words have classifiers. Constant change of a lexeme from one class to another and manifold change of structure of the same lexeme (due to the economy of use, etc.) are characteristic of Vietnamese. But the language has very rigid syntactic rules about the sequence of lexemes in a sentence (Quang 1968). Vietnamese examples: /cay2/ may mean 'to plough' or 'the plough'; /hi 1 vong6/ may mean 'to hope' or 'the hope'; /chu 4 nghia 4 xa 3 hoi 6 / may mean 'socialism', 'socialistic', and 'to be socialistic' as well; /lai6/ may mean 'to come back' or 'backward'. Unlike Bengali, the combined verbs in Vietnamese are mostly prefixed with co-verbs and the combined structure is (V + X) where X may be the lexeme denoting the basic element. The co-verbs in Bahasa Indonesian are part of the verbal form. This means that the verbal form composite is the main structure in Bahasa Indonesian. There exists a small number of verbs without any combination showing the historical presence of such a type: /pergi/ 'to go', /lupa/ 'to forget', /ingin/ 'will', /minum/ 'to drink', /mekan/ 'to eat', etc. There is a historical development in Bahasa Indonesian in which co-verbs have lost their functions as independent lexemes. On the other hand, they cannot be compared with the /-en/ morpheme in German, or the infinitive form in English. First, there are many more in number, and their combination pattern allows the combination of one or more co-verbs with the basic lexeme. Moreover, they also differ in their functions. In Khmer the combination pattern is similar to that of Bengali, and coverbs have functions similar to the other languages. Because of restricted space, we can only present a few examples from Khmer, on the understanding that the subject should be dealt with in a separate work. Khmer examples: /hael chip:η/ 'swim + to cross' -> 'to swim across' (cf. /sätär deoyä/, /sätär kätä/ in Bengali); /ms:l cnp/ 'read + to end' 'to read out' (similar to /pare phelä/ in Bengali); /ra:k ba:n/ 'vision + to get' 'to see'. Similarly, the lexeme /cao :1 / is used in a LU to denote the completion of an action: /cak cao:l/ 'throw + complete' means 'to throw away' (cf. German /wegwerfen/); /rot cao:l/ 'run + complete' means 'to run away' (cf. German /wegrennen/.

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From the above use it can be seen that /cao :1/ adds an egressive value to the verbal form. Bengali verbs, which have co-verbs functioning as verbal classifiers to denote the action-art, can be systematized in different semantic sets and subsets. The semantic categorization of these LU's arising from their combinations provides an easy classification. The principal co-verbs used to form the combined verbs are: /karä/ 'to do', /pärä/ 'can', /jäoyä/ 'to go', /deoyä/ 'to give', /haoyä/ 'to be', /märä/ 'to beat', /neoyä/ 'to take', /päoyä/ 'to get', /khäoyä/ 'to eat', etc. The main function of these elements, as will be clear from an analysis of their cognitemes, is to denote the action-art. In many languages, especially Slavic, the action-art and aspect are themselves a fascinating topic for prolonged discussion, but it is not our intention to enter into such a discussion at present. Nevertheless, a full-fledged analysis of the verbal system of different languages as well as a contrastive study with Slavic languages may clarify certain controversies, such as the function of aspect as it relates to tempora and whether they are independent of each other (Koschmieder 1963). The advantage of the process of analysis and systematization of lexical units (LU) or lexemes of IEE and UPD in cognitive elements is the detailed differentiation of semantic content. The construction of a definition, which on the one hand generalizes the common elements and on the other differentiates the individual elements to express its negation of other definitions, is an important method in the information processing and retrieval of a language. The co-verb remains the constant factor in a definite set of verbs. So the analysis of the cognitemes of co-verbs will help us in the retrieval of their function (information) in combination. In the following we will analyze the co-verbs by their definition elements. We first look at Bengali /karä/ 'to do', 'to make'. In noematic analysis this sememe has the following cognitemes: IEE => action + actor {homo} + obj {action} + intent {transformation} -f aa {(ingress ν egress) Λ kyb}. The combination unit with /karä/ contains all these elements as an addition to the LU. The determining factor of the LU is the cybernetic element (kyb) of the actor. This means that the verb combined with /karä/ denotes an action which is controlled and regulated by the actor. This argument is much more explicit with a combination such as /byäthä karä/. This verbal form can only be used in an ergative construction in which the logical agent is expressed in the genitive.

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In Bengali /basä/ denotes the change of position of an actor through a dynamic movement in vertical direction: Va Vu Η (i.e. "Vertical above direction Vertical under and Horizontal") /upabesan karä/ would be the /karä/ combination of it. It is accepted as a synoseme but, in fact, with the addition of the cybernetic element of /karä/, a semantic difference is added or interchanged. /6osan karä/ 'to do exploitation' instead of 'to exploit', and /gheu gheu karä/ 'to make a gheu gheu sound (i.e. to bark)' denote actions of human and nonhuman (animal) living beings in their ingressive character. In Bahasa Indonesian /kan/ 'to do' "drückt in seiner Grundbedeutung eine Handlung aus, die auf das Objekt gerichtet ist, und der gewöhnlich ein Ortwechsel zugrunde liegt"* (Käbel 1972). Other than this change of location, which is an additional characteristic in certain cases (as it is sometimes in Bengali also) the cognitemes of /kan/ are the same as those of /karä/ in Bengali or /lam2/ 'to do' in Vietnamese. Isama/ 'equal' + /kan/ /menjamakan/ 'to equalize'; /bunguskan/ 'collect (bundle) + to do', i.e. 'to collect together'; /sebab/ 'ground' + /kan/ -> /menjebabkan/ 'to cause'; /buntingkan/ 'to make (somebody) pregnant'. In Vietnamese /lam 2 / 'to do' or 'to make' denotes an action with a definite aim by an actor. /lam 2 co4/ action to remove weeds by an actor: IEE action + F {agricult} + actor {homo ± coll} + obj {bio => plant => weed} intent {destruct -> clean} + aa {egress Λ kyb} /lam 2 hong4/ 'to break down' — action to destroy any object by an actor with intent: IEE => action + F {physiol} + actor {homo ± coll} + obj {mat => solid} + intent {destruct} + aa {egress A kyb} In all these cases /karä/, /kan/, and /lam 2 / have similar functions which start from the actor, are regulated by the actor, and are directed to an intention or end result. So in their functions these co-verbs as functional elements can be termed verbal classifiers. In Bahasa Indonesian /ber/ is generally used to denote an action in a definite situation, where the actor himself is passive; the combination /ber/ + /pikir/ 'thinking', 'thought' /ber pikir/ 'to be thoughtful', 'to be anxious'. /haoyä/ in Bengali as a verb denotes the situation of an action and "expresses in its basic meaning an action which is directed toward the object and which is generally based on a change of location." — Publisher.

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expresses the passive situation of the actor, if it exists. The main cogniteme is the dimension of tempus as the constant factor, /räji haoyä/: ΙΕΕ => comm proc + actor {homo ± coll} + obj {action + temp fut} + aa {result Λ egress} The action of reception is expressed with different lexemes in Bengali depending on their action-art, mode, and aspect, /neoyä/ in Bengali is the reception of any matter (general) by a human being as completive action. IEE =5 receptn + F {physiol} + actor {homo} + obj {mat (gen)} + aa {egress Λ compl} + transit + act {receptn} The verbal combination of /neoyä/ expresses the action-art resultant and completive action of reception or perception of an actor, /dakhal neoyä/: IEE =3 receptn -j- physiol + actor {homo ± coll} + obj {mat land V home ... vn} + act {transit -> receptn} + med {force} + aa {egress Λ complet} I dam neoyä/: IEE receptn + F {physiol} + actor {bio => homo} + obj {mat => gas oxygen} + med {phys org} + aa {egress Λ compl} + act {transit -> receptn} In Vietnamese /lay5/ is the equivalent of /neoyä/ and denotes the reception or perception of a concrete object with the hand. /lay6 nüöc 6 /: IEE => action + F {physiol mech} + actor {homo} + obj {mat water} + receptor {bio => plant} + aa {egress}

liq

In Bengali there are, in addition, two more lexemes, /päoyä/ 'to get' and /khäoyä/ 'to eat', that denote the action of reception, /päoyä/ as the verbal combination denotes the action of a resultative art, whereas /khäoyä/ indicates a form of reception which is very closely connected with human beings and expresses the egressive and punctual character of the action, /khäoyä/: IEE receptn + F {physiol} + actor {homo} + obj {food (solid V liq V gas)} + med {phys org => mouth} /mär khäoyä/: IEE receptn + F {physiol} + actor {homo => part body} + obj {extern (hit)} + source {homo ± coll} + aa (egress Λ punct} /deoyä/ in Bengali expresses the meaning 'to give' and in the verbal

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combination it expresses an action which emanates from a subject (operator, actor, agent) with or without an object, and has a receptor which may also be a location. In the case where there is no receptor, the acting subject acts as the receptor. IEE => action + F {physiol} + actor {homo} + obj {mat (gen)} + intent {transfer} + aa {egress Λ complet} The combination of /deoyä/ in general retains the basic characteristic of transferring from a χ with an end result. With the egressive character of the action we get the additional element of aspect of perfectivity. /jal deoyä/ may mean 'to irrigate' or 'to give water'. The second meaning is a syntactic construction and is not an example of a combined verb; the first LU denotes the action-art of completion. In this case the receptor is the cultivated field, while in the case of /jhät deoyä/ 'to clean (with a broom)', the receptor is the floor of a room or the pavement. In Bahasa Indonesia, /i/ in certain cases functions as an indicator of location, but it also indicates an action similar to that of /deoyä/ in Bengali, /obat/ 'medicine', cf. /mengobati/ 'to give medicine'. IEE action + F {physiol} + actor {homo} + obj {mat => med} + intent {med} + receptor {homo} + aa {egress} /menamai/ is similar to that of the Bengali LU /nam deoyä/ 'to name'. IEE => comm proc + actor {homo} + intent {identification} + receptor {homo V ~ homo V mat V loc (geogr)} + med {phon} + aa {egress A punct}. /phat/ in Vietnamese denotes similar functions of certain movements with the purpose of transference and transformation. /phat/ 'to allocate' means transfer of an object to a receptor for the purpose of his use (according to necessity). This basic element of transference (a movement) can be seen in all the combinations of /phat/ as a verbal unit. For example: /phat6 dong6/ 'to drive' or 'to move (a machine'; /phat6 hui1/ 'to inspire' or 'transference of an idea'; /phat5 trien4/ 'to develop' (addition of change). /me/ in Bahasa Indonesian is perhaps the most important morpheme used to express the verb. It generally indicates active action incorporated with an object. The extensive use of /me/ to form verbal combinations with other lexemes and its use with other verbal morphemes like /kan/, /i/, /per/, etc., to form combined verbs shows its polyfunctional character. Käbel (1972) has divided /me/ according to its function as an independent verbal morpheme into five groups and eighteen subgroups. This classification does not include the combination of two verbal morphemes.

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Just as we have said that /kan/ has a regulating function, similarly we can say that /me/ has a generalized function, i.e. it functions without any regulating effect or objective purpose. /meninggal/ 'to neglect', cf. /meninggalkan/ 'to leave (something behind)'; /meninngil/ 'to go upward', cf. /meninggikan/ 'to raise'; /meribut/ 'to be intensified', cf. /meributkan/ 'to create trouble'. The function of /me/ is also clear from its construction with the infix /per/, such as: /memperbudak/ 'to enslave', /mempertimba/ 'to empty', etc. The contrastive study of verbal syntagma in this limited investigation brings us to the following conclusion: in combination pattern I, the basic verb which is invariable in a set has definite functions. The co-verb in combination pattern I generally expresses the action-art of the verbal unit and is not a redundant factor. This co-verb can be termed a verbal classifier. A detailed noematic analysis of verbal lexemes in their cognitemes in different languages will determine the structure of their meaning, and will enable us to discover universals in combined verbs. REFERENCES CHATTERJEE, S. K.

1926 Origin and development of the Bengali language, two volumes. Calcutta. EMENEAU, Μ. E.

1951 Studies in Vietnamese grammar. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. KÄBEL, I.

1972 "Allgemeinwissenschaftlicher Minimalwortschatz der Bhasa Indonesia für automatische Sprachdatenverarbeitung." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Humboldt University of Berlin. KOSCHMIEDER, E.

1963

"Aspekt und Zeit." Proceedings of the International Congress of Slavists. Sofia.

MEIER, G. F.

1965 Problem der semantischen und noematischen Analyses bei der Ausschaltung von sprachlischen Mehrdeutigkeiten. Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift der Humboldt Universität zu Berlin. SEN-GUPTA, s .

1971 "Noematische Analyse des lexikalischen Minimums der bengalischen Sprache (Untersuchung der Probleme der Semantik und Noematik für automatische Informationsverarbeitung)." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Humboldt University of Berlin. 1974 Aspect and action — art in Bengali. Indian Journal of Linguistics. QUANG, N .

1968 "Ermittlung des Minimalwortschatzes der vietnamesischen Sprache." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Humboldt University of Berlin.

Linguistic Anthropology and the Innatist Fallacy

GERMÄN FERNÄNDEZ-GUIZZETTI

HUMAN NATURE, CULTURE, AND LANGUAGE UNIVERSALS Bidney emphasizes the importance of theory by affirming that "the isolation of theoretical from practical research, it is realized, leads either to empty, unverified speculation or to incoherent aggregates of data" (Bidney 1967: 23). The whole history of linguistics appears to have been a continuous pendulum-like swing between an a priori superimposition of theory over data, and collections and arrangements of data dispensing with any degree of theory that implies grammatical and/or semantic descriptive models. The innatist fallacy consists in the claim that there is only one deep structure for all languages — thus converting linguistics into a branch of psychology — and that this deep structure can be comprehended only by intuition, given that it is an innate idea, in no way conditioned by the language of those who would try to comprehend it intuitively. At the same time, linguistic anthropology is "put in its place" and reduced to "specific limits" as a data-oriented science by Chomsky (1971: 127-128). The innatist fallacy consists in theorization without data. This notion is opposed by the tagmemics of Pike. I propose to examine several ideas that refute the innatist fallacy: (a) the meaning of the difference between surface structure and deep structure and how the former can be multiple, the latter single; (b) the meaning of the term "universal grammar" in its three aspects, phonological, syntactic, and semantic; (c) the impossibility of conceiving of linguistics as a psychological science. Two points of the Chomskyan postulation must be stressed: (a) the

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idea of the relation between mind and intellect of a universal character — in itself equivalent to a biological one—; (b) the form whereby one attempts to reconcile a universal grammar, which is the reflection of a unique psychic structure, with the plurality of languages (Chomsky 1966: ix). It is apparent from the foregoing that Chomsky confuses the existence of linguistic universale with a universal linguistic structure that would be the same for all languages. This is one of the key points of the universalist-innatist fallacy. There is no question that the biopsychological nature of human beings is important to a major branch of linguistics, i.e. phonology. This is logical, since the limits of the substance of expression (Hjemslev 1961) are biophysical and bioacoustical. The form of expression relates to a matter limited by the acoustic capacities of the speech organs shared by all human beings. The coincidence of the biophysical nature of man in all aspects of his sociocultural life is undeniable, only if the superorganicist fallacy is rejected (Bidney 1967: 34-39). It is necessary, however, to indicate where the coincidental effect occurs; it is in phonology. The error in Chomsky's postulation results from his transposition of elements relating to expression with those relating to content. The form of the content, i.e. linguistic structure in its morphosyntactic aspect, has its substance in objective culture. It is to this substance, conditioned by social influences and therefore diversified, that linguistic form relates. This relation conditions the character of linguistic universals and the system eventually derived therefrom, so that it is impossible to postulate the existence of a deep structure that would be univocal for all languages. It is undeniable that the structure of the form of content in any given language is related to thought, but this thought cannot be conceived of in terms of a "common sense," which is only meaningful for Westerners (Chomsky 1966: 31). Since the majority of the world's languages appear to be illogical, Chomsky could find no better solution than to maintain that such differences were superficial, while postulating an underlying unity for all languages. The universalist illusion of the transformationalists arises out of the character of their art: to transpose a syntactic/semantic structure into an a priori scheme without attempting to inductively discover or comprehend this structure, according to Weber (1965: 327-398), and ultimately to formalize the description of their discovery and understanding simultaneously on two levels: the grammatical and the semantic. The idea of linguistic relativity and Chomsky's universalist postulation both appear, according to various authors, to have their origin in the work of that extraordinary genius of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Wilhelm von Humboldt, who, by contrast, may be considered to be the

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father of modern linguistic anthropology (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1960a), both for his realistic analyses of aboriginal linguistic structures, and for his persevering defense of the relationship between language, thought and culture; to state it better, it is the human group characterized by its cultural unity: THE NATION. Throughout his work on the origin of grammatical forms, Humboldt (1969: 26-27) insists upon an ideal of abstract thought which is realized in Indo-European languages — particularly Greek—and which, according to him, does not exist in Amerindian languages, at least in those known to him. This ethnocentric position is related to his concept of evolution, in which the mind is the motor and in which languages exhibit different degrees of perfection. It is also certain that this action of the mind, this ideal of absolute perfection, led him to postulate the existence of an inner form of language; but his terminology bears little relation to the universal grammar of Chomsky (Humboldt 1955: 126). Indeed, far from rejecting the ethnic factors that Chomsky eliminates by a stroke of the pen, Humboldt tries to evaluate, from an ethnocentric point of view, the capacity of Amerindian languages to represent abstract thought. Perhaps if he had had a first-hand knowledge of these languages, his views might have been different. His position on some points brings him close to rationalism, but to him the unity of rationality is an ideal rather than a fundamental reality underlying all languages, as is maintained by Chomsky. According to Humboldt, the notion of an inner form of language must always refer back to its ethnic origin. He definitely rejects the* method of studying one language through the structure of another. Speaking of Amerindian languages in particular, he stresses: "Ce qu'il importe de faire d'abord quand on les etudie sur des methodes espagnoles ou portugaises, c'est d'ecarter toutes les vues fausses de cette esp£ce, et de considerer dans toute sa purite la structure originale de ces langues" (Humboldt 1969: 19). Humboldt insists upon absolute fidelity to a linguistic reality closely related to the natural psychology of a people, which is what motivates the inner form of the language. This is the most enduring of his points of view, liberated from any evaluation based on ethnocentrism. On this point, his views anticipate those of Whorf and, at the same time, differ greatly from them. On the one hand, Humboldt supports the notion of the structural diversity of languages conditioned by culture in terms of certain relations which would be universal, so long as and so far as it would evolve or tend to evolve towards a model. As an example of this, he cites inflectional Indo-European languages as those where true grammatical form is found.

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Perhaps this last view may be considered as the only remaining error of a metaphysical logic which he was not entirely able to overcome (de Erfurt 1947). On the other hand, Humboldt maintains that the way in which an IndoEuropean speaker uses a non-Indo-European tongue is unimportant, provided that the essential structure of the inner form is the same, and that the speaker conforms to the cultural condition or "national genius" of the hearer; this "national genius" is, according to him, the indissoluble union of mind and language. A century and a half later, and in another country, Whorf goes further than Humboldt. His views have often been described as "linguistic relativism." This appears to be true for the greater part of his work, but irrelevant for the rest. Whorf is far from denying the existence of linguistic universals; this is proved by his narrow diagram for the systematization of "idiomatic facts" (1956: 35-39). His position is that this problem cannot be solved through "the simple illusion of traditional grammar, resumed in the acceptance of categories peculiar to Indo-European languages, particularly those called 'classical languages' (1956: 87). This position is far from pure relativity. On the contrary, Whorf believes in the existence of linguistic universals but maintains that it is necessary to establish them on more solid bases. However, this necessity can only be met by strictly empirical methods (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1961: 53). All definitions of unit-types must be taken from and established according to the system of reciprocal relations, peculiar to and inherent in each structure analyzed. In this manner, larger diagrams of linguistic universals are obtained from the separate study of the individual structures. Our author conceives of the existence of linguistic levels or strata of a universal kind that would not, in any way, be a static system of divisions without access for intercommunication. On the contrary, they would form a dynamic system of interrelated functional parts that would condition and influence each other (Whorf 1956: 132). Finally, he treats lexical hierarchies as one of the morphosyntactic levels (which he calls semasiology), a level which coexists with two others, the word and the sentence (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1963: 54). With respect to linguistic universals, we may conclude that Whorf's position (in spite of occasional inconsistencies that revision might have removed) is that there exists a moderate plurality of types of linguistic structures, a plurality based on the functional internal diversity of languages (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1961: 56-57). Whorf also insists on the transcendental role of linguistics in explaining

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reality. His views lead to a critical attitude towards linguistic analysis as a means of access to reality. It is certain that language is the best access to a knowledge of reality, but this approximation cannot be achieved by dispensing with linguistics as an anthropological science embracing various conceptual worlds. Rather, it should be fundamentally based on such anthropological conceptions of linguistics. On the other hand, Whorf fully understands that to attain a knowledge of reality, it is necessary that linguistics attempt the ideal of a formalized science, but he insists that such formalism should not be based on any a priori reductionism (Whorf 1956: 230). The formalist concept of the domain of the signifier and the signified was suggested to Whorf by the methodology of Gestalt psychology. The psychological analysis of forms in the study of visual perception repeatedly accentuates the fact of a natural unity in humanity, regardless of its cultural and linguistical differences (Whorf 1956: 164-166). His appraisal of the theory of form is closely related to his rejection of the beliavioristic dogma, and especially of the Bloomfieldian theory then accepted in America. The assertion that natural thought is closely related to linguistics and thereby conditions one's view of the rest of culture finds a close link with Humboldt's views. In his work, Whorf develops the idea of a theme which, although expressed imperfectly and in a disorganized manner, would have to be centered around what may be considered his chief worry — how to solve the problem of the total relationship between language (conceived of as a cultural phenomenon whose function is to symbolize underlying metaphysics) and nature. This is analogous to Humboldt's views on the role of thought in relation to language (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1965: 117). The analysis of visual perception made by psychologists concerning form provides insight into the problem of the relationship between subject and object, prior to the symbolization of what is known according to the idiomatic resources available. This permits us to conceive of the cognitive relationship in the form of a dialogue between THE SUBJECT and THE OBJECT.

Whorf's views appear to be similar to those which support a theory of world view based on existentialist philosophy. The subject is "a man in culture" (Bidney 1967: 33), but, at the same time, the world surrounding him is a cultured world, with which he maintains a constant dialectical relationship. Here it becomes necessary to refer to one of the chief problems of Whorf's work, that of the CONCEPTUALIZATION OF REALITY and its relation to linguistic structures, which become the core of all problems implying ethnological projections. He claims that whenever an ethnologist

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researching on the spot speculates about the mode of thought of the individuals whose culture he is studying, he rejects the question as a psychological enigma that can only distort direct observation of matters more easily accessible. Such restrictions by field anthropologists may be explained by two concepts which stand out in Whorf's work, these being "natural logic" and "habitual thought." Both imply a direct criticism of any notion of "common sense" that may have been formulated. This criticism is conclusive, and consists chiefly in outlining the automatic nature of linguistically conditioned psychocultural facts. Perhaps nowhere else does this superiority of Whorf's thinking over Humboldt's appear than in this passage: Natural logic holds that different languages are essentially parallel methods for expressing this one-and-the-same rationale of thought and, hence, differ really in but minor ways which may seem important only because they are seen at close range. It holds that mathematics, symbolic logic, philosophy, and so on are systems contrasted with language which deal directly with this realm of thought, not that they are themselves specialized extensions of language (Whorf 1956: 208).

Both natural logic and habitual thinking are culturally conditioned. Natural logic and habitual thought are present in every culture or every group of interrelated cultures. Every idiom that departs from our own is therefore a model against which to compare OUR standard way of symbolizing experience. Nevertheless, not all languages can be used for this purpose. Between the various languages of Western Europe, which share a series of diachronically interpretable patterns owing to the coincidence of a common cultural history, no great difference can be found with respect to the reordering of the elements of experience. Thus it is that Whorf arrives at the notion of "Standard Average European" (FernändezGuizzetti 1965: 124). While qualifying Whorf as a neo-Humboldtian, we cannot disregard his total rejection of Indo-European as an ideal, nor his denial that IndoEuropean grammatical structures represent THE TRUE GRAMMATICAL STRUCTURE and that Western thought is THE THOUGHT. On the contrary, when defining habitual thought itself, Whorf rejects all ethnocentric values and adopts a pluralistic position. This, on the other hand, involves relating habitual thought as the world perceived by the man in culture with the COMMON WORLD of the existentialists. In holistic anthropology, this becomes a cultured world which implies the existence of cognitive models which extend to the most sophisticated elaborations of science.

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Every science has its own metalinguistic jargon formed from the ordinary language. In spite of the new words required to describe the universe and its objects in any given science, the grammatical structures remain that of every-day speech. In the very foundation of this theory of science as a cultural phenomenon, Whorf postulates the principle of linguistic relativity. In his own words, he finds himself introduced "... to a new principle of relativity, which holds that all observers are not led by the same physical evidence to the same picture of the universe, unless their linguistic backgrounds are similar, or can be in some way calibrated" (Whorf 1956: 214). According to him, Western science has been built on a provisional analysis of reality, conditioned by Indo-European languages (1956: 263). If we consider that the logical formulation of the notion of causality, which is part of the basis of Western science, consists in implication or, rather, tautological implication ( a ) , it becomes evident that Lewis and Cooper (1959: 124) would never have arrived at this notion, reasoning from simple implication ( 3 ) , unless, of course, the latter had not appeared evident through a long process of elaboration, formed by the linguistic structures peculiar to Indo-European languages, particularly the Greek koine, the language of Aristotelian thought. In fact, the tautological implication is the formalization of Greek hypothetical periods, introduced by [et], with the verb in its indicative tense. Consequently, these metainterpretations have resulted in various jargons which condition the development of the different branches of science. In many cases, the distinction between one science and another, traditionally considered as different, is a function of the different jargons used (Whorf 1956: 246). The segmentation of reality by science and its reciprocal delimitations are directly related to the fragmentation that language imposes on the cultured world. Whorf does not overlook the fact that the various branches of mathematics, being formalizations of linguistic propositions, were, at least in origin, also linguistically conditioned (1956: 248). This influence of linguistics is also felt in the very abstract Western notions which form the basis of Western philosophy and the physical sciences. We must not forget the importance that Kant gives to TIME as a pure form, and the role of MATTER in Aristotle's progression, and in modern physics. As the logical conclusion of Whorf's views, it would seem that only historical accident has prevented non-Western peoples from attaining scientific elaboration. Similarly, it may be affirmed that language constitutes a real science owing to its function in culture, which is to organize experience. Every non-Western language is, therefore, a kind of primitive

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science because it gives shape to an abstract ordering of reality. In this way, ethnosemantics and ethnoscience (and ethnophilosophy) form a single branch of science (Whorf 1956: 55). Perhaps it is this confusion between ethnoscience and ethnosemantics (which he calls metalinguistics) that is the real flaw in Whorf's thinking. Since science is always conscious, whereas the fragmentation of the cultural world, which is reflected in every linguistic structure, is paraconscious, this is equivalent to saying that the linguistic presuppositions that show a definite world view are one thing, and that the theories based on said structuring of the external world according to culture are another. Finally, one point is not made clear by Whorf, although he appears to lean toward the fallacious solution: is it language that creates the structure of the external world and, consequently, the experience of the individual subjected to culture? Or is it the conditioning of the external world, through culture, that is reflected in the linguistic patterns? The first solution is fallacious; the second is correct and adequate. In the case of linguistic-cultural contacts, there is the phenomenon of new experiences, for which new symbols need to be found. This tends to linguistic borrowing, i.e. the incorporation of new forms of speech to convey the new notions borrowed; these may then be reinterpreted according to the linguistic/semantic structures of the recipient language. It is obvious that Whorf's work, vis-ä-vis Humboldt's, correctly eliminates all ethnocentric points of view. Whorf's opinions should be considered sufficiently valid to bring down the immense and complex universalist — and hence innatist — framework of orthodox transformationalist theory. Nevertheless, in his works, Whorf only analyzes partial cases, without ever having worked out a TOTAL semantic analysis of a linguistic structure in terms of anthropological methodology. His two grammatical descriptions are of the Aztec dialect of Milpa Alta and the Toreva dialect of the Hopi Indians (Whorf 1967). Although they reflect his anthropological views, they nevertheless fall into the category of what Chomsky calls "phrase-structure grammars," and are therefore descriptions of surface structures (Chomsky 1957: 26-33). It should be sufficient that a linguist describe the morphosyntax of a language according to anthropological (and therefore realistic) criteria. This description should be able to capture the deep structure of the language. The semantic analysis of such a structure would then permit one to discover and systematically describe a world view different from ours. Finally, the linguist should devise a methodology for carrying out similar investigations, so as to demonstrate the innatist fallacy and, at the same time, extend the domain of anthropological science toward lin-

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guistics. I believe that I have made this clear in my study of the GuaraniYoparä language.1 Linguistic realism is founded on the notion that language is a cultural fact; consequently, the science that studies it, the science of linguistics, should be considered as an anthropological science. When I speak of language as a cultural fact, or of the cultural aspects of making the symbolic function concrete, and of a science which studies this cultural fact as such insofar as it is related to other cultural phenomena, I am only affirming that language is a social objectivization differing from the complex of physico-biopsychic processes inherent in man's peculiar nature (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1960b: 47). In maintaining that linguistics is not a branch of psychology but a part of cultural anthropology, I am continuing the tradition of earlier theorists up to Whorf's time. This could not be otherwise, unless we are to say that psychology is also an anthropological science, an argument which has never been considered. The nature of linguistics as a branch of cultural anthropology has been categorically denied by Chomsky, who holds that linguistic differences "on a superficial level" are superfluous. Since the great scholars in anthropological linguistics have never examined anything resembling what Chomsky calls "deep structure," it is difficult to refute his views without falling into excessive empiricism. The main task is to demonstrate the nonexistence of what he calls "deep structure" as he conceives it; and that if there is an underlying structure, a term which we prefer to "deep," it must be conceptually very different from Chomsky's. In fact, Chomsky begins by confusing two notions which the facts themselves show to be different. If we consider that there exist various types of linguistic structures (which is undeniable) — and this is shown in such important and explicit essays as those of Sapir (1921: 127-156) and Greenberg (1957: 35-74) — it is logical that each of these structures may be formalized into a model capable of describing a series of languages having similar structures. To deny the existence of linguistic universale (refuted by such age-old phenomena as interethnic contacts) would be absurd. The fact that one can learn a foreign language, however alien, and that linguistic intercommunication between cultures is possible, prove that there is a common linguistic denominator for all humanity. If we follow up our argument with 1

The theory has been developed in detail in an ethnosemantic study in which, by establishing methodological principles and systematically developing the deep morphosyntactic structure of Paraguayan Guarani, I have analyzed semantically all the aspects that do not relate to the model in that language, and established the forms corresponding to each language level (Fernändez-Guizzetti i.p.a.).

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scientific rigor, the results clearly show that when the said linguistic universals have been formalized, they can provide a metamodel, defined as the logical intersection of existing models, A METAMODEL WHICH CANNOT BE APPREHENDED INTUITIVELY BY THE ANALYSIS OF A SINGLE LANGUAGE ONLY.

In conclusion, we may sum up the Chomskyan fallacy by saying that it dispenses with linguistic particulars and leaps into the domain of the universal. Before going deeper into this point, let us first discuss the character of models and metamodels, as well as the notion of the explanatory theory of a language. The metamodel is a theoretical framework used by the anthropological linguist in his work. Confronted by an unknown language about which he has no expectations, he does not apply a model but a metamodel, which is the principle of a dialectic process which he holds as a thesis, to which the unknown language appears as an antithesis. By dialectic we mean the process usually adopted in science, i.e. the Hegelian viewpoint, modified by the "materialist" correction (Lefevre 1970: 132). The application of a metamodel to a language is the dialectic relation between that metamodel and the unknown language. This generates a first approximation or first theory of the language, which, in turn, enters into a dialectic relation with the little-known language, and the process continues until an optimal theory is reached that best approximates the perfect theory. Such perfect theory should be equivalent to the language described, i.e. a speculative reflection of it implying an isomorphic relation to all possible elements of the paradigm, and perfectly capable of generating grammatical utterances of the language. But owing to the deficient nature of human knowledge, this is absolutely impossible. Moreover, Gödel's theorem has proved the limitation of all formalisms.

THE METAMODEL AND ITS DIALECTIC PERFECTIBILITY Let us now discuss what happens to the metamodel in its dialectic relation to the various stages of the theory of an unknown language. Let us observe how the new description affects the character of the metamodel. The synthesis arising from the dialectic process is a model which is adequate for the description of any language of the same type, i.e. that belongs to the same class as that described. (Note that here THEORY and MODEL are equivalent by the definition of UNKNOWN LANGUAGE.) The characteristics of such a language are not implied in the metamodel, by definition. Consequently, from the application of the metamodel to an

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unknown language and from the theory and model resulting from this application, the metamodel becomes modified according to the reality of the new model. The manner by which this modification is produced can only be clarified through the notion of PARTICIPATION. A metamodel in which all possible types of patterns except one can participate would have limited explanatory power. This is the case with our metamodel when it is confronted with the new reality described. To avoid this, it is necessary to find the intersection between the metamodel and the new model that emerges from the dialectic process. I have sketched above what is in reality the descriptive process for analyzing unknown languages and how metamodels operate in such analyses. If all models actually participate in the working of the metamodel, and if any new model resulting from the dialectic relation between the metamodel applied to an unknown language as well as successive theories of this language until it reached the optimal description, it would have to modify the metamodel in the sense of the new model. For it to be really explanatory, the metamodel must itself be necessarily analogic in nature. The notion of analogy is closely related to that of participation; it is considered here as its converse. This analogical nature must also characterize the models whose application must also have dialectic properties, in such a way that the analogical nature and the dialectic application of the models can be asserted, each inseparable from the other. From the foregoing, it is evident that the fallacy of universal grammar consists precisely in the universality that characterizes it. We have seen that Chomsky claims that there is only one grammar at a deep structural level, which is therefore the level at which the notions of theory, model, and metamodel are found. In effect, one GRAMMAR, apart from all that we have called linguistic particulars, is equivalent to some model, but only to one model, since the class of models proves to have only one member. Therefore the notion of a metamodel is a vacuous one. To assert the existence of a universal grammar is equivalent to saying that for each language there exists a grammar such that the class of all grammars is in some way included in the universal grammar implied by all languages. Noam Chomsky claims no more than this. Universal grammar, by denying the plurality of models, also denies the existence of the notion of metamodel. If we deny the existence of the metamodel by identifying it with only one model, we deny at the same time its perfectibility and, consequently, its analogical nature. The denial of analogy is identical to the affirmation of univocalism, which makes it difficult to demonstrate how universal grammar can be applied without distorting

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the very reality which it is trying to describe. This is especially so since we have seen that the application of any metamodel or model lacking a dialectic character is not possible. To arrive at an optimal theory by the application of a model to an unknown language apparently belonging to a class of known languages still requires a dialectic process, in the same way that the description of an unknown language requires the application of a metamodel. According to what has been said concerning the nature of the metamodel, it is perfectly simple to deduce what is to be understood by the deep structure of any language, which obviously cannot be given by the model or metamodel. Although valid and empirically obtained notions, they are nonetheless abstractions. The deep structure of a language, which I prefer to call its underlying paradigmatics, consists of a series of rules that permit deductive generation by means of a derivative process, which may or may not be modified in its progression. When Chomsky first established the notion of a nuclear ("kernel") grammar (1957: 26-60, 111), he had a brilliant intuition of what may have been his basic contribution to linguistics. However, various factors prevented this from being true: first, his interest (which may be qualified as excessive) in transformations as being panexplicative; second, the intuitive character of the structure of the nucleus. At no time does Chomsky cite any criteria by which structures can be defined as nuclear. Finally, in connection with the two characteristics previously mentioned, Chomsky deprives the type of process which he himself calls derivation of any importance. In summary, while following the principles of the American structuralist school which he claims to surpass, Chomsky demonstrates an implicit rejection of the notions of paradigmatics. A correction of the early Chomsky brought me to my present viewpoint. One of the characteristics of structural descriptions inspired by the principle of linguistic realism is that real, concrete linguistic structures, as well as those explaining what is linguistically real or possible, form axiomatic systems. According to the type of reality which is to be explained, we would have: (a) a theory or grammar of a language; (b) a model or axiomatic formalization of the structural elements common to a group of languages; (c) a metamodel or abstract system that formalizes linguistic universale, i.e. those elements that all languages have in common, and that therefore participate in its structure. It is evident that the very basis of the derivative conception of grammar lies in the relation between langue and parole. This relation is found in the distinction between superficial structure, or description of the concrete sequences, and deep structure, or description of the underlying paradig-

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matics. This concept of underlying structure, and the derivative, deductive concept of generative processes, allows one to go beyond the opposition languejparole, although the distinction is maintained. Such "going beyond" results from the theorematic character of every utterance, which is the very basis of the deduction. Thus, the deep structure of a language is its theory, and what the linguist formalizes are neither intuitions nor mechanisms referring to universale; rather, they are psycho-cultural habits internalized during the process of enculturation which are in no way innate. These habits (linguistic system) allow the speaker to generate concrete utterances and the linguist to predict and explain them. Of course, the theory exposed here would fall into the behaviorist fallacy if the semantic aspect had not been taken into account. This aspect is also fundamental from the anthropological viewpoint, which requires relating linguistic rules and cognitive ones regarding meanings, i.e. semantic rules. It is thus inconceivable that a grammar without a correlative semantics could exist; semantics is not merely an appendix to the grammar, but is a parallel domain converging into the lexicon. The fallacy of universal semantics is two-fold. On the one hand, it considers that there is no solution of continuity between semantics and the phrase structure. On the other, it considers that semantic features have a distinct "cumulative" character, differing from the terminal phrase structure nodes to which they are attached, without assuming the consequences of the profound difference between the grammatical and the semantic. A simple perusal of the facts will show that what in some languages are semantic features are syntactic features in others. In a strict sense, what Chomsky calls syntactic features are labels for classes of elements. My postulation of semantics as a science which interprets grammatical structure was not discovered by chance, but was inspired by a study of languages as different from each other as possible: Attic Greek, modern Guarani, Araucanian, Quichua, and Toba. The immense field of American Indian languages and linguistic anthropology, as viewed from our realistic approach, demonstrates the fallaciousness of innatist and universalist theories. In fact, the universality of a deep structure would inevitably correspond to the universality of an epistemological structure. Suppose we were to define space as an abstract system in which the bearer of a culture systematizes and sets aside those facts from his cultural world which he considers to be distinct from his ego. We would then have to inquire what common universal structure underlies our tridimensional space, the space of dialogue of the Guaranis, in which the coordinates are determined by the

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roles of the speakers, and the visually limited space of the Tobas, in which those who are part of the external world are situated with reference to the various positions and movements seen by the ego-confronting-the-world. Semantics is not simply a complement of syntax, permitting a tightening of the selection rules as it results from orthodox transformationalist theory. To reduce semantics to a component within the grammatical description is to convert it into a more deliberately studied lexicon or a useful appendix for solving the problem of selection. It constitutes a domain parallel to that of grammar, but not isomorphic with it — rather, it is interpretative of grammatical structures. Of course, semantics must also study the lexicon, especially that of morphemes. The semantic nuclei of lexical units are defined as sets of distinctive features, a logical product of the sets of features that form their various usages. The dialectic between usages and semantic nucleus overcomes the fallaciousness of the polysemy of the linguistic symbol (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1966). Consequently, since the semantic correlates of morphemes are sets of distinctive features, an intersection of their various usages, the correlates of the morpheme classes constitute the intersection of the semantic correlates of each of its members. Since linguistic realism requires us to discover the distinctive features used by each language, we hold that these features are particular to each culture and are far from having any universal characteristics comparable to phonemic distinctive features. Semantics is not exhausted by the study of lexical elements. In contrast to Pike (who conceives of "slots" in terms of "grooves," i.e. empty spaces without reference to meaning), I contend that such slots, or empty spaces within a complex grammatical structure, fill an eminently functional role in the grammar; as a result, I call them "functionemes." 2 Now, each functioneme has its semantic correlate or "functionsememe," which is defined as a particular type of relation in a determined sense. If in one language we have, as obligatory functionemes of the clause, a SUBJECT 2

In an almost parallel manner, although starting from different points of view, the notion of function was introduced into generative grammar by various linguists, thus correcting the orthodox transformationalist view. The first of those was without doubt the Reverend W. A. Cook, who tried to integrate tagmemic theory with early Chomsky (Cook 1967). I myself attempted, by way of correcting the positionalism of the first version of my axiomatic generative model (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1963) to integrate the notion of function in terms of functionemes; this view was presented at the First InterAmerican Seminar of Linguistics and the Teaching of Languages in Montevideo, 1966 (Fernändez-Guizzetti 1970). This viewpoint has been very fruitful in my linguistic and semantic investigations because of the opposition FUNCTIONEME/FUNCTIONSEMEME. Finally, we have the brilliant correction of Chomsky's transformationalism made by the Dutch linguist Simon C. Dik, which has resulted in an authentic generative and functional grammar (Dik 1968).

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and a PREDICATE, the functionsememe signified by the SUBJECT slot will be a "relation towards" the PREDICATE, which will have the converse relation of "predicate TOWARDS subject," where this constitutes the functionsememe or semantic nucleus of the predicate functioneme. In the semantic domain, we have subsemantic and semantico-relational units; both form the said semantic features. The distinctive features must be considered as logical properties which define the semantic nuclei of elements and classes of elements. The distinctive semantic features are divided into descriptive and modal. Among the descriptive features, we must distinguish the morphological features, those which semantically define the major classes of a grammatical structure, from lexical features. The latter serve to describe, in descending degrees of abstraction, the various hierarchical subclasses of elements forming the classes of morphemes, down to each of the individual morphemic units. The modal features are those which modify, in a determined sense, this set of interrelated, distinctive features which form the semantic correlate of a complex unit. The reader should be able to refer the semantic-relational features to the semantic correlates of the functionemes. This type of feature may also be described as function-sememic, since we must consider them as typical logical relations which link together sets of distinctive features or interrelated sequences of sets of distinctive features, according to the hierarchical plane involved. Inasmuch as semantics studies not only lexical units, but also the meanings of units at all the various levels which constitute grammar, whatever their degree of complexity might be, we are faced with the problem of how to analyze the semantic correlates of the units of complex hierarchical levels of grammar. This is done in terms of sets of subsemantic elements linked together by functional semantic features, so that they form a stratified system analogous to that of the grammar, which is not isomorphic to it. From the foregoing, it is evident that it is impossible to postulate a UNIQUE system of an innate nature for the semantic correlates of any of the three grammatical domains, and that there can be no analogy with the universal system of Jakobson concerning the substance of expression. In semantics, the universal features would be the intersections of those actually operating in each language, and which would in no way form a model resembling Jakobson's. In a natural language, an analysis of this type permits the reconstruction of elements of the world view that can only be studied through a semantic analysis of linguistic structures (Fernändez-Guizzetti i.p.). These elements appear at two levels: (a) the lexical element, which may or may not coincide with the domain of the morpheme — this refers to my notion of a

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morphosyntactical axis unit 3 — and (b) that of more complex structures that permit the reconstruction of eidetic elements (in their static or dynamic form) together with logical elements which have, of course, been culturally conditioned, on the dual level of the propositional and the intrapropositional. On the eidetic level, the reconstruction requires that it conclude with a diagram of the mental processes appropriate to the ethnic group in question, i.e. their iconography. This is what Whorf has partly done and, more systematically, R. F. Collis (1971: 102-107). The cultural unconscious is the domain of personality in culture (Bidney 1967: 327-344), which in no way may be conceived of as entelechy, formed by the mental processes of an eidetic, logical, perceptive, or volitional nature, of which the native speaker of a language is rarely conscious. When Whorf refers to "common sense" and to a "natural logic" peculiar to the West, or says that certain notions that we consider as scientific are found to be linguistically conditioned, it is evident that he is intentionally not referring to the fact that the West has taken note of his linguistic diagrams of the unconscious, although these have been hypostasized at the level of metaphysics or that of the theory of science. This fact does not, however, invalidate Western scientific knowledge, since man has no other means of apprehending external reality except through a system of symbols which he has received as a cultural heritage. The cultural unconscious has two domains: the paraconscious, which can be investigated through the semantic analysis of morphosyntactic structures, and the subconscious, which may be investigated through a study of the lexical system.

REFERENCES BIDNEY, DAVID

1967 Theoretical anthropology, second edition. New York: Schocken Books. COLLIS, DERMOT RONAN F.

1971 Pour une semiologie de Vesquimau. Paris: Centre de Linguistique Quantitative de l'Universit6 de Paris. 3

The notion of a morphosyntactical axis unit, which I consider to be one of my first discoveries in the theory of models, is of vital importance for the reconstruction of any world view, based upon their semantic correlates. In a stratified morphosyntactic system, this axis would be at the level where units are perceived as minimal by the native speakers of a language, and not at those lower levels at which the linguist arrives through morphosyntactical analysis. (It is impossible for a Spanish speaker to break down a word into its constituent elements, although this may be possible for a linguist.) The effect of the notion of the axis is to cut short any dissension, which to me appear to be sterile, concerning the concept of the word as a universal linguistic form.

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COOK, WALTER Α., S.J.

1967

Ott tagmemes and transforms. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press.

CHOMSKY, NOAM

1957 Syntactic structures. The Hague: Mouton. 1966 Cartesian linguistics: a chapter in the history of rationalist thought. New York: Harper and Row. 1971 Lenguaje y entendimiento. Barcelona: Seix Barral. DE ERFURT, TOMAS

1947 Gramätica especulativa. Buenos Aires: Editorial Losada. DIK, SIMON c .

1968

Coordination; its implication for the theory of general linguistics. Amsterdam: North-Holland.

FERNÄNDEZ-G UIZZETTI, GERMAN

1960a Guillermo de Humboldt, padre de la etnolingüistica. Cuadernos del Institute Nacional de Investigaciones Folkloricos (Buenos Aires) 1: 229245. 1960b Proyecciones filosoficas de algunas teorias etnolingüisticas contemporäneas, I. Revista de Antropologia (Säo Paulo) 8: 43-62. 1961 Proyecciones filosoficas de algunas teorias etnolingüisticas contemporäneas, II. Revista de Antropologia 9: 51-60. 1963 Proyecciones filosoficas de algunas teorias etnolingüisticas contemporäneas, III. Revista de Antropologia 11: 23-28. 1965 Proyecciones filosoficas de algunas teorias etnolingüisticas contemporäneas, IV. Revista de Antropologia 12: 117-131. 1966 La polisemia del simbolo lingüistico y otras falacias acerca de la indole del significado. Suplemento Antropologico de la Revista del Ateneo Paraguayο 2: 175-209. 1968 "Los determinadores y la cuantificacion en el pensar real de los hablantes del guarani yoparä," in Idiomas, cosmovisiones y culturas. Edited by German Fernändez-Guizzetti, 9-42. Rosario: Instituto de Antropologia de la Universidad Nacional del Litoral. 1969 Las marcas aspecto-temporales en el guarani comün del Paraguay. Travaux de Γ Institut d' Etudes Latino-Americaines de Γ Universite de Strasbourg 9: 501-515. 1970 La gramätica transformacional en la description de lenguas indoamericanas. Suplemento Antropologico (Universidad Catolica "Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion") 5: 247-276. 1972 La teoria atomista contextual de la gramaticalidad y las logicas no estandar. Revista Espanola de Lingüistica (Madrid) 2: 313-329. 1975 El pun to de vista analogico-dialectico en lingüistica descriptiva. Revista Espanola de Lingüistica 5: 87-109. n.d.a. "Acerca de la recursividad y de la indole de toda gramätica." Unpublished manuscript. n.d.b. "Las logicas no estandar y el continuo 'gramaticalidad/desviacion/ agramaticalidad'." Unpublished manuscript. n.d.c. "La lingüistica descriptiva formalizada segun al realismo lingüistico: de la gramätica y sus tres componentes al metamodelo y su formalization." Unpublished manuscript.

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i.p.a. Prolegomena to structural ethnosemantics: theory and application to the realm of contemporary Guarani (Yoparä) ethnoeidetics. The Hague: Mouton. i.p.b. "Sociologia comprensiva y lingüistica antropologica," in Homenaje al Dr. Luis Recasens Siches. Mexico City. FERNÄNDEZ-G UIZZETTI, GERMÄN, MARTA RABINOVICH

n.d.

"Transiciones y concordancias en lengua mapuche." Unpublished manuscript.

FERNÄNDEZ-G UIZZETTI, GERMAN, MARGOT BIGOT DE PEREZ

n.d.

"Description formalizada de la estructura gramatical del quichua santiageno y elementos de etnosemantica." Unpublished manuscript.

GREENBERG, JOSEPH

1957 Essays in linguistics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. HJEMSLEV, LOUIS

1961 Prolegomena to a theory of language, second edition. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. HUMBOLDT, WILHELM VON

1955 "Sobre la diversidad de estructura del lenguaje humano y su influjo en la evolucion espiritual de la humanidad," in Guillermo de Humboldt y la filosofia del lenguaje. Edited by Jos6 Maria Valverde, 91-155. Madrid: Gredos. 1969 De Vorigine des formes grammaticales suivi de lettre ä Μ. Abel Remusat. Bordeaux: Ducros. KROEBER, A. L.

1952 The nature of culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. LEFEVRE, HENRI

1970 Logica formal, logica dialectica, second edition. Madrid: Siglo Veintiuno. LEWIS, CLARENCE IRVING, HAROLD LANG FORD COOPER

1959 Symbolic logic, second edition. New York: Dover. MARCOVIC, MIHAILO

1972 La dialectica de la praxis. Buenos Aires: Amorrortu. SAPIR, EDWARD

1921 Language. New York: Harcourt, Brace. SAUSSURE, FERDINAND DE

1945 Curso de lingüistica general. Buenos Aires: Losada. WEBER, MAX

1965 Essais sur la theorie de la science. Paris: Plön. WHORF, BENJAMIN LEE

1956 Language, thought and reality. Cambridge, Mass.: The Technology Press of M.I.T. 1967 "The hopi language Toreva dialect," in Linguistic structures of native America. Edited by Cornelius Osgood, 158-183. New York: Johnson Reprint. 1967 "The Milpa Alta dialect of Aztec," in Linguistic structures of native America. Edited by Cornelius Osgood, 367-397. New York: Johnson Reprint.

SECTION FIVE

Lexicon, Semantics, and Function

Linguistic Reconstruction and History

LUCIA WALD

1. The idea that language study is closely connected to history is an old one. It is implicit in the etymological explanations of Plato and Varro, where words are linked to reality. At the same time, another idea which has appeared sporadically and intuitively is that language can provide information on earlier phases of mankind's history. It is in this sense that one can interpret the experiment of Psametich (related by Herodotus) in which the age of a people was deduced on the basis of a fact of language.1 2. But the relation between language and history was not really treated fully until the beginning of the last century, which saw the development of historical and comparative linguistics. On the one hand, historical data proved helpful for correctly establishing etymologies. The need to study language methodologically in close connection with the data of reality manifested itself most obviously in the Wörter und Sachen school, which operated from things to words, from an object to its name.2 On the other hand, the opposite trend, the use of linguistic data for obtaining certain historical information, proved to have even broader application. The reconstruction of Indo-European (IE) brought into focus the problem of reconstructing the material and spiritual life of the population which spoke it. For the first time within the domain of prehistory, practice was made of the idea — formulated as early as the beginning of the seventeenth century by Francis Bacon (1623) — that one could draw 1

Herodotus, Book II, Chapter 2. "Wörter und Sachen gehören, wie Meringer ausgeführt und wie keiner bezweifelt hat, auf das engeste zusammen und nur wer von den Sachen ausgeht, wird richtig zu den Wörtern kommen" (Hirt 1905: 240). 2

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certain conclusions about the mentality and culture of a group of speakers on the basis of a study of their language. Now the trend was from words to things. In this manner there developed a new discipline which A. Pictet called "linguistic paleontology," 3 inaugurated earlier by A. Kuhn and represented by a number of noted Indo-Europeanists such as S. Feist, O. Schräder, Η. Hirt, and, in our own time, E. Benveniste and G. Devoto. As sometimes happens in the course of applying a new method, optimism and enthusiasm prove disproportionate to the results. Thus, just as Schleicher considered that he had reconstructed the common language in its entirety, so Pictet was convinced that the reconstructed vocabulary offered him sufficient data for reconstructing the whole of IE civilization. The romantic atmosphere of the times left its mark on Pictet's idyllic vision, which projected into prehistory a late golden age of material civilization (Pictet 1859).4 But, as linguistic data were revised and as new knowledge gave evidence of the difficulties in research and the uncertainties of results, investigators became even more skeptical of the possibilities of obtaining sure data on the history of the IE people through linguistic materials (Kretschmer 1896, Saussure 1916, Meillet 1934, Pulgram 1959). 3. After this phase of skepticism, which introduced criticism and prudence through a natural process of negating negation, there followed a return to more solid grounds in the study of IE realities. Starting from the fundamental idea that the history of a language depended on the history of its speakers, researchers looked prudently and diligently for reflected forms of reality and thought on which to base conclusions. This approach is essential for IE studies, where the facts of language represent the surest and sometimes the only domain capable of offering information on history. But to accomplish this, it is necessary to return to an analysis of the reconstructed material from the vantage point of modern linguistics. Let us attempt, in other words, to apply here some principles of proven value in the study of living languages. 4. 3

From the earliest attempts at reconstruction, it was observed that by

"Aussi le nom de paldontologie linguistique conviendrait-il parfaitement ä la science que nous avons en vue, car elle se propose pour but de faire revivre, en quelque sorte, les faits, les choses et les iddes d'un monde enfoui dans les ten£bres du pass6" (Pictet 1859: 7). 4 "La table ne manquait surement pas au mobilier non plus que le balai pour maintenir la propretd, et la lampe pour les longues veilldes de l'hiver.... Le lien conjugal 6tait celui d'un amour mutuel et d'un respect reciproque. L'epoux etait le maitre et le soutien de la femme, la femme la maitresse aimde du mari.... La soeur etait pour le fröre une compagne confiee k ses soins.... En fait de jeux proprement dits ils peuvent avoir connu les d6s, la balle ä jouer et la poupde pour les enfants" (Pictet 1859: 743-748).

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utilizing linguistic data for retrieving information of a historic nature, only positive facts were of value in making conclusive judgments. But this view was rejected early by Schleicher (1859), who demonstrated that the argument ex silentio is not decisive so long as words are lost or their meaning modified during the course of history, a fact abundantly exemplified in the history of modern languages. One may also assume that in some cases the notion of something did exist, although it was not expressed by any particular word but rather as a figurative sense of another word or as a periphrastic expression. Each case must be studied separately. Thus, the absence of a common IE term for the notion "slave" may be proof of the fact that slavery did not exist, since the oldest historical attestations after the separation of the tribes from the common trunk date from the period of the dissolution of the tribal system, and the terms denoting "slave" in different IE languages reflect by their etymologies the very process of transforming free men into slaves (Wald 1963). In assuming the existence of a notion in the absence of a term referring to it, one must also take into account the relationships of the elements of reality. The existence of terms clearly referring to the parts of a cart and its traction constitutes strong support for the hypothesis that IE people knew the cart, even though a common term cannot be reconstructed for it (Dressier 1965: 25-60). In this manner one might also be able to resolve the well-known debate about the sea being used pro and con to support various hypotheses concerning the location of some primitive homeland. 5. To reconstruct the history of a population with the help of linguistic data one must take into account certain general aspects of the relationship of language and reality and, also, the method of organization of the language. Thanks largely to the contribution of F. de Saussure, twentieth-century linguistics has replaced the image of language as nomenclature by an understanding of language as an organized structure whose relationship to reality is mediated through a number of factors. Language is in one sense a mirror of reality, but this is more evident in the older phases of language, in the phase of predominantly concrete thinking. In the course of history, the reflection in language of social laws and of thought has been effected more and more through the medium of its concrete laws. The more direct dependency of language structure on social structure and on external factors in general has been illustrated in a series of works by A. Sommerfelt (e.g. Sommerfelt 1938). For IE material, conclusions drawn from the analysis of certain grammatical categories on the mentality of the speakers — in the works of the French sociological school — could be extended on

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the basis of richer materials and the theses of psycholinguistics, which we now have at our disposal. The thesis of the systematic character of language has, however, still other methodological implications. Thus, in relating language to expressed reality, the latter representing the derived element, one must keep in view the difference in rhythm of the evolution of the two phenomena, because language, due to its organized character (as well as other causes), changes at a slower pace than the reality it expresses. In other words, it preserves categories which have become formal and distorted reflections. It would be too simple and unscientific to deduce the level of thought of the IE people from the level of its principal grammatical categories which we have reconstructed. At the same time, considering language as a whole, it would be appropriate to correlate the data of vocabulary with that resulting from an analysis of morphological and syntactic categories, because here too there exist certain rules of dependency and reciprocal influence on diverse subsystems of language. For example, the distinction in content of the parts of speech is realized at a certain stage of reflected thought and in vocabulary at a certain level of semantic abstraction. Thus, it is possible to reconstruct a common term for "yesterday" *gh{i)es Skr. hyäh, Zd. zyö, Gr. χθ "past" (cf. Lat. ante) and "behind" > "future" (cf. Lat. post), as looking at what has been and not being able to see what follows; in other words, what does not yet exist, passing through the present, becomes past. 8. Yet another fact results from this discussion. Study of the reconstructed IE vocabulary could be effected in its structural aspect by approaching it as an organized ensemble. Thus, through research of the onomasiological aspect in related spheres, cultural domains could be distinguished more clearly because here too there exists a rule of succession and a certain relative chronology; at the same time, one could logically postulate the existence of the notion even in the absence of the corresponding term. The comparison of terms in this domain and their correlation with archeological data could assist, in some instances, in specifying their meanings. The study of vocabulary as an organized ensemble also presupposes the distinction, in its framework, of a series of lexemes connected to each other according to the principles of derivation, synonymy, or antonymy (in a broad sense). It would seem that this latter aspect has not been sufficiently developed in its application to reconstructed IE vocabulary (Dressier 1965: 55). The relation of semantic interdependence among antonyms — more apparent in adjectives, adverbs, and in some categories of substantives (i.e. those which express space or time, natural gender) and verbs — might constitute support for the indirect attestation of a word (with the antonym reconstructed from sure data) or for the particularization of meaning of certain words. It is possible — as we know from Romance languages — that, in the case of some antonymic series, IE languages might have inherited either one or the other of a pair of terms. Thus, as is known, it has been possible to reconstruct a common IE root meaning "great," but not one for "little." Likewise, the study of antonyms in ancient IE languages might permit

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the registering of several cases in which words with opposite meanings found in different languages have the same IE etymon as a base. That is the case of words with polarization of meaning, of the type Lat. hostis 'enemy' and Germ. Gast, O.S1. gostl 'guest'; Lat. prauus 'crooked' O.S1. pravü 'right'; on this basis, one can reconstruct a neutral meaning for the IE etymon. 9. Since between an object and its name there intervenes a psychic reflection, it holds that the vocabulary of a reconstructed language offers material directly relating only to the notion, not to the object (Feist 1913: 9). This matter is especially important when starting with words in order to reconstruct stages of civilization. Thus, the case of certain animal names has been cited as an example where it is difficult to affirm whether or not they were domesticated. At the same time, the distinction "notion-object" is interesting in yet another respect. Words can pass from one object to another while remaining in the sphere of the same general notion. In this connection, the difficulties related to the semantic specification of plant names are well known. Thus, taking into consideration the numerous implications of the problem while at the same time appreciating that the method of using linguistic data to formulate certain deductions concerning history is justified and has yielded positive results (although the method still needs to be perfected), we may conclude these brief observations with the statement that, from its earliest beginnings, IE studies have always assumed some aspect of sociolinguistics and that research possibilities in this domain are still far from being exhausted.

REFERENCES BACON, F.

1623 De dignitate et augmentis scientiarum. BENVENISTE, E.

1949 Probtemes s6mantiques de la riconstruction. Word X: 2-3. 1969 Le vocabulaire des institutions indo-europeennes. Paris. BUCK, c . D.

1949 A dictionary of selected synonyms in the principal Indo-European languages. Chicago. DEVOTO, G.

1962 Origini indeuropee. Florence. DRESSLER, W.

1965 Metodische Vorfragen bei der Bestimmung der "Urheimat." Die Sprache 11:1/2.

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FEIST, S.

1913 Kultur, Ausbreitung und Herkunft der lndogermanen. Berlin. HIRT, H.

1905

Die lndogermanen, ihre Verbreitung, ihre Urheimat und ihre Kultur. Strassburg.

HUMBOLDT, W. VON

1836

Über die Verschiedenheit des menschlichen Sprachbaues und ihren Einfluss auf die geistige Entwicklung des Menschengeschlechts. Berlin.

KRETSCHMER, P.

1896 Einleitung in die Geschichte der griechischen Sprache. Göttingen. MEILLET, A.

1934 Introduction ä Vetude comparative des langues indo-europeennes. Paris. PICTET, A.

1859 Les origines indo-europeennes ou les Aryas primitifs. Paris. PULGRAM, E.

1959 Proto-Indo-European reality and reconstruction. Language 35 (3). SAUSSURE, F. DE

1916

Cours de linguistique generale. Paris.

SCHLEICHER, A.

1859 Die deutsche Sprache. Bonn: König. SCHRÄDER, O.

1906 Sprachvergleichung und Urgeschichte. Jena. SOMMERFELT, A.

1938 La langue et la societi. Caracteres sociaux d'une langue de type archaique. Oslo. WALD, L.

1963

Quelques noms d'esclaves dans les langues indo-europeennes. Linguistique balkanique 6: 133-138.

WUNDT, w .

1912-1913 Völkerpsychologie, eine Untersuchung der Entwicklungsgesetze von Sprache, Mythus und Sitte, volumes I—II Leipzig: Wihelm Englemann.

Lexical Change in Philippine Creole Spanish

CAROL H. MOLONY

CREOLES Creole languages are a dramatic result of languages in contact, and therefore are rich sources for the study of linguistic change, since a number of features of change are so readily apparent. Lexical changes, for instance, stand out clearly where there is heavy borrowing from one or more languages. The most rapid changes presumably take place when a Creole language is in the process of formation, although even for established Creoles lexical changes are often not subtle, especially when there is continued language contact. The focus of this paper is on lexical change in an established Creole, Philippine Creole Spanish. Creoles constitute a class of languages which share certain features, for instance, grammar "simplification" such as no tense, aspect, or sex inflection and absence of the copula. Many grammatical markers sound similar from one Creole language to another. The grammatical features do not appear to be unique to Creoles, but are found with much greater frequency in this class of language. The vocabulary is largely borrowed from another known language but with noticeable changes in meaning; and there is historical evidence that two or more languages have been in contact during the formation of the language. The combinations of these features characterize the Creole phenomenon. Creoles have attracted the interest of linguists in attempting, first, to explain the apparently divergent sources of lexicon and grammar, second, The project was supported by a National Institutes of Health grant MH-20102 from June 1, 1971 through September 30, 1973. Field work in the Philippines was conducted from June 1, 1971 through April, 1973.

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to learn how such languages came about, and, third, to examine whether they are qualitatively different from "normal" languages. By examining the fundamental problem of Creoles, that of accounting for the apparently divergent sources of lexicon and grammar, linguists have hoped to gain new insights into genetic origin and linguistic change. In addition, that Creoles appear to display structural and lexical similarities in different places in the world has led to the search for evidence of universals of language evolution and acquisition. Accounting for the Creole combination of features and the startling similarities among all acknowledged Creoles has led to theories of origin. The three main theories have been based on (1) simplicity, or "baby talk," (2) common origin, e.g. Portuguese or African substratum, with possibly rapid relexification, and (3) the universal underlying deep structure of human languages. Linguists stress that there are no linguistic features unique to Creoles, and therefore the normal linguistic tools of analysis can be used with them. However, it is implicit in the definition of this class of languages that they behave differently from other languages. First, they have life cycles, with discernible starting points. Genetic classification of Creoles has been questioned. Should they be considered as: (1) a continuation of either the source language or the contact language(s), or (2) discontinuous with their base languages? There is some question that they may show evidence of language mixing. They may display rapid relexification, although the mechanisms for starting or stopping this process have not been demonstrated. They may have simplified some features found in other languages. Finally, for some reason the deep structure common to all human languages may come to the surface in Creoles. The contradiction in the present-day linguistic treatment of Creoles, however, remains: on the one hand, they behave differently from other languages and probably have had a different kind of origin, while, on the other, the usual tools of analysis can be applied to them, and insights into their nature should contribute to the understanding of human language in general. For the established Creole under consideration, I would like to stress that the changes taking place are in no way unique to Creoles; they also occur in other noncreole Philippine languages. There is no evidence for the "different" behavior that presumably caused this language to develop in the first place. Since the changes taking place are "normal," standard linguistic methodology should therefore be appropriate, e.g. etymological analysis, including examination by specific semantic domains, sound-shift analysis, and contrastive analysis of regional and generational dialects. Examining current changes in this language does not appear to be a profitable way to gain insight into the origin of this Creole or of Creoles in

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general. Such research would best be undertaken with emerging Creoles, and, if possible, with the corroborative evidence of historical documents. The main purpose of this project is the documentation of changes in this established Creole, past and current, using direct and indirect evidence, historical and linguistic, reflecting the changing language behavior of these creole speakers.

PHILIPPINE CREOLE SPANISH Five or six dialects of Philippine Creole Spanish exist today in two areas of the Philippines: Ternateno, Caviteno, and Ermiteno are spoken in or near Manila on the island of Luzon; and Zamboangueno, Cotabato Chabacano, and possibly Davao Chabacano are spoken on the island of Mindanao, some 500 miles to the south. Ternateno is spoken by the 8,000 inhabitants of the town of Ternate, who earn their living mostly by fishing in Manila Bay and the river that divides their town. Their income is supplemented by rice and sugar-cane agriculture, fish-pond cultivation, and by money from relatives who have left to work in Manila or the United States. Ternateno is the first language of almost all the people of Ternate, although almost everyone is bilingual in Tagalog, an Austronesian language and the official national language of the Philippines. The only outsiders who learn Ternateno are the few men and women who have married into the town. Two-thirds of the way toward Manila one comes to Cavite, site of the traditional naval base for Manila, a large city where some 5,000 people, mostly over forty years old, claim Chabacano as their first language. And in Manila itself there are a few dozen people in their sixties or older who remember their mother tongue Ermiteno. These people have scattered to various places in Manila and beyond, and all communicate in Tagalog today. Nowhere between the Manila Bay area and southern Mindanao have there been verified reports of Chabacano speakers. In Zamboanga City and Basilan Island there are more than 100,000 first-language speakers of Chabacano (Frake 1968), by far the largest community speaking this language. In Davao and Cotabato, also on Mindanao, there are small numbers of people speaking Chabacano, which has derived from Zamboangueno. Since Ternateno is the dialect of Chabacano most closely linked to the language spoken in the Moluccas during the seventeenth century, this study of lexical change in Philippine Creole Spanish focuses on Ternateno, with supporting evidence from other dialects in the Philippines.

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Historical documents show that Philippine Creole Spanish (or Chabacano, a commonly used cover-term for all the dialects) was brought to the Philippines around 1662 by some 200 immigrants from the island of Ternate, most important of the Spice Islands in the Moluccas, Indonesia. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Portuguese, Spanish, and Dutch fought over the Moluccas to obtain control over the spice trade. About 1662 the Spaniards withdrew to Manila from Ternate and other outlying areas to consolidate their defenses against the threatened attack by the Chinese warlord called Koxinga by Filipinos. The Spanish priest from Ternate brought with him some 200 Christians who settled for a short time in Ermita, a district of Manila. By 1700 most of these had moved to the mouth of the Maragondon River, some fifty miles south of Manila just opposite the island of Corregidor, which guards the entrance to Manila Bay. They named their settlement Ternate after their homeland. There is some evidence of later movements by Ternatenos to Cavite near Manila and later to Zamboanga, and of a later movement of Zamboanguenos to Cotabato and Davao. Whether the Philippine Creole language first developed in the Moluccas or was brought there from another place has not been established. Linguistic evidence for the transmission of Ternateno to the Philippines occurs in the form of a few Indo-Pacific, Malay, and Portuguese terms found today, mostly in the dialect of Chabacano spoken in Ternate. 1

LEXICAL CHANGE As examples of changing language behavior in Philippine Creole Spanish, I will present some specific evidence of lexical change in Ternateno as provided by etymological analysis and by comparisons according to regional and generational dialects.

Etymology Etymological analysis gives indirect evidence for the origin of this language in the Moluccas, and for later development in the Philippines. The words 1

Three languages spoken in Ternate, Moluccas, during the seventeenth century were Malay, Bahasa Ternate (Indo-Pacific), and the language of the Mardicas, presumably the Creole brought to the Philippines. The latter was recorded in manuscripts by an Augustinian priest about 1606 (cited by Perez 1901 from Osario) and a Jesuit priest around 1650 (cited by Murillo Velarde 1749). A search for these documents is in progress.

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considered here are from Spanish, Portuguese, and English (all IndoEuropean languages); Bahasa Ternate (Indo-Pacific); and Malay, Tagalog, and Bisayan (all Austronesian languages). It will be seen that these words are distributed differently in the various dialects of Chabacano. Not only are there differences with words known to have been borrowed into the Philippines, but words of Moluccan origin can also be seen to distribute unevenly. These differences mark changes that both Ternateno and Zamboangueno have made from a common parent language. From each set of words by language of origin, inferences can be developed about the language behavior of Chabacano speakers. As this project progresses, historical and further linguistic evidence will work together to strengthen the inferences. First I will consider words which suggest Moluccan origin for this language. There are several common words in Ternate which can be demonstrated to be Portuguese, not Spanish, in origin. Batalha (1961) has shown that the words na (locative marker), eli 'he, she, it', dale 'give, hit', and kilaya 'how' are of Portuguese, not Spanish, origin. In a conversation with Batalha in Macau in June 1972, she also claimed a Portuguese origin for prietu 'black', agora 'now', buneka 'doll', bung, bong, beng 'very, too (much)', and agwelu 'grandfather'. Of these words, na, eli, dale, and kilaya also occur in Zamboangueno. These words in Ternateno, some of high frequency, suggest Portuguese influence in the language and argue for the development of the language before these people immigrated to the Philippines. Nevertheless, there are still several possibilities to investigate regarding the nature of Portuguese influence: (a) whether the language was originally a Portuguese Creole which became relexified under Spanish influence (in the Moluccas or in the Philippines, or in both places), or a Portuguese pidgin (cf. Whinnom 1956); (b) whether it was a Creole of other origin (e.g. Spanish) which, coming into contact with Portuguese, led to Portuguese word borrowings; or (c) whether the creole developed from contacts with both Spanish and Portuguese soldiers and priests speaking these two languages during the occupation. There are several words of Malay and Moluccan origin which I have not found in other Philippine languages. I am working with a list so far of some fifteen Malay words and some fifty words of possible North Moluccan origin. Twenty so far have been verified to be Bahasa Ternate. Among these there are only a few high frequency words, including kuning 'yellow' ( < Malay), muda 'young, of plants' ( < Malay) and, possibly, bay 'uncle' ( < Moluccan Malay pai 'father') and yay 'aunt' ( < Moluccan Malay mai 'mother'). These words strengthen the inference that this Creole was brought by these people το the Philippines, rather than that it emerged IN

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the Philippines. They also imply isolation and/or conservative linguistic attitudes by Ternatefios. Differences in the distribution of Philippine vocabulary reflect the history of the speakers of the various dialects. Zamboanguefio has more Philippine forms in the lexicon and in more basic vocabulary (especially pronouns) than does Ternatefio. A reasonable inference is that Ternatefio was learned originally predominately by non-Philippine speakers, whereas Zamboanguefio was learned by speakers of Philippine languages (cf. Frake 1968). Corroborative historical evidence would help verify the movements of Chabacano and its speakers in the Philippines. Whether Spanish forms entered the language at its origin or later, there is ample evidence of continuing contact with Spanish through the nineteenth century in the Philippines. Both Zamboanguefio and Cavitefio were more clearly influenced by standard nineteenth-century Spanish, whereas in Ternatefio a great number of Spanish words shifted in pronunciation as well as meaning. The best single piece of evidence is the pronunciation of initial ly- in Zamboanguefio and Cavitefio, but not in Ternatefio, e.g.: Spanish llegar llevar Hover Ueno

Zamboanguefio lyegd lyevd (ulan) lyeno

Cavitefio lyegd lyevd lyobe lyeno

Ternatefio yagd yubd yubi (gusero) yeno

One high frequency word in which both sound and meaning has shifted is: Spanish: Caviteno: Zamboanguefio: but Ternatefio:

tambien 'also' tamyen 'also' tamen 'also' tamyeng 'however; anyway, by the way' ring 'also' ( < Tagalog)

From these discrepancies, I suggest that Ternatefio has had less recent influence from Spanish, especially in the latter part of Spain's rule in the Philippines. Style levels are much more pronounced in Zamboanguefio than in Ternatefio, for example, the greater marking of respect forms of pronouns in Zamboanguefio. These styles imply a more complex society speaking Zamboanguefio than Ternatefio. These differences are evident in Zamboanga social behavior today, where Chabacano is used as the lingua franca in this market center and by subsistence fishermen and tenant

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farmers as well as by a number of the elite. Furthermore, until very recently, Chabacano served as the single lingua franca between Christians and Moslems in this contact city. Ternateno, on the other hand, has been spoken in a small town of fishermen and farmers, with relatively little social stratification; and the language has had no use outside this community which, even today, is somewhat isolated geographically from neighboring Tagalog-speaking communities. Style levels in Ternateno tend to be handled by use of different languages (Tagalog, English, Chabacano) rather than stylistic variation within Chabacano. Preliminary etymological analysis shows the vocabulary to be about 90 percent Spanish in Ternateno, though many non-Spanish forms are used with high frequency, especially grammatical markers. Preliminary comparison with Zamboangueno shows the Philippine forms scattered throughout semantic domains, often not coinciding in the Zamboangueno and Ternateno dialects. Although patterns are not clear for many of the distributions, some sets seem to sort out into Spanish : non-Spanish words by unmarked : marked categories (cf. Greenberg 1966), as was discovered by Frake in Zamboangueno (1968). In the following list, where etymology is not indicated, I am in the process of establishing origin. Indo-European Origin 1. limpiyo 'clean'

Non-Indo-European Origin badju 'dirty' ( < Bahasa Ternate) marusing 'dirty' ( < Tagalog madusing) susyu 'dirty' ( < Spanish)

2. kuriosu 'beautiful' wapa 'pretty' bonita 'pretty'

petur 'ugly' sarot 'ugly'

3. kohre, korre 'fast'

banaybanay 'slowly' ( < Tagalog) chapi-chapi 'walking slowly, sailing slowly' kahincCan 'slowness' ( < Tagalog) mahina 'slow, walk slowly' ( < Tagalog)

4. maduro 'ripe, mature'

bubut 'unripe; green, immature' ( < Tagalog) muda 'unripe' ( < Tagalog mura) buko 'bud; young or green coconut fruit' ( < Tagalog)

koko 'coconut'

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Indo-European Origin 5. habla 'to talk, speak' platika 'to talk, converse'

ihtoriya 'story'

Non-Indo-European Origin bulong, se 'to whisper' ( < Tagalog) churi-churi 'to murmur' ( < Bahasa Ternate) daldal 'chat, idle talk' ( < Tagalog) kachang-kachang 'garrulous, talkative' terul 'stuttering' salawikain 'motto, saying, proverb' ( < Tagalog)

6. derecho 'right'

kaliwa* 'left' ( < Tagalog)

7. yube 'rain' agusero 'rain'

kidlat 'lightning' ( < Tagalog) bagyu 'storm' ( < Tagalog)

8. galyina 'chicken, fowl'

inahing 'hen', tandang 'rooster' ( < Tagalog) bulugang 'bull' ( < Tagalog) lawa 'lake, pool' ( < Tagalog) latiyang 'swamp' ( < Tagalog lati, or latiari)

baka 'cow' 9.

lamar 'sea'

10. luna 'moon'

bago luna 'new moon' ( < Tagalog bago) kabilugan 'roundness; full moon' ( < Tagalog)

11. tiyera 'land, soil'

peri-peri 'mud'

Regional Dialects Differences in lexicon between regional dialects (I will use Ternateno and Zamboangueno) can reveal changes in the past and those taking place currently. An assumption I make is that the language is not static, but rather that it is continually changing, and that, when groups of speakers diverge, the changes in their language likewise cause diverging dialects. The resultant varieties allow comparison of similarities and differences, especially with corroborative evidence of documents indicating earlier states of the language. An examination of terms in particular semantic domains will demonstrate the possibilities of tracing the patterns of borrowings into the language. Some color term differences between Ternateno and Zamboangueno are:

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Lexical Change in Philippine Creole Spanish

'red' 'white' 'black'

'yellow'

Ternateno koloraw blanki(h^)ka, blanko prietu

Zamboangueno koloraw blanko

kuning ( < Malay)

amarilyo

negro

Spanish rojo, Colorado bianco

negro; (prieto) [Portuguese: preto] amarillo

Most color terms are from Spanish; however, Ternateno has acquired the term for yellow from Malay and, very likely, the term for black from Portuguese, but this term has assimilated to Spanish pronunciation. Both Ternateno and Zamboangueno use a secondary Spanish term for red, and Ternateno uses a secondary Spanish term for white. Examination of the frequencies of these terms in seventeenth- to nineteenth-century Spanish may shed more light on their use. Another semantic domain which gives useful insights when examining the changes taking place in the language is that of kin terms. Although most kin terms are derived from Spanish words, many are used to refer to different groups of relatives, and are used differently in naming relatives.® Furthermore, Central Philippine and several possible Portuguese and Moluccan forms occur. Some examples are given below (n = naming term, r = relationship term): Ternatefio

Source

Zamboangueflo Source

'grandson, grandnephew' 'son'

nie tu (r)

Spanish

apo (r)

ihu (n, r)

Spanish

anak (n, r)

'elder brother'

kang (n) (obsolescent); now mang ermanu (r)

Tagalog?

manong (n)

Central Philippine Central Philippine Spanish?

Spanish

ermano (r)

Spanish

Tagalog

primo (r)

Spanish

Spanish Tagalog, Spanish

primo (r) tata (n)

Spanish Central Philippine Spanish

'younger brother' 'elder cousin'

mang (n) (increasing) 'younger cousin' primu (r) tay, tata (n) 'father' (Caviteno: pang, papa, tata) 2

For instance, the Ternatefto term tay ( < Tagalog tay, < Spanish tata) is used to name not only father, but also father-in-law, father's elder brother, mother's elder brother, father's elder cousin, mother's elder cousin, and sometimes grandfather and even great-grandfather. (Francisco [1964] claims a Sanskrit origin for tata from Sanskrit täta: "father', but Manuel [1948] claims a Chinese origin from Chinese ta: 'big, elder' +-tai 'generation'.)

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Ternateflo

Source

'uncle', elder

tay, tata, tiyu

'uncle', younger 'grandfather'

tiyung (n) agwelu (r), tay (n) (Caviteno: abwelo Spanish) panguman (r)

Tagalog, Spanish Spanish Portuguese Spanish, Tagalog

'stepbrother, stepsister' Respect term for bay (none) (n) uncle, elder man of no relation 'old man' babang (n) (obsolescent) 'stepson'

intenao

Tagalog Moluccan Malay? (bai 'father') Bahasa Ternate? (baba 'father') Portuguese? (inteado)

Zamboangueöo Source Spanish tiyo (n) (r) tiyo (n, r) lolo (n, r)

Spanish Central Philippine Spanish

('anak de madre') tyo\ tya'

Spanish Spanish

byeho

Spanish

entenao

Portuguese?

Several interesting phenomena can be observed from this list. 1. Zamboangueno and Ternateno each have some Philippine forms, but they are distributed differently. 2. One good case for Portuguese can be demonstrated in Ternateno {agwelu)·, another possibility occurs in both Ternateno and Zamboangueno (intenao).

3. Ternateno has one term of possible Moluccan Malay origin; another of possible Bahasa Ternate (Indo-Pacific) origin. One of these terms is obsolescent in Ternateno, and neither is found in Zamboangueno. 4. Several terms borrowed from Spanish are used in different ways than in Spanish and conform more to Philippine systems of kin terms: (a) grandson and grandnephew are lumped under one term. The Spanish term for grandson has been extended to include the meaning for grandnephew in Ternateno; in Zamboangueno, the Philippine term conforms to that meaning in Central Philippine languages, (b) Ternateno distinguishes elder and younger brother, elder-younger uncle, elder-younger cousin, and elder-younger cousin of parent, as do Central Philippine languages. Zamboangueno does not make this distinction of relative age so clearly. Ternateno uses Tagalog and Spanish forms for the brother distinction, but different forms of Spanish words for the uncle and parents' cousin distinction; e.g. tiyung is reserved for younger uncle only, not elder uncle or uncle in general. 5. Several forms, though of Spanish origin, are also used in Central Philippine languages: lolo, tay, tata. 6. One form is almost obsolete in Ternateno (babang); another is obsolescent (kang), being replaced by mang; and another is used infrequently (intenao).

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7. Pronunciation of many of the forms have changed from the Spanish pronunciation: ermanu, ihu, primu, nietu, tiyu, tiyung, tyo\ and others: nyor, nyora ( < Spanish Senor, Senora), lelung ( < Central Philippine < Spanish lolo). From these examples we can demonstrate the following: Moluccan origins; evidence for Portuguese; changes subsequent to the arrival of this language in the Philippines; borrowing from Spanish in early as against recent times; assimilation of Philippine culture by changing the meanings of the Spanish forms to conform to Philippine usage, and differences between the dialects in the degree of assimilation in this context; and forms which are disappearing and others which are emerging. Furthermore, the way these forms are used indicates not only variations in usage, but uses which are considered unusual (examples from Ternateno): 1. kel lotru buh lelung kel, bay Daniel, ayi na kaysubic, ta huga se para alia talompok.... Those your grampa those, respect Daniel, there in Kaysubic, were trying to accumulate high rice stacks.... Those relatives of your grandfather, Bay Daniel [I call him], living there in Kaysubic [a remote area of Ternate, in a tiny valley in the cliffs at the entrance to Manila Bay], were trying to accumulate a surplus storage of rice.... 2. Habla yo, "no, kang("kang" pa yo ta yama.) Said I, "not, cousin." ("kang" still I was addressing.) I said to her, "no, cousin." (I was still addressing her [my future motherin-law] as "cousin"). Naturang pa pariyenti mihotru. Ta konose pariyenti. It is said still relatives we. Were known as relatives. It was said that we were already relatives. We were known as relatives. Mi swegra Memang pati mi tay, magprimu ta huga yama. My mother-in-law Memang together with my father, cousins were each other calling. My mother-in-law Memang and my father were calling each other cousins. The distribution of Philippine versus Spanish words is interesting in a set of grammatical markers in Ternateno and Zamboangueno (per conversation with Charles Frake) :

'really' (emphatic) 'only'

Ternateflo

Source

Zamboanguefio Source

nga

Tagalog

gane'

duma, nurna (h) Spanish

lang

Bisayan Central Philippine

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CAROL Η. MOLONY

'also' 'apparently' 'first' (beforehand) 'perhaps, by the way' 'perchance' quotative conditional 'because' 'why'

Ternatefio ring pala muna

Source Tagalog Tagalog Tagalog

Zamboanguefio tamen gale' anay

baga'

Tagalog

baka, kaha'

baka raw

Tagalog Tagalog

basV daw

sana porki komo

Tagalog Spanish Spanish

era kay porke

Source Spanish Bisayan Hiligaynon Bisayan —

Bisayan Central Philippine Spanish Bisayan Spanish

It can be seen that the Philippine forms dominate, but they are distributed differently. Such adverbial grammatical markers are characteristic of Central Philippine languages; the forms and functions have been borrowed into Ternateno and into Zamboangueno, but differently into the two dialects.

Generational Dialects Another method for gaining insight into the history of changes in this language involves an examination of generational dialects. With this method the assumption is made that older people are less receptive to linguistic change than are young people, and that differences in their speech (e.g. frequency and phonological variation of lexical items) can be explained by the conservatism of old people. Whether this assumption is valid could be tested here by corroborative evidence such as early texts and opinions of old people about changes. The hypothesis that Tagalog words are being borrowed increasingly into the language could be tested by examining whether young people use more Tagalog words more frequently than old people; or conversely, whether both young and old people use more Tagalog words than did either age group fifty years ago, according to written records. Of course, evidence that old and young people are now equally introducing Tagalog words into Ternateno would contradict the assumption of conservatism as the cause in the case of old people. A preliminary word count sorted by age of speaker has been made of some 3,500 pages of conversation texts. The percentage of loanwords from both Tagalog and English can be seen to be slightly increasing as age decreases, from an average of some 8 percent Tagalog words and .5 percent English words used by people over sixty-five to 13 percent Tagalog words and 3 percent English words used by people in their teens.

Lexical Change in Philippine Creole Spanish

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A further examination of English loanwords gives evidence for recent lexical change, since it is known that all English loans entered Ternateno after 1900, and that the model has been standard American English, although most have entered via Tagalog. Preliminary investigation shows at least 2,000 English loanwords, largely concentrated in vocabulary relating to the world outside the community: technical, administrative, medical, and school-related vocabulary. There are also new words related to American culture, largely introduced by teenagers, and the evidence is ample that English words in general are being introduced by young people. Disguised speech, similar to "pig Latin" in English but much more complex, is commonly found in Philippine languages. In Ternateno most of the inverted speech, called platika di istambay 'speech of idle teenagers', has been borrowed from Tagalog, e.g.: tehots (from 'hostess'): 'prostitute' boyang (from "American boy," often abbreviated to "Amboy") : 'wearing the clothes of an American, and having long hair' Abbreviations and acronyms are widely used in the Christian Philippines. Some examples here are: keyjey (from KJ): 'killjoy' o'ey (from OA): 'overacting' (to or about adults as well as children) eykey (from AK): Ά Κ 47 armolite rifle' ayudi (from IUD): 'intrauterine device' jisis (from GSIS): 'Government Security Insurance System' Some very recent loanwords are being introduced by teenagers, e.g.: isplit 'leave'; isplit ens 'split ends of hair' (used by boys for their own hair now, too) bred 'money' iskor 'score' (be successful with a girl, especially sexually) shotgan 'an injection of heroin' horniy 'sexually aroused' (this word is just entering the community) trip 'marijuana trip' libay straws 'Levi's, jeans' haybol 'a "pot" house, place for smoking marijuana' Other words have become widely used in the Philippines, probably since World War II: istambay 'idle young man, corner boy: unemployed' saydlayn 'moonlighting, extra job; extramarital affair' wantid 'a person wanted by the police' Census figures show that not only are there lexical differences between the speech of old and young people, but that the use of the languages

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themselves is shifting, and in a surprising way: there is a slight trend toward Ternateno as a first language by children; mixed marriages (e.g. of Ternateno and Tagalog speakers) tend to produce Ternateno-speaking children. Furthermore, the knowledge of Tagalog and English as a second language is increasing, so young people are becoming more multilingual. These data of changes within the community are comparable to changes in surrounding languages. In Tagalog areas, for instance, English loans are increasing in Tagalog, and English as a second language is in increasing use.

SUMMARY Investigation of the words of Ternateno and Zamboangueno has revealed several patterns of lexical change of Philippine Creole Spanish and provided insights into the history of the language and its speakers. Etymological analysis shows words in Ternateno from Portuguese, Malay, and Bahasa Teraate, which give evidence for the Moluccan origin of this language. That a few of these words appear in other dialects of Chabacano supports historical evidence that people from the Manila Bay area moved to Zamboanga; and the dialects have diverged in isolation from each other. Differences in Spanish forms found in Zamboangueno and Ternateno indicate that continuing contacts with Spanish speakers took different forms in Ternate and in Zamboanga; Zamboangueno apparently had more contact with nineteenth-century Spanish. Style levels are more pronounced in Zamboangueno, perhaps because of greater social stratification in Zamboanga than in Ternate, and because of the wider range of use of Zamboangueno than Ternateno. Lexical borrowings from Tagalog into Ternateno and from Bisayan languages into Zamboangueno are interesting because they are so extensive and penetrate so deeply. Most Creole languages elsewhere in the world do not have this heavy admixture of lexicon. Both Ternateno and Zamboangueno are found to have mixtures of Philippine and Spanish forms in semantic sets, and some of these can be sorted out by marked features, where the unmarked forms are Spanish and the marked forms non-IndoEuropean (mostly from Philippine languages). An examination of regional differences shows different patterns of lexical mixture in color terms, kin terms, and grammatical markers. That Zamboangueno has a greater number of Philippine forms at all levels of lexicon suggests that Zamboangueno may have developed by speakers of Philippine languages learning it, whereas Ternateno may have developed largely before its arrival in the Philippines.

Lexical Change in Philippine Creole Spanish

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Examination of differences in the lexicon of old people in Ternate as compared to that of young people shows a trend toward heavier borrowing by young people of Tagalog and English terms into Ternateno. English terms are shown to be introduced largely by young people. Census figures show increasing use of Ternateno as the first language, but increasing multilingual skills as greater numbers of young people learn Tagalog and English as second languages. Although evidence of lexical changes in the past may show unusual borrowing patterns (e.g. the mixture of Philippine and Spanish forms in Zamboangueno pronouns cf. Frake [1968]), the lexical changes do not seem in any way to be unique to Creoles. Ternateno is borrowing Tagalog words rapidly but this is not surprising given the extensive pressure toward Tagalog, and does not signal a uniquely creole feature. Rapid borrowing, not replacement, is taking place. Ternate is surrounded by Tagalog speakers, and there is continual contact with people outside the community. Examples abound of "normal" languages borrowing heavily during extensive contact: immigrants into the United States borrow extensively into their own languages of origin, using inflections of those languages. The differences in kinds of pressure toward vocabulary borrowing may yield some useful insights into language behavior. Zamboangueno is currently being influenced by large numbers of Bisayans who are learning Zamboangueno and bringing Bisayan words with them into that language. Most loanwords into Ternateno, however, are being borrowed by the Ternateno speakers themselves; very few outsiders have occasion to learn the language. Also, people in Ternate are accelerating the use of Tagalog and English in formal style, so that these languages are encroaching, as borrowed languages, by formal style as well as by borrowed words in general. The result is more extensive borrowing by Ternateno than by Zamboangueno. What is especially interesting now is that, rather than shifting over to the Tagalog language, as one would expect given the extensive contact by Ternatenos with Tagalog, there is instead heavy and rapid borrowing of Tagalog forms into Ternateno. Examination of lexical changes has been shown to be one way to focus on the language behavior of Chabacano speakers. Insights into the history of the speakers can also be shown using lexical evidence. Corroborative evidence at the level of phonological, grammatical, and semantic changes, along with historical and social information, will lead to a broader understanding of the changes that have taken place and are now taking place in this established creole language.

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REFERENCES BATALHA, GRACIETA NOGUIERA

1961 "Coincidencias com ο dialecto Espanhois das Ilhas Filipinas," in Seperatos das Actas do IX Congress Internacional de Linguistica Romänica, volume two. Lisbon: Centra de Estudos Filologicos. (Also published 1960 in Boletin de Filologia 19: 296-303.) FRAKE, CHARLES O.

1968 "Semantic structure and lexical origins in Philippine Creole Spanish." Paper presented at the Seminar on Pidgin and Creole Languages, Jamaica. (Published 1971 as "Lexical origins and semantic structure in Philippine Creole Spanish," in Pidginization and creolization of language. Edited by Dell Hymes, 223-242. London: Cambridge University Press.) FRANCISCO, JUAN R .

1964 Indian influences in the Philippines. Philippine Social Sciences and Humanities Review 28: 1-3. GREENBERG, JOSEPH H .

1966 "Language universale," in Theoretical foundations. Edited by T. A. Sebeok. Current Trends in Linguistics 3. The Hague: Mouton. MANUEL, E. ARSENIO

1948 Chinese elements in the Tagalog language. Manila: Filipiniana Publications. MURILLO VELARDE, PEDRO, S.J.

1749 Historia de la provincia de Philippinas de la Compania de Jesus, Notebook 3. Manila. PEREZ, FR. ELVIRA

1901 Catalogo bio-bibliografico de los Religiosos Agustinos. Manila: Santo Tomas University. WHINNOM, KEITH

1956 Spanish contact vernaculars in the Philippine Islands. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press.

Semantic Categories in the Names of Algonquian Waterways

EUGENE GREEN and CELIA M. MILLWARD

Algonquian names for waterways, at first glance, exhibit no features that set them off as a particular group of structures. To be sure, they serve to identify and describe waterways just as toponyms do in other languages, but they do not have features comparable, say, to the European pattern of place-names in which proper names are linked to generic terms. In Algonquian the forms linked together in a toponym are descriptive as in Mohican missi-tuk 'big river', and the toponym as a whole is used to identify a particular place. In names like the Atlantic Ocean, the Ärmelcanal, and the Seine, however, the proper name, which usually goes undefined, identifies a place, and the generic term, if it occurs at all, has a descriptive function. Moreover, if toponyms in European languages have phonological, morphological, and syntactic features characteristically their own, there are no linguistic features which in themselves identify an Algonquian descriptive phrase as a place-name. Instead the Algonquians selected from the many possible descriptive phrases available to them those which by their very use would identify particular waterways. In other words, it was custom and not an overt linguistic feature that made a descriptive phrase a toponym — a structure like missi-tuk could well be used simply as a descriptive phrase and not as a toponym in everyday speech. The purpose of this study is to investigate the nature of Algonquian practice in selecting descriptive phrases for use as names of waterways. Our assumption is that choices of toponyms were neither whimsical nor haphazard but actually depended on an underlying system of semantic categories indicative of Algonquian responses to the environment and to experience. In this view, the toponyms themselves form a subset of structures in the various Algonquian languages, not because of a particular,

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EUGENE GREEN, CELIA M. MILLWARD

overt linguistic feature such as a definite article before a proper name as in der Genfer, but because they conform to the demands of a system of semantic categories. What makes missi-tuk eligible as a toponym in Mohican, for example, is that both the stem -tuk and the particle missi- are descriptive of the intrinsic features of water; on the other hand, the particle kishkereferring to the location of someone or something as in kishke-tuk 'near to or by the river' does not appear as a name for a waterway. Clearly, then, we need to determine the semantic categories used in naming, the ways in which these categories are applied in particular toponyms, and whether they have equal force in all the Algonquian languages. The identification of semantic categories, barring direct studies of the Algonquians themselves, has to depend on the glosses of particles and stems in the available toponyms as well as on other corroborative topographical and historical evidence. Otherwise, one may incorrectly attribute the choice of Delaware and Shawnee place-names to a practical way of life (Mahr 1959: 365-374) and thereby deny the authenticity of a river name like Shawnee cinootahisiOd 'he who guards that which belongs to him'. Historical evidence is important, too, not only to avoid the inclusion of place-names coined out of sentiment (for example, tsis'tuki ahkitye' tuktai, a creek named some seventy years ago for a Blackfoot woman) on the basis of English rather than Algonquian practice (Schultz 1926), but to exclude Micmac names formed with kuspem, which is simply the Indian translation of English 'lake', a usage that is not aboriginal (Ganong 1911-1915: 283). Finally, an intriguing analysis of stem composition, using Gestalt techniques (Whorf 1938-1940: 399) offers a list of rules for combining forms in Shawnee; these rules, however, depend on a psychological distinction of figure and ground, a framework which works imperfectly (as Whorf notes) in accounting for Shawnee semantics and structures. All in all, the result of these earlier studies is to suggest the need for a somewhat simpler question than those already asked: namely, do the meanings of Algonquian particles and stems used in toponyms lend themselves readily to arrangement in natural, semantic categories ? Unfortunately, the question cannot be answered by a direct survey and analysis of toponyms. Besides ad hoc coinages such as those by Schultz for Blackfoot, the linguistic data for genuine names of waterways are often imperfectly transcribed and interpreted. The name Tippecanoe, for example, has at least three interpretations, none of which commands assent (Mahr 1957; Trumbull 1881). Moreover, Huden's compilation of Indian placenames (1962), which might have been invaluable, is so indiscriminate in its selection and analysis of names that one cannot rely on it at all. The need for accuracy thus resulted in the following procedure for this

Semantic Categories in the Names of Algonquian Waterways

419

study: all putative toponyms of waterways were recorded along with their glosses from almost all the available sources; the identification and glosses of forms — particles, stems, inflections — in these toponyms were accepted only if they were confirmed by a second source. For example, the Menomini toponym kinitciwuno 'a straight place on the Menomini River' (Skinner 1921) contains the forms kanw- 'used of single, long things' and -cewan 'stream', as confirmed by Bloomfield (1962).1 Altogether, this procedure yielded 1,290 analyzed toponyms throughout the Algonquian languages and left 296 names unaccounted for, of which nearly half were in Micmac. The lack of complete data for unrecorded as well as questionable names permits only provisional conclusions which, nonetheless, throw surprisingly clear light on Algonquian semantic categories and dialects. In detail, most of the Algonquian toponyms contain stems with particles either preceding or following: e.g. Abnaki kaäkou-gami-k 'at Big-Gull Lake' (Trumbull 1870) in which the stem -garni- 'lake' is preceded by the particle kaäkou- 'big gull' and followed by the locative -k. Other toponyms such as kebasse-we-kanti 'there are sturgeon' (Ganong 1911-1915) have a verb-like structure in which the form kebasse- 'sturgeon' is followed by the "existential" particles -we-kanti. As is evident in these examples, there is a division between "functional" particles and forms like kaäkou-gami-, and kebasse- which are descriptive of waterways. Within these descriptive forms, moreover, there are bound stems such as -gami- and -tuk and free forms such as ni ?tseh ? and sepe'w, which have the function of generic terms referring to water and waterways (Green and Millward 1971). The central focus in this study is directed at those descriptive forms whose primary function in Algonquian toponyms is to specify particular waterways ; these include such forms as kini-, kaäkouand kebasse-. Figure 1 indicates that an analysis of such descriptive forms in Algonquian waterway toponyms results in a simple binary pattern of semantic categories. These underlying categories define a natural division between terrain, including the waterways themselves, and the life associated with it. The four categories at the bottom of the tree admit of further division, and the lists below are designed to illustrate the wide range of subclasses which occur throughout the Algonquian languages. Two or three examples of waterway 1

Forms in this study appear as they do in the sources, which vary considerably in criteria for transcribing. References listed after each toponym apply, with few exceptions, to its immediate source. Listings of secondary material such as grammars and dictionaries appear in the bibliography. The work of some linguists — Bloomfield, Goddard, Trumbull, Uhlenbeck, and Voegelin — needed no corroboration. Others, like Heckewelder, corroborated their own analyses as much as possible.

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Toponym

Life Associated with Terrain

Terrain

Features of Water and Channel

Figure 1.

Features of Surrounding Terrain

Features of Being

Features of Activities and Events

Semantic categories in Algonquian toponyms for waterways

toponyms accompany each subclass. As much as possible, the major constituents of the toponyms are identified and glossed. The immediate source of a toponym appears with each example; variant forms listed in the analysis of toponyms are drawn from grammars and dictionaries of the several Algonquian languages. 1. Features of Water and Channel. Within this category fall such subclasses as quantity, extent, expanse, movement, direction, condition, color, contour, bed, ingress and egress, type, and number. a. Quantity Ojibwa mitchi-gaming 'at the large lake': mitchi- 'large', -gam- 'lake', -ing locative (Trumbull 1870). Abnaki pokwasegwek 'at the very shallow stream': pokwa- 'shallow', -sdiminutive, -gwek- 'stream', -k locative (Ganong 1911-1915). Cheyenne hiyötHöi yohe 'deep river': hlyöt?töi 'deep', yohe 'river' (Grinnell 1908). b. Extent Blackfoot eno-kimi 'long lake': eno- 'long', -kimi 'lake' (Dawson 18821884). Micmac apsetgoetjg 'little river': apset- 'little', -goetjg 'river' in which -tjg is a diminutive (Pacifique 1934). c. Expanse Cree kitchi-sipi 'chief river': kitchi- 'chief, greatest', sipi 'river' (Trumbull 1870). Micmac mowebäktäbääk 'biggest bay': mowe- 'big, abundant', -ba'water', -{u)kta- 'great', -bääk 'bay' (Rand 1875). d. Movement Cree wa?wakiskit?chewan 'surging stream': wa?wakiskit'surging', -chewan 'stream' (Tyrrell 1914).

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Delaware licking 'at the flood water receding over there': w Hi- 'yonder', - Hk 'receding flood water', - ?nk locative (Mahr 1959). Blackfoot awy-kimiska 'the lake that runs up and down': awy- 'running', -kimi- 'lake', -ska collective suffix (Dawson 1882-1884). e. Direction Menomini oci-ksqsyah-keqcekam 'northern lake, Lake Superior': ocikeqsyah 'in the north', keqce- 'great', -kam 'lake' (Bloomfield 1962). Blackfoot amiskapo ?omakaty 'big south river': amiskapo- 'south', -omayk'big', -aytai 'river' (Dawson 1882-1884). Abnaki aganmentegaoessoo 'small tidal-river beyond': aganmen- 'other side', -tegoo- 'river', -essoo diminutive (Trumbull 1870). f. Condition Natick nunnipoket 'at fresh water pond': nunni- 'fresh', -paug- 'water', -et locative (Kinnicutt 1909). Menomini wenepeko-neh 'dirty lake': wen- 'dirty', wenepeko- 'dirty lake', -neh noun final (Bloomfield 1962). Cheyenne höhkömeomäp 'bad-smelling water': hö- 'bad', -(e)h(o)kömeo'smell after rain', -map 'water' (Grinnell 1908). g. Color Penobscot m ?kasewaagamek 'black lake': m ?kasew- 'black', -aagam'lake', -ek locative (Prince 1900). Atsina nahtsnitseh? 'white river': nahts 'white', ?nitseh ? 'river', (Grinnell 1913). Delaware me-xkpe-knsni 'this is the red river': me-xk- 'red', - p e k · 'river', -nmi 'this is' (Goddard 1969). h. Contour Micmac bedeque 'bay on the southwest side of Prince Edward Island': petek- 'bend back', -ook or -ooch locative (Ganong 1911-1915). Powhatan äpämetSkwe 'river makes a bend': äpämS- 'to turn around', -tikwe 'river' (Gerard 1905). Shawnee nä-mä-tci-sln ?-wi 'the river slants': nämacisinwi 'slants' (Dunn 1919). i. Bed Cheyenne hekö ?mäi?yohe 'miry river': hek- 'wet', -ö ?mäi'ground', yohe 'river' (Grinnell 1908). Micmac nogomgiag 'gravelly stream': noogamkigeäk 'gravelly' (Pacifique 1934). Cree uasseiamiskau 'it is bright-bottomed': uasseia- 'bright', -miskau 'bottom of river' (Lemoine 1901).

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j. Ingress/Egress Delaware lechau-hanne 'forked stream': lechau- 'forked', -hanne 'stream' (Trumbull 1870). Cree sakitawak 'mouth of a river': saki- 'pours out', -tawak 'mouth' (Watkins 1938). Natick-Narragansett wequatucket 'at the head of a tidal river': wequa'head', -tuck- 'tidal river', -et locative (Trumbull 1881). k. Type Micmac oalna 'cove, bay' (Pacifique 1934). Cree nipishish 'the small water': nipi- 'water', -shish diminutive (Lemoine 1901). Ojibwa pawating 'at the falls': ρού-at- 'falls', -ing locative (Trumbull 1870). 1. Number Blackfoot akä-oto-tughty 'many rivers': akau- 'many', -etajtai 'river' (Dawson 1882-1884). Cree känisö ?ta pow ?estik 'two rapids': kä- 'subjunctive marker', nisö Ha cf. neshootowinan 'he divideth them\ pow?estik 'rapids' (Tyrrell 1914). Micmac nesisgel 'three forks' (Pacifique 1934). 2. Features of Terrain. Within this category fall such subclasses as landmark, vegetation, and atmosphere. a. Landmark Atsina büähin Ά nitseh? 'red mountain river': bü(i) 'red', ähin Ά 'mountain', ratseh ? 'river' (Grinnell 1913). Delaware m ?honink siipunk 'at the river where there is a salt lick': m ?honi'salt lick', - ?nk locative, stipu- 'river', - ?nk locative (Mahr 1959). Penobscot pätä ?weektook 'burnt land stream': pätä ?week- 'burnt land', -took 'stream' (Ganong 1911-1915). b. Vegetation Micmac kesooskiboogwek 'flowing among hemlock': (u)kesoosk- 'hemlock', -/- separative -boogwek 'tideway' (Ganong 1911-1915). Cree mine ?go sipi 'spruce river': minahik 'spruce, tamarack', sipi 'river' (Tyrrell 1914). Cheyenne hömlnö ?i yohe 'elm river': hömlnö Η 'elm', yohe 'river' (Grinnell 1908). c. Atmosphere Cheyenne IsMi ">yohe 'sun river': Ishii 'sun', yohe 'river' (Grinnell 1908). Cree nötin? saka ?higan 'windy lake': nötin 'windy', saka ?higan 'lake' (Tyrrell 1914). Micmac pogtcogtegeng 'fire glowing in the sky' (Pacifique 1934). 3. Features of Being. Under this category fall the subclasses animal, human, tribal, body part, supernatural.

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a. Animal Natick qunnosuog-amaug 'pickerel fishing place': qunnosuog- 'pickerel', -amaug 'fishing place' (Trumbull 1870). Menomini muhwä ?o se ?peu 'wolf river': muhwä ?o 'wolf', se ?peu 'river' (Skinner 1921). Blackfoot ponokaisisaxtai 'elk creek': ponokai- 'elk', -sisaxtai 'creek' (Uhlenbeck and van Gulik 1934). b. Human Atsina Mt ?ei kä ?äuhk 'person's creek': Mt ?ei 'person', kä ?äuhk 'creek' (Grinnell 1913). Cree näpeu-shipi 'man's river as distinguished from woman's river': näpeu 'man', shipi 'river' (Lemoine 1901). Micmac Inoiei tjipotjitj 'Indian brook': Inoiei 'Indian', tjipotjitj 'brook' (Pacifique 1934). c. Tribal Ojibwa bwan sibi 'Sioux river': bwan 'Sioux', sibi 'river', (Verwyst 1892). Miami patoka 'Comanche river' (Dunn 1919). Cree assMboine saka?higan 'stony Indian or Sioux Lake': assiniboine 'stony Indian', saka?higan 'lake' (Tyrrell 1914). d. Body Part Blackfoot mo-ko-un-se-te-ta 'belly creek': mokuän 'belly', -sisaytai 'creek' (Dawson 1882-1884). Cree müsogote ?wi saka ?higan 'moose nose lake': müsogote ?wi 'moose nose', saka?higan 'lake' (Tyrrell 1914). Cheyenne hlstäi ?yohe 'heart river': hlstäi 'heart', yohe 'river' (Grinnell 1908). e. Supernatural Micmac sgetemotjoegatig 'place of ghosts-east branch': skudäkumootc'ghost', -we-kanti- 'their occurrence' (Pacifique 1934). Abnaki kiwakuai sibo 'man eater river': kookwes ? 'giant, mythical race of cannibals of enormous size and strength', sibo 'river' (Laurent 1884). 4. Features of Activities and Events. Under this category fall particular events, characteristic activities, religious practices, and artifacts or habitats. a. Particular Events Blackfoot oh-ty-nehts-ope-piney 'where we were drowned' cf. it-ni-inetsiope-otspinan (Uhlenbeck and van Gulik 1934): it- ... -ope- 'where', -ni- 'we exclusive', -inetsi- 'drown', -otspinan passive (Dawson 18821884). Delaware tschickhdnsink 'at the place we were robbed' cf. a-mon-tschiochtin 'to rob, plunder', mo-ha-men-tschit 'a robber', -ink locative (Heckewelder 1834).

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Micmac temögtogoneg 'beheading' cf. tumegun 'axe' (Pacifique 1934). b. Characteristic Activities Cheyenne ühktö ?wüsi ?yohe 'trading river' cf. nahoxteua Ί buy', yohe 'river' (Grinnell 1908). Cree nötawewinan saka ?higan 'egg-gathering lake' cf. mennäuäunü 'we gather eggs', saka?higan 'lake' (Tyrrell 1914). Natick-Narragansett qui?ambog 'where fish are taken in draw-nets' cf. Narragansett quomphank 'a drawing net', quomphan 'to draw a net' (Trumbull 1881). c. Religious Practices Atsina äthe ?iwu ? ka ?auhk 'medicine lodge creek' cf. ?οθέέγ55- 'sacrifice', -anwu 'lodge', ka?auhk 'creek' (Grinnell 1913). Blackfoot mastowisto-ek-oka-pi 'the lodges with crows painted' (cf. Uhlenbeck and van Gulik 1934) maistoikokäup 'crow-bird-lodge' (toponym taken from Dawson 1882-1884). d. Artifacts and Habitats Natick-Narragansett akhuhq-paug 'kettle pond': akhuhq 'kettle', -paug 'pond' (Kinnicutt 1905). Atsina ot ?sü nitseh 'arrow river': ot?sü 'arrow', nitseh 'river' (Grinnell 1913). Delaware pymatung 'a river where the sweat oven was located': piim'going to sweat', hätto ?on 'it is put there', - ?nk locative (Mahr 1959). Cree mus ?koaska ?higan sipsis 'black bear house creek': mu ?skwa 'bear', wasku?hikun 'house', sipsis 'creek' (Tyrrell 1914). 5. Miscellaneous Cheyenne hisse ?yöui ?yöo 'sudden or unexpected river': hisse ?yöui7 'sudden or unexpected', yöö 'river' (Grinnell 1908). Micmac gelpigateg 'water holding together' cf. keleboogoonik 'it holds me up' (Pacifique 1934). The second entry under miscellaneous might refer perhaps to a channel feature, to a land formation, or to a weir; these possibilities make the toponym difficult to classify. For the most part, the four semantic categories (together with their subclasses) readily apply to waterways throughout the Algonquian territories. The categories are inclusive; they align themselves in a simple binary pattern, and they highlight a natural contrast between the terrain (the waterways and the surrounding areas) and the users of the terrain. The examples of toponyms listed above help, moreover, to suggest the influence of semantic categories upon the very structures of the toponyms. By and large, forms which embody semantic features applicable directly to

425

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aspects of water and channel, e.g. Natick missi- 'big', Delaware me xk'red', evidence a pattern of phrase structure somewhat different from those forms embodying other semantic features. In Table 1, the first group of forms (1-10) combines most frequently in all the Algonquian languages with bound generic stems, which themselves refer to water or waterways; the second group (11-20) combines most frequently with free forms, also indicative of water and waterways. 2 Table 1. Semantic and structural properties of toponyms Language

Semantic feature

Generic form

-be?ga- (bound) pessebe ?gat

'clear water'

-wääh ? (bound) tsin ?inääh ?wäwääh ? -sisaxtai (bound) kinaksisaxtai

no moving (still) water' 'little water'

6. Delaware 7. Natick

Water: condition Water: movement Channel: extent Water: color Channel: contour Water: number Water: expanse

8. Menomini

Channel: egress -kam- (bound)

wanikämin

9. Micmac

moolaboogwek

10. Shawnee 11. Abnaki

Water: quantity -boogwek (bound) -kämi (bound) Channel: bed Supernatural sibo (free)

12. Atsina 13. Blackfoot

Animate Body part

14. Cheyenne

Human

15. Cree

Animate

16. Delaware

Animate

1. Penobscot 2. Atsina 3. Blackfoot 4. Cheyenne 5. Cree

17. NatickNarragansett 18. Micmac Animate 19. Ojibwa Tribal 20. Shawnee Animate

- ?dm (bound) -kum- (bound)

Toponym

mäh ?öm woweyäkumaw

-hänna (bound) nishhanna -tuck (bound) kuttutuck

Gloss

'red water' 'round lake' 'two streams' 'the great river' 'end of the lake' 'deep tideway'

na-kait-wi-kä-mi 'sandy water' 'man-eater kiwakuai sibo river' ni ?tseh ? (free) iwäs ?si ni ?tseh ?'elk river' 'belly creek' aseta jtäi (free) mökoän asitar/Jäi wi?hioi yohe 'white man's yohe (free) river' saka ?higan niski saka'higan 'goose lake' (free) kook ?oo ?mk 'at the owl siipünk (free) river' siipünk

—

oalnei (free) sibi (free) sepe (free)

atogasoei oalnei 'trout cove' bwan sibi 'Sioux river' koske sepe 'hog river'

The contrastive patterns in Table 1 clearly underscore the relation of semantic features to linguistic form. The predominant pattern in all the 2

Sources for the toponyms listed in Table 1 are as follows: 1. Prince 1910; 2. Grinnell 1913; 3. Dawson 1882-1884;4. Grinnell 1908; 5. Watkins 1938; 6. Mahr 1959 ; 7. Trumbull 1881; 8. Skinner 1921; 9. Ganong 1911-1915; 10. Dunn 1919; 11. Laurent 1884; 12. Grinnell 1913; 13. Dawson 1882-1884; 14. Grinnell 1908; 15. Tyrrell 1914; 16. Mahr 1957; 18. Pacifique 1934; 19. Verwyst 1892; 20. Johnston 1820.

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Algonquian languages is that initial particles marked by features of water and channel combine with bound generic stems designating waterways. Of the 453 toponyms in which bound generic forms occur, only 85 combine with initial particles marked by semantic features other than water or channel, and more than half of these are to be found in Blackfoot, Delaware, and Micmac. Blackfoot has forms such as kyäiesisaytäi 'bear creek' (Uhlenbeck and van Gulik 1934) and moyi-kimi 'grassy lake' (Dawson 1882-1884). And in Delaware, there are several toponyms such as mashilameekhanne 'trout stream' (Mahr 1960) and meechoppemckhan 'large potato stream' (Heckewelder 1834), in which the bound generic combines with an initial particle marked by animate or vegetation features. On the other hand, toponyms consisting of forms marked, say, by the semantic feature animate or human (14-16 in Table 1) commonly appear with a free generic form specifying water. This pattern is characteristic of all the Algonquian languages, except those that are included within the Natick-Narragansett group, which rarely if at all have a free generic form in waterway toponyms. Instead, these languages may use the bound form -amaug as in ouschankamaug 'fishing place for eels or lampreys' (Trumbull 1881). In addition, many toponyms occur without any generic forms for water, especially in the languages along the eastern seaboard: Micmac, Abnaki, Natick-Narragansett, Delaware. Thus we find Micmac tääwitk 'where the water runs out' (Rand 1875); Abnaki pokologan 'shallow enclosure, receptacle' (Ganong 1911-1915); Natick-Narragansett tommunque 'beaver (pond)' (Trumbull 1881); and Delaware ho ?knhäkki ?nk 'river where there is arable land above' (Mahr 1959). Table 2 presents the totals in the Algonquian languages for the distribution of toponyms that occur with bound generic forms, with free generic forms, and with no generic forms related to water or waterways. The table is further subdivided to contrast the distribution of generic forms — bound, free, or absent — between particles marked by semantic features of water and channel, and particles marked by other semantic features. Table 2.

The semantic categories of toponyms and their distribution with generic forms

Semantic categories Water and channel Others

Generic forms Bound 368 85

Free 87 196

None 208 346

A chi-square test yields highly significant results to support the finding that bound generic forms appear predominantly with particles marked by

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427

semantic features of water and channel (X2 = 183, df = 2, ρ < .001). Likewise, there is a sharply divergent pattern in the occurrence of the four semantic categories listed in Figure 1 with any generic for waterways. Forms marked for water and channel occur twice as often with waterway generics as without; forms marked with the other semantic features appear slightly more often without waterway generics than with them. Thus it would follow that the semantic category for water and channel exercises considerable constraint on the linguistic form of a toponym: in most instances it requires a waterway generic with which to combine in a toponym, and, to a significant degree, it is a bound generic that is required. Another implication of the toponyms listed in the subclasses of the four principal semantic categories is that the Algonquian languages draw from a common source in naming waterways. Yet they do not all distribute the names of waterways in the same way. Table 3 indicates the frequency of different waterway toponyms according to semantic category.3 It clearly demonstrates a divergent pattern; for example, in contrast to other Algonquian languages, Cheyenne and Arapaho have more than twice as many toponyms marked with features specifying animals and humans than toponyms specifying water and channel features. A chi-square test shows that, by a probability of more than .001, the distribution of toponyms by Table 3.

Semantic categories and their distribution in the Algonquian languages Semantic categories

Algonquian languages Eastern dialects: Abnaki Delaware Micmac Natick-Narragansett Central dialects: Cree Ojibwa Shawnee Western dialects: Arapaho Blackfoot Cheyenne 3

Water and channel

Surrounding Being terrain

Activities and events

47 29 305 131

3 6 66 14

5 13 116 12

1 11 49 15

81 31 10

40 10 5

49 6 9

32 8 2

7 19 9

2 12 6

17 16 18

5 11 8

For purposes of statistical analysis, some Algonquian languages for which data are scarce have been grouped together: Arapaho includes Atsina; Abnaki includes Passamaquoddy and Penobscot; Natick-Narragansett includes the southern New England Algonquian languages; Delaware includes Powhatan; Ojibwa includes Menomini, Odawa, Potawatomi, Eastern Ojibwa, and Sauk; Shawnee includes Miami.

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semantic category throughout the ten language groups in Table 3 varies significantly (X2 = 143.79, df = 27). Yet the great variety in distribution of semantic categories is by no means random. In the western group of languages, Cheyenne and Arapaho have a very similar range in the frequency of semantic categories in waterway toponyms ( X 2 = 1.58, df = 4, ρ > .80). The distribution of semantic categories in Blackfoot, however, suggests that, contrary perhaps to what might be expected, it resembles most closely such central languages as Cree, Ojibwa, and Shawnee. Chi-square values support this inference: if Blackfoot is grouped with Cheyenne and Arapaho, there is a probability, somewhat greater than .10, that the distribution of semantic categories in the toponyms of these languages is the same; but if Blackfoot is grouped with the central Algonquian languages, the probability of a similar distribution increases considerably ( X 2 = 9.39, df — 9, ρ < .50). The grouping of Blackfoot with the central languages rather than with Cheyenne and Arapaho accords as well with the Swanton and Michelson map showing the geographic spread of the Algonquian dialects (Michelson 1912, Plate 103). There one sees that Blackfoot is contiguous with Cree, whereas Cheyenne and Arapaho are located rather far off from both Blackfoot and the central languages. Finally, the Algonquian languages along the Atlantic seaboard vary significantly in their use of the semantic categories for place-names (X 2 = 45.20, df = 9, ρ < .001). The dissimilarity is largely due to the infrequent use of animal names in Abnaki and in Natick-Narragansett as compared to the high incidence of place-names with water and channel features. On the other hand, it is in the eastern Algonquian languages alone that we have found the common occurrence of generic forms for waterways derived from PA *-tVkw- and *-pVk- (Green and Millward 1971: 46). In effect, the Algonquian languages to the west show two patterns of dialect similarity based on the distribution of specific forms in waterway toponyms ; the eastern languages, on the other hand, share in common the use of two bound generic forms. This divergence in pattern is additional evidence for the view that, opposed to the other Algonquian languages, the ones in the east "stem from a single intermediate stage, Proto-Eastern Algonquian (PEA)" (Teeter 1967: 3). Both the linguistic structures and dialect distributions of waterway toponyms offer strong support for the cogency of the proposed semantic features in Figure 1. There is anthropological support as well. In large part, rivers and lakes help Indians to define the spatial characteristics of their settlements. Within the area of settlement, "the individual often possesses a phenomenally rich knowledge of the details of the terrain that contrasts

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sharply with his ignorance of parts of the country about which he has no direct knowledge...." Moreover, the knowledge of this terrain is "crystallized through the customary use of place names" (Hallowell 1967: 193). In particular, the place-names refer to topographical features, and their function is to assist inhabitants to organize their local, spatial world and to aid them in travel from one point to another. For example, in traveling on the Berens River, an Ojibwa may come upon as many as fifty rapids, all of them with place-names. In effect, "these geographical items are checked off, as it were, in traveling up and down the stream;" they are used as reference points and also as "anticipatory signs of the features of the country to be encountered between them" (Hallowell 1967: 196). The intention of this study has been to identify just those semantic features which apply to the waterway toponyms, not only of the Ojibwa but of all the Algonquian languages. That these features apply so widely throughout the languages would support the view that the Ojibwa concept of space is one common to all Algonquian peoples. Earlier in this study, we had occasion to reject Blackfoot toponyms of streams and lakes coined by Schultz (1926) and his associates in Glacier National Park. Yet the very fact that one could coin Blackfoot toponyms based on commemorative and sentimental impulses argues that it is not language itself but the responses of men to their environment which determines the underlying semantic categories. In Hallowell's study, the Ojibwa response to waterways, as it takes form in place-names, issues from a sense of space, rich and detailed within the immediate environment, limited and vague as one goes farther afield. This sense of space, moreover, also pertains to other categories of experience; as Leach has shown, one function of taboo is "to separate the SELF from the world, and the world itself is divided into zones of social distance corresponding here to the words farm, field, and remote" (Leach 1964: 53). This observation, as well as Hallowell's, helps to focus the place of waterway toponymies in the study of linguistic semantics and the grammar of culture. What we have presented is primarily a semantic categorization of space close to the self; but there are still the remoter spaces of Algonquian, the lands and waterways farther off, as well as the worlds of Algonquian cosmos to explore. Through a study of toponyms, we can learn how languages crystallize the spatial dimensions of experience and imagination.

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1880 A dictionary of the Otchipwe language. Montreal: Beauchemin and Valois. BLOOMFIELD, LEONARD

1946 "Algonquian in linguistic structures of native America," in Linguistic structures of native America. Edited by Harry Hoijer, 85-129. Viking Fund Publications in Anthropology 6. New York: Viking. 1958 Eastern Ojibwa. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. 1962 The Menomini language. New Haven: Yale University Press. BRINTON, D. G., A. S. ANTHONY

1888 Α Lenäpe-English dictionary. Philadelphia: The Historical Society of Pennsylvania. DAWSON, GEORGE M.

1882-1884 "Blackfoot names of a number of places in the Northwest Territory, for the most part in the vicinity of the Rocky Mountains," in Report of progress, geological survey. Canada: Government Printing Office. DAY, GORDON M.

1961 The name Contoocook. International Journal of American Linguistics 27: 168-171. D U N N , JACOB P .

1919 "Glossary of Indian names and supposed Indian names in Indiana," in Indiana and Indianans I. Edited by Jacob P. Dunn, 86-97. Chicago: American Historical Society. GANONG, WILLIAM F.

1911-1915 An organization of the scientific investigation of the Indian place-nomenclature of the Maritime Provinces of Canada. Proceedings and Transactions of the Royal Society of Canada (third series) 5: 179193; 6: 179-199; 7: 81-106; 8: 259-293; 9: 375^148. GERARD, W . R.

1905 The Tapehanek dialect of Virginia. American Anthropologist (new series) 6: 313-330. 1906 Some Virginia Indian words. American Anthropologist (new series) 7: 222-249. GODDARD, ROBERT Η. I., ΙΠ.

1969 "Delaware verb morphology: a descriptive and comparative study." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University. GREEN, E., C. M. MILLWARD

1971 Generic terms for water and waterways in Algonquian place-names. Anthropological Linguistics 13: 33-52. GRINNELL, GEORGE B.

1908 Cheyenne stream names. American Anthropologist (new series) 8:15-22. 1913 Some Indian stream names. American Anthropologist (new series) 15: 327-331. HALLOWELL, A. IRVING

1967 Culture and experience. New York: Schocken.

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HECKE WELDER, JOHN G. E.

1834 Names given by the Lenni Lenape or Delaware Indians to rivers, streams, and places in the now states of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 4: 351-396. HOCKETT, CHARLES F.

1958 Potawatomi I-IV. International Journal of American Linguistics 14: 1-10, 63-73, 139-149, 213-225. HOLTZ, Μ. Ε., Κ. I. BEMIS

1917 Glacier National Park: its trails and treasures. New York: Doran. HOWSE, JOSEPH

1865 A grammar of the Cree language. London: Trubner. HUDEN, JOHN C.

1962 Indian place names of New England. New York: Heye Foundation. JOHNSTON, JOHN

1820 Account of the present state of the Indian tribes inhabiting Ohio. Transactions and Collections of the American Antiquarian Society 1: 297-299. KINNICUTT, L. N.

1905 Indian names of places in Worcester County, Massachusetts, with interpretations of some of them. Worcester: Commonwealth. 1909 Indian names of places in Plymouth, Middleborough, Lakeville, and Carver, Plymouth County, Massachusetts, with interpretations of some of them. Worcester: Commonwealth. KROEBER, ALFRED L.

1916 Arapaho dialects. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 12: 71-138. LACOMBE, ALBERT

1874 Dictionnaire de la langue des Cris. Montreal: Beauchemin and Valois. LANNING, C. M.

1882 A grammar and vocabulary of the Blackfoot language. Fort Benton, Montana. LAURENT, JOSEPH

1884 New familiar Abenakis and English dialogues. Quebec: Leger Brousseau. LEACH, EDMUND

1964 "Anthropological aspects of language: animal categories and verbal abuse," in New directions in the study of language. Edited by Ε. H. Lenneberg, 23-63. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. LEMOINE, GEORGE

1901 Dictionnaire Franfais-Montagnais. Boston: W. B. Cabot and P. Cabot. MAHR, AUGUST C.

1957 Indian river and place names in Ohio. The Ohio Historical Quarterly 66: 137-158. 1959 Practical reasons for Algonkian Indian stream and place names. Ohio Journal of Science 59: 365-374. 1960 Aus praktischen Gründen gebildete Fluss- und Ortsnamen der algonkischen Indianer in Nordamerika. Rheinisches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde 11: 212-232.

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MICHELSON, TRUMAN

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1934 Lepays des Micmacs. Montreal: l'Auteur. 1939 Legons grammaticales theoriques et pratiques de la langue Micmaque. Ste. Anne de Ristigouche, P.Q. PETTER, RODOLPHE

1952 Cheyenne grammar. Newton, Kansas: Mennonite Publishing Office. PRINCE, J. D.

1900 Some forgotten Indian place-names in the Adirondacks. Journal of American Folklore 13: 123-128. 1910 The Penobscot language of Maine. American Anthropologist (new series) 12: 183-208. RAND, SILAS T.

1875 A first reading book in the Micmac language. Halifax: Nova Scotia Printing. 1888 Dictionary of the language of the Micmac Indians. Halifax: Nova Scotia Printing. 1902 Rand's Micmac dictionary. Charlottetown, P.E.I.: Patriot Publishing. RASLES, s .

1833 A dictionary of the Abenaki language. Memoirs of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (new series) 1: 370-574. RAYBURN, J. A.

1967 Geographical names of Amerindian origin in Canada. Names 15: 47-59. SALZMANN, ZDENEK

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1921 Material culture of the Menomini. New York: Heye Foundation. SMITH, WILLIAM B. S.

1949 Some Cheyenne forms. Studies in Linguistics 7: 77-85. TAYLOR, ALLAN R.

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1914 Algonquian Indian names of places in northern Canada. Transactions of the Royal Canadian Institute 10: 213-231. UHLENBECK, C. C.

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1892 Geographical names in Wisconsin, Minnesota and Michigan having a Chippewa origin. Collections of the Wisconsin State Historical Society 12:390-398. VOEGELIN, CHARLES F.

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1938-1940 Gestalt technique of stem composition in Shawnee. Indiana Historical Society Prehistory Research Series 1: 393-406.

The Aztec Day Names

HERBERT LANDAR

Barriers to a full explication of the Aztec day names range from a lack of phonemic transcriptions and other descriptive data (on the linguistic side) to a need for better ethnographic data. The meanings and implications of some of the Mexican day names are unknown. From contemporary ethnographers we need clues based on studies of native religious life, ethnomedical beliefs and practices, methods of divination, and canons of mythology and folklore. A broader perspective, which ties religious beliefs and symbolism to social needs and structures, is also needed. Almost nothing is available on the clans and moieties of Aztec and Mayan tribes. That the so-called totemism of the native astrological calendar should not be intimately linked with the structures counted as clans, by means of which delicate fabrics of social expectations and obligations are maintained, would be astonishing. Yet we have scarcely posed the question, how far and in what ways were clans linked to the calendar and the stars ? An even broader perspective is needed, in which areal analysis figures. We need to know not only how the calendar fits into a setting of religious and social customs, but also how the structures of each tribe fit into patterns ranging over all tribes in a linguistic family such as the Mayan or the Uto-Aztecan. And we need to know what, if anything, is pan-American as well as pan-family in the patterns which might seem idiosyncratic from the limited perspective of any one tribe. The opportunity has passed, of course, for investigating any possible relationship of Mayan clans of the Colonial Period to the Mayan calendar. Mayan clans have been modified by modern conditions, have been fragmented and disguised, or so I suppose, from what little is available in published literature. The hope remains, on the other hand, that something

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interesting will turn up somewhere in the Mayan regions, or in those of the Uto-Aztecan, or in those of other tribes with calendrical histories, such as the Otomanguean, notably the Mixtecan and Zapotecan. Linguistic materials on Mixtec and Zapotec day names are less satisfactory than those for the Aztecs and Mayans. For Mixtec, Caso (1956, 1967) gives: (1) Quehui 'Day' (?), (2) Chi 'Wind', (3) Cuau 'House', Huahi, Mae, (4) Cuu [not translated by Caso. Cf. Coö 'Snake' in Mixtec of modern San Miguel el Grande], (5) Yucoco 'Snake', Yo, (6) Mahua [not translated by Caso. San Miguel Μάά-yä 'God' probably is not related], (7) Cuaa 'Deer', (8) Xayu 'Rabbit', (9) Duta 'Water', (10) Ua 'Coyote', (11) Nuu [not translated by Caso. San Miguel has Nuü 'Earth, Pueblo' and Νύύ 'Night'], (12) Cuane 'Grass', (13) Huiyo 'Cane', (14) Vidzu 'Mountain Cat', (15) Xayacu 'Eagle', (16) Cuij 'Turkey', (17) Qhi [no translation], (18) Cuxi 'Knife', (19) Dzahui 'Rain', (20) Uaco [Caso proposed 'Flower' in 1962 but withdrew his proposal later. The meaning is unknown]. Seler (1904) analyzed the Zapotec calendar as preserved by Juan de Cördova late in the sixteenth century. Reconciling contradictions in translations of day names of Aztecs, Mayans, and Zapotecs (of Mitla), Seler traced the Mexican calendars to Oaxaca, where the Zapotec and Mixtec tribes flourished before the Conquest. Howard Leigh (1958a, 1958b) has identified calendrical symbols of stone monuments, idols, vases, and religious edifices, published with simplified linguistic forms in Boletin de Estudios Oaxaquehos. The Zapotec day names, in simplified form: (1) Quiachijlla 'Crocodile', (2) Pexoo 'Wind', (3) Calicij 'House', (4) [word unknown] 'Lizard' [seen on Estela 2, Monte Alban III, in the date or name 'Two Lizard', and on Läpida 1, Museo Nacional, Monte Alban II, in what is perhaps the name 'Eight Lizard'], (5) Pelaa 'Snake', (6) Quelctna 'Death', (7) Quiachina 'Deer', (8) Pillaloo 'Rabbit', (9) Quianiza 'Water', (10) Quiagueche 'Dog', (11) [word unknown] 'Monkey' [on a stone, Museo de Arte Zapotecano, Monte Alban III, name 'Three Monkey'], (12) Quiatella (?) 'Twisted Grass', (13) Quij 'Reed', (14) Pepeloo Ocelot', (15) Picixoo 'Eagle', (16) Peloo 'Vulture', (17) Xoo 'Earthquake', (18) Quiaguij 'Flint', (19) Quegappe 'Rain', (20) Quialoo 'Flower'. Proto-Mayan reconstructions have been published by Kaufman (1964). Some of these hypothetical forms might have figured in the religious system of the Proto-Mayans. In the absence of good grammatical and lexical studies of all Mayan languages, of course, the following vocabulary has to be considered as tentative and subject to revision. Other qualifications, which attach mainly to particular words, should be noted in Kaufman's essay (1964). (1) *peqw' 'dog' [a Zapotec loan?], (2) *bahlem 'jaguar', (3) */'«'/

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'rabbit', (4) *chich 'rabbit', (5) *'imul 'rabbit', (6) *kooj 'puma', (7) *kyehj 'deer', (8) *ma,x 'spider monkey', (9) *k,oy 'spider monkey', (10) *batz' 'howler monkey', (11) *'oq 'coyote', (12) *xo,j 'coyote', (13) *mutw 'bird', (14) *tz,ikwin 'bird', (15) *jooj 'crow', (16) *tuhkuru 'owl' [a Uto-Aztecan loan], (17) *'ikin 'owl', (18) *sootz' 'bat' [note the phonetic association with a storm symbol, *suutz' 'cloud'], (19) *mo' 'guacamaya', (20) *likw 'hawk', (21) *fiiw 'hawk', (22) *xi(h)kw 'hawk', (23) *kwot 'hawk', (24) *kaab '(honey) bee' [note the connection with the Bacabs, gods of apiculture], (25) *sanik 'ant', (26) *'am 'spider', (27) *xim 'spider', (28) *tzek 'scorpion', (29) * W 'toad', (30) *peqjpoq 'toad', (31) *hos 'eagle owl', (32) *'usej 'eagle owl', (33) *k'uty 'eagle owl', (34) *'aj-muuch 'frog', (35) *pajiza> 'frog', (36) *ch,uch' 'frog', (37) *'ahyin 'lizard', (38) *intam 'iguana' [from a non-Mayan source, borrowed in the form Ίη(ν)ίαηι, etc., this reconstruction forces one to wonder about a possible external source of the high god Itzam Na 'Iguana House'], (39) *huujjhiij 'iguana', (40) *kan 'snake' [Kaufman's reconstruction for 'yellow' is *qen. While his reconstructions do not solve certain etymological problems of the Mayan day names or deities' names, such as the origin of the name Kukulcan, Kaufman's reconstructions do show that some cases of apparent homophony did not exist in the original Mayan homeland]. Information on animal names in Proto-Mayan is limited to what has been given above. There are other words, however, which concern the mythology in general and which help us to see pieces of names of gods and other figures. Here is a selection of nonanimal terms of the ancient culture: (41) *mam 'grandfather; father', (42) *xiib 'male', (43) *Ίχ 'female', (44) *'a/- 'masculine agent', (45) *Ίχ- 'feminine agent', (46) *nanjna' 'mother', (47) *chuch 'mother', (48) *mim 'mother', (49) *m£\mV 'mother', (50) *'winaq 'person', (51) *qw'eb 'hand; arm', (52) *ngi'/ngu' 'nose', (53) *tzwa,m 'nose', (54) *'eh 'tooth', (55) *wety 'eye; face', (56) *sat 'eye; face', (57) *'oq 'foot', (58) *md 'know; think', (59) *'utz 'good', (60) *mul 'bad action', (61) *mahk 'bad action', (62) *'eleq' 'bad action', (63) *'ofc' 'new', (64) *tz'ihb 'write', (65) *hxCng 'paper', (66) *'ok 'enter', (67) *ngah 'house' [cf. item (38) above], (68) *'otyoty 'house', (69) *lab 'evil spirit', (70) *kem 'die' [cf. the Mayan day name Cimi 'Death'. By coincidence if not by metathesis, the same consonants occur in the ProtoUto-Aztecan root *muki 'die', which lies behind the Aztec day name Miquiztli 'Death'], (71) *k'uh 'god', (72) *way 'nagual; witch; dream' (73) *'aj 'cane', (74) *jalal 'cane', (75) *'inup 'ceiba', (76) *'i'm 'corn' [Huastec; others have *'ix with z'/w; cf. the day name Imix], (77) *ngik 'flower', (78) *'aq 'grass', (79) *k'im 'grass', (80) *kih 'henequen agave', (81) *tyoq 'cloud', (82) *suutz' 'cloud', (83) *muyal 'cloud', (84) *'asun

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'cloud' [from Mixe-Zoque into Tojolabal, Chuj, Kanjobal, and Jacaltec], (85) *'ulew 'earth', (86) *lu'm 'earth', (87) *cHocK 'earth', (88) *q'a ... q' 'fire', (89) *'wA/'w/ 'moon', (90) *'//&' 'moon', (91) *poh 'moon', (92) *'ix-'ajaw 'moon', (93) *'aq'ab 'night', (94) ^aq'b-al 'night', (95) *ngab 'rain', (96) *kya'ng 'sky', (97) *sib 'smoke', (98) 'star', (99) *q'anal 'star', (100) *cKumil 'star', (101) *'abaj 'stone', (102) *tonjtun 'stone', (103) *k/e'n 'stone', (104) *q'iing 'sun; day', (105) *kyah(o)q 'thunder', (106) *he' 'water', (107) 'wind; air' [we note phonetic similarity, again perhaps by coincidence, of this Pan-Mayan form and Proto-Uto-Aztecan *heka 'wind'], (108) *hdb 'year', (109) *ha"b-il 'year', (110) *tz,ihb 'year', (111) *k,aq 'black', (112) *'ejq' 'black', (113) *ye'x 'green', (114) *kyeq 'red', (115) *seq 'white', (116) *q'en 'yellow', (117) *'aj 'count', (118) *nah 'first', (119) *bah 'first'. Prehistoric counting customs for Proto-Mayans and Proto-UtoAztecans who moved into southern Mexico perhaps involved the use of particles to classify the shape or nature of the counted objects. One of the deficiencies in our records of the ancient calendars is the lack of any indication of how the day signs were classed. That is, we do not have the number words written out, and we cannot always be certain of our reconstructions of the actual pronunciations of day names for this reason. The Mayans when counting had to classify the object counted, according to an intricate, as yet incompletely reconstructed, system. If winik 'man' is classified as animate, the particle tul 'animate' had to follow the number, as in ostul winik 'three men'. The particle jf el 'inanimate' worked the same way: osp'el na 'three houses'. We cannot at present conjecture how the prehistoric counting customs intersected with day-name usage, though we can speculate that particular numerological associations inhered in the number part of the day name. In the following list I have assembled number words in several kinds of spelling, from Thompson (1932), Tozzer (1921, 1957), Torresano (1754), and Kaufman (1964), with numerological associations: (120) *jurt 'one', Am«-, Hun, hun (hu-). [The forms are from Kaufman (1964), Tozzer (1921: 99), Thompson (1970) and (in Cakchiquel) from the manuscript of Estevan Torresano in the Biblioth£que Nationale, dated about 1750. The work is dated 1754; Tulane and Harvard have variant titles. This order is adhered to below as well.] U or Ix Chel, moon goddess, and the day Caban, (121) *ka\ib) 'two', ka-, Ca, cay (ca-), god of sacrifices or earth, day Etz'nab, (122) *'ox 'three', os-, Ox, oxi (ox-), Itzam Na, celestial dragon, Cauac, (123) *kyang 'four', kän-, Can, cahi (icah-), Kin, the sun, Ahau, spirit of the sun, and the day, Ahau, (124) *ho> 'five', ho-, Ho, voo, -oo (vo) crocodile god, day, Imix, (125) *'waq 'six', wäk-, Uac, vakaki (vak-), Chac, god of rain and germination, day,

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Ik, (126) *huq 'seven', wuk-, Uuc, vuku (vuk-) jaguar (Akbal/Votan), earth and night god, ruler of days, Akbal and Ix, and the month Uo, (127) *waqxeq 'eight', wasak-, Uaxac, vakxaki (vakxak-), Ah Mun corn god, day, Kan, (128) *beleng 'nine', bolon-, Bolon, belehe (beleh-), Chicchan, snake god, ruler of the day called Chicchan [perhaps 'nine' is the sacred number of Bolon Dz'acab; 'nine' also means 'many'], (129) *lajung 'ten', la hun-, La Hun, lahuh, Cizin, death god, day Cimi [Tozzer explains the form as la 'all' plus hun '(of) one (count)'], (130) *buluk 'eleven', buluk-, Buluc [Tzeltal, Tzotzil, Choi, Chorti, Yucatec], (131) *jun lajung 'eleven', Cakchiquel hulahuh [Kekchi, Jacaltec, Mam], (132) *'us-luk 'eleven' [Chuj, Kanjobal] — with 'eleven' are associated Buluc ti CUabtan, androgynous earth god, and the day Manik, (133) *laj-ka ...- 'twelve', la ka-, La Ca, (134) *kab=lajung 'twelve', Cakchiquel cablahuh — with' twelve' are associated Lahun Chan, Venus spirit, and the day Lamat, (135) *laj-ox 'thirteen', la os-, La Ox, Ox La Hun, Ox Lahun, oxlahuh, Oxlahun ti Ku, sky gods of the sacred numbers, and the day Muluc; 'thirteen' also means 'countless', (136) *kw,al 'twenty', hun qal-, (137) *taxb 'twenty', (138) *'winaq 'twenty', Cakchiquel hu vinak, total count of day signs. The numerals 'one' through 'ten' are pan-Mayan. Part of our interest in the numerals, of course, comes from the repetition of 'one' through 'thirteen' with each of the twenty day signs, for a total of 260 day names, one for each day of the ritual year. While nothing is certain about the Proto-Mayan system or other reconstructed systems, it is useful to consider dates which have been proposed for these systems. McQuown suggests that the Proto-Mayans were in a homeland in Huehuetenango, northwestern Guatemala, by 2600 B.C., with a population of perhaps 5,000 (McQuown 1964; Vogt 1969: 21-29). Some of Kaufman's reconstructions perhaps go back that far; others do not, and the extent of his work illustrates the degree to which we are handicapped in attempting to etymologize the Mayan day names. We are in even worse condition with the Zapotec counterparts of the Mayan calendrical names, from lack of ethnographic and linguistic research. The Zapotec family is part of a larger group, the Otomanguean. Glottochronologists suppose that Chiapanec diverged from Popolocan about 4000 B.C., and Otomian diverged about 2900 B.C. The Amuzgo-Mixtec group was formed about 1900 B.C. The isolation of the Zapotec group was complete about 2500 B.C. Within the Otomanguean area, Proto-Popotecan and Proto-Popolocan reconstructions have been published by Gudschinsky (1959). These reconstructions take us back much earlier, probably, than Kaufman's for Mayan, though the exact temporal relationship is in doubt. To show the

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limits on Zapotec day-name etymologies and to have data for MayanOtomanguean comparisons, I have listed selected reconstructions. As with the Mayan list, names of animals are given first. Prefixes and suffixes are arranged with roots. Possible developments are indicated with an arrow. I have gone further than Gudschinsky here, talking liberties for which she bears no blame. If no arrow is used, the form is Proto-Popolocan; otherwise, the first form or forms are Proto-Popotecan and the form or forms after the arrow are Proto-Popolocan. (1) *ku-tvu-kaha 'ant' [variant prefixes 'yu- and CM-. Here as with other names of animals we have a prefix ku- 'animate', which is used with inanimates too, if they are moved by spirits (e.g. 'star')], (2) *ku-na-nku 'bat' [variant prefixes ya-, ni-, '/-; the Ixcatec outcome, with something added at the end, is ,uinuingiciraxt''i 'vampire'], (3) *pa *sa 'bee' [I use a thorn for Gudschinsky's theta, an apostrophe for her glottal stop, and a tilde for her nasal hook], (4) *ku-pe *ku-sejse 'bird', (5) *ni-n-ke *ni-n-ke 'buzzard' [some words in this list contain ni- or na-, prefixes which indicate nominal function], (6) *ku-sa,-si 'coyote' [a number of animals with prominent teeth may have been represented by this form, as daughter languages have glosses like 'lion' and 'tiger' as well as 'coyote'], (7) *ku-ntydha 'crow', (8) *ku-si 'deer', (9) *ni-n-nya -> *ni-n-ya 'dog', (10) *ku-s-ha 'eagle, hawk', (11) *ku-'ke *ku-h-tve 'fish', (12) *ku-(n)ci-se 'fly' [variant root *^(')], (13) *ku-ce' 'hare, rabbit', (14) *ku-nt^uhi 'opossum', (15) *ku-si-kha 'skunk', (16) *ku-kwu *ku-kwa 'snail', (17) *ku-nce 'snake', (18) *ku-ye 'snake', (19) *ku-ca-hwa 'spider' [variant ya-\, (20) *ku-no -> *ku-hnu 'squirrel', (21) *ku-tW 'toad', (22) *ku-n(t)a-hnu 'turkey', (23) *sa-we 'wasp' [perhaps earlier *ku-sa-we\, (24) *ku-nt^aC) 'wolf, fox'. People, body parts, verbs, and some other words: (25) *ca-hmi 'person, man' [variant cu-], (26) *na-ni 'man, witch, priest, male' [variant si-], (27) *nta-wa 'man', (28) *ni-cihi 'woman', (29) *hü 'mother', (30) *ca 'arm', (31) *t-hhV 'blood', (32) *ntva 'bone', (33) *yi-,klj,ki *s-kujkü (*p-kij 'ki *t-kujkü) 'face, eye, head', (34) *n-kahi (*s-kahi) 'face, head', (35) *ncahi 'foot', (36) *sahi 'foot', (37) *ti-hu -> *tv-ha 'hand', (38) *pu-wo -> *cu-wa 'mouth', (39) *(n)M-tvhü 'nose' [earlier root *m], (40) *ni-C)nyo -» *ni-(,)nu 'teeth' [variant na-], (41) *xi-ntf *hi-(')nta 'good' [variants '*-, na], (42) *ya 'bad', (43) *su 'to blossom', (44) *s-kwhe 'green, unripe', (45) *kwha 'death', (46) *'me, *mVi 'die', (47) *'c7 'die', (48) *ni-hna 'dream', (49) *n(ty)i-'ya 'house', (50) *ni-h-na 'mat (of straw)', (51) *s-kü 'sharp tip' [also 'knife' (?)], (52) *ka-te 'cut' [variant wa-]. Plants and nature: (53) *hmd 'beans', (54) *sika-cu 'maguey cactus', (55) *na-nta 'nopal cactus', (56) *(ri)t(a)-hi 'cane (sugar)', (57) *nva-x-me

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'corn', (58) *(')«/' *'nihi 'corn (ear)' [perhaps *'ni-hi from *'ni-xi], (59) *chu 'flower', (60) *ka-lihi, *ka-nMhi 'grass' [*ka- is from *kwa" 'leaf'], (61) *ku-s-tahi 'mushroom', (62) *s-hü 'saltwort', ( 6 3 ) η ( 0 0 " > Μ ' Κ *la 'tree', (64) *ya' -> *ya 'tree', (65) *t-xwf *t-hwiQ 'cloud' [variants s-, yu-], (66) *s-tyhi 'day', (67) *ngwi -> *nki 'earth; under', (68) */>/(') *sa 'earthquake', (69) ^we-s-ce 'fire', (70) *su-wi 'fire; light; sun' [variants cu-, '//, 'nti], (71) *ca-se 'light, dawn', (72) *h-wa-te 'lightning', (73) *ni-tyhu-sa 'moon', (74) *n{c)i-the 'morning' [variant c/-], (75) *hna> 'mountain, woods', (76) *n-ka 'mountain peak', (77) *kwa-na 'night' (?) [Gudschinsky's gloss is 'dusk', the root from *Onu], (78) *s-ci 'rain', (79) *'nka-tv-hmi 'sky', (80) *n-tVi 'smoke, vapor', (81) *s-ce 'star', (82) *nu-ce 'star', (83) * M ' ) -> 'stone', (84) *ca-ku w 'sun', (85) *ca-hü 'sun' [variant ka-], (86) *yu-h a 'water' [older roots *xwu\ *xwujxwe\ *xwe], (87) *ci-ntva,hu 'wind', (88) *ha'i 'year'. Colors and numbers: (89) *-ma, perhaps *x-ma -> *hma 'black', (90) *ti-ye 'black', (91) *yu-wa 'green', (92) *kha-ce 'red', (93) *tyha-wa 'white', (94) *si-ne 'yellow' [variant sa-], (95) *x-nko *hnku 'one', (96) *yuhu 'two', (97) *pi *s-ho 'three', (98) *'m' -> *nihe 'three', (99) *mo-xü -> *nuhü 'four', (100) *s-no'o 'five', (101) *s-no,o 'five', (102) *n-ya-tu 'seven' [root *yu], (103) *s-hni 'eight', (104) *te 'ten' [perhaps *ku-te Ixcatec (105) *s-kaha 'twenty'. Before comparing Mayan and Otomanguean protoforms (see Table 1), a word of caution is necessary. We can infer from written records that borrowing of traits occurs if contact conditions are favorable. There is indeterminacy, however, in the date of borrowing and in the precise phonetic properties of the borrowed forms, where the traits are words. We can identify interesting sets of protoforms, the set Proto-Mayan *'usej 'owl, sp.' and Proto-Popolocan *kuse, *kuse 'bird', for example, without being able to infer safely that the Mayans learned the word for the buharro or 'eagle owl' from Otomangueans in prehistoric times. While there are a few interesting similarities in the following comparisons, the list does more, I think, to show lack of contact than anything else. Thompson (1932: 454) has suggested that the Old Empire tribes perhaps had one calendar and set of glyphs, but different words for naming them. If the ritual calendar was used by prehistoric Otomangueans, the same situation may have obtained by 2600 B.C., and the wrong schedule of comparisons (the only ones we can manage at the present time) may follow. Eventually, perhaps, Proto-Zapotec and Proto-Mayan reconstructions will be available to match those for Proto-Uto-Aztecan which will be presented in the final section of this essay. At the moment, however, I think we have evidence here of an impasse. -> *na-hme

(*nu-hme)

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HERBERT LAND AR

Table 1. Comparison of Mayan and Otomanguean protoforms Proto-Mayan 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

Ant Bat Bee Bird Buzzard Coyote Crow Deer Dog Eagle, Hawk Rabbit Snake Spider Toad One Person Die Water Green Red Yellow One Three Five Seven Twenty

sanik sootz' kaab 'usej 'owl, sp.' 'ikin 'owl' xo'j j°°J

kyehj peqw'

kwot 'hawk t'u'l kan 'am, xim 'wo\ peqjpoq

'winaq 'person' kem he' ye'x ky'eq q'en jun 'ox ho' huq kw'al

Proto-Popolocan -kaha -nku sa kuse, kuse 'bird' rtinke Si -nWa'ha kusi ninya -ha -ce-ye -hwa -tu' hnku 'one' 'me, mi'i

-hwa, from xwe' yuwa khace sine hnku shä sno'o -yu -kahä

We are in better shape when we turn to the Aztec day names and possible etymologies than in our efforts to deal with the Mayan or Otomanguean day names. Proto-Uto-Aztecan reconstructions have been published by Hale (1958); Voegelin, Voegelin, and Hale (1962); Miller (1967); and others. While scholars disagree about the possible dates of these reconstructions, I find it convenient to work with this pattern: before 2000 B.C. the Aztec or southern section of the Uto-Aztecan group broke away, moving south, leaving the Utean or northern section behind (in southern Arizona). This northern section separated into a Sonoran and a Shoshonean group around 1500 B.C. Between about 1100 and 900 B.C., the Shoshonean group separated into two groups, the first producing the Plateau language type and the Kern River or Tubatulabal language type, and the second producing the Pueblo or Hopi language type and the Takic language type. For the former two types, the time of separation was around 500 B.C. ; for the latter, around 900 B.C. These dates are crude, and it must be pointed out that Hale has made more sensitive estimates; they serve here, however, to give us some perspective. We can tell from these dates, for example, that the Mayans could not have come in contact with the Uto-Aztecans when each group was in its

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homeland, the Mayans in Huehuetenango about 2600 B.C., the UtoAztecans in southern Arizona before 2000 B.C. We have no real date, on the other hand, for the invention of the 260day ritual calendar with its thirteen numbers and twenty names in constant cycle. We have rough dates, however, for the start of the disordering of the calendar (assuming that at some time in Mayan history only one set of day names was used). The pristine pattern is distorted by the Quichean and Kekchian groups and the Tzeltalans as well. I find it useful (following McQuown, Vogt, and others) to set the date of 750 B.C. for the Tzeltalan migration, and about A.D. 1350 for the Quiche-Achi breakoif, with around A.D. 1700 for that of Cakchiquel-Tzutujil. In contrast, the Yucatec migration is dated at about 1600 B.C. The Aztec migrations into Mexico might conceivably have predated the initial move of the Yucatecs, whose occupation of Yucatän was not completed until around 750 B.C. But we lack data on languages of the Nahuatlan branch, and we lack archaeological data to correlate with such linguistic data, so we are unable to make even crude guesses about early Mayan-Aztec contacts. Differentiation of Pochutla, Mecayapan, and Zacapoaxtla took place in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, if we follow Hale's estimates. How Nahuatlan differentiation relates to a possible prehistoric calendar or to pre-Columbian diffusion of calendrical concepts, however, is a matter not yet worked out. What we are reduced to, in the face of these unresolved mysteries, is the listing of the Aztec day names with such reconstructed elements as may pertain to them (see Table 2). The surprising transparency of some of the Aztec names suggests, if anything, that we have relatively recent rather than archaic compositions. If we assume that the Aztecs, invading Mayan lands from the north, acquired calendrical lore from the Mayans of the southern lowlands when the culture there was at its peak, we would have to guess at contacts in the eighth century A.D., precisely when, glottochronologists say, we have the Chontal-Chol and Chontal-Chorti partitions. There is, of course, the remote possibility that Proto-Aztecans reached Proto-Mayans around 2000 B.C. I think such contacts unlikely. Few vocabulary items of Proto-Uto-Aztecan and Proto-Mayan bear sufficient resemblance to support a theory of such early contacts. Such resemblances as Proto-Mayan *sanik 'ant' and Proto-Uto-Aztecan *'ane 'ant' may prove to be chimerical. And archaeologists do not speak, as far as I know, of Mayan contacts with northern peoples at the level of 2000 B.C. Indeed, the general belief, it appears to me, is that the Mayans were closest to Late Pre-classic cultures of southern Mexico and Guatemala, and took culture

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(perhaps including class structuring) from central Mexican Teotihuacän in the Early Classic period. It was then, for example, that Tlalocs were integrated into the culture, and finally flourished in Late Classic Mayan sculpture. Table 2.

Aztec day names

Aztec day names 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Cipactli 'Crocodile' Ehecatl 'Wind' Colli 'House' Cuetzpallin 'Lizard' Coatl 'Snake'

6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

Miquiztli 'Death' Mazatl 'Deer' Tochtli 'Rabbit' Atl 'Water' Itzcuintli 'Dog' Ozomatli 'Monkey' Malinalli 'Grass' Acatl 'Reed'

14.

Ocelotl 'Ocelot'

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

Quauhtli 'Eagle' Cozcaquauhtli 'Vulture' Ollin 'Earthquake' Tecpatl 'Flint Knife' Quiahuitl 'Rain' Xochitl 'Flower'

Comments N o etymology. Cf. *se 'cold,' *pa 'water' Reflects *heka 'wind' Protoform *kali 'house' N o etymology Root *ko(yva) 'snake,' with the usual singular absolutive suffix Reflects *muki 'die' Root is *mas- 'deer' Root is *to- 'rabbit' Root is *pa- 'water' N o etymology N o etymology Reflects "meli 'twist' Root is *paka- 'reed,' perhaps with *pa 'water' as the initial element; the Badianus manuscript shows that akail means any water plant N o etymology. Manuscripts show pumas as well as jaguars Root is *kwa- 'eagle' Metaphor: 'gem' plus 'eagle' Perhaps related to *'ol- 'roll' Possibly from *tek~ 'cut' and *pa- 'hit' N o etymology Cf. *se~, *so- 'flower'

Since some scholars have proposed that Mayan culture went into decline around A.D. 790, with abandonment of Classic centers by about A.D. 950 (10.6.0.0.0) or some time thereafter (Uaxactun, Tikal, Altar de Sacrificios, Seibai, Piedras Negras, and Palenque being all but abandoned), and since the eighth century was a time of increased central Mexican contacts with Mayan cultures for whom calendrical ceremonialism had become as important as it ever would be, it is not beyond speculation that invading Aztecs adopted calendrical concepts including the meanings of day names from Mayan slaves acquired by conquest, slaves who were temple specialists, and who may have added refinements to a more primitive calendar already in Aztec hands, perhaps centuries old. It is not within the means of a linguist to date the oldest calendar used by Aztec invaders of Mexico. The span of time from 2000 B.C. to A.D. 700 is so broad that it guarantees only mystery. Given incomplete records for various Uto-Aztecan languages, it is hazardous to speculate about the

The Aztec Day Names

445

isoglosses of the day names, but some thoughts may be ventured in this connection. I had expected a different distribution of names than I found. My expectations were based on those of Robert Shafer, who had discovered for Sino-Tibetan languages an instability of names of animals and plants. Shafer (1967: 148) says: In many years of comparative work on Sino-Tibetan languages I have seldom found the names of animals and plants extending very far geographically. The instability of such names is reflected in the fact that Morris Swadesh, seeking stable terms, omits all names of animals and plants from his glottochronological lists, even the longest one. I thought of using my collection of zoological and botanical terms in Uto-Aztecan languages in an attempt to decide why the names extend over such short distances. Instead of discovering that the Aztec day names, the list rich in names of animals and plants, were restricted in distribution, I found that the roots of perhaps half of the twenty day names were Pan-Uto-Aztecan, that is, they were reflected transparently in cognates in a plenitude of daughter languages. Where instability had been expected, a remarkable and surprising stability was found. In Table 3 , 1 show reconstructed elements of day names and the distribution of forms in major branches. Table 3. Day name elements

1. *se 'cold' 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

*pa 'water' *heka 'wind' *kali 'house' *kowa 'snake' *muki 'die'

*mas 'deer' *to 'rabbit' *paka 'reed' *kwa 'eagle' *tek 'cut' *pa 'hit'

*se 'flower' *so 'flower'

Distribution Sho. Sho. Sho. Sho. Sho. Sho. Sho. Sho. Sho. Sho. Sho.

Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Az. Son. Son. Az.

Sho. = Shoshonean Son. = Sonoran Az. = Aztecan

The stability of forms finds partial explanation, perhaps, in the extensive travels and great mobility of the Toltecs, whom I assume for the sake of argument (admitting no certainty in the assumption) were speakers of

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HERBERT LANDAR

archaic Aztecan. I assume too, following Di Peso (1968), that Toltec merchants reached all parts of the Gran Chichimeca or northern frontier of Mesoamerica. The Toltec city of Teotihuacän was in phase Ha when the Toltec forts, which were designed to keep Chichimecans from penetrating the Tropic of Cancer, were built, about the time of Christ. By the time of the phase Teotihuacän IV, in the eighth century, 20 percent to 40 percent of the Chichimecans had become sedentary and Toltecized. In Di Peso's belief, Toltec merchants were in Sinaloa and Durango by A.D. 750 and perhaps in Sonora and Arizona by A.D. 900. In this view, we notice, there were speakers of archaic Aztecan in central Arizona, the Hohokam worshippers of Tezcatlipoca, at just about the time that speakers of the same dialect were coming into contact with populations of the area of Mexico City. In Stone's belief, Toltec influence reached Central America "possibly between 300 to 1000 A.D." (Stone 1966-1967: 336). A case can be made, then, however tenuously, for a stability in the day names based upon mercantile as well as military activities of speakers of Aztec dialects. While the ceremonialism may have been structured in different ways in different places, the divinatory tokens used in the various structures persisted, just as the European signs of the zodiac have persisted in the face of variant interpretations in different times and locations over the course of centuries. It is not past surmise that wherever Toltec and, later, Aztec merchants traveled, some clients of divinatory ritual geared to the 260-day calendar were cultivated. I can venture no suggestion on the date of the earliest Toltec calendar of 260 days. I assume that the Mayan ritual calendar was invented first, and that Proto-Aztecans adapted it after early contacts. Since the Zapotec day signs go back mostly to Monte Albän III or II with only one sign, Rain, dating as far back as Monte Albän I, on the face of present evidence we have to guess that the Zapotec ritual calendar was developed after Mayan contacts, starting perhaps 400 B.C., but was not in anything like the form recorded by Juan de Cordova until as late as A.D. 950. Because archaeological records rarely are satisfactory, I hesitate to say that the Toltecs knew nothing of the ritual calendar before about A.D. 1000, when carved day signs first appeared in the area of Teotihuacän, according to Tozzer in his posthumous study of Toltec-Mayan relations (1957). Tozzer certainly was wrong, since by 1000 Teotihuacän had fallen and had been depopulated. The tenor of Caso's views (see especially Caso 1966), in fact, is that at Teotihuacän people were named according to their day of birth as dictated by the ritual calendar probably by the middle of the third century, when Quetzalcoatl appears. His ritual name, Nine Winds, was used at Teotihuacän, Caso believed, with the sign of the

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447

reptile's eye standing for Wind. When the Toltec and Zapotecan gods first had day names, of course, we simply cannot guess. It is easy to become lost in attempts to correlate uncertain dates with scraps of data on symbols, a case in point being the coincidence of Monte Albän I with its day sign for rain and proto-Teotihuacän I, about 400 B.C., with its focus on Tlaloc as god of rain. Recent discoveries at Tehuacän, with which Macro-Mixtecan speakers have been connected, deserve a few words. The Abejas phase at Tehuacän is dated 3500-2300 B.C. The earliest Otomanguean divergences, some glottochronologists say, began before 4000 B.C. By 2900 B.C. the Otomians had moved off. The Amuzgo-Mixtec group was distinct by about 1900 B.C. Isolation of the Zapotecans, then, which was complete perhaps by 2500 B.C., took place in the late Abejas phase, and the Amuzgo-Mixtecan isolation took place about midway in the Purron phase. Later phases at Tehuacän are the Ajalpän, 1500-900 B.C., a time in which Otomanguean farmers had villages, good pottery, and crops of corn, beans, and squash; the Santa Maria, 900-200 B.C., a time in which ritual life was complicated by such things as figurines and buildings designed for ceremonials, and in which irrigation was used; and the Palo Blanco, 200 B.C.-A.D. 700, a time in which priestly luxuries abounded, with obsidian tools, woven fabrics, orange pottery, new foods such as peanuts, and hilltop ritual structures designed for the very gods, some have supposed, who are pictured in the Codex Borgia (1963) and similar manuscripts. The Palo Blanco phase was contemporaneous with the development of civilization at Teotihuacän, though it began somewhat later; the Santa Maria phase which preceded the Palo Blanco phase, however, gives priority in ritual structures and objects to the Otomangueans as opposed to the Mayans and the Toltecs. But there is no evidence, as far as I can see, that the Palo Blanco phase involved day names. Only in the next phase, the Venta Salada phase, A.D. 700-1540, do we find city states, forts, calendars, and hieroglyphic writing. Skimpy as the evidence is, it fails to discourage a guess that the eighth century was a time of fairly widespread currency of day names. Yet we must confess that while the Santa Maria priests and their contemporaries at Monte Albän may have had day names and relevant lore, we cannot offer positive evidence. Chadwick and MacNeish (1967: 115) say: "... the Borgia and the Venta Salada phase are closely related. It seems probable that the Codex Borgia originated in the Senorio de Teotitlän, with the culture characterized as the Venta Salada phase, and quite possibly within the Tehuacän Valley itself." Written records, such as the Borgia, provide more positive

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evidence than we have from other early sources on the use of day names. We must remember, however, that day-name innovations could have been introduced by the latest copyist. Thus the date July 16, 790, just after noon, is given by Cottie A. Burland for a scene in the Codex Vindobonensis (1929) in which Venus is rising near the eclipsed sun nearly at zenith (see Caso 1950). This codex shows Toltec history among the Mixtecs up to A.D. 1350. We may conclude that at least in the fourteenth century people bore day names. We would be less secure in assuming that they bore day names on July 16, 790, were it not for Mayan, Zapotecan, and Toltec carvings and paintings. I see no good way, in sum, to support a claim that there were speakers of Proto-Uto-Aztecan who moved southward from the Gran Chichimeca possibly as far as the Tehuacän Valley in Puebla in its Purron phase, and who there learned to use day names. The evidence points, rather, in a different direction. A study of several hundred isoglosses for words of the protovocabulary of Uto-Aztecan shows (speaking impressionistically) many more similarities than would have been expected from the glottochronological estimates. The Germanic languages, separated after unity about the time of Christ, are much more diverse, and have more complicated sound laws than have been reported for Uto-Aztecan. If we dismiss the glottochronological estimates, it becomes easier to guess that UtoAztecan ancestors of the Toltecs, Aztecs and others invaded Mexico successfully only after Mesoamerican civilization had reached a point at which the invaders could take by conquest a culture they could not develop. There is no reason to credit the Toltecs with the construction of Teotihuacän in its early stages. They might have come along in the sixth or seventh century to acquire by conquest, among other things, the dayname system which by then was in its Late Classic Mayan phase and in its fullest flower in Monte Alban III and Teotihuacän IV.

REFERENCES BURLAND, COTTIE A.

1967 Ancient Maya. New York: John Day. CASO, ALFONSO

1950 "Explicaccion del reverso del Codex Vindobonensis," in Memoria de el Colegio Nacional 5: 9-46. Mexico City. 1956 El calendario mixteco. Historia Mexicana 5: 481-497. 1966 "Dioses y signos teotihuacanos," in Teotihuacän: onceava mesa redonda. Edited by Sociedad Mexicana de Antropologia, 249-275. Mexico City.

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1967 Los calendariosprehispänicos. Cuadro IX, facing page 84. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, Instituto de Investigaciones Historicas. CHADWICK, ROBERT, RICHARD S. MAC NEISH

1967 "Codex Borgia and the Venta Salada phase," in The prehistory of the Tehuacan valley, volume one: Environment and subsistence. Edited by Douglas S. Byers, 114-131. Austin: Robert S. Peabody Foundation. Codex Borgia 1963 Codice Borgia. Facsimile edition of a pre-Columbian codex preserved in the Ethnographical Museum of the Vatican, Rome, three volumes. Edited by Eduard Seler. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Economica. Codex Vindobonensis 1929 Codex Vindobonensis Mexicanus I. Fascimile edition. Edited by Walter Lehmann and Ottaker Smital. Vienna. DI PESO, CHARLES C.

1968 "The correlation question in general archaeological perspective for northern Mesoamerica and beyond," in Actas y memorias del 37° Congreso lnternacional de Americanistas 3: 23-37. Buenos Aires. GUDSCHINSKY, S. C.

1959 Proto-Popotecan: a comparative study of Popolocan and Mixtecan. Indiana University Publications in Anthropology and Linguistics Memoir 15. Supplement to International Journal of American Linguistics 25 (2). HALE, KENNETH

1958 Internal diversity in Uto-Aztecan: I. International Journal of American Linguistics 24: 101-107. KAUFMAN, T. S.

1964 "Materiales lingüisticos para el estudio de las relaciones internas y externas de la familia de idiomas mayanos," in Desarollo cultural de los mayas. Edited by Evon Z. Vogt and Albert L. Ruz, 81-136. Mexico City. LEIGH, HOWARD

1958a Zapotec glyphs. Boletin de Estudios Oaxaguenos 2: 1-11. 1958b An identification of Zapotec day names. Boletin de Estudios Oaxaguenos 6: 1-9. MC QUOWN, NORMAN A.

1964 "Los origenes y la diferenciacion de los mayas segun se infiere del estudio comparativo de las lenguas mayanas," in Desarollo cultural de los mayas. Edited by Evon Z. Vogt and Albert L. Ruz, 49-80. Mexico City. MILLER, WICK R.

1967

Uto-Aztecan cognate sets. University of California Publications in Linguistics, 48. Berkeley and Los Angeles.

SELER, EDUARD

1904 "The Mexican chronology with special reference to the Zapotec calendar," in Mexican and Central American antiquities, calendar systems, and history. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 28. Edited by Charles P. Bowditch, 11-55. Washington, D.C.

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SHAFER, ROBERT

1967 A bibliography of Uto-Aztecan with a note on biogeography. International Journal of American Linguistics 33: 148-159. STONE, DORIS

1966-1967 The significance of certain styles of Ulua polychrome ware from Honduras. Folk 8/9: 335-342. THOMPSON, J. ERIC S.

1932 A Maya calendar from the Alta Vera Paz, Guatemala. American Anthropologist 34 (3): 449-454. 1970 Maya history and religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. TORRESANO, ESTEVAN

1754 Arte de lengua Kakchikel del ussa de Fr. Estevan Torresano. Ano de 1754. (Photographic reproduction of manuscript in Rare Book Room, Tulane University, New Orleans.) TOZZER, ALFRED MARSTON

1921 A Maya grammar with bibliography and appraisement of the works cited. Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology Paper 9. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. 1957 Chichen Itza and its cenote ofsacrifice: a comparative study of contemporaneous Maya and Toltec. Harvard University. Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology Memoirs, 11-12. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. VOEGELIN, CHARLES FREDERICK, F. M. VOEGELIN, K. HALE

1962 Typological and comparative grammar of Uto-Aztecan: I (phonology). Indiana University Publications in Anthropology and Linguistics Memoir 17. Supplement to International Journal of American Linguistics 28 (1). VOGT, EVON Z.

1969 "The Maya: introduction," in Handbook of Middle American Indians, volume seven, 21-29. Austin: University of Texas Press.

The Intransitive Marker "t" in Eskimo

JANG H. KOO

In Eskimo the intransitive verb is distinguished from the copulative and the transitive not only by its grammatical function or category, but also by its different phonological representation. In its underlying form the transitive verb ending is represented by ar (with its allophonic variation a). And the intransitive and the copulative endings are represented by t and u respectively, sharing in common the nontransitive ending ur. Thus the t is not an intervening consonant nor a "mobile" t,1 as has been explained by Eskimo scholars, which occurs after the base stem ending in a consonant (i.e. g or r)2 in the intransitive verb. Let us briefly examine, by way of recapitulation, the Eskimo verbal construction. Eskimo verbs can be classified into transitive and nontransitive verbs. Nontransitive verbs are furthermore subgrouped into intransitive and copulative verbs. The intransitive verb is then distinguished from the copulative verb by one syntactical feature: the former has the feature [ + VB (X) ], whereas the latter has the feature [ + NP (X) ]. That is, the copulative occurs only with the Noun Phrase (e.g. enequuq 'it is a house'), while the intransitive occurs with the Verb Base (e.g. nerenerituq 'he does not eat'). It is also noted that the intransitive verb includes not only "action" VB's like pi- 'to do', but also "nonaction" (or "descriptive") VB's like take- 'to be long'. 3 This work was supported in part by the American Council of Learned Societies. 1 See Swadesh (1952: 72); Miyaoka et al. (n.d.). The term "mobile" t has been borrowed from Miyaoka, et al. 2 The g and r represent velar and uvular fricatives respectively throughout the present paper. 3 In Eskimo, verbs and adjectives are not distinct at all in their underlying forms. They both are verbals; the only difference is that the adjective has the feature [—V], while the intransitive has the feature [+V].

452

JANG Η. KOO

The phonological representations of the intransitive and the copulative markers are t and u, distinct from the transitive marker ar. The nontransitive verb phrase (VP) of Eskimo is roughly of the form: 4 NP } W

Vsf

+

Per

That is, the VP is made of a verb base followed by various optional suffixes such as a tense marker and a negative marker (X), and obligatory verbal suffixes (Vsf), which comprise the intransitive t or the copulative u, the nontransitive ur, and the person ending. The tree diagram for nerelruuq 'he ate' is thus:

I VB

VP ι I X ι

I Vsf ι

!

I I I tense intr non-trans I I I nere Iru t ur

ι

I person I 0

The t in the intransitive verbal construction has never been recognized nor advocated as the intransitive marker in Eskimo; it has been interpreted merely as an intervening consonant or a "mobile" t which comes in after the stem final g or r, but ONLY in the intransitive construction. It is of course true that the intransitive ending is not readily recognizable on the surface, because it does not appear intervocalically; it emerges only after the consonant stem (i.e. g or r). The question can then be raised: Is the t an "inserted" element or the "underlying" element? Clearly, the claim that the consonant stem conditions the appearance of the t only in the intransitive verb (NOT in the transitive) is phonologically inconceivable. See the following data: 1. pairtuq 'he licks' (cf. pairaa 'he licks it') 2. paiguq 'he stays home' (cf. paigaa 'he babysits someone') 3. caliuq 'he works' 4. tuquuq 'it is black' The pairtuq and paiguq have been interpreted as pair + ur and pai + ur. The intervening element t is added in an ad hoc manner to the consonant base before the ur, and the g is inserted between pai and ur to avoid the undesired vowel sequence (i.e. *aiu).5 More specifically, the interpretation 4 6

See also K o o (1971). The occurrence of more than two vowels in sequence is not permissible in Eskimo.

The Intransitive Marker "/" in Eskimo

453

does not give a formal distinction between the intransitive and the nontransitive forms. In the present paper a fairly straightforward principle has been suggested. The pairtuq and paiguq are interpreted as pair + tur and paige + tur,6 the t being assigned as the intransitive marker, which is then regularly deleted intervocalically as has been noted in the examples 2, 3, and 4, whereas the t following the r or g remains undeleted. In other words, only the vowel-ending stem undergoes the T-Deletion rule. That is, I.

t-deletion: t - - 0 / V

+

V.

Note the data: 5. iniuq (ini + tuq) 'it hangs itself up' 6. sugtuuq (sugtu + tuq) 'he is tall' 7. tuyuuq (tur/u + tuq) 'it is black' 8. nerelruuq (nere + Iru + tuq) 'he ate' 9. kina taiga (taige + ta) 'who is coming?' 7 10. ciinpaigau (paige + tau) 'why is she babysitting him?' II. tuquciquq (tuqu + ciqe + tug) 'he will die' 12. kina apta (apte + ta) 'who is asking?' 13. kina-qaa taiguq (taige + tuq) 'is anyone coming over?' Compare: 14. tegelegtuq (tegeleg + tuq) 'he steals' 15. mertuq (mer + tuq) 'he drinks' 16. nereyuumirtuq (nere + yuumir + tuq) 'he wishes to eat' 17. capairtau (pair + tau) 'what is he licking?' Moreover, the consonant insertion claim fails to account for the consonant gemination phenomenon in the following data: 18. nerruq 'he eats' 19. takkuq 'it is long' 20. taqquq 'it is finished' 21. annuq 'he goes out' 22. arjrjuq 'he is big' 23. ciin nerrau 'why is he eating it?' 6

Notice that the stem final e is effaced if followed by a back vowel. Examples: qayaqaa (qayar+ke+aa) 'it is his kayak'; atqaa (atr+ke+aa) 'it is his name'; tuqutesqaqa (tuqute+sqe+ar+ka) Ί want it to be killed (by someone)'; yuurtuq (yuurte+tuq) 'it is born'. 7 The ta is the intransitive interrogative ending that occurs in a wh- question sentence. The transitive interrogative ending is tau. More examples: ciin nallua (nallu+ta) 'why doesn't he know?'; ciin ayagta (ayag+ta) 'why is he going?'; nani uitalarta (uitalar+ ta) 'where does he live?'; qaku uivet kipuciiqau (kipuciiqe+tau) ayeyarput "when will your husband buy our boat?" kina amartau (amar+tau) 'whom is he carrying on the back?'.

454 JANG Η. KOO

Obviously, there must be some kind of consonant to cause the gemination. The most likely candidate for the consonant in the position is the intransitive t, because the t will be deleted intervocalically after the gemination. That is, the consonant preceded by a single vowel and followed by the stem vowel e is geminated if followed by t.8 II.

C1-^C1C1/#(C)V_e + t

Thus, nerruq, takkuq, taqquq, tannuq, aijquq, and nerrau are interpreted respectively as nere + tuq, take + tuq, taqe + tuq, tone + tuq, aye + tuq, a n d nere + tau.

More examples: 24. tagguq (tage + tuq) 'he goes up' 25. qammuq (qame + tuq) 'it dims down' 26. annut (ane + tut) 'they go out' It should, however, be noted that if the intransitive t were absent in the above examples, we would get *neruq, *takuq, *taquq, and so on by the Ε-Deletion rule (i.e. e

0j

+

The rule order is thus : C-Gemination (II) T-Deletion (I) There is another fairly clear evidence that the T-Insertion claim does not hold true. In the Hooper Bay area, mikkuq 'it is small' is replaced by miketuq.10 The t of miketuq cannot clearly be accounted for here as the "inserted" element, for mike is not a consonant stem and t cannot, accordingly, be the "intervening" or "mobile" t. It should rather be interpreted as the intransitive marker. We have tried to show that the T-Insertion claim for the Eskimo intransitive verb is inadequate and unrevealing, thus doomed to the ad hoc morphophonemic statement. Instead, we have suggested an alternative solution, which is much simpler and revealing, requiring that the intransitive t be entered in the underlying representation of the intransitive construction. 8

For an alternative interpretation on the consonant gemination, see Miyaoka (1971: 221-222). 9 See Note 6 above. 10 This information comes from Mr. Myron Naneng from Hooper Bay, Alaska. Unfortunately, this is the only example Mr. Naneng can think of which occurs in his speech.

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REFERENCES HINZ, JOHN, REV.

1944 Grammar and vocabulary of the Eskimo language. Bethlehem, Pennsylvania: The Society for Propagating the Gospel. KOO, JANG H.

1971 The copulative u in Yupik Eskimo and crossover convention. International Journal of American Linguistics 37: 215-218. 1973 Reinterpretation of r in Eskimo. Papers in Linguistics 6: 2. MIYAOKA, OSAHITA, et

n.d.

al.

"Classroom Yupik grammar." Unpublished manuscript, University of Alaska, Fairbanks.

MIYAOKA, OSAHTTO

1971 On syllable modification and quantity in Yuk phonology. International Journal of American Linguistics 37: 219-226. SWADESH, MORRIS

1952 Unaaliq and proto Eskimo III: synchronic notes. International Journal of American Linguistics 18: 69-76. UNDERHILL, ROBERT

n.d.

"Noun bases in two Eskimo dialects: a study in comparative morphophonemics." Unpublished manuscript.

"Stone," "Hammer" and "Heaven" in Indo-European Languages and Cosmology

J. PETER MAHER

Indo-Iranian, Greek, Slavic, Baltic, and Germanic share vestiges of an ancestral metaphor in their reflexes of the polysemous Proto-IndoEuropean *Haekmon 'stone, hammer, heaven'. Though this word has been lost in Italic, an identical problem appears there in the polysemy of caelum, which means both 'heaven' and 'chisel' in Latin.

ETHNOGRAPHIC SKETCH 1 Vestiges of a Proto-Indo-European (PIE) metaphor persist in many places down to our day in scattered beliefs relating to the sky, thunder and lightning, and stone "thunderbolts." The latter are not mythical things but are indeed palpable stone hammers or axes retrieved from Neolithic burial grounds by later inhabitants of Indo-European (IE) lands. Noteworthy are the popular (and once even scholarly) designations given to these polished perforated axe heads, such as English (E.) thunderbolt, German (G.) Donnerkeil, French (Fr.) pierre ä (and de) foudre, Lithuanian (Li.) Perküno akmuo, Greek (Gk.) keraunos, etc. Scholars applied a collective form of the Gk. word, Latinized as ceraunia, as their technical term for I owe especial thanks to Raimo Anttila, Eric Hamp, and Saul Levin for their encouragement, information, and corrections. Needless to say, however, responsibility for these theses and any unexpunged errors is my own. 1 The choice of the term "sketch" here is deliberate since my circumstances have not permitted exhaustive research in the rich literature on this subject. With an eye to a more comprehensive and definitive study, I would welcome critical reactions of other students of the problem. A main source of ethnographic information has been HoffmannKrayer (1929-1930).

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these misunderstood objects. Peasant and savant alike explained them as the result of lightning striking the earth. In both the ethnographic and archaeological records they are found planted under doorsteps as insurance against "the stroke," because it has long been believed that lightning "never strikes twice in the same place." Country folk have also attributed magical properties to these objects: as a cure against bed-wetting small boys were made to urinate through the axe-head perforation; and to cure inflamed udders in cows, a stream of their milk was squirted through the perforated axe-head. In modern times, even in the technologically most progressive regions, people clung to this old pattern of belief; for example, before the war with France in 1870, Prussian soldiers queued up at apothecaries to buy fragments of Donnerkeile as amulets against enemy shot. Another such gunpowder-era survival of stone-age hunter-warriors' magic was the recent German practice of dropping chips of Donnerkeil into the bullet mold to ensure the quarry's falling as if struck by lightning.2 The celestial origin of ceraunia, as we have noted, was not solely a popular conception but was shared even by savants until the general acceptance of the explanations of Mercati and de Jussieu. The former was Curator of the Vatican Botanical Gardens from 1560 to 1590, the latter a naturalist who, in 1723, published a thesis equivalent to Mercati's, holding that the European ceraunia were not "thunderbolts" but the handiwork of ancient Europeans. Both were inspired to this new conception by the stone tools of those "living paradigms," the American aborigines, so recently discovered by European explorers.3 2

The metaphoric connection between man's missiles and clubs with thunder and lightning may be a universal. But this does not exclude, nor is it excluded by, the diffusion of specific missile technologies (bows and battle-axes, for example) and concomitant ideology, e.g. the Kurgan/IE battle-axe cult. A fit subject for related investigations, if such have not already been made, would be the folk designations for apoplexy (in the medical sense), such as English stroke, G. Schlag, Fr. coup, It. colpo, vel sim. all etymologically inspired, apparently, by a belief that the sufferers had been stricken by lightning. Literary convention often perpetuates older folk beliefs, as in modern naming patterns (referred to below in the section, "Philological Sketch") for technological innovations such as the World War II airplanes: (US) Lightning, Thunderbolt·, (Italy) Folgore, etc. Winds also figure in this onomastic field: (Britain) Hurricane, Typhoon·, (Japan) Kamikaze, etc.; we also find there traditional clubs and missiles, such as (Australia's missile launching base) Woomera, (US anti-tank missile) shillelagh etc. giving names to new technology. In addition, labor unions' "weapon" also belongs to this tradition, cf. strike. 3 For the inspired phrase "living paradigms," cf. Childe (1956:49). As for Mercati and de Jussieu, I have had no opportunity to investigate primary sources, but rely on the remarks of Childe (1956: 18, 46, 49) and Bordaz (1970: 2, 108). The absence of references to Mercati in Bordaz or to de Jussieu in Childe suggests the need for archaeologists to reexamine the historiography of their field in respect of the sources of the concept of the "Stone Age." The term "living paradigms" seems to be Childe's creation, (1956: 47) as well as "living fossils" (1956: 46).

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When scholars abandoned the old explanation and turned to the new, however, a baby was thrown out with the bath water: if the old belief that ceraunia were thunderbolts was rejected, the old belief, as such, was itself a proper subject for investigation and explanation.

PHILOLOGICAL SKETCH Written records corroborate the ethnographic evidence, revealing that the thunderbolts or ceraunia of IE lands were not secular objects. The sacral nature of ceraunia is reflected in the tales of hammer-toting, thunderboltslinging gods of Neolithic age, as well as in Iron-Age accretions dealing with smith-gods, such as Gk. Hephaestus, Lat. Vulcanus, Old Irish (Olr.) Goibniii, Old Icelandic (OIc.) Gefion, Li. Kalvaitis, Gaulish Sucellus etc. The OIc. sagas give us, in an earlier culture pattern, the names of the god Thor (= Thunder) and his hammer, named Mjollnir; this is explicitly described as a stone hammer, a nice conservation of Neolithic culture in a tale otherwise much overlaid with later Bronze- and Iron-Age accretions. (Cognate with this name is Russian molnija 'lightning',4 OIc. mylln 'fire', Old Prussian mealde 'lightning', and Welsh mellt 'lightning'.)

ARCHAEOLOGICAL SKETCH In addition to ethnographic and philological evidence for the sacral nature of our ceraunia, there is particularly rich archaeological testimony. In the Kurgan culture, which, after Gimbutas, I take as the archaeological entity behind the early IE language groups, "battle-axes" are found deposited with adult male burials; in the Yaroslav group of the Fatyanovo culture miniatures of clay are found in the graves of boys.5 The presence of the axe in burial practices is the first hint of its religious value. On top of this, their decoration, as well as structure and function, also clearly indicate a nonsecular character. They are often decorated with solar motifs and what Gimbutas (1970: 172ff.) described as snake motifs. I will not contradict her on the latter analysis, but would suggest that such are to be taken both as a snake motif and as a lightning motif: since the two present the same visual line and both "strike" with fatal effect, there are two bases for their metaphoric 4

This word has been pressed into service in recent years to designate a series of Soviet electronic communications satellites. 5 Are the Pontic hammer-head pins at bottom miniatures of the sacred battle-axe?

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and iconographic equivalence, no less than in English and other languages where the syntax collocates words for both "lightning" and "snake" with "strike." 6 Gimbutas (1970) also gives an illustration of a "copper battleaxe ornamented with zig-zag (lightning bolt?) motifs." My feeling again is that they are that, AND snakes as well. One might well demand to know what the arguments are for the belief that the thunderbolts were indeed battle-axes. Semenov (1964: 133ff.) gives good arguments, which deserve to be quoted in full: The basic criterion distinguishing a stone battle-axe from other axes is the absence of the traces of use found on the latter. This rather broad negative distinction needs amplification. There would have been a time when everyday use on the one hand, and warlike functions on the other, would have been fulfilled by a single tool. The appearance of a specialized battle-axe is evidently related to the initial disintegration of the primitive social system, when a physical and typological differentiation first took place. As a classic example of a stone battle-axe the Fatyanovo axes may be cited. They are very variable in shape, but the most characteristic is the "fan-curved" type of Gorodtsov's classification. The striking part of a Fatyanovo axe as a rule has a very individual curve, like a splayed chisel, which makes an excellent lethal striking weapon, but a poor instrument for working wood. In this peculiar shape the experience gained in angle blows with an axe or adze, described above, has been drawn upon. 7 Here, however, the lop-sidedness has been carried to extremes. The most important mark of a battle-axe is its method of hafting by means of a hole bored through the axe. The perforation required a substantial increase in the transverse section of the axe where it would be weakened by the hole, which caused the edge-angle of the blade to be considerably increased. Moreover, the round hole used in hafting made it stable in a direct but not in a sideways blow. In working tools, therefore, circular perforations were only resorted to as a method of hafting in the mallet and pick. The wood-working axe experiences a sideways thrust on its axis in a side blow and so cannot be hafted by a circular hole through the axe; it requires a square or oval aperture. Thus three very important physico-technical factors rendered a perforated stone axe of the Fatyanovo type unsuitable for useful work: an exaggeratedly lop-sided blade, high angle on the blade edge and attachment by a circular perforation. Strictly speaking one alone of these factors would have been sufficient to place a battle-axe outside the category of working tools. The above observations are based on the study of perforated axes of the Fatyanovo and other cultures. Their blades are blunt and on them one can detect traces of crushing and chipping whose origin is obscure. The typical signs of wear on tools from chopping wood are not present.... 6

In Navaho art, for example, a zigzag motif represents both the snake and lightning. Here is an important point of internal evidence for the importance of timber-working and wooded habitat of the Kurgan peoples. This correlates with parallel evidence in IE languages, such as the root *tefc- primarily meaning 'to work with an axe'; secondarily 'to fabricate, make', see Meillet (1964: 384). 7

"Stone," "Hammerand

"Heaven" in Indo-European Languages

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(I propose that archaeologists test the possibility that these unexplained traces of crushing stem from the use of the thunder-axes in warfare, sacrifices, and cattle-slaughtering.) I find Semenov's technological arguments fully convincing, but his sociological arguments sound like vintage Stalinist "history" without historical, individual agents ("if there hadn't been an Ulyanov, 'circumstances' would have precipitated another Lenin"). Determinism is confused with causality again. It is laudable and often feasible to hunt for the social implications behind the cold data of archaeology, but this specimen is not a case of inspired sociological inference in the manner of Childe, but rather the imposition of preconceived schemes of social evolution after the fashion of Marr to the real data of archaeology. Now, if we correlate these data with that relevant to IE historical ethnography, IE linguistic paleontology, and Kurgan archaeology, then it appears that the social realities behind the differentiation of battle-axes and workaday axes are: (1) a universal human capacity to relate metaphorically axes and thunder/lightning, overlaid by (2) a highly particular historical entity, viz. the Kurgan/IE battle-axe cult, which in both the linguistic and the material aspects points to a Transcaucasian origin. The metal prototypes of the Kurgan stone battle-axes are of Sumerian origin, as we will see below. As for the linguistic material, Heller (1971: 44) adduces the fact that the Sumerian word for 'axe, hammer' is tun; he suggests a surprising and not unwelcome hypothesis, namely, that not only the Sumerian copper shafthole axe, but even its name was diffused to PIE culture, appearing there in E. thunder, OIc. Thor, Lat. tonitrus, etc. This reverses the usual interpretation, which is itself not implausible, that the god Thor vel sim. represents the personification of an etymon referring to the meteorological phenomenon. More light on our battle-axes is shed by the beautifully wrought stone axes of the Neolithic Danish Single-Grave culture. The earliest specimens, from the Undergraves, or lowest stratum, contrast with "degenerate" (more stylized, less "metallic") younger examples in being facsimiles of metal originals. Bordaz (1970: 106ff.) gives us an effective description (and a beautiful illustration, q.v.) of the Danish axes. ... careful copies in stone of metal originals, the extremely rare and precious copper axes that were so admired and envied by the late Neolithic farmers of northern Europe around 2500 B.C. The splayed edge of one specimen is reminiscent of the splaying of a repeatedly hammered copper blade; the longitudinal ridge simulates the seam of a metal piece that has been cast in a closed mold. And, in both, the shaft holes are features more suited to metal than to stone, for we have seen that celts are excessively weakened by such holes.

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The splayed edge of the Fatyanovo axes can be explained as a stylization of a trait that originated as a meticulous, superstitious copy (as seen in the Danish examples) of metallurgical features. This consideration removes as a cause of the introduction of battle-axes Semenov's "disintegration of the primitive social system," however real such a development was, and whenever it took place; it also lends credence to Heller's hypothesis of the Sumerian origin of the Kurgan/IE battleaxe.8

LINGUISTIC ASPECTS OF THE BATTLE-AXE CULT The presence of lexical analogues of Kurgan battle-axes in IE languages argues strongly for Gimbutas' equation of this entity with the PIE language community. In the course of its history the cult underwent development, and we consequently find various words for sacred hammers, some of PIE vintage, some younger developments and diffusions from one group to another. Following Hamp (personal communication), I take the latter to be the case with Li. Perkünas 'thunder, thunder god' and Common Slavic (CS) Perunü with the same meaning.9

The Cosmological Problem Of central concern here are two related sets of cognates from IndoIranian, Slavic, Baltic, and Germanic. (1) Skt. äsman, Avestan asman, Gk. äkmön, Go. himins, Li. akmuo, CS. kamen-. 8

Heller would give an additional argument then for placing the PIE Urheimat within communicating range of Mesopotamian culture, such as we already have for metallurgy itself, another word for axe in southern IE (Gk. pelekys, Skt. parasu-, Assyrian pilaqqu); further evidence of such a link is seen in mythology, the use of wheeled vehicles (especially used as a hearse in the burial of chieftains), and the etymon of PIE *guous 'cow', viz. Sumerian gu(cf). 9 These would be borrowings from Germanic of the same etymon we see in Gothic (Go.) falrguni 'forest, mountain', OE fyrgen 'forest, mountain', E. fir, G. Föhre, Latinized Celtic Hercyrtia, Lat. quercus "oak", from PIE *perkw- "oak tree". The traditional connection between oaks and thunder (gods) is still evident in the Mother Goose rhyme: "beware the oak, it draws the stroke". Lithuanian iconography makes heavy use of a tree-of-life motif, which should be correlated with the development of an etymon meaning "tree" (Perkünas) coming to stand for "thunder." Frazer (1963: 7, 298ff.) cites empirical evidence on the higher frequency of oaks struck by lightning over other trees in explanation of the beliefs attested both by ethnography and classical philology.

"Stone," "Hammerand

"Heaven" in Indo-European Languages

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(2) Skt. asmard- and OIc. hamarr, E. hammer, etc. Unresolved phonological problems remain in the consonantism of the initial syllable of the Germanic, Baltic, and Slavic, where I have little to add in the way of clarification.10 Here I am concerned rather with the semantics and propose a solution to what till now has been the intractable polysemy of these words. The phonological development of these words in Gk. and Indo-Iranian is straightforward. Semasiologically too all is clear: we have a term composed of the adjectival root 'sharp' and the suffix -mon 'thing, product, result'. Onomasiologically however, this *Haefc-mon maps in a straightforward way only onto such referents as 'stone' under the aspect 'worked, chipped, edged stone tool or weapon'. Thus Skt. äsman and Av. asman 'stone', or '(stone) hammer' have a transparent etymology. But the onomasiology of the same word in the sense "heaven" is utterly obscure in Indo-Iranian, in Go. himins, and in Gk., where the puzzlement is no less: äkmön is taken primarily as 'anvil', secondarily as 'heaven' in conventional lexicography.

"Der Steinerne Himmel" This brings us to a point where we can consider the hypothesis of Reichelt (1913), that in PIE cosmology there was a tradition of a "heaven of stone" — der steinerne Himmel. The sky, he argued, was envisaged by the PIE Urvolk as a masonry vault. His arguments, which for me as well as for de Yries (1961: 207) are unconvincing, are based on the late Lithuanian legend that the sun was pent up for a long time in a stone tower, and was liberated when this 10

Several principles must be considered here: some scholars (e.g. Gol^b 1969) prefer to see in the jafem-languages' possession of unassibilated PIE fc the intermediacy of a kentum source. Others devise ad hoc phonetic reasons, presuming the Baltic and Slavic to reflect inherited PIE material. Phrasal sandhi may prove to be the best solution, which is enhanced by the high likelihood of cult words occurring in set ritual phrases, much as Italian Iddio from il Dio (referring formula). Ritual and cult intensify what is perfectly regular in secular speech: a given word may characteristically be used in set phrases of high frequency, such as stereotyped phrases or idioms, cf. English sake, which today only occurs with for (someone's); another good example is French hors "outside", which, if "sound laws" operated solely on isolated words, ought to have / , not h; this was back-formed from the phrase dehors, from de-foris. Intervocalically, but not word-initially, Latin / is reflected as French h. A phonetic solution working on a concrete syntagma would note the effects of ablaut and the laryngeal *Ha interacting with a preceding word-final consonant, as is familiar in Irish, Tuscan, or modern Greek morphophonology.

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structure was smashed with the giant hammer "Akmo," as it was named by Jerome of Prague. The thunderbolts of the sagas, epics, and Vedas, Reichelt goes on to argue, are the fragments of this structure; he is not embarrassed by the transition from "vault" to "tower," nor by the fact that 'sharp, edged' is, semasiologically, the primary reading for *ak-mon, making the sense "hammer, axe" a clear development, but "heaven" very difficult. Nor will his hypothetical myth explain the real "thunderbolts" of archaeology and ethnography. Though the Lithuanian tradition is undeniably cognate with the IndoIranian, Gk., and Gmc. reflexes of the PIE cosmology, the element of the stone tower is pretty clearly, for northern Europe, an interpolation of the Iron Age, and so (it hardly needs to be said) is the hammer reported by Jerome of Prague, ferreum malleum rarae magnitudinis — 'an iron hammer of rare size'. Further, Reichelt "fudges" the evidence when he says (1913: 25ff.): "Es wird sich ... herausstellen, dass die Litauer in den ältesten Zeiten [emphasis added] die Vorstellung vom steinernen Himmel hatten." The evidence he cites is of course from the youngest Baltic period. His hypothesis, to continue, is without any cohesion. Reichelt's masonry sky poses difficulties in that Kurgan architecture, which he could not strictly have known in 1913, consisted of timber, wattle-and-daub, plaited walls, straw thatch, and plank or sod roofs. Though we should not a priori reject the possibility that the PIE folk possessed a mythical vision of the sky as a stone vault, we can nonetheless consider as a priori and unsubstantiated Reichelt's contention that they did possess such a cosmology. Moreover we can also point out the improbability of a myth about a sky of stone in one particular sense: these people knew no such earthly structures till some of their branches came into contact with Bronze Age Mediterranean or Indus Valley urban civilizations. An alternative explanation of any IE (or other) metaphors relating the concepts "roof" and "sky" is available without the strained argument that these reflect an unsubstantiated myth about a stone sky: everywhere words for "sky" and "roof" are interchangeable, since both invest the concept of the "expanse overhead." For example, compare English ceiling < French ciel, Latin caelum 'sky, roof', OE hüs-heofon 'roof', literally 'house-heaven'. In insisting on his unmotivated akmon 'stone heaven', we have already noted, Reichelt fails to account for the linguistic fact that this formation transparently names its referent as "sharp thing" and thus applies directly to chipped stone tools. And, we have seen, he skips the whole business of the actual stone axes of IE ethnography and archaeology. He also misunderstands the role of Indra, the thunderer, who in the Vedas appears

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again and again as the "liberator of the waters." Far too anthropomorphic, Reichelt is insensitive to obvious metaphors and raw nature: he uses his stony heaven as a sort of cistern in the sky in which the waters are locked up and which Indra smashes with his bolts or hammer. Here is an inconsistency with his previous explanation of the mythical origin of battleaxes : earlier he explained these as fragments of the vault. Though he seems not to notice it, this myth would also seem to require some other mythical force to reconstitute the vault again and again, to be smashed in each recurrent thunderstorm by Indra. This elaborate web of improbable assumptions can be replaced by a straightforward and explicit hypothesis dealing with the available materials, linguistic, archaeological, ethnographic, and meteorological. We need no deep-structure-like myth, any more than linguistics needs a myth-like Ursprache or deep structure as the dumping ground of all problems. Thunder and lightning presage a downpour. By the logically fallacious but widespread syllogism post hoc ergo propter hoc, "presage" is replaced by "cause": thunder and lightning presage ( = cause) the rains, i.e. the release of the waters from the sky. Since Indra is the thunder, Indra is the liberator of the waters. This goes a long way towards explaining the special place of thunder gods in the religion of farmers: the Germanic ThorjThunder is the farmers' god par excellence, who releases the rains, saves the crops and stock; but sometimes his floods and bolts (hail included) destroy the grain and livestock. The expletive "Donnerwetter!" is still today decidedly farmerish (and it is conventionally accompanied by a hammering gesture with the fist). Reichelt insists that this heaven of stone is "older" and "simpler" than the concept of the bright day-sky. His argumentation is of the sort we see offered as "evolution" in schoolbooks, with gradualness invoked as a veritable explanation of change: Das grosse Gewölbe des Himmels, das sich als solches in der Nacht kundgibt, wenn es von Sternen besät ist, wurde also in den ältesten Zeiten des Indogermanentums steinern gedacht. Als sich neben der simplen Vorstellung des Steinhimmels die höhere des Tag- oder Lichthimmels entwickelte ... (1913: 27). And so on. 11 He then resorts to a myth which, he says, the later Indo11

Evolutionism in which an opposition of "simpler" and "more complex" (where this is in fact an accurate assessment) is automatically converted into a chronology of "earlier" and "later" can easily turn a real evolutionary sequence upside down, since concepts like "simple, open, shut, empty, full" are just as ambiguous as their negative synonyms "not complex, not shut, not open, not full, not empty"; there is a huge difference between "simple" in the sense "pristinely simple" and "simplified (and formerly complex)." A concrete evolutionary example: modern birds lack teeth (and

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Europeans were compelled to invent, ad hoc, to explain how the light and the rain of the new cosmology could reach the earth. A hero, fathered by the sky of the mother earth, kills the darkness and liberates the sun. For Reichelt this theme is younger than that of the steinerne Himmel, but he gives no arguments for his view except again to beg the question with the pseudo-evolutionary appeal to "simpler" (hence earlier, but why "simpler" in the first place?) and "higher" (hence later) structures. He fails to see the straightforward metaphors in the male sky and the female earth: the one lies over the other. Shifting to another metaphor, equally straightforward, the darkness precedes the dawn, hence is parent to it; and as the darkness is the night sky, already male in opposition to the supine woman below, night is the father of day. Here is how Gk. äkmön rates as equivalent to ouranos 'heaven' and 'father of Kronos (himself father of the day 'Zeus')'. (The relationship of äkmön 'anvil', as it is usually glossed, to the sense "heaven," will be taken up in the section, "Residual Problems," below.)

Vorleben and Fortleben of ReicheWs thesis Reichelt himself did not originate the hypothesis of the PIE stone vault of heaven, for it appears almost a half century earlier in Johannes Schmidt (1865: 63if.), and this in turn seems to rest on ancient etymological speculation (refer to section on "Semantics of caelum" below). Schmidt also notes that in "altbaktrisch" (as our predecessors of the time called what we now call "Avestan") heaven is conceived of as a stone vault, made of sapphires. Without committing myself to any conjecture, let us note that an earlier generation could liken the sky to sapphires in regard to color and marking (cf. star sapphire), whereupon inheritors of the figure of speech could focus on the wrong feature of the referents, i.e. material, instead of the intended one of color. Reichelt (1913: 50, Note 3) also makes this error: "In der m[ittel] p[ersischen] literatur wird als die Substanz [emphasis added] des Himmels gewöhnlich Blutstein angegeben...." Again it is being overlooked that color (e.g. dawn) can be and probably was involved. In sum, the old anomaly of the concepts of "heaven" and "stone" being expressed by a single lexical item was insuperable for inheritors of the IE VORLEBEN.

English has a conventional simile "scarce as hens' teeth"); however, Archeopteryx had teeth. The "simple," toothless beak of later avians is the result of a complex simplification ; the fossil bird's dentition, though earlier, is more complex.

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lexicon. The notion that the ancestors of the Indo-European peoples envisaged heaven as a stone vault has many sources, some of them quite accidently convergent, and none of them convincing. Many scholars have gone along with Reichelt's ideas, one of the most recent being Watkins in his masterful appendix to the American heritage dictionary (1969: 1499). Before him, Benveniste (1935: 17), who is not up to his usual standard here, asserts that Greek kamära, Latin camur 'bent, bowed', and Avestan kamarä 'belt', Gothic himins and OIc. himenn are cognates. Benveniste fudges the semantics by glossing the last two, not as 'heaven, sky', but as 'vault of heaven'; similarly he chooses to note only the sense 'vault' for the Gk. word, though it also refers, for example, to the arched cover or bows of a wagon or other such structure, and not specifically to masonry vaults. This highly problematical item in the Gk. lexicon has no straightforward IE cognates. Chantraine repeatedly points out the high probability of a non-IE etymon here (1933: 222) "mot technique, peut 6tre emprunti" is his caveat regarding Gk. kamära and others, such as kithära, "certainement d' origine asiatique" (1933: 226). The point is much on his mind, and he repeats: "La finale -aro- s'observe dans un certain nombre de mots qui ont des chances d'avoir empruntds: un nom d'instrument de musique: kithära; — des termes techniques se rapportant ä la construction: megaron 'grande salle (Homere etc....); — kamära 'voute' (ionien-attique); — peut-etre eskhära 'foyer' ..." (1933: 226). Benveniste compared a dubious Gk. word (kamära) with a highly ambiguous Iranian form, itself actually borrowed into Gk.: cf. Gk. kamära '(soldier's) belt'. In the Avestan word the initial consonant could, if an IE word, reflect either *kw or *k, the vowel a could reflect (if an IE word) PIE *e, o, or a\ the r could (again, if IE) reflect */ or *r. On top of all that, since Go. himins 'sky, heaven' is cognate with Avestan asman and Skt. äsman, then Avestan kämara could not also be a cognate of himins. This is precluded by the unassibilated velar; Schmidt (1865: 67) notes that to be acceptable, we would have to have Av. *asmara, not kamära. And Fick (1876) takes even Gk. kamära 'bow, arch' as an Iranian loan. If this were not messy enough, Benveniste also brings in an extremely problematical Latin word from Vergil and Isidore of Seville, camur(us), referring to 'inward curving' (of cow's horns). The comparative method of linguistics is damaged by such dubious comparisons. We must set aside these scattered problems as unfinished and probably unrelated business. FORTLEBEN.

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Other Views Besides "Stone Heaven" If the idea of the sky as a stone vault has been advocated by these scholars, others have sought other explanations. Güntert (1928: 140-142) wants Gmc. *hamar to reflect a collision of the root in Gk. kampi 'joint (in a horse's leg)' and *ak- 'sharp' with a meaning 'boomerang', which is unsupportable on all accounts. Fraenkel (1936: 183ff.) wants to equate himins < *kemen with Hemd 'shirt', i.e. a 'covering'. This thesis is totally unacceptable as heavenjäkmönjäsman are related to hammerjasmardbeyond the shadow of a doubt. 12

A NEW ETYMOLOGY OF PIE *Haekmon No less than the frame of reference existing before Mercati and de Jussieu obstructed and distorted earlier scholars' perception of the true nature of "thunderbolts," various elements of our frame of reference have the same effect regarding the linguistic analogues of the very same Neolithic Celts. The distorting factors arise primarily from the familiarity language scholars have had since classical times with vaulted stone architecture, the everpresent gafden-variety metaphor relating words for "roof" and "sky," and finally the faulty exegesis of the reflexes of *Haekmon. The vision of the sky as a masonry vault was not the vision of the Indo-Europeans but of some Indo-Europeanists, squinting down the long, cluttered gallery of history. The riddle of a single polysemous word referring to "stone," "hammer," and "sky" needs no presumption of an ornate cosmology, but only the operation of run-of-the-mill, uniformitarian historical processes. My approach to the problem follows that of Sapir (1949a, 1949b): a precise accounting of the linguistic material is to be made, and the different chronological layers are to be disentangled.

Semasiology and Onomasiology of *H a ekmon in Literal and Figurative Speech The semasiology of this word as a motivated form is given by its derivational morphology. It is a substantivization with the suffix *-men (ablaut variants: *-mon, *-mn), translatable as 'thing, result' etc., added to an adjectival root *Haek- (ablaut variants: SEMASIOLOGY IN LITERAL SPEECH.

12

For relevant discussion of the ro-adjectives formed on «-stems see Wackernagel and Debrunner (1954: 2.2: 215-217, 848-861); also Hamp (1970).

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*Haok-, *Hjc-) 'sharp, edged'. Familiar reflexes with various suffixes of the latter are: Lat. acer 'sharp', acies 'cutting edge', acetum 'vinegar', acus 'needle'; Gk. äkros 'sharp', dkme 'cutting edge, acme'; Li. asmens (plural) 'cutting edges'; Slavic ostrü 'sharp, pointed'; Skt. äsra- 'sharp, edged'; E. edge (< *akja), awl ( 'heavens'. Levin (personal communication) points out that in several words initial s looks like the Semitic reflex of Indo-European consonant group.

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PIE noun +Haek-mon (derived adjective 'sharp-thing (tool (stone))'

pecking stone

*Haok-mo-rös)

'(Kurgan) battle-axe'

+synechdoche

Li akmuö Gk äkmön

Skt as man 'missile stone'

pestle

'head of battering ram'

pecking stone

'wolf'

'eagle'

OIc hamarr 'Thor's stone hammer'

'stone'

SI kamen-

'stone'

Skt asmarä-

'of stone'

OIc hamarr

'cliff'

Li perküno akmuö '(Kurgan) battle-axe' + metaphor 'thunder'

+ metonymy 'sky' (dark, vs. *deiwos 'bright-sky, day')

+ Iron-Age Gk äkmön

'anvil'

Carinthian Slovene ?omen 'whetstone'

Skt asman 'sky' Gk äkmön

'sky'

+ Iron A g e G o himins 'sky' E, Gn etc.

hammer Ε heaven

etc.

Figure 1.

Semantics of Caelum There is no stating the semantic structure of a word without specifying chronological states. As for the present state, the Romance reflexes of caelum show the Christian theological meaning of a supraterrestrial abode of the blessed, and, frequently, as a caique on the Hebrew, plural morphology. Reference to the physical sky is an inheritance from pre-Christian Latin. Because of the post-Classical leveling of old ae, oe, and e into a single phoneme in Medieval and Renaissance Latin, scribes sporadically wrote celum and coelum besides etymologically correct caelum', the etymological

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correctness of the last is established by epigraphic evidence, internal reconstruction, and Greek transliterations. Celum was supposed to belong to celare 'conceal'. The spelling coelum, favored of late in the Missale Romanum, is based on the erroneous humanistic etymology from Gk. koilon 'hollow', on the argument that the vault of heaven is "hollow," an idea reinforced by the old phrase caua (cauerna) caeli 'the hollows (or "cavern") of heaven' (Lucretius); here the initial motivation is not semantics but assonance. Later scholars, working after phonetic change had wiped out the assonance here, i.e. what had been /kag-/ was now /ce-/ or /tse-/, had only the accidental semantic traces to work with and etymologize on. This is presumably one of the antecedents of Reichelt's hypothesis. Here we see why modern linguistic theory cannot progress until etymology is again restored to a place in the training of linguists. Chomsky and Halle and their disciples insist that "underlying forms are remarkably stable." This is as false as it is uninformed, and is contradicted by an endless number of cases like the present one. Except for the reference to the sky, Romance and even late Latin have patently lost every shred of the etymological motivation of caelum, both in its semantics and in its underlying morphophonology. Similarly, the dogma in The sound pattern of English (Chomsky and Halle 1968: 49ff.) that orthography is an optimal system for lexical representation is here contradicted on all scores: orthography is not "a" system except when arbitrarily standardized; even then, the standardizers disagree on the proper norm; and, above all, culture is never a timeless static object as in the Chomskyan and other premodern mechanist conceptions. Even before any change disturbed the inherited phonetic shape of caelum, speakers and grammarians of Latin were at a loss to supply the semantic link to the rest of the paradigmatic structure of Latin. How unclear their conception was, not only of this word's etymology but of derivational morphology in general, is shown by the old guess of a derivation from caelare 'to incise (with a caelum 'chisel')'; this yields the figura etymologica caelum caelatum 'incised heaven' (cf. v[b]. As soon as Hebrew became the complete language of instruction and communication at school, at the turn of the century, it picked up momentum and children were inspired to use it in their games and even away from school.13 They would turn it into the language of their entire childhood culture — their intergroup communication, games, folklore, etc. Consequently, they reduced the original language of the home to a secondary tool, limited to the "trivia" of home and family affairs, often confined to brief utterances (almost stereotyped formulae) concerning food, dress, yes-no answers, and the like. The language of fuller and richer expressions of emotion and thought was Hebrew from then on. Technically, those children who acquired their Hebrew mastery at kindergarten and school age were only near-native speakers. For most practical purposes, the majority, and unquestionably those who started with it at a relatively early age, can be grouped with genuine native speakers born into Hebrew as a living fact, acquiring it from infancy, either from their parents (which was not so common at the beginning), or from their older near-native siblings who were already in school and completely absorbed in Hebrew. In other words, the young near-native speakers constituted, on the whole, an important link in the transmission of modern Hebrew from the older generation to the younger, more numerous NATIVE GENERATION of children. 12

Incidentally, modern Hebrew was quite often a "father's tongue" before it was a "mother's tongue." This is a result of the traditional Jewish education in the Diaspora whereby all boys were expected to attend the religious schools (the lower Heder and the higher Yeshiva), and thus acquire some degree of mastery of Hebrew, while girls were usually exempt from it. Girls would often receive only rudimentary Hebrew education, not going beyond the basic reading skills (primarily for liturgical purposes); otherwise they might attend a secular grade school. Thus male immigrants could adapt more readily to the new language and communicate sooner with their growing sabra (literally, 'prickly pear'), while it usually took longer for women to acquire mastery of the new language. Women were thus at a definite disadvantage at the beginning of the revival. Also, fathers had more exposure to Hebrew at work, whereas many mothers had to learn a great deal of their Hebrew from their school-age children. This aspect of the role of children in the revival should be remembered too! 13 The Galileans seem to have achieved greater consistency in this area than others.

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In fact, they were indispensable in the full-fledged nativization process of modern Hebrew. Another relevant area concerns the creation of the "language of games" for and by the children. Before dealing with that, I should like to discuss the notion of "children's generations," and the problem of transmission of language and linguistic continuity. In a recent article, Kiparsky (1968) made some interesting statements on both issues. In the study of grammars, one is often faced with the problem of discovering the form of linguistic competence which is not obscured by factors such as performance (itself still largely terra incognita). Kiparsky correctly suggests that, in linguistic change, we have the optimal window on such unobscured forms of linguistic competence. While discussing the main forms of linguistic change — rule addition and rule simplification — he addresses himself to the problems of "generations of speakers." Like Halle (1962) and Postal (1968) he conceives of the addition of rules in phonology as corresponding roughly to the concept of "sound change," and points to examples from Germanic where word-final obstruents became voiceless through the addition of rules which are "LEARNED ANEW AS PART OF THE LANGUAGE BY EACH GENERATION OF SPEAKERS ..." (Kiparsky 1968: 175; emphasis added). He further states: I hope that this use of the term generation will not convey the absurd picture of a society horizontally segmented into a number of discrete age groups, each with its own grammar. The point is simply that a language is not some gradually and imperceptibly changing object which smoothly floats through time and space, as historical linguistics based on philological material all too easily suggests. RATHER, THE TRANSMISSION OF LANGUAGE IS DISCONTINUOUS, AND A LANGUAGE IS RECREATED BY EACH CHILD ON THE BASIS OF THE SPEECH DATA ΓΓ HEARS.

He goes on to say that the term RESTRUCTURING should not be understood as denoting a change of some speaker's grammar into another grammar, since it refers only to "A DISCONTINUOUS LINGUISTIC CHANGE ARISING FROM THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE GRAMMAR CONSTRUCTED BY A CHILD AND THE GRAMMAR OF THOSE WHOSE SPEECH CONSTITUTED HIS LIN-

(1968: 175; emphasis added). This has been put very elegantly by Kiparsky, but several points need modification. I have discussed elsewhere (Bar-Adon n.d.b.) the role of children in linguistic change, but I should like to focus here a little on the application of GENERATION, and the continuity and discontinuity aspects of language transmission. First of all, let me reintroduce an idea (mentioned in other studies) about generations in the context of children and GUISTIC EXPERIENCE"

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child language. It seems to me that not only are adults aware of generations, but also children, especially in the context of their own child society or "culture." For instance, a fifth-grader does not consider a first-grader as someone of his own "generation," and he may even say so explicitly. Often, a difference of only one grade or one school year may correspond to a "generation gap." In other words, whereas a generation among adults is seen as a period of twenty to thirty years, among children it may correspond more to a school year or so. The tight network of communication contacts among the close generations of children facilitates several processes relevant to our discussion. The impact of one child (especially the slightly older child, or the leader of the block or gang, etc.) on his peers and on the slightly younger children is, in my opinion, of great importance, since children learn from other children not less, but probably more, than from adults. Furthermore, through that interaction among children, the basic process of language transmission is carried on; independent, coinciding, individual deviations from adult speech are fortified and consolidated, or "synchronized;" and, sooner or later (depending on the nature of the adult language), it will effect linguistic changes. There is no need to wait twenty-five years until the next generation is born and starts speaking. In this sense, the transmission of language among the generations of children may not be merely "discontinuous" and technically related to the fact that language is individually re-created by each child, as emphasized by Kiparsky. One might, in fact, see it as a kind of "CONTINUOUS" transmission, which may be manifested in a rather interesting way in a case such as modern Hebrew, where children could play a special role in its initiation and transmission through the dense, largely overlapping, almost continuous succession of children's "generations." This may not be less significant than the mere fact that language is recreated by each child, thus creating a situation of FORMAL "discontinuity." Otherwise, how can the rapid crystallization of "younger Hebrew" be explained, in face of the slow process in the adult language! Thus, by the end of the 1920's, when the revival of Hebrew became an undisputed reality, not one generation or two had gone by, but a period of some forty years. This period spanned an almost equal number of "generations" of children who created and re-created the language in their own way, through individual acquisition as well as group interaction, and thus transmitted it to one another as a continuous filament. Regarding the process of language acquisition, young children do not acquire language by imitation, nor do they need any formal teaching. They come equipped with an innate idea about language, with an innate

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capacity for deriving a theory of language from the speech samples to which they are exposed, and for constructing a complete grammar of the language in question on the basis of the rather limited corpus. This enables them to generate an infinite set of new utterances, including some that were never produced before. Furthermore, young speakers seem to be endowed with a capacity for penetrating into the COMPETENCE of the native speakers around them, rather than picking up mere performance which may include various misconstructions (see Chomsky 1964, 1965, 1967, 1968; Bar-Adon 1971a). Because there were no NATIVE adult speakers of Hebrew before the first Hebrew-speaking CHILDREN were born and reared, it follows that there was no real NATIVE COMPETENCE of Hebrew speech which the children could copy. What they actually had to accomplish in the process of their "nativization" of Hebrew (see, e.g. Bar-Adon 1967) amounts to CREATING that native competence by themselves, on the basis of the theory of Hebrew which they were able to derive from the hesitant speech of adults and older school children, and with the application of certain (innate) "universale of language." Thus it is not surprising at all that the young NATIVE speakers would have exhibited keener intuitions and perhaps even greater fluency in the language than the adults from whom they had just acquired it; adults, who may have been scholars in the language were, after all, hesitant speakers of it. The role of children in nativizing modern Hebrew and in creating the native speaker's competence may explain the "deviation" of the new Hebrew of the younger generation from the "target" Hebrew of the revivers — incidentally, particular deviations may find predecessors in earlier layers of Hebrew (Bar-Adon 1959, 1966). By the same token, our theory about children's generations, their density, the importance of the linguistic interaction among children, and the impact of peers, may explain the earlier fluency of children in Hebrew and the faster crystallization of "younger Hebrew." On the other hand, the fact that all of the first young native speakers of Hebrew came up with the same kind of Hebrew, including the same children's peculiarities and differences and "deviations" from formal Hebrew, may be further proof for the existence of certain innate universale of language and language acquisition. As we have seen, children played an important role in the nativization of Hebrew, and in the forging of a special native Hebrew speech that was different from any former layer of historical Hebrew, as well as from any model of Hebrew which the initiators of the linguistic revival might have had in mind. This involved "contributions" in all domains of language: in phonology, morphology, syntax, semantics, and lexicon, even stylistics (some examples of which follow below). Some of their contributions have

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penetrated, in due course, into the general language. This was in part indirectly, through "borrowings" by adults, and in part directly, due to the constant influx of these native speakers of "younger Hebrew" into the adult ranks. Even modern literary Hebrew has experienced this influence, in spite of the fierce opposition of purists. The children seem to have been most independent and most creative in the area of the "language of games," an area for which busy adults were slowest to provide. The sociolinguistic nature of an immigrant society was itself conducive to it. The old traditions and sociocultural frameworks of the adults were shattered by the "melting pot" process, even before new ones were forged. This was hardest on the children, who were thus deprived of any children's tradition — there was no common old tradition to draw upon, and the new one was yet to come. This created a great vacuum in the area of children's folklore and games. This is not because the adults came from different traditions, but mainly because the special children's world is usually maintained by children themselves. It is admirably transmitted from one generation of children to another, and, owing to the density of children's generations, it is continuously preserved among the children themselves, below the surface of adulthood, as it were (Opie and Opie 1959-1960, 1960). Adolescents seem to intentionally blot out such things from memory, and, by the time they are adults, most of them have forgotten their childhood altogether. Thus, THEIR children learn the traditions from their own peers rather than from the parents. In the Israeli case, the children had to START the traditions themselves! Indeed, the various aspects of an immigrant society — the "melting pot," the lack of uniform traditions, the lack of an established common language, the eclectic nature of modern Hebrew-in-the-making, and the adults' lack of proficiency in it — all were conducive to the children's extraordinary independence and freedom in certain areas. It seems that, at the beginning, there was another psychological factor of great consequence, i.e. the anxiousness of the first waves of immigrants to provide their children, who were born in Palestine, their new land of freedom, with the freedom — even the very childhood — which they and their forefathers had been deprived of in the ghetto. That exceedingly protective attitude was often overdone, and it was not surprising at all that the native children (Sabras) quickly became aware of it and consequently took advantage of it. In a recent article, one such Sabra, a scholar and journalist, made the following confession in his introduction to a series about the Sabra of the 1970's: I am myself a native of the Land of Israel, and I grew up, like my contemporaries, with the clear knowledge that being a Sabra provides me with a special status

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which both of my parents and grandparents did not have.... For me, as for my colleagues, our status as Sabras has imbued us with the tint of aristocracy, instilled in us a feeling of princes and sons of kings. We were the first generation for redemption, Hebrew children who did not experience antisemitism — Hebrew was our language and any other language was learned unwillingly and with difficulty. We were the wonder-children, we were the absolute opposite of the exile child ... and indeed, whoever surrounded us has understood us and loved us: teachers, educators and parents. For them we were the embodiment of a twothousand-year-hope.... (Rubinstein 1973: 13).

This evidence speaks for itself. Even if the first native children were not as self-conscious and cocky in a general way as Mr. Rubinstein's contemporaries (probably born in the 1920's and 1930's), their linguistic independence was probably even greater. In a typical immigrant society the immigrant children are usually welcomed with a well-established children's culture, with special traditions of folklore and games, and, naturally, with an adequate language for it. But when the children of the First'Aliya, and even the Second 'Aliya, arrived in Palestine, they were not welcomed by any special Hebrew children's culture. Worst of all, there was no HEBREW tradition for it, not even Hebrew terminology for games of the indigenous children that they found there (for which Arabic and other languages were used), nor for the exchanges and exclamations which accompany any normal, healthy game. Even the Hebrew of the adults was not yet established. The first children were thus in such a predicament that it inevitably forced them into creating by themselves, almost from scratch, their own new children's culture. They could not and would not wait for the adults (who were, in any case, too busy with survival and creating a general culture) to furnish them with their particular needs. They had to quickly establish a new Hebrew world of their own of play and games with the proper language for it, which in turn involved creating new speech habits and a variety of linguistic innovations. These innovations included both creation of neologisms through morphological derivation, semantic extension, and the like, and the introduction of borrowed elements into Hebrew, mainly from Arabic, but also from Ladino, Yiddish, etc. And while part of this process concentrated on direct borrowing (outright transfer), the rest involved loan translations, linguistic "contaminations," and the like. And it did not stop strictly at the lexicon. It was extended to certain "idioms" — greetings (e.g. ahalart, "Greetings!", in Arabic), exclamations, insults, curses, etc. (see Bar-Adon 1971b). In this way, hundreds of lexical items and expressions were borrowed and transferred by children into young Hebrew, affecting not

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only the lexicon (as some people naively believe) but almost all other areas of the linguistic system, perhaps mostly syntax and phonology. Before long, the role of children and the impact they made was felt strongly in general Israeli Hebrew, in borrowed as well as in genuine elements. For instance, in phonology, most Israeli children have done away not only with the pharyngeals, which are used only by speakers of Oriental Israeli Hebrew (whose number among the younger generation is constantly decreasing), but also with the alveolar /r/, which is realized instead as uvular. Consequently, the number of adults using alveolar /r/ has been gradually decreasing too. Similar effects are apparent in the morphophonemics of /b, g, d, k, p, tJ and in the stress patterns, both of which were almost revolutionized. For instance, in the case of /b, k, ρ/ (/g, d, t/ are realized as stops only, without allophonic spirantization), one will notice that, contrary to traditional rules, spirantization occurs in initial position and postconsonantally (after a "closed syllable"), e.g.fisfes 'he missed, goofed', not *pispes as the formal rules require; fixed forpihed, 'he was afraid'; tilfen for tilpen 'he telephoned'; likfoc for likpoc 'to jump'. On the other hand, there is despirantization postvocalically, instead of the expected spirantization, e.g. dabur 'wasp'; mikxol for mixhol 'paintbrush'; often also sabur for savur 'broken'; hpo for *hfo 'hither'; ubzvaday for uvavaday 'and certainly'; (,mibayit) hbayit for hvayit 'to house'; despirantization even occurs in final position: akrab for akrav ('aqrav) 'scorpion', etc. As for stress, it is admitted in antepenultimate position e.g. bubale 'dolly', and penultimate stress is extended into positions which traditionally required ultimate stress, e.g. feminine nouns and adjectives ending with -a, as in buba 'doll' for bubbd; balora 'a marble' (not *balord, which would be formally required); taydra 'a kite', as compared with regular feminine forms which have stress on the ultimate syllable (-ά), such as yaldd 'a girl'; susd 'a mare'; tovd 'good' (feminine); simld 'a dress', etc. Similarly, in the plural, the traditionally stressed masculine and feminine plural endings -im and -ot, respectively, may lose the stress, as in the penultimate forms: gülimjbalorot 'marbles'; prdsim 'prizes (bonus picture cards)'; küsijküsim 'negro/negroes (masculine)', rather than the formal kusijkusim (similarly, kuSiyot rather than kuSiyot); and so forth. By the same token, verbal forms which should formally have ultimate stress, e.g. katavtem 'you (masculine plural) wrote', become stressed penultimately, e.g. katdvtem and dibdrtem 'you (masculine plural) spoke', for dibbartem. Here we have a process of analogy or simplification of the morphological pattern, but we might also want to consider "relaxation" and reorganization in the phonological rules as a cause, rather than an effect.

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Because I have already discussed the entire problem at some length elsewhere, I will refrain from elaborating here (Bar-Adon 1977). I will mention here only one other interesting process in the verb, as part of an almost total "reorganization" of the verbal system. The use of the passive binyanim (verb conjugations) CuC(C)aC (pu'al) and huCCaC ihuf'al) was stopped, except for their present participles, and thus the traditional seven binyanim were actually reduced to five, with a variety of internal morphosemantic adjustments, "simplifications" in the distribution of the gezarot [verb classes], interrelations between tenses and moods, etc. (Bar-Adon 1959, 1974). The inflection of the noun was also profoundly affected by children's usage. In the process of nativization, the children did away almost entirely with the possessive inflection of the noun. Instead of declining the nouns themselves for possessive according to person-gender-number, as was the rule in Biblical Hebrew and very common in subsequent stages (e.g. sus 'horse', susi 'my horse', susxa 'your (masculine singular) horse', susex 'your (feminine singular) horse', suso 'his horse', etc.), the possessive preposition (originally a relativizer) sei would be added to the noun in isolation, and only sei would be inflected for the proper person-gender-number whereas the noun itself remained uninflected (e.g. ha-stis seli 'my horse', ha-sus selo 'his horse'; even aba seli 'my father', for avi, etc.). One can hardly overstate the far-reaching consequences of this development. For instance, when a borrowed verb is absorbed, it is more likely to be adapted to the system, not only morphologically but also phonologically (morphophonemically) although, as we have seen before, the children tried to retain certain peculiarities of the original (borrowed) form, as in tilfen 'he telephoned' rather than the formal tilpen, because of the / in the related noun telefon 'telephone'; fisfes not *pispes, etc. As mentioned above, even those processes have played a significant role in changing Hebrew phonology. Yet, it was limited to some extent, since a conjugation has the general tendency and capacity to iron out differences and to conceal foreignness by absorption and assimilation (adaptation) into its system (for instance, Arabic zift 'tar — meaning bad, spoiled, lousy' corresponding to Hebrew zefet 'tar', resulted in the verb zip(p)et, and mazupat 'spoiled, loused up', not *ni3zuffat). If, however, one conjugates only the possessive preposition sei and leaves the noun intact, there is hardly any control over the nature of the nouns borrowed into the language in terms of morphological structures (patterns) and, to an appreciable degree, phonological features. Foreign as the latter may be, if they come in large quantities and are in frequent use, they are bound to affect the phonology of the recipient language. Adults who witness the

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initial borrowings may be very well aware of the foreignness. However, new generations of children may accept them, totally or in part, as an integral part of the system, and formulate their phonological rules accordingly, especially if certain developments within the original system have already paved the way for it. While I cannot go into further details, I think that it is easy to see that the impact of such developments, which were established in children's Hebrew, has gradually been encroaching into adults' Hebrew, or general Israeli Hebrew, cf. aba seli katav el hadod seli Sehaxavera seli hi lo hfi hata'am selo 'my father wrote to my uncle

that my girl friend is not according to his taste', rather than 'avi katav 'el dodi, sehaverti hi lo hfi ta'amo. Children's usage has also had an effect on the syntactic structures of modern Hebrew, varying from new modes of one-word transposition to new rules about the conditional clause, transformations of negation, etc., but we will have to leave that discussion for another occasion. In conclusion, we have seen the role of children in the revival of Hebrew from its very inception, their unique role in the process of its nativization, including the creation of the "language of games," and their indispensable part in its crystallization. We have also examined certain aspects of their impact on the subsequent development of modern Hebrew.

REFERENCES BAR-ADON, AARON

1959

Children's Hebrew in Israel, two volumes (in Hebrew with English summary). Jerusalem. 1964 "Analogy and analogic change as reflected in contemporary Hebrew," in Proceedings of the Ninth International Congress of Linguists. Edited by H. Lunt, 758-763. The Hague: Mouton. (Reprinted 1971 in Child language: a book of readings. Edited by Aaron Bar-Adon and W. F. Leopold, 302-306. Englewood Cliff's, N.J.: Prentice-Hall.) 1965 "The evolution of modern Hebrew," in Acculturation and integration. Edited by J. L. Teller, 65-95. New York: Histradrut Cultural Exchange Institute. 1966 New imperative and jussive formations in contemporary Hebrew. Journal of American Oriental Society 86: 410-413. 1967 "Processes of nativization in contemporary Hebrew." Mimeographed. 1970 "Studies in the revival of modern Hebrew: the rise and decline of a Galilean dialect." Mimeographed. 1971a "Primary syntactic structures in Hebrew child language," in Child language: a book of readings. Edited by Aaron Bar-Adon and W. F. Leopold, 433-472. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall. 1971b "Child bilingualism in an immigrant society," in Preprints of the

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Chicago Conference on Child Language, 264-318. Quebec: International Centre for Research on Bilingualism, Universite Laval. 1972 S. Y. Agnon and the revival of modern Hebrew. Texas Studies in Literature and Language 14: 147-175. 1973 "On the rise and decline of an Upper-Galilean dialect," in Language planning: current issues and research, 86-101. Edited by J. Rubin and R. Shuy. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. 1974 "Language planning and processes of nativization in the newly revived Hebrew," in Proceedings of the Third International Congress of Applied Linguistics, 1-17. Heidelberg: Julius Gross. 1975 The rise and decline of a dialect: a study in the revival of modern Hebrew. Janua Linguarum, Series Practica 197. The Hague: Mouton. 1977 "Developments in the Hebrew verbal system of Israeli children and youth," in Festschrift in honor of A. A. Hill. Edited by Jazayery et al. Lisse, The Netherlands: The Peter de Ridder Press. n.d.a. "The revival of modern Hebrew." Unpublished manuscript. n.d.b. "The role of child language in linguistic change." Unpublished manuscript. BAR-ADON, AARON, W . F. LEOPOLD, editors 1971 Child language: a book of readings. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: PrenticeHall. BARON, NAOMI

1972a "The evolution of English periphrastic causatives: contributions to a general theory of linguistic variation and change." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University. 1972b Language acquisition's role in diachrony: the evolution of English periphrastic causatives. Stanford Occasional Papers in Linguistics 2: 47-63. BEN-HAYYIM, ZE'EV 1953 LaSon 'atika bimci'ut hadasa [An ancient language in a new milieu] Leshonenu La,am 4: 35-37. BEN-YEHUDA, ELIEZER

1879 Se'ela nixbada [An important question]. Ha-shahar 9. 1943a "Degel la-le'umiyut [The banner of nationalism]," in Kol kitvey Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, volume one. Jerusalem: Ben-Yehuda Publications. (Originally written 1881.) 1943b Kol kitvey Eliezer Ben- Yehuda [All the writings of Eliezer Ben-Yehuda], volume one. Jerusalem: Ben-Yehuda Publications. BLANC, HAIM

1954 The growth of Israeli Hebrew. Middle Eastern Affairs 5: 385-392. 1957 Hebrew in Israel: trends and problems. The Middle East Journal 11:397fF. CHOMSKY, NOAM

1964 Formal discussion of W. Miller and S. Ervin, The development of grammar in child language in The acquisition of language. Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development 29 (1): 35-39. 1965 Aspects of the theory of syntax. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press. 1967 "The formal nature of language," in Biological foundations of language by E. Lenneberg, 397-422. New York: Wiley.

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1968 Language and mind. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World. (Expanded edition 1972.) EISENSTADT, SHEMUEL

1967 Our living Hebrew language. Tel-Aviv: Tekumah. FISHMAN, JOSHUA A.

1968 "Nationality-nationalism and nation-nationism," in Language problems of developing nations. Edited by J. A. Fishman et al., 39-51. New York: Wiley. n.d. "The sociolinguistic 'normalization' of the Jewish people," in Festschrift in honor of A. A. Hill. Edited by E. Polome et al. (in press). HALL, ROBERT Α., JR.

1966 Pidgin and Creole languages. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press. HALLE, MORRIS

1962 Phonology in a generative grammar. Word 18: 54-72. (Reprinted in The structure of language: readings in the philosophy of language. Edited by J. Fodor and J. J. Katz, 334-352. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall.) HAR-ZAHAV, Z.

1930 Leson Dorenu [Our generation's language]. Tel-Aviv. JAKOBSON, ROMAN

1941 Kinderspräche, Aphasie und allgemeine Lautgesetze. Uppsala: Almquist. (Reprinted 1968 in Selected writings, volume one. The Hague: Mouton.) KING, ROBERT

1969 Historical linguistics and generative grammar. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall. KIPARSKY, PAUL

1965 "Phonological change." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 1968 "Linguistic universale and linguistic change," in Universals in linguistic theory. Edited by E. Bach and R. Harms, 170-202. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. 1971 "Historical linguistics," in A survey of linguistic science. Edited by W. O. Dingwall, 577-649. College Park, Md.: University of Maryland Press. KOSOVER, MORDECAI

1954 "Ashkenazim and Sephardim in Palestine: a study in intercommunal relations," in Homenaje a Millds-Vallicrossa, volume one, 753-788. Barcelona: Consejo superior de Investigaciones Cientificas. 1966 Arabic elements in Palestinian Yiddish: The old Ashkenazic Jewish community in Palestine, its history and its language. Jerusalem: Rubin Mass. MORAG, SHELOMO

1959 Planned and unplanned development in modern Hebrew. Lingua 8: 247-263. OPIE, IONA, PETER OPIE

1959-1960 The lore and language of schoolchildren. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1960 The Oxford nursery rhyme book. Oxford: Clarendon Press,

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PARFITT, Τ. V.

1972 The use of Hebrew in Palestine 1800-1882. Journal of Semitic Studies 17: 237-252. POSTAL, P . M.

1968 Aspects of phonological theory. New York: Harper and Row. RABIN, CHAIM

1967 Sociological factors in the history of the Hebrew language. New York: Department of Education and Culture of the Jewish Agency. 1969 The revival of the Hebrew language. Journal of Tamil Studies 1: 44-60. 1970 The role of language in forging a nation: the case of Hebrew. The Incorporated Linguist (January). 1971 The language revival and the changes in the status and character of Hebrew. Orot (Jerusalem) 10: 61-77. ROSEN, H. B.

1956 Ha'ivrit selanu [Our Hebrew]. Tel Aviv: 'Am 'Oved. ROSS, JOHN

1967 "Constraints on variables in syntax." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Massachusetts Institute of Technology. RUBINSTEIN, A.

1973 The Sabra of the 1970's: introduction. Ha'arets number 16405: 13. (in Hebrew.) SADDAN, DOV

1970 Ivrit li-gvurot [Hebrew on its eightieth birthday]. Hadoar (New York) 40, number 10 (2173), January 19, 1970: 150-152.

The Extent of Multilayer Influences on the Gagauz Language

N. A. BASKAKOV

In the present language situation of the Soviet peoples there exist, besides bilingualism (between local tongue and Russian), which is gradually involving all the Soviet peoples, instances of more complicated intralingual relationships. This is the case in republics where coexisting with indigenous populations are national minorities who, in addition to speaking their own language and Russian, also know the language of the basic population of the republic they reside in. An example is offered by the Gagauzians, an ethnic group numbering 157,000, who reside in the Moldavian and Ukrainian Soviet Republics. The Soviet nationalities policy contributes to the development of the languages of all Soviet peoples, regardless of the number speaking the language, and it has, for example, provided every opportunity for the development of the Gagauz tongue with its written language and literature. Gagauz functions in the Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic alongside Moldavian and Russian, but the situation is complicated by the fact that, in addition to the Moldavians and Russians, Gagauzians also have as neighbors Ukrainians, Bulgarians, and Rumanians, and, in the recent past, Greeks and Turks as well. The Gagauz tongue is the newest written language in southeast Europe. Although this language, written in Russian characters, emerged only in 1957, many texts and books of fiction have already been published in it (Pokrovskaja 1960b: 154-155; 1970). In the districts inhabited mainly by Gagauzians there is a newspaper published in the language. But the role of the main language in the Gagauzian districts is retained by Moldavian, with Russian serving as the language used between the various nationalities. Most of the Gagauzians have a full command of

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both Moldavian and Russian. Some even know the neighboring Bulgarian language. Bilingualism and polylingualism do not, however, hamper the development of the Gagauzians' native tongue, though its public functions are somewhat limited. The problems of Gagauz functioning in the given linguistic situation will no doubt attract the attention of sociolinguists. But Gagauz, as a language developing under complicated intraethnic conditions, is of even greater interest when it comes to the structural changes brought about by the influence of neighboring languages. Based on the central Comrat and Chayrlung dialects, the Gagauz literary language has in full measure preserved the features of a language spoken by the people; it has had a long road of development and retained traces of its most ancient state and of reflexes under much later influence from other Balkan languages, including the Slavonic languages (Bulgarian and Russian), the Romanic languages (Rumanian and Moldavian), and also Greek and Turkish. Elements of the influence these languages have had on Gagauz can be seen in its phonetics, morphology, and particularly in its vocabulary and syntax. In the Gagauz vocabulary one can easily trace the Greek layer of words, the great majority of which are related to religion and some of which are related to botanic terminology and to the special terminology of civil engineering (Dmitriev 1962: 278-279). The Gagauz vocabulary is also noted for the considerable layer of Romanic words, predominantly Moldavian, and, to a lesser degree, of Rumanian, which thematically reflects the terminology used in socioeconomic concepts, law, agriculture, as well as everyday words denoting dwellings, utensils, clothing, and food (Dmitriev 1962: 279-281). The largest layer of borrowings consists of Slavonic words and terminology, diversified in their semantics and including all spheres of the everyday life, economy, and culture of the Gagauz people. It should be noted, however, that in both the Slavonic and Romanic layers the great majority of the words are related to concepts dealing with the life and economy of grain-, vegetable-, and fruit-growing farms. The Turkish layer in the Gagauz vocabulary is more difficult to ascertain because Gagauz is closely related to the Turkish language. However, there are considerable differences, mainly concerning semantics, that is, the precise meaning of the same word in both Turkish and Gagauz. Gagauz syntax, which has much in common with the Turkic languages, is noted for the loose word order in word combinations and sentences; this coincides with the word order in the spoken language. Related to these languages are the now extinct Polovetsian Codex Cumanicus (Kuun 1880),

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the tongue of the Kamenets-Podolsk Turkish-speaking Armenians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (Grunin 1967; Deny 1957), and the modern Karaime language (Baskakov 1965). The explanation for a loose word order in written literary Gagauz and in modern Karaime lies not only in the influence of Slavonic languages on their syntax, but also, to a considerable degree, in the traditions of the spoken language, in which different models of sentences and word combinations exist, one based on the standard Turkish word order and the other on a loose word order. A characteristic feature of Gagauz syntax is the relative stability of the standard word order of possessive and attributive constructions, i.e. the genitive case in an attributive function, as, for example, in teatranyn direktoru 'theatre director', or benim kusum 'my bird' (Kaljakina-Kaledina 1955: 13); but this has a predominantly loose word order in the sentence, as, for example, in acan professor lekcijeji okujor ozaman benim aklyma geler meraklu fikirlär 'when the professor lectures interesting ideas come into my head' (Tanasoglu 1965: 31). We can also observe certain influences of multilayer languages in the field of morphology. The suffic =kaj=jka points to the name of the profession, nationality, post, or title of a woman; it is a suffix borrowed from Bulgarian and Russian (together with the corresponding vocabulary) and later adopted differentially for Gagauz words denoting a women's profession and title, for instance, uciteVka 'woman teacher', gagauzka 'Gagauz woman', delegatka 'woman delegate', komSujka 'woman neighbor' and others (Drimba 1964: 325-331). In addition, let us note the following reflexes of influence on Gagauz by Slavonic languages. The common vocabulary and morphological distinction for Gagauz, the Polovetsian language of the Kamenets-Podolsk Armenians, and also Karaime is the presence of the prepositional conjunction da used in narrative speech. (Dmitriev 1962:263-265; Kowalski 1929). In Gagauz the prepositional conjunction da is no doubt borrowed from Bulgarian; examples are: da kojer diri sisa 'and he puts it live on the spit'; da olmuslar ikisi kardaslyk' 'and the two became brothers'. A characteristic morphological innovation borrowed from Greek is the usage of the accusative case instead of the directive case; it is used in certain forms of the demonstrative and interrogative pronouns to denote space, for instance, burajy gelen 'coming here', nereji gidelim 'where we shall go?' (Dmitriev 1962: 262-263). Finally, a feature which is common to many Turkic languages, including Gagauz, and which reflects the influence of Slavonic morphology, is the analytic manner of forming the components of the Gagauz verb of the

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following type: moVit,et= 'to beg'; sluiiVet= 'to serve', etc. (Pokrovskaja 1964: 167). A point of interest is the presence of the vocative case marked with forms borrowed from Bulgarian ( = 0 ~ = U ) and Ukrainian (=E); for example, compare babo, the vocative case of babu ~ baba 'grandmother' ; d'ado, the vocative case of d'adu 'grandfather'; mamo, the vocative case of mama 'mother'; olane, the vocative case of οlan 'boy'; and so forth (Drimba 1961b). But the most interesting and, to the greatest degree, organic introduction of influencing elements by multilayer languages is seen in the phonetic structure of the Gagauz language. One of the main features characterizing the phonetic structure of Gagauz is the presence of paired palatalized consonants. This is also common for Karaime (Kowalski 1929: 28-30) which, however, has certain distinctive features of its own. In a special article dealing with this issue, Tukan (1962) notes that in the Gagauz language all the consonants, with the exception of the soft z, c, s (singlevariant) have two variants: hard and soft. It should be noted that elements of consonant palatalization are also characteristic for certain consonants in dialects of the Turkish language, in the Crimea-Tatar and Uzbek languages, and in the ancient YeniseiOrkhon language, where there were special symbols to distinguish palatalized consonants. However, the palatalization of consonants in the Gagauz language is in character closest to the same features of palatalization in the Karaime language. In both Karaime and Gagauz, the palatalization of consonants is interlinked with the phenomenon of neutralization and, so to speak, of back-positioning the vowels which follow the palatalized consonants. In the Trakai dialect of Karaime, as Kowalski noted (1929: 28-29), there occurred a shifting of palatalization from the vowels to the preceding consonants and the transition of all the vowels in postposition after the palatalized consonants into the corresponding back vowels: e > 'a; ö > 'o; ü > 'u, for example, Jc'oz'um'd'a < közümde 'in my eye'. The vowels in anlaut remained forward-positioned in view of the absence of the palatalized consonant, for instance, ö z W 'riverlet', üvfaV 'to teach'. This phenomenon of mutatis mutandis is also characteristic for Gagauz regarding all four front-positioned vowels (e, i, ö, ü) which, when placed after the palatalized consonant, become back-positioned: i > y, ö > ό, ü > ύ. However, a particular transformation affects the vowel e which, when positioned after a palatalized consonant, changes into a, i.e. undergoes an even greater qualitative change (Baskakov 1962). If the palatalization of the consonants in Gagauz were positional, in other words depended only in the quality of the neighboring vowel, then

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there would not have been such a transformation of the vowel e (a) (i.e. the transition of e > a or a), compare ar'ed'ä (< arada) 'between', g'üd'ä 'body', Van T , s'an 'you' (Pokrovskaja 1960a: 173). However, in Gagauz, the process of shifting palatalization to consonants has not yet been completed in full, as can be observed in Karaime. Gagauz in this respect is, so to speak, intermediate between languages which have a weak positional palatalization of the consonants placed before the corresponding palatalized (front-positioned) vowels, and Karaime, where palatalization is a differentiating feature of the consonants, not the vowels. Certain students of the Gagauz language, specifically its phonetic structure, deny that there is such a shifting of palatalization to the consonants and the corresponding change in the quality of the vowels. But they do not give any convincing arguments to counter this explanation of the appearance of the vowel ä (a), pointing instead to the need for further investigation (Drimba 1961a). The counterposing in transcription of such pairs as a'red'ä and arada 'between', p'er'd'ä and perde 'curtain', and r'ezä and reze 'hoop' definitely indicates the qualitative change of the consonants and, hence, of the vowels which, losing their palatalization, undoubtedly appear neutral regarding palatalization, although they retain a certain positional palatalization. As we see it, a more correct transcription of this phenomenon would be ar'ed'd instead of ar'ed'ä; p'er'd'd instead of p'er'd'ä; fez'd instead of r'ez'ä. However, in the transcription of the corresponding phenomena in Russian, where the vowels following the palatalized consonant undoubtedly also shift to a more forward position, this process is usually not singled out, for instance, p'at' (instead of p ' d f ) 'five', m'ol (instead of ί ΐ ΐ ό ΐ ) 'swept', t'elo (instead of fyelo) 'body', fuk (instead of t'ük) 'bale'. It is quite apparent that this phenomenon in both Karaime and Gagauz has been caused under the influence of Slavonic languages where palatalization in the structure of the word is a differentiated feature of consonants, not vowels. In the Turkic languages, on the other hand, palatalization in the structure of the word is in most cases a differentiated feature of vowels, although in certain languages both ancient (e.g. Bulgarian and the language of the Yenisei-Orkhon inscriptions) and modern (e.g. Chuvash and Karaime) the reverse is observed. With such fluctuations, the case in the shifting of vowel and consonant under palatalization requires only a slight impulse in the way of influence by neighboring languages, i.e. Slavonic, to be specific for the phonetic structure of the word to change accordingly. Such a change in phonetic structure is being achieved in Gagauz, a language where these processes have not yet been completed, unlike Karaime.

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A second phonetic phenomenon in Gagauz, noted for being under the active influence of the phonetic structure of the Slavonic languages, is that of the reduction of the broad vowels in the unstressed Gagauz syllable, for instance, almyj'y < almajy 'apple' (accusative case); danyja < danaja 'calf'; sabyjlan < sabajlan 'in the morning'; veridzes < veredzes 'we shall give', etc. (Pravila orfografii 1958: 11; Drimba 1963: 63-89; Tukan 1962). Yet another specific feature also caused in Gagauz under the influence of the Slavonic languages and partially by Rumanian and Moldavian is the presence of the prothetic consonant j preceding the vowel e and analogically preceding ο (ö), u (μ), and y (/) at the beginning of the word (Dmitriev 1962: 223-227), for example: e > je: jekmek 'bread' (instead of ekmek); jel 'hand' (instead of el); ° (ö) > jo ( < jö): foVüm (< jölüm) 'death' (instead of öliim); foVc= (< jölc=) 'to measure' (instead of öle—); y > jy, i > ji: jic 'to drink' (instead of ic=); jiz 'trace' (instead of iz); ü > jü: füz'üm ( < jüzüm) 'grape' (instead of üziim); füfät— (< jüret=) 'to teach' (instead of üret=). The phenomenon is also sporadically encountered in other Turkic languages and dialects, but in Gagauz it is almost a pattern (Dmitriev 1962: 226). Regarding this phenomenon Dmitriev has pointed out that the simple form of transition is apparently e > je, which is supported by the phonetic distinctions of Rumanian and Russian. The other categories, he feels, can be regarded as analogic formations (Dmitriev 1962: 227). Thus the basic features characterizing the influence on Gagauz of neighboring Balkan languages are summarized as follows: (1) In the vocabulary field: the presence of Slavonic, Romanic, Greek, and Turkish layers of borrowed words: (2) In the field of syntax: the activization of the syntactic norms of speech and the fixing of a loose word order in word combinations and in sentences; (3) In the field of morphology: the presence of the affix =kaj—jka, which points to the profession, nationality, post, or title of the woman; the usage of the prepositional conjunction da; the replacement of the directive case by the accusative in certain forms of the demonstrative and interrogative pronouns; the specific way of forming analytic verbal stems of the moVifet= 'to beg' type; the presence of the vocative case (=oj =u); etc. (4) In the field of phonetics: the presence of paired palatalized consonants and elements of quality transformation appearing in Gagauz vowels

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under their influence; characteristic distinction in the reduction of unstressed vowels; the appearance of the prothetic consonant j before the vowel e in anlaut, and also analogically before other vowels. These are patterns caused by the impact of Slavonic and Romanic languages.

REFERENCES BASKAKOV, N. A.

1962

Vvedetiie ν izuchenie tjurkskikh jazykov [Introduction to the study of Turkic languages]. Moscow. 1965 Nekotorye nabljudenija nad sintaksisom karaimskogo jazyka [Some observations on the syntax of Karaime]. Ural-Altaische Jahrbücher 36, fascicule 3-4. Wiesbaden. DENY, J.

1957 Varmeno-coman et les Ephemerides de Kamieniec (1604—1613). Wiesbaden. DMITRIEV, Ν. K.

1962 Stroj tjurkskikh jazykov [The structure of Turkic languages]. Moscow. DRIMBA, v .

1961a Cercetäri asupra foneticii gägäuze I, II. Studii si Cercetäri Lingvistice (Bucharest) 12 (3^t). 1961b Sur le vocatif en gagaouse. Acta Orientalia Hungarica (Budapest) 13. fascicule 3. 1963 Remarques sur les parlers gagaouse de la Bulgarie du Nord-Est. Rocznik Orientalistyczny (Warsaw) 26. 1964 fitudes gagaouses: les derives en =ka. Revue romain de Linguistique 9(3). GRUNIN, Τ. I.

1967 Dokumenty napolovetskom jazyke XVI v. [Documents in the Polovetsian language of the 16th century ]. Moscow. KALJAKINA-KALEDINA, T. G.

1955 Porjadok slov ν prostom predlozhenii gagauzskogo jazyka [Word order in the simple sentence in Gagauz]. Avtoreferat [thesis synopsis]. Moscow. KOWALSKI, Τ.

1929 Karaimische Texte im Dialect von Troki. Krakow. KUUN, G.

1880 Codex Cumanicus. Budapest. POKROVSKAJA, L. A.

1960a "Osnovnye cherty fonetiki sovremennogo gagauzskogo jazyka [Basic characteristics of the phonetics of contemporary Gagauz]," in Voprosy dialektologii tjurkskikh jazykov [Questions on the dialectology of Turkic languages], volume three. Baku. 1960b Pervye itogi razvitija gagauzskogo literaturnogo jazyka [First results in the development of the Gagauz literary language]. Voprosy Jazykoznanija [Questions of Philology ] 3.

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1964 Grammatika gagauzskogo jazyka [Gagauz grammar]. Moscow. 1970 Ο sostojanii izuchenija i razvitija gagauzskogo jazyka [On the state of the study and development of the Gagauz language]. Sovetskaja Tjurkologija [Soviet Turkology], number 2. Baku. Pravila orfografii 1958 Pravila orfografii gagauzskogo jazyka [Rules of Gagauz orthography]. Kishinev. TANASOGLU, D. N.

1965 Slozhnopodchinennoe predlozhenie ν sovremennom gagauzskom jazyke [The complex sentence in contemporary Gagauz], Avtoreferat [thesis synopsis]. Baku. TUKAN, Β.

1962 Ο singarmonizme ν gagauzskom jazyke (na materiale vulkaneshtskogo govora) [On synharmonism in Gagauz (on material of the Vulcanest dialect)]. Limba shi Literatura Moldovenjaska 3. 1965 Vulkaneshtskij dialekt gagauzskogo jazyka [The Vulcanest dialect of Gagauz]. Kishinev.

Yanomama Diglossia

ERNEST C. MIGLIAZZA

Diglossia here means a sociolinguistic situation in which two varieties of a language exist side by side in a speech community, each having a definite social function or clearly defined role. Diglossia is a special case of bilingualism: while diglossia is the situation of two languages with different functions in one society, bilingualism is the situation of two languages with the same function in one society. In other words, diglossia is "a characterization of linguistic organization at the socio-cultural level" and bilingualism is "a characterization of individual linguistic behavior" (Fishman 1967: 34). The term diglossia was first introduced by Ferguson in 1959. He borrowed it from the French word diglossie, a term referring to a special type of bilingualism. His definition of diglossia is as follows: Diglossia is a relatively stable language situation in which, in addition to the primary dialects of the language, there is a very divergent, highly codified (often grammatically more complex) superposed variety, the vehicle of a large and respected body of written literature, either of an earlier period or in another speech community — which is learned largely by formal education and is used for most written and formal spoken purposes, but is not used by any sector of the community for ordinary conversation (Ferguson 1959: 435). As Ferguson initially used the term, it was "in connection with a society that used two or more languages for internal (intra-society) communication" (1959: 435). Voegelin and Voegelin (1966) stated that, for Ferguson, This paper is a revised version of a subsection of Chapter I of the author's unpublished dissertation on the grammar of the Yanomama languages, "Yanomama grammar and intelligibility," 1972. My thanks go to Dr. Bernard Spolsky who first encouraged me to write this paper.

562

ERNEST C. M1GLIAZZA

instances of bilingual societies were also diglossia societies because he based his case only on social function. Therefore the Voegelins restricted the diglossia situation to an ethnolanguage and a variety of it, or two ethnolanguages which are varieties of a single primary language with distinct social functions, while bilingualism was restricted to the case of two different primary languages. In the sociolinguistic literature it is apparent that the study of diglossia has so far been connected mainly with literate societies. Ferguson includes a "body of literature" as a cause of the development of diglossia: Diglossia is likely to come into being when the following three conditions hold in a given speech community: (1) there is a sizeable body of literature in a language closely related to the natural language of the community.... (2) Literacy in the community is limited to a small elite. (3) A suitable period of time, on the order of several centuries, passes from the establishment of (1) and (2) (1959: 338).

This paper endeavors first to describe, within Ferguson's general framework, an unusual diglossia situation in an illiterate face-to-face society; and second, it presents some evidence to justify reconsideration of certain claims pertinent to linguistic diversity, language acquisition, and language change. The Yanomama are the largest of the as yet unacculturated tropical rain forest Indian tribes of South America. With over 12,000 speakers living in more than 200 villages in an area of 100,000 square miles, they are also the only group in the Amazon exhibiting a noted territorial expansion within the last 100 years (compare Map 2 and Map 3). The Yanomama are found mainly on the Amazon-Orinoco watersheds of northern Brazil and southern Venezuela and are referred to in this paper as a language family with four major language varieties which, according to the way the speakers refer to themselves, we have termed: Yanam, Yanomam, Yanomami, and Sanima (see Map 1). Each of these languages has a few dialectal varieties. Until fifteen years ago, the Yanomama language family had been classified as "isolated" (Koch-Grünberg 1913; Rivet 1924; Rivet and Loukotka 1952; Mason 1950; McQuown 1955), and they were traditionally referred to as Shirianä in the Brazilian ethnographic literature and as Guaika in the Venezuelan literature. In more recent publications (Swadesh 1959; Greenberg 1960; Wilbert 1963; Voegelin and Voegelin 1965) the family was classified as a member of the Macro-Chibcha phylum,1 and designated by the terms Yanoama, Yanonami, and Yänömamö (Zerries 1

However, concerning its membership in the Macro-Chibcha phylum, insufficient linguistic evidence has been presented.

563

Yanomama Diglossia

1956; Schuster 1958; Becher 1960; Wilbert 1963; Chagnon 1966). These terms and their cognates in the various Yanomama languages signify a person who speaks a Yanomama language and shares the essentials of Yanomama cultural knowledge, in contrast to others who belong to other linguistic families. If the term is acceptable as the family denomination, 68

67

66

65

64

63

62

61

60

1973

Map 1. The Yanomama languages

then, instead of the traditional terms Shirianan or Waikan, Yanomama should be used, as this term is not found in exactly this spelling in any dialect but is understood by the great majority of speakers. This title for the family seems appropriate because it will not be confused with any dialectal groups, although it is familiar enough to be recognized not only in the geographical center of the family but also from the Uraricuera River in the north to the upper Demeni in the south, and from the Cauaburi in the west to the upper Mucajai in the east of Brazil. The term

564

ERNEST C. MIGLIAZZA

Yanomama has been used by authors of many papers on population genetics and ethnography during the past six years. The term in its various pronunciations is also used by all speakers of the Yanomama family to designate all other speakers of the Yanomama languages and dialects. The term Yanomama is in conflict with the name Waica used by Zerries

68

67

1 = Awake (Urutani)

66

65

64

2 = Sope ( K o r i a n o )

Map 2. Yanomama and surrounding languages — 1970

(1964) and by Borgman et al. (1965), where the latter state "Waican is chosen as the name of the family on the basis of its use by native speakers to identify all other groups speaking related dialects." In reality the term Waica is not an auto-denomination but is rather the term used by Yanomama speakers to designate another group of the same language family when the speaker is not in sympathy with that group. The term signifies in this context a "savage person," one who is murderous and, most of all, backward. The traditional term Shirianä or Xirixana [sirisana] (KochGrünberg 1913; Rivet and Loukotka 1952; Mason 1950; McQuown 1955)

Yanomama Diglossia

565

has been suggested as a denomination, but it was used derogatorily by the Caribs for the Yanomama groups. At present, the marginal Yanomama of the Mucajai and Uraricaä Rivers identify themselves to strangers as Shiriana or Shirishana which, in the Yanomama culture, has come to signify, in general, "friendly" and at times "not fierce" or "not coura-

68 1 = Awake

67

66 2:Sape

65 3 = Marakana

64 4=Guinau

63 5=Maku

Map 3. Yanomama and surrounding languages — 1800

geous." Yet, when asked what the term really means in their language, they do not know. The various denominations of the local groups of the Yanomama family that appear on the maps and in the ethnographic works have caused confusion by their lack of uniformity and consistency. They can be grouped into three classes: external designations, internal designations, and autodenominations. External designations are those given by persons who are not members of the Yanomama family. Such designations are usually the result of misinterpretation and lack of knowledge of the local language. Thus Guadema

566

ERNEST C. MIGLIAZZA

by Gheerbrant (1954), Wadema and Warema by Vinci (1956), and Karime by Salathe (1932) are misspellings for a variant of [warima], which means "in-law." Guaharibo, an old designation for the Yanomama (Codazzi 1841) in the Orinoco and Padamo Rivers in Venezuela, is a word which came over from the Rio Negro in Brazil, where it is pronounced "Guariba" and means "howler monkey." 2 Internal designations are those which a Yanomama group uses for another Yanomama group but which are not always accepted as autodenominations. For example, Waika, Uaika, or Guaika, as it appeared in the literature under different spellings, is rather derogatory and is used by the Yanomama when they do not like another village. Although waika comes from an archaic root (now found in only one Yanomama language) meaning 'wanting to kill', it is used throughout the Yanomama area with the meaning of 'backward wild people', rather than with its original meaning of 'kill'. Other examples of internal denominations designating groups of Yanomama (not local villages) are Parahuri and its cognates, from parahiri 'Royal hawk species' designating all Yanomama of the Parima valley in general, Maita, between the upper Uraricuera and Parima Rivers, and Casapare or Caserapai, from kasrapai 'lip-long'. The Yanomama local groups or villages identify themselves with the morpheme -theri 'dwellers of, people, village, inhabitants of', suffixing this morpheme to geographical names such as rivers, mountains, and particular places marked by some kind of vegetation or animals. These village auto-denominations are valid in general until the village moves to a distant location. If the village stays in the same local area, the people will be referred to by the same name. Even when they change names, some other villages will continue to refer to them by the old name. The northern Yanomama do not always exhibit the -theri ending in auto-denominations and tend to substitute for it the plural animate morpheme, which varies according to the dialect from -dib or dap to -p or -pik. Some auto-denominations also include -wei, a nominalizer and subordinative aspect marker. Some examples of auto-denomination on the Brazilian side of the Yanomama area are: aiwa-tha-theri parawa-p or parawa-i-theri mayop-theri 2 3

'aiwe-mountainpeople' 3 'Paragua-river-people'

on the Quaimi River (upper Uraricaä) on the Paragua River

'tucanos-place-people'

on the upper Parima

For more examples and detailed discussion, see Migliazza (1972: 28-33). Can be translated as "people" or "inhabitants."

Yanomama Diglossia

parimi-t-theri or parimi-theri sama-td-i-theri

567

'everlasting-riverpeople' 'tapir-place-riverpeople'

on the Uraricuera 4 on the Marauia River

Some examples from the Venezuelan side of the Yanomama area include: mono-u-theri sasana-wd-theri sipasi-wd-theri

mahekoto-u-theri

'flooded lowlandriver-people' 'bird species people' 'fish species namepeople' 'knee-river-people'

on the Mavaca River on the Orinoco River inland between the Padamo and Manaviche Rivers on the Orinoco River

External and internal denominations cannot be used for linguistic classification of dialects because not only are they generic but the same name can and does refer to different villages whose dialects belong to different linguistic groupings. Thus, the term Yanomama is used here as the family denomination instead of those forms with orthographic or phonetic variations appearing in ethnographic literature, such as Yanoama, Yanomamö, and Yanomamt, which actually denote only one dialect or language group of the Yanomama family. As the term Yanomama is not found in any dialect, it will not be confused with the local denomination of any of the Yanomama dialects. The different cognates of this term are used to designate the four major primary languages of the family as indicated on Map 1: Yanomami, spoken in the west-southwest by about 6,500 speakers; Yanomam, with 3,000 speakers in the east-southeast; Yanam, with 500 speakers in the northeast; and Sanima, with 2,000 speakers in the north. 5

THE SUPERPOSED LANGUAGE WAYAMO Social gatherings, especially during the dry season from October to March, are among the most important social events in Yanomama life. The purpose of these festivals or parties is complex, varying from the need to maintain intervillage unity and solidarity, to establish new friendships, make allies for war, remember the dead by drinking their powdered bone, trade, exchange news, settle quarrels and feuds, and to arrange marriages. 4 B

The Parima-Uraricuera and Branco rivers are called Parimi by the Yanomama. For their grammar and internal genetic relationship, see Migliazza (1972).

568

ERNEST C. MIGLIAZZA

Such local gatherings have great social and political significance for the local village.® One special feature of these gatherings is the use of what is called here the [wayamo] language,7 a kind of Yanomama lingua franca, spoken in a formalized and chanted manner between members of different villages. This language is also spoken on certain other occasions described below. In general, all Yanomama men, in addition to their own dialect, speak [wayamo], having learned it in their youth, while the women only understand it. The [wayamo] is a dialect of Yanomama or, better, an archaic form of the Yanomama language serving mainly as a "trade and news" language for formal tribal and intervillage communication when one group visits another. This situation of having two varieties of a language existing side by side but with distinct social functions is a typical diglossia situation. However, the Yanomama case is a type of diglossia in which the same superposed language, [wayamo], is used throughout the Yanomama area where there are local primary ethnolanguages. The [wayamo], or superposed variety, will be referred to from now on as the Η (high) language, and the local native dialects will be called L (low).

FUNCTION OF WAYAMO The Η variety is exclusively a man's language. In its most common use it is known throughout the Yanomama area as wayamo or by its cognates, i.e. locally this word is pronounced within the phonetic variations of the L variety. Thus, in the Yanomami and Yanomam language areas wayamo is pronounced [wayamö] and [wayamu], in Sanima [watsamo], and in Yanam [watsamö]; in the Η variety it is always [wayamo]. The L varieties have their own names, i.e. the [nmam] or [yanam], [yäniman] or [yanomam], [yanomami], [tsanima], or [yanoama] language. The general function of Η is intervillage formal communication. One can see the need of it when it is used for communication with villages speaking different dialects. Yet Η is used also among villages only one day's journey apart, villages that speak the same or almost the same dialect. On certain special occasions Η is used even by people of the same local group. 6

For ethnographic details of one of these feasts among the Yanomama of the Yanomami area, see Chagnon (1966). 7 Actually, [wayamo] is only an instance of the use of this formalized Yanomama lingua franca. For simplicity of presentation I use the term [wayamo] for all instances of this language.

Yanomama Diglossia

569

Specifically, Η is used mostly at the [yäimowei] or [reaho] gathering, when the surrounding local groups living from a day's journey away to as far away as fifteen days are invited for a week-long feast. A month or two before the feasting takes place messengers are sent to invite friendly groups. Invitation is made in a squatting position to each one of the important adult males in the village. Two men, the messenger and the local man, squat near each other but usually facing in opposite directions and start talking in the Η variety, called in this instance [himowey], which specifies not another language but a particular occasion, mainly a formal invitation. When, after a long journey, the guests arrive near the host village, they camp in the nearby forest. At dawn they send one or two representatives to the communal house of the hosts to plead, in the formal Η language, not to have the food withheld from them. The local people, who have beep singing and dancing all night, give them food — usually bananas which the representatives take back to the guests. Having received the food, the guests decorate themselves and enter the village in a single file, one by one into the round patio, dancing in front of each family. Then everyone starts running around in the communal house, dancing and waving their bows and arrows. At night, and sometimes for the first few nights, news and trade talks are carried on formally in the H-variety language until morning. These talks are in the form of dialogues, each lasting about an hour or less. There are three stages within the dialogue. In stage one [itowei], one man starts calling from his hammock in the formal chant for anyone of the other group who would like to talk or trade with him. The other answers from his hammock and this goes on for a few minutes. Then both get out, [itowei], of their hammocks and, while they talk back and forth, move to the center of the round house. There, facing each other and holding their bows and arrows, they start the real wayamo. This begins the second stage, [wayamo yai], in which they ask about each other's lives and the events which have occurred in the villages during the intervening years. When necessary, they also accuse and insult each other and bargain for some of the other's possessions, which they will actually exchange the next day. Then the third stage begins, the [nairamowei]. The two men squat and embrace each other, speaking directly into each other's ear. They assure each other of loyalty and friendship, promising to keep their word. The talk is more rhythmic and the sentences are short and fit into an equal interval of time. At the end of this stage — which lasts for fifteen to twenty minutes — one of the speakers will turn and go back to his hammock, always walking in a squatting position. The other stays in the center

570

ERNEST C. MIGLIAZZA

of the house waiting for another (who has already called) to reach him there. At the termination of the new dialogue the newcomer stays in the center and the other returns to his hammock. In this way each man will wayamo with two others. Obviously there is not enough time to give every man a change to speak, but on some other night or toward morning on that same occasion a chance is given to the teenagers to have a try, which makes them very proud. Η is also used on other minor formal occasions, such as at the burning of the dead body of a relative (in some areas about seven days after death); at puberty rite parties; at feasts for the end of mourning (food-eating feasts); and at challenges for formal fights. Shamans chant to the spirits in the Η variety. Interestingly, it has been observed many times in different villages that men under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs talk to their spirits in H. The Yanomama in general believe that when speaking the Η variety the truth must be told and therefore nobody should be offended at what he hears said in it. It is therefore a way of finding out about questionable sexual affairs of the community and about complaints regarding witchcraft. Offenses, accusations, and intervillage quarrels are often discussed in the Η variety at parties. Yanomama songs, amoamo, are very short, using from one to five different words within a formal frame of front-mid vowels alternating with glottal stops. The words, which are about animals or fruit, are pronounced most of the time in the Η variety and seldom in the L. The men sing together standing in a circle. One will sing his short song a few times and the others will repeat it in unison a few times, and so on, one after the other. This is the only situation in which the women approach the use of H. The L variety is used in normal everyday life. The Yanomama do not talk much during the day. They eat two meals daily, one in the morning and one in the afternoon about four o'clock. Between meals the men are either hunting or fishing, or (mostly) working in their gardens and making bows and arrows and, for the central Yanomama, taking their afternoon drugs. Therefore conversation during the day is limited to questions and answers. After the evening meal, however, everyone lies in his hammock and conversation begins, sometimes lasting two or three hours. All this is done in the L variety. The following is a summary of Η and L usage: Situations Formal invitations News, trading, and complaints (during intervillage parties)

Η (men only) χ χ

L (everybody)

Yanomama Diglossia

Situations Shamanistic practices (and when under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs) Song improvization Everyday life Evening talks and mythological stories

571

Η (men only) χ χ χ

L (everybody)

χ χ χ

ACQUISITION, PRESTIGE, AND STABILITY The L variety is learned naturally by Yanomama children, mainly from the mother and by talking to other children. Children are brought up by the mother until they are five or six years old. In fact, they receive their mother's milk until they are about four years old. Only after they are seven or eight do the boys receive a small bow and arrow from their fathers, and from that time on the fathers will contribute to their education. Children come into contact with Η early in life during the main feasts, although these occur only four to six times a year.8 The actual learning, however, takes place between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. There is no formal training as such, but in the village some man may chant Η alone in the evening when the younger children are asleep and everybody else is listening. Because of the prestige attached to it, young men practice chanting among themselves, especially a month or so before big parties. Prestige is a strong motivation for young men to learn H. To have full Yanomama adult male status one must know H. Although it is not always true in practice, Η is a kind of manhood language, a secret language which the women are not supposed to understand. During gatherings, when talking in the Η variety, a man will boast before the visitors of his strength and fierceness in wars and beating contests, of his ability as a hunter; he can ask the other how many women he has and the visitor must answer the truth; he can ask the other how many people he has killed or outwitted in his life, and which people he likes or dislikes; he can offer his sister or daughter once or more to the other in exchange for goods or other women. Women listen to the men's H, and, although many understand it, they do not complain about what is being transacted in it. I personally asked them about it and they answered that they did not understand it at all. The truth may be that they are not supposed to understand. 8

The number of feasts depends mainly on the sociopolitical situation and intensity of raiding. One village in one year had participated in eleven feasts, four at home and seven in other villages.

572

ERNEST C. MIGLIAZZA

Η is not considered the only language the Yanomama speak,9 nor is it considered superior to L, but rather it is a mark of full Yanomama manhood, a necessary qualification for full status and high esteem in their society. Thus, for the young people there is a strong integrative motivation to know H. It is an aspiration much greater than a university degree in our society. It means becoming a Yanomama. That seems to be the reason why the Yanomama are all such successful learners. Η is considered by them to be the language of the Yanomama ancestors and of the spirit world. When the shaman talks to the spirits he sees in his trances, he uses the Η style even when the words are nonsense. The Yanomama diglossia situation is as old as the oldest Yanomama man can remember. Their mythology tells that Η was already used by the first men who ever inhabited the forest world. At the time when animals and people had no difficulty understanding each other, men used Η during their parties. Today a few Yanomama marginal groups in permanent contact with Carib culture, and therefore undergoing a cultural change, tend to lose or diminish the integrating quality of and the motivation to learn and practice H. Their gatherings are becoming more like those of the Carib, with the drinking of fermented manioc and other Carib features. And, although their older men still remember and sometimes use the wayamo, the members of the younger generation do not say they understand it for fear of being ridiculed by the Caribs (Arekuna and Makiritare). This is the case of a few local groups whose L variety is Sanima. For all other Yanomama groups, not going through a culture change, diglossia is a very stable and necessary situation. It is necessary in the sense that it provides a feature (H) by which to characterize the Yanomama individuality against all other men, the naps 'foreigners'. The Yanomama L has four major varieties and a few more dialects, while Η is almost uniform throughout the whole Yanomama area.

LINGUISTIC FEATURES The main linguistic features of the Η variety which are different from each of the L varieties can be grouped under two main headings: lexical and phonological. Morphological differences are included in the lexical or phonological differences. Syntactic differences, here understood as main transformations, are very few and limited in usage. For example, Sanima speakers use more conjoined (subordinating) constructions than embedded 9

As in the case of some of Ferguson's examples, e.g. Arabic and Haitian Creole.

Yanomama Diglossia

573

ones while the Yanomami use both equally. However, the chanted rhythmic form of Η requires that sentences fit a regular length of time. Each stage of Η has a time-unit pattern. In general Η is characterized by strings of simple sentences and many repetitions rather than complex sentences with less repetition. The first two stages of wayamo mentioned above, which are usually for delivering news, have longer time units and more complex sentences than in the third stage, in which the time units are shorter. The most noticeable lexical difference is a distinct set of idiomatic words and sentences in Η which are seldom or never used in the L varieties. Idiomatic sentences are usually those describing cultural situations common to all Yanomama. Yanomami is the nearest to Η as far as lexical items are concerned and Yanomam is also similar to Η in this respect. Pronouns in Η include subject and object forms, such as [yare] 'you-me' and [ware] Ί-you (object)' like those used in Yanomami. Interestingly, the areas where Yanomami and Yanomam are spoken are also the areas where warfare is more intense. In these areas feasting for alliance purposes is more frequent than in the other areas and, consequently, Η is more practiced. A reasonable and concrete postulation of a phonological underlying representation for Η is very similar to that for Yanomami; both have the same syllabic pattern CV, V, and CVV, and fewer phonological rules than Yanam, Yanomam, and Sanima. The main feature of Η is its chanted intonation and addition of syllables. There are more than four varieties of chanted intonations, each coinciding with a particular stage of the wayamo dialogue or with other occasions on Yanam, Yanomam, and Sanima. 1. [itowei] stage: long time units enclosed within pause boundaries; two speakers face each other saying one time unit each. Personal styles may change the final marker intonation. [//soriwa heinaha kamiya kuwei ya piria msheti ya kiteen ya: a//] /iglide v to high (monotone syllables unstressed) low in-law this way I am saying I will also live here (final marker) (in the same way) 'friend, I agree to live here as you do' [//soriwa ipa ipa po ipa ipa tha namotha pihio ho: ο//] in-law my my axe my my thing sharp I want 'but friend, I want a sharp axe for me'

(final marker)

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ERNEST C. MIGLIAZZA

2. [nairamowei] stage: short time unit, monologue, the listener only echoes the final marker. When one speaker is through with his monologue, the other starts. First variety:

i Ρ we

j'1 J^ ti

Λ J" ^ Γ AP

ηα

^^3

1

ηα

ha

ya

ku

u

we

we

ι

ya

wa

ri

[weti naha ya kuu wei ya warii] 'how (do) I say I am asking'

3. Same stage as above but a second variety: the listener repeats (echoing back) the last syllable of each bar.

IT Η J J^HJ J J 1 ! JTJ J J11 Η J *

so ri

I

we he [V soriws in-law

ya

ku hu

ya ku ya

ro

ho

hey na

ha

ha

ya ku ya ku yaro heinaha ] I say I say a lot that's i t '

In (1) above the syllable added for euphonic purposes is the one at the end of the pause group. This marks the end of the sentence of the first speaker and the beginning of the second speaker. Varieties (2) and (3) belong to the same stage but their differences are quite noticeable. In (2) the morpheme division is sacrificed for the sake of the rhythm, although each bar starts with a morpheme even if it costs the repetition of a syllable. After the first bar, we-ti-na, the second starts with na again even though na is at the end of the first bar. The same is true in the third and fourth bars, kuu we | we-iya |, in which the morphemes are jku u weiyaj and the syllable we is repeated. Notice that in the last bar the last note is Ε and not G. This marks the end of a pause group. In (3) each bar contains a sentence or the equivalent, but it always has a meaningless extra syllable consisting of an aspirated vowel, usually the same as the last vowel of the preceding syllable. This aspirated vowel is also repeated by the listener, and when it is well executed both the speaker and the listener pronounce this syllable in unison. Another stage could be mentioned which is like (3) but has up to seven or eight syllables. There are a few more varieties of intonation concerning stages (1), (2), and (3) which have been observed but these are styles adopted by individuals learning Η as teenagers. However, they are only minor variations of the patterns given above. In general then, Η has great regularity of intonation and stress pattern

Yanomama Diglossia

575

regardless of statement, questions, emphasis, etc., which the L variety has not. 10

CONCLUSION Some of the generalizations which have appeared in the literature about diglossia should be reconsidered. Ferguson's definition (1959: 336) should include literate and illiterate societies. It should be thus modified: diglossia is a relatively stable language situation in which there are two varieties of a primary language each having a specific social function. One of the varieties is the first-learned primary language and the other a superposed language learned later by formal or informal instruction. As in Ferguson's cases, Yanomama diglossia differs from the situation of standard language with regional dialects in that Η is not used as a medium of ordinary conversation, but at a specific time, mainly at night, and within a specific social setting. Fishman (1967) argues whether or not all societies have, or have had, a diglossia situation. Surely it is not limited to literate societies, nor even to the "non-literate community where a body or oral literature could play the same role as the body of written literature" (Ferguson 1959: 336) of Ferguson's examples, because the Yanomama have a body of literature, their mythology, which is oral but is recounted in L. It seems that all societies known so far have a diglossia situation, or have had one. The Yanomama case suggests that, when a society is not in permanent contact with another of a different culture, it maintains a stable diglossia situation. But when, because of expansion and contact with another culture, the society's norms are modified and substituted and social change takes place, then diglossia is disrupted until new social stability is created and language normalization follows. The birth of diglossia in a society is then connected more to social normalization of linguistic diversities than to a "sizeable body of literature" as Ferguson proposed. In relation to second-language acquisition, the Yanomama situation suggests the importance of integrative motivation as one of the essential factors for language-learning success. Indirectly it implies that teaching methods as devised in past programs in language pedagogy are neither essential nor very significant for learning a second language. Spolsky (1969) has summarized effectively the disappointing results of research into the effectiveness of the various methodologies currently in use. 10

For some description of intonation of L in Yanomam and Yanam languages, see Albright (1965) and Migliazza and Grimes (1961).

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Yanomama boys start being interested in Η around puberty. Their abilities, which could be predictive of success in learning in a languageaptitude-test sense, are different for each individual, and quite a few of them, on the basis of these tests, would be rated potential failures. As the Yanomama boys have no formal teacher, the only factor left to account for their success in learning Η is their attitude toward it. The attitude they have is the type which Lambert calls integrative motivation in a number of his papers (Lambert et al. 1963, as quoted in Spolsky 1969: 6-7). A similar test (indirect questionnaire) to the one described by Spolsky (1969) was administered orally in 1969 to about eighty Yanomama young men, fifteen of whom were from a village in permanent contact with a Carib group (Makiritare). Results have shown that all the sixty-five youths from villages not in contact with the Carib had a very great desire — in fact it was their greatest ideal in life — to be like the men who were fluent in H. The Yanomama have a word which indicates one person as a convincing "speaker" or a master in Η speech and argumentation: [ak mitsao] in Yanam, [ak miyai] in Yanomam and Yanomami, literally 'tongue-clever'. The aspiration of these Yanomama men, which showed through the results of the indirect questionnaire, was to be like the clever-tongued speakers of H. Results for the other fifteen, who live in a community constantly looked down upon by the Carib neighbors who ridiculed them in their festivals for their formal Η talk, show that only three of them had some desire to be like speakers of H. Finally, from the Yanomama diglossia situation it can be inferred that chanted varieties of social dialects change at a slower pace than spoken ones. Assuming that the Η variety was at some time in the past a primary language (before the Yanomama local groups spread out geographically), which was chanted for certain social functions and spoken for normal conversation, it can be seen now that the spoken one has developed into at least four languages, Yanam, Yanomam, Yanomami, and Sanima, and more dialect variations within these languages, some of which are not mutually intelligible, while the chanted one maintained such a uniformity that it is understood across languages throughout the Yanomama area without much difficulty. As there are no historical records of H, it could be argued that Η must have changed throughout the years too, but it probably did not change very fast, for the fact remains that Η is the same for any of the four different L varieties even when L speakers of the Yanam variety have never seen or met L speakers of the Yanomami variety, being separated geographically by hundreds of miles of forested mountains. One of the reasons for this could be the fact that Η is chanted in a regular rhythmic pattern with pauses and stresses at equal intervals, while the

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L varieties, such as Yanam compared to Sanima, display a different word stress and different sentence stress. Η has the same sentence stress whether spoken by Yanam or Sanima speakers. Another reason may be that Η also has many conventional simple sentences which are repeated often during a formal dialogue, such as "this I say," "you are a friend," "it is like this," "I live here also," "don't mention it," etc. Intelligibility of Η by all Yanomama men is increased by its not having many complex sentences even if this entails a lot of duplication and repetition. One further note is that the Η variety has a number of characteristics which are strikingly similar to those proposed by Ken Hale for Papago: Η is chanted or sung; consists of simple sentences nearer to the underlying representation than any surface sentences in the primary languages; is a variety in which telling the truth is obligatory, etc. To explain such a similarity, it seems reasonable to assume a universal cultural pattern related to the notion of the chant (music) as a functionally necessary occurrence of cognitive formalization. The phenomenon of linguistic diversity is a complex one which can neither be solved nor understood by linguists or sociologists alone. The study should be approached by taking into account both social and linguistic structure, analyzing the causal relationship of one with the other or vice versa. Thus, linguistic diversity should be considered the subject matter of sociolinguistics.

REFERENCES ALBRIGHT, SUE

1965 Aykamteli higher-level phonology. Anthropological Linguistics 7 (7), Part 2: 16-22. BECHER, HANS

1960 Die Surara undPakidai. Zwei Yanomami-Stämme in Nordwest-Brasilien. Mitteilungen aus dem Museum für Völkerkunde Hamburg 26. Hamburg: Cram, De Gruyter. BORGMAN, DONALD M., SANDRA CUE, SUE ALBRIGHT, MERRIL SEELEY, JOSEPH GRIMES

1965 The Waican languages. Anthropological Linguistics 7 (7), Part 2: 1-4. CHAGNON, NAPOLEON A.

1966 "Yanomamö warfare, social organization and marriage alliances." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan. CODAZZI, AGUSTIN

1841 Resumen de la geografia de Venezuela. Caracas. FERGUSON, CHARLES C.

1959 Diglossia. Word 15: 325-340.

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FISHMAN, JOSHUA A.

1967 Bilingualism with and without diglossia; diglossia with and without bilingualism. Journal of Social Issues 23 (2): 29-38. GHEERBRANT, ALAIN

1954 Journey to the far Amazon. New York: Simon Schuster. GREENBERG, JOSEPH

1960 "The general classification of Central and South American languages," in Selected papers of the Fifth International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. KOCH-GRÜNBERG, THEODORE

1913 Abschluss meiner Reise durch Nord-brasilien zum Orinoco, mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der von mir besuchten Indianerstämme. Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 45. LAMBERT, WALLACE Ε., R. C. GARDNER, H. C. B A R K , K. TURNSTALL

1963 Attitudinal and cognitive aspects of intensive study of a second language. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 66: 358-369. MASON, JOHN A.

1950 The languages of South American Indians. Handbook of South American Indians 6. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institute. MC QUOWN, NORMAN A.

1955 The indigenous languages of Latin America. American Anthropologist 57: 501-570. MIGLIAZZA, ERNEST C.

1972 "Yanomama grammar and intelligibility." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Indiana University. MIGLIAZZA, ERNEST, JOSEPH GRIMES

1961 Shiriana phonology. Anthropological Linguistics 3 (6): 31-41. RIVET, PAUL

1924 "Langues americaines. II. Langues de l'Amerique du Sud et des Antilles," in Les langues du monde. Edited by A. Meillet and Marcel Cohen, 639-712. Paris. RIVET, PAUL, CESTMIR LOUKOTKA

1952 "Langues de l'Amerique du Sud et des Antilles," in Les langues du monde. Edited by A. Meillet and Marcel Cohen. Paris. SALATHE, GEORGE

1932 Les indiens Karime. Revista del Institute de la Universidad Nacional de Tucuman 2: 297-316. SCHUSTER, MEINHARD

1958 "Die Soziologie der Waika," in Proceedings of the 32nd Congress of Americanists, 114-122. Copenhagen. SPOLSKY, BERNARD

1969 "Attitudinal aspects of second language learning." Paper presented at the Second International Congress of Applied Linguistics, Cambridge, England. SWADESH, MORRIS

1959 Mapas de clasificacion linguistica de Mexico y las Americas. Cuadernos del Institute de Historia. Serie Antropologica 8. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional de Mexico.

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VINCI, ALFONSC

1956 Samatari (Orinoco-Amazzoni). Bari: L. da Vinci. VOEGELIN, CARL F., FLORENCE M. VOEGELIN

1965 Languages of the world: native American fascicle two. Anthropological Linguistics 7 (7), Part 1: 1-150. 1966 "Language and culture relationships." Unpublished manuscript. WILBERT, JOHANNES

1963 Indios de la region Orinoco-Ventuari. Fundacion La Salle de Ciencias Naturales, Monografias 8. Caracas. ZERRIES, OTTO

1956 Los indios Guaika y su situacion cultural. Bole tin Indigents t a Venezolano (Caracas) 2 (1-4). 1964 Waika: Die kulturgeschichtliche Stellung der Waika-Indianer des obeven Orinoco imrahmen der Vöklerkunds Südamerikas, volume one. Munich: Klaus Ronner.

Prescriptive Grammar: A Reappraisal

FREDERICK J. NEWMEYER

There are two beliefs upon which almost all linguistic research since Saussure has been grounded.1 The first is that a scientific linguistic statement is not a prescription for the speaker. The second is that the goal of the scientific linguist SHOULD be description (within a particular theoretical framework, of course) rather than prescription. Indeed, these beliefs have been raised to the status of axioms by structuralist and transformationalist alike. In this paper, I will call into question both of these "axioms." I will try to show that the line between description and prescription is so cloudy that it is more a question of WHICH grammar to prescribe than whether grammar should be prescriptive at all. Furthermore, I will document the fact that linguists have acted very hypocritically on this question. While our theory has committed us to the idea of the "linguistic equality" of all dialects, our practice has been to work consciously AGAINST their social equality. As a result, most people have become all the more convinced that nonstandard dialects actually are linguistically inferior. This, I will argue, results in the continued oppression of nonstandard speakers (who are overwhelmingly working class and/or racial minority) in two ways. First by catering to the middle-class belief that nonstandard dialects are reflections of illogical minds. And second, by discouraging young children who speak nonstandard dialects from pursuing their education. A dogma arose in the 1920's that previous grammarians were unscientific, authoritarian, and so unconcerned with the true nature of language that they considered the written more fundamental than the spoken 1

I am deeply indebted to Joseph Emonds for his many useful comments on an earlier version of this paper. For a discussion of related topics the reader is referred to Newmeyer and Emonds (1971) and Newmeyer (1973a).

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language — if they bothered to discuss spoken English at all. The leading crusader for this dogma was Charles C. Fries, who in many books and essays boasted that modern grammar is based on "the more scientific approach to language," on actually occurring forms and not, as in the benighted past, on "what English people ought to say" (1940 : 21). While every structuralist grammar devoted at least a chapter to comparing the scientific and prescriptive approaches to linguistic description, today's transformationalists, believing the matter settled, have often ignored the entire issue. Only occasionally do we find statements in transformational grammars that "prescriptive grammar tends to assume implicitly that human language is a fragile cultural invention, only with difficulty maintained in good working order," with "a groundless tendency ... to assume that writing has some sort of primacy over speech" (Postal 1968: 286). Looking into the great prescriptive grammars of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, I have found that the claims of the modern "scientific linguists" are extremely exaggerated. The grammars of that period are filled with statements acclaiming the primacy of actual usage as the basis of grammatical description. Joseph Priestly in his 1761 Rudiments of grammar points out that "Grammar may be compared to a treatise of Natural Philosophy" and that "all-governing custom" should determine whether one form is to be preferred to another (1761: vi-vii). Priestly, the discoverer of oxygen, certainly knew the meaning of scientific observation. George Campbell's famous Philosophy of rhetoric, first published in 1776, points out that "language is purely a species of fashion ... in which, by the general but tacit consent of the people of a particular state or country, certain sounds come to be appropriated to certain things...." He also notes that "it is not the business of grammar, as some critics seem preposterously to imagine, to give law to the fashions which regulate our speech. On the contrary, from its conformity to these, and from that alone, it derives all its authority and value" (1963: 139). John Fell, in his 1784 An essay towards an English grammar, insists that "it is certainly the business of a grammarian to find out, and not to make the laws of a language. In this work the Author does not assume the character of a legislator, but appears as a faithful compiler of the scattered laws" (1784: xii). One last example: Samuel Kirkham's English grammar in familiar lectures, published in 1832, states that "We are, therefore, as RATIONAL and PRACTICAL grammarians, compelled to submit to the necessity of the case; to take language as it is, and not as it SHOULD be, and bow to custom." 2 While Priestly, Campbell, Fell, and Kirkham clearly understood the differences between usage and fabrication, we must not assume therefore 2

Quoted in Gleason (1965: 75-76).

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that they were not prescriptive grammarians. 3 In fact, they were. All four were quite clear that, while a grammatical description should be based on usage, not all usages (and hence not all grammatical descriptions) are equal in value. The dialects chosen by them for analysis and presentation are certainly not those of the average Englishman of the time. Their corpus is explicitly drawn from the speech of the "well-bred" upper and uppermiddle classes in English society. Description and prescription are fused into one as the prestige dialect is simultaneously analyzed and codified as the standard. What actually changed between the time of Priestly and the time of Fries? Very little, I would maintain. At least very little in terms of the attitude of the linguist toward his subject matter. The English language changed, of course, but so did the relative prominence of different social groups speaking different dialects. The speech of the American businessman, statesman, and educator of the early twentieth century differed markedly in many respects from that of the English gentleman of the late eighteenth, yet the prescriptions of the earlier period (based on the actual usage of the time) remained on the books. It was Fries' job to bring the prescriptions up to date — to reflect as adequately as possible the actual speech habits of the dominant social groupings of his time. This job he carried out with a vengeance. Fries consistently prescribed one particular class dialect. He asserted that "the only basis for correctness in grammar must be usage, the usage of those who are carrying on the affairs of English speaking people" (1925: 696). This variety of English he also described as the type "used by the SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE of most of our communities and, insofar as that is true, it has become a social or class dialect in the United States" (1940: 13). The schools, he asserted, had the "assumed obligation to develop in each child the knowledge of and the ability to use the 'standard' English of the United States — that set of language habits in which the most important affairs of our country are carried on, the dialect of the socially acceptable in most of our communities" (1940: 15). Fries was not isolated, or even original, in pushing this particular social or class dialect as the model. He was merely reiterating the theory of his teacher, the great American structuralist Leonard Bloomfield. Bloomfield, too, felt uneasy at many of the forms and constructions which had been 3

I should point out that it has been common to charge those grammarians mentioned with hypocrisy on this issue (see, for example, Pooley [1933] and Leonard [1962]). This charge is placed in proper perspective in Newmeyer (1973b). Even if their prescriptions did not FULLY reflect ruling-class speech in the eighteenth century, there is reason to believe that for the most part they did so by the nineteenth; i.e. they had the effect of functioning as self-fulfilling prophecies.

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held up as correct for the previous century and a half. He urged workingclass speakers to adopt forms which had more currency among "people who enjoy greater privilege" (1925: 499). He felt that the nonstandard speaker "should try to substitute standard forms which he knows from actual hearing, for those which he knows to be non-standard." Since Bloomfield's text was the most widely read introduction to theoretical linguistics for two decades, we can assume that his prescriptions had a great impact on theorists and language teachers alike. Two objections might be raised at this point. First, that whatever their position on which dialects should be taught in the schools, the structuralists at least raised the idea of the linguistic equality of dialects loud and strong. That is, while they may have discouraged nonstandard dialects for pragmatic reasons, they never lost sight of the fact that grammatically they are "just as good" as the standard. Secondly, that many structuralists did not even advocate the censuring of nonstandard forms: didn't Robert Hall name his famous book Leave your language alone? As to the first objection, I doubt whether the overall effect would have been any different had Bloomfield and Fries stated that nonstandard English reflected the workings of the primitive mind. Imagine the reaction of an elementary school teacher, who (perhaps) already had his or her share of racist or anti-working-class biases, upon learning that the great linguist so-and-so believes that only standard English should be taught in the schools. No doubt that teacher's views of nonstandard dialects being linguistically inferior to the standard are all the more reinforced. One cannot totally separate PREscription from DEscription any more than one can totally separate practice from theory. And as to the second objection, "leave your language alone"-type remarks are ALWAYS made with the proviso that " 'good' language is language which gets the desired effect with the least friction and difficulty for its user" (Hall 1960:27). In other words, "leave your language alone, unless you are foolish enough to bring friction and difficulty upon yourself." Or — put plainly — "Change your language to that of the standard dialect." As we progress from structuralist to transformationalist grammar, we find that the prescriptivist biases remain about the same. Paul Roberts, the person most responsible for bringing transformational grammar to the high school teacher, emphasizes that the student should be careful not to confuse "occurring" with "correct." He writes: To say that "Me and Jim seen it" is linguistically as good as "Jim and I saw it" is not to approve of the former or to say that students should not be taught the latter. Obviously, children being educated must be taught the prestige dialect (1964: 408-409).

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Ronald Langacker, in his Language and its structure, makes the same point. Standard forms must be prescribed, lest the child "be handicapped socially and professionally by speech traits that run counter to those accepted as 'correct' by people he will have to deal with" (1968: 55). In the last decade, prescriptivism has been emphasized especially in regard to remodeling Black English speakers into speakers of something else — usually the educated white standard. The fact that most linguists of this century have emphasized the supposed differences between "descriptive grammar" and "prescriptive grammar" has led people to believe that a fundamental change in orientation between the one and the other was initiated by Bloomfield and Fries. But, as we have seen, this is not the case. The mechanics of description changed, of course, but not the traditional relation between description and prescription. Likewise with the ascendancy of transformational grammar: in practice, the role of the linguist is still in large part prescription of a particular description, even though this description may make use of distinctive feature matrices and cyclic rules, rather than phoneme inventories and form classes. Roberts' English syntax is probably an exceptional, applied, transformational grammar text in that Standard English is explicitly prescribed. For most, this prescription is only implicit. Owen Thomas' Transformational grammar and the teacher of English is typical of the more "objective" applied texts. Thomas nowhere insists that this one dialect be held forth as the model; he simply damns by implication anything else. The following passage is typical of the less dogmatic strategy for inculcating one dialect as the accepted standard: Most, if not all, of the following sentences are novel; that is, they have never been spoken or written before: Sentence 1.3 My sister, an eminent orthodontist, is inordinately fond of pickled snails. Sentence 1.4 Gertrude, why are you throwing those party hats into the river? Sentence 1.5 Every college in Australia should offer a course in how to prepare peanut butter. The examples are all perfectly good English sentences, and we can "understand" what they mean even though they are probably unique. However, we also recognize that the following sentences, which we have all heard, are not wellformed sentences in the socially prestigious dialect: Sentence 1.6 *He don't got none. Sentence 1.7 *Me and him did it. Sentence 1.8 *He hadn't ought to do it. Any grammar, through its generative or enumerative power should tell us why the first three sentences, though novel, are nonetheless grammatical. The second

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three sentences are not part of the prestige dialect but belong rather to the "grammar" of a socially disadvantaged dialect (1965: 8-9). It would be a dull student indeed who would not take the parenthetical "which we have all heard" as a reminder that some sentences are better heard than uttered and as a reassurance to the reader that Thomas knows that he or she is not to be found among the socially unprestigious. Is the dialect which includes 1.6, 1.7, and 1.8 even worth studying for its own sake? The astonishing quotation marks which Thomas places around "grammar" in the last sentence could easily lead the student (and teacher, for that matter) to conclude that this dialect is not even linguistically on a par with the prestigious standard. Popular books on linguistics invariably describe nonstandard dialects only in terms of their deviation from the standard. The New England dialect is described as one in which final /r/ is "lost," the Southern dialect is the one in which the distinction between /I/ and /ε/ is "not maintained," Black English is the dialect which "does not have number agreement," and so on. How can this but convince the naive reader that nonstandard dialects are in some sense "incomplete" and therefore less adequate for communication ? Historical grammars are even worse offenders in this respect. Looking through a number of these which were written by American scholars, I have found none which do not present the development of English fundamentally as a straight line progression from Old English to Standard American English. Modern dialectal forms, when they are discussed at all, are made to appear as interruptions of and deviations from this progression. Since the chance nature of the historical association of one linguistic development with one social development is never mentioned, the reader must become all the more convinced that there is something intrinsically grammar-based about this connection. As we move from pedagogical to theoretical works, the prescriptions become more and more covert. But they are nevertheless still there. A grammar, conceived as the internalized linguistic competence of a native speaker, is, of course, not inherently a prescription. But American linguists do not present examples from any random American English dialect to illustrate their theoretical claims: ninety-nine times out of a hundred they are drawn from the prestige dialect. I believe that this results from and reinforces the prevalent view that nonstandard forms and constructions are merely secondary offshoots of the standard ones. The fact that linguists will maintain indignantly that they do not hold this view is quite irrelevant. In their day-to-day work, they act as if they do, and this is all

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that really matters. Many manifestations of this usually unconscious attitude are very subtle, yet at the same time very insidious. For example, despite my years of training as a theoretical linguist, I find myself making statements like: "In my Philadelphia dialect, stressed /o/ goes to /a/ before /r/ followed by an unstressed syllable. So I say /frsän/, /histärskal/, and /pajärotav/ instead of /Bran/, historskal/, and /pajoratsv/." The inference which an untrained audience would draw, of course, is that the /o/ form is somehow LINGUISTICALLY as well as socially more basic than the /a/ form. In other words, the consistent presentation of standard forms creates an atmosphere where even linguists tend to act as if the nonstandard forms are derivative, and thereby reinforce this notion among BOTH linguists and laymen. One might argue in objection that all one should or can do, really, is to describe one's OWN dialect — that nonstandard dialects are linguistically and culturally as valuable as the standard, but that few linguists speak them natively. Therefore, since grammatical descriptions are best based on one's own native speaker intuitions, the bias toward the standard is both accidental and, for linguistic reasons, unavoidable. I doubt that the basis for this objection is true. In their published research, most linguists consciously or unconsciously suppress their own substandard forms, so their actual speech is NOT what they are describing. While most professional linguists, being highly educated and generally of middle-class backgrounds, speak a dialect close to the standard, they are usually quick to censor what nonstandard forms do occur in their speech when it comes to presenting data to support their theoretical claims. The only time their native substandard forms do appear is when the point could not be made without them. And if the basis for the objection is true, what does that say about the fate of nonstandard speakers in our society? What better evidence could there be in support of the belief that there are severe barriers to professional advancement for those who have not mastered one particular class dialect? If speakers of nonstandard English cannot succeed as LINGUISTS, in what field requiring higher education can they succeed? Of course there is no dearth of grammars of nonstandard dialects. Various dialects of Black English, of rural New England English, social dialects in New York City, etc. have all been extensively described. But how are these grammars presented and to what kind of audience? Generally they are fragmentary (dealing primarily with differences from the standard), scholarly, and inaccessible to the layman. It is hardly likely that their descriptions could ever be taken by the reader in a prescriptivist sense. In fact, the opposite effect is more likely to be achieved. At best, people are

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led to look on nonstandard dialects as scientific curiosities rather than as adequate vehicles for communication. Naturally, grammars meant for "mass consumption" have all described one and only one dialect — the current standard. If prescriptivist consequences (whether positive or negative) are often associated with the mere written presentation of a grammar, the question naturally arises: "which grammar should the linguist prescribe?" This question has always been answered implicitly by linguists from Priestly to present-day theoreticians: "the grammar of today's dominant social class." No doubt many of those advocating this alternative have had the best of motivations. They see exercises in remedial grammar as one step for the underprivileged classes and races to take in their struggle to achieve the status of the privileged. Yet there is no historical evidence that learning "proper" English has ever led greater numbers of people to a higher class status or even better job opportunities. While a small handful of people have certainly succeeded in changing their speech to their own benefit, this humiliating speech correction has no doubt resulted in a much larger number of children becoming completely discouraged with education and the prospects for advancement in society. There is just as much reason to believe that that linguistic assault on ordinary people leaves them with less control over their lives rather than with more opportunities. People are made to feel shame and guilt over their most intimate cultural possession — their language. Many linguists and educators, feeling correctly uncomfortable about the outright prohibition of nonstandard dialects, advocate a program popularly known as "bi-dialectalism." Under this program, Blacks are taught in Black dialect during their first years of school and are not discouraged from speaking it at home. Standard English is introduced as a "second language," if you will, later on. Bi-dialectalism is supposed to remove the stigma associated with nonstandard dialects and facilitate the switch over to the standard which, it is assumed, Blacks will need for social advancement. I think that bi-dialectalism can be criticized on both societal and linguistic grounds. Societally, it seems to me to suffer from all of the defects of simply damning Black dialect from kindergarten. Children are still made to feel the same shame and the same guilt over their first dialect with the resultant negative effect on their desire for education. Linguistically, it seems to me that bi-dialectalism is even more indefensible. As any linguist can tell you, Black English and White English are not really all that different. For the most part, they differ only in very low level syntactic and phonological rules. Doesn't this fact suggest that the very idea of "teaching" one dialect to speakers of another is folly? Millions of

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people speaking languages as diverse as Japanese and Hungarian have learned to speak fluent standard English in a few years or less without any formal instruction whatsoever. If Blacks — who, of course, are bombarded with standard English sentences from soon after birth — are not learning the prestige dialect, we can be sure that lack of instruction or poor instruction in that dialect has nothing to do with it. I maintain that if Blacks are not learning Standard English, it is because THEY DO NOT WANT TO. They are not motivated to. They have correctly observed that it does not make all that much difference WHAT dialect they speak. Overall, the opportunities are just about the same, regardless.4 To conclude with a discussion of steps which can be taken to change the existing situation, let me first point out that there are a number of steps which linguists can take as linguists. First, we should make sure that our general introductions to linguistics and English grammar go out of their way to dispel the belief that Standard English is linguistically more basic than nonstandard dialects. This would involve, of course, eliminating the tendency to describe regional and substandard social dialects only in terms of their differences from the standard. It might also prove useful to give illustrations of cases where the grammar of Standard English appears not to include regularities and generalizations which are part of the grammar of some nonstandard dialect or fails to make some useful grammatical distinction which a nonstandard dialect does make. For example, Edward Klima has shown that the dialect in which he left, I left, and him and me left are grammatical sentences is actually more regular in one respect than the standard, in which he and I left occurs. This is because the standard violates the generalization that the nominative pronoun occurs only when its noun phrase is immediately dominated by the sentence node. As can be seen from the diagram, when the subject is conjoined, this noun phrase is immediately dominated by the coordinate noun phrase, not by the highest sentence node. Therefore, the simplest description would predict him and me, not he and I. The grammar of Standard English requires an extra complicating statement to be made. Nonstandard dialects may also make useful contrasts not to be found in the grammar of the standard. For example, William Labov (1970: 11) has pointed out that Black English makes a semantically relevant grammatical distinction which Standard English does not: it contains the "invariant form be in He always be foolitH around which marks habitual general conditions, as opposed to the unmarked is, am, are, etc., which do not 4

For an extensive discussion of the nature of bi-dialectalism as well as for proposed alternatives, the reader is referred to two remarkable papers by James Sledd (1969, 1972).

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have such special sense." The citing of this and related examples from the grammars of nonstandard dialects by introductory texts would go a long way toward dispelling the easy conclusion that these dialects are linguistically derivative.

he left

lieft

NP

VP

NP and NP

I ν

1ST

Ν

left

him

me

him and me left

Nonstandard English

he left

lieft Standard English

Despite the above strictures, there may very well be cases where it is desirable to prescribe forms, not in use in one particular dialect, or even forms which are totally nonoccurring. These are just those cases where the existing usage reinforces the subservient state of a particular social grouping. Lexical items which have functioned as tools of oppression are well known and need not be treated in this paper. To cite only one example, consider the word colored, meaning "at least partly of African descent." Colored in this sense has been all but eliminated from the pages of the establishment press and from the lexicons of millions of Americans in response to pressure from Blacks who believed that its use was playing just this role. Do analogous cases exist in the G R A M M A R of English? They very well might. Most school grammars have a statement much like this one taken from Paul Roberts' English syntax: "If the people being talked about are

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all females, the indefinite pronouns are feminine. If the people are males or both males and females, the pronouns are masculine" (1964: 382). To test the students' comprehension of his prescriptive rule, Roberts asks them to fill in the blank in the following sentence: In "All the boys and girls were puzzled, but no one was willing to raise hand," the personal pronoun in the blank will be (1964: 382). The "correct" answer, supplied in the text, is, of course, his. One is struck immediately by the realization that most speakers of even Standard English would, in natural speech, supply the third person pronoun their, rather than his — why did Roberts feel obliged to insist on the masculine singular? Yet even if EVERY speaker of English used his rather than their, I would advocate attempting to change that usage if it could be demonstrated that it reinforced the oppression of women in the Englishspeaking world. While I presently can offer no proof that this is the case, it is remarkable that no linguist, applied linguist, or psychologist has ever bothered to find out. Nonetheless, in general, the obvious democratic alternative is to prescribe grammars which are written to reflect the language of those using them. More than lip service should be given to the old formula that "one dialect is as good as another," a formula never honored but in the breach. Needless to say, many — perhaps most — nonstandard speakers would oppose any attempt to replace "standard" grammars with "nonstandard" ones. That is, they have illusions about what learning the standard dialect can do for them. Their wishes must be respected; nobody should be forced to acquire or retain any dialect against their will. But it is to be hoped that the availability of adequate school grammars reflecting nonstandard dialects will lead people to see them as a less oppressive alternative to the present situation. I hope I have demonstrated that linguistic description and linguistic prescription are intertwined in many subtle ways. While most linguists of the past and present have claimed to be interested only in description, in effect they have functioned as prescriptivists. And, in almost all cases, a particular dialect has been consciously or unconsciously prescribed — the dialect of the dominant social class of the time. There is absolutely no reason to believe that these prescriptions have had societally beneficial consequences; indeed, the opposite is more likely to be the case. Therefore, what we have to do is reevaluate our entire method of presenting linguistic descriptions and base our prescriptions on democratic social criteria, rather than on those serving the interests of a small elite.

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REFERENCES BLOOMFIELD, LEONARD

1925 Language. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. CAMPBELL, GEORGE

1963 Philosophy of rhetoric. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. FELL, JOHN

1784 An essay towards an English grammar. London: C. Dilly. (Facsimile reproduced 1967. Menston: Scolar.) FRIES, CHARLES C.

1925 What is good English ? English Journal 14. 1940 American English grammar. New York: Appleton. GLEASON, HENRY

1965 Linguistics and English grammar. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. HALL, ROBERT

1960 Linguistics and your language. Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor-Doubleday. KIRKHAM, SAMUEL

1832 English grammar in familiar lectures. LABOV, WILLIAM

1970 The study of nonstandard English. Champaign, 111.: National Council of Teachers of English. LANGACKER, RONALD

1968 Language and its structure. New York: Harcourt, Brace. LEONARD, STERLING

1962 The doctrine of correctness in English usage 1700-1800. New York: Russell and Russell. NEWMEYER, FREDERICK

1973a Linguistic theory, language teaching, sociolinguistics: can they be interrelated ? Modern Language Journal 57. 1973b "Aspects of prescriptivism," in Papers from the Ninth Regional Meeting of the Chicago Linguistic Society. Chicago. NEWMEYER, FREDERICK, JOSEPH EMONDS

1971 "The linguist in American society," in Papers from the Seventh Regional Meeting of the Chicago Linguistic Society. Chicago. POOLEY, ROBERT

1933 Grammar and usage in textbooks on English. University of Wisconsin Bureau of Educational Research Bulletin 14. Madison. POSTAL, PAUL

1968 "Epilogue," in English transformational grammar. Edited by R. Jacobs and P. Rosenbaum. Waltham: Blaisdell. PRIESTLY, JOSEPH

1761 Rudiments of grammar. London: R. Griffiths. (Facsimile reproduction 1969. Menston: Scolar.) ROBERTS, PAUL

1964 English syntax. New York: Harcourt, Brace. SLEDD, JOHN

1969 Bi-dialectalism: the linguistics of white supremacy. English Journal 58: 1307-1315, 1329.

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1972 Doublespeak: dialectology in the service of Big Brother. College English 33: 439^56. THOMAS, OWEN

1965 Transformational grammar and the teacher of English. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.

Linguistic Adaptation to Speech Function

WILLIAM J. SAMARIN

It is because we look mostly at certain languages or because we are primarily interested in certain aspects of language that we still have an imperfect understanding of all the means and the motives of man's use of language. Despite the accessibility of virtually every language on the face of the earth and the ease with which we can observe, collect, and analyze la langue pratiquee — language in action — we continue to preoccupy ourselves with standard language, explicit texts, elicited data, and with problems made more amenable by the available stock of observations. We do not yet clearly understand, or have not described with compelling rigor and explicitness, the functions that language and speech have for man. And if we are in agreement at least about the irreducible inventory of functions, we have not gone far in describing the consequences of these functions for language structure and language use. This paper deals with one of these functions, the expressive function. It demonstrates that expressiveness or affect is not merely a function of individual psychology and behavior in unconscious (unattended to, unmannered) and manipulated or edited speech. Expressiveness is not merely manifested in pragmatics — in the manner in which speech is constructed — but also in its structure. Moreover, languages differ significantly in the way they realize this universal function. LANGUAGE FUNCTIONS There has been no doubt about the authenticity of the expressive function I am indebted to Paul Kay for a sympathetic and critical reading of this paper and for the lively correspondence we have had over the question of the "autonomy" of African ideophones.

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of language. The main problem has been to find patterns, or structure, in its manifestation. For linguistics this meant discovering a direct link between function and form. Evidence for such a relationship has been scanty indeed. Affect, as the common view would have it, is not the function of form but of use. "Every language is itself a collective art of expression," said Sapir (1921: 240), for example. Language merely provided resources at its different levels of structure. There is no necessary link between these resources and their use. It is simply that by convention a given community of speakers has been socialized to use such and such elements for a given purpose. It is an accident of history that "It was reported by the press" and "I read in the newspaper" suggest different feelings about the press as a source of information, about the topic being discussed, about the setting, etc. It is likewise an accident of history that "apartment" and "pad" refer to the same physical object but suggest different attitudes. This is the stuff of which style is made. Some speech substances, according to the common view, nonetheless seem to have a closer relationship to function than syntax and lexicon. Even though volume, intensity, speed of utterance, etc. are inevitable components of the dynamics of speech, they are also more amenable to expressive manipulation. Their meaning is directly, if not intuitively, understood. They can be adjusted for subtle shades of meaning. But these phenomena have not been incorporated into the core of linguistic structure. A theory of language, according to the common view, does not have to explain their co-occurrence with nonprosodic elements. Of even greater marginality is sound symbolism and onomatopoeia, although both phenomena are incontestably the means for the expression of affect. People do have a different feeling about words like squish and squash whatever may be the history of their emergence in the English language. Such oppositions are even recognized as being productive, and people create new contrasts (that is, apply the pattern to different sets of words) for immediate needs. Sound symbolism and onomatopoeia are combined, once again, productively, in sets like bink, bunk, bonk. For example, a cartoon in the New Yorker (1 July 1967, p. 27) depicts a knight in full armor lying prostrate at the bottom of a stairway. The history of his fall is recorded in this "sentence:" clink, clink, clink, clink [on level ground], clunk, clunk, clunk [down the stairs, then], bink, blong, splank, crash (volume of sound is indicated by increasing size of print). Onomatopoeia by definition is evidence of linguistic license. (The term by common consent refers both to sound mimetic elements as well as those that evoke other concepts, for example, helter-skelter. A related term is

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introduced below.) Anyone can create a form, as I once did when I said, "The wind catches them [slips of paper], and they go s s s f f f , like butterflies." This vocalization is not part of English or any language I know, and, if I had not recorded this event, I probably would not have been able to give a meaning for the neologism at a later date. It is not surprising that people use such words. What is remarkable, we have been told (Bühler 1969: 126), is how few of them there are in languages, even "primitive" ones. (However, because there are still a few people who believe that primitive languages exist, there are still people who believe that they have a more developed onomatopoeia, see for example, Slama-Cazacu [1961: 135].) In summary, then, linguistic consensus appears to maintain that affect is negligibly channeled through codified elements of linguistic structure. Expression is subservient to reference. This is true for all languages, for codified representation (arbitrariness) is what makes language. People who speak different languages are not more, or less, expressive; they are expressive in different ways. Likewise, some languages are not inherently more, or less, expressive; they simply provide different kinds of resources. The speaker of English, in this view, is not handicapped by comparison with the Russian or Italian (or is it just the Sienese?) who can mark the diminutive, for example, with great freedom. Contemporary dogma, if it is not simplistic, is the result of premature generalization. There is abundant evidence that languages differ substantively — therefore significantly — in their response to expressive function. This is what I claim for African languages with a highly developed ideophony. (The term is explained below.) This is not to say, however, that they are therefore more expressive languages. It is their means that attract our attention, for we are eager to learn to what extent and in what ways expressive language can be elaborated and codified.

DESCRIPTIVE ADVERBS IN GBEYA All African languages south of the Sahara, including such languages as Hausa and Somali (genetically related to Semitic languages) but with the possible exception of the Bushman-Hottentot languages, have words that are very similar formally and semanticaliy. The phenomenon, which I call IDEOPHONY, is more highly developed in some languages than in others, but it is widespread enough to be considered pan-African, a characteristic of Africa as a linguistic area. (It is, for example, well developed in

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Adamawa Fula, but appears to be rudimentary in Wolof. Both of these languages are West Atlantic in classification. For Bantu languages, see Samarin [1971a: 159-161, 133-135].) In this study examples will be drawn only from Gbaya (an Ubangian language or language group of NigerKordofanian stock, spoken in the Central African Empire, and Cameroon, and Zaire). My field experience, however, is exclusively with the dialect called Gbeya, which is for convenience spelled Gbeya. (For works on Gbeya, see Samarin, references.) The phenomenon of ideophony was identified in African languages almost a hundred years ago. The term itself is my generalization from C. M. Doke's coinage, IDEOPHONE (1935: 118): "A vivid representation of an idea in sound. A word, often onomatopoeic, which describes a predicate, qualificative or adverb in respect to manner, colour, sound, smell, action, state or intensity." I would define IDEOPHONY as the foregrounding of phonological elements in word (or lexeme) composition in both spontaneous creations and fully institutionalized lexicon, usually associated with semantic categories of an attributive nature, commonly affective, and sometimes also in true onomatopoeia. Examples of ideophony in English are the following: Ugubugu (the name of a fictitious tribe created by an anthropologist on the spur of the moment), gooey goulash (a combination of conventional vocabulary by my wife to apologize for her supper); see also hully gully (a North American teen-age dance), flim flam, etc. (For a study of ideophones in English, see Thun [1963] and Samarin [1966b].) Ideophony can manifest itself in any class of words if one takes it to be, as I do, a universal phenomenon. (For the universality of ideophone, see Samarin [1965] and Diffloth [1972], a case of convergence through independent work specializing in different language areas.) In some languages ideophony is found in some classes of words rather than others, and in some languages it occurs exclusively in one class or even subclass of words. Uniclass preference is the typical case of African languages. In Gbeya, ideophones constitute the subclass "descriptive adverbs" of the class "adverbs." 1 In Zulu they make up a unique class. The vocabulary of Gbeya looks as if it were assigned to two classes: one for expressive elements and another for the rest. This distinction parallels a formal-semantic one. Expressive words are primarily attributive in meaning ("slick," "instantaneous," "hot," "putrid," etc.). They are all members of the same word class by virtue of their syntactic behavior, that 1

There has been a fair amount of discussion about whether or not one could talk about African ideophones as a class of words and how they were to be identified. I seem to have been less explicit in print than I have been on other occasions. In any case, I would agree with Newman (1968) that it is better to avoid talking about ideophones generally as if they constituted a grammatical category.

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is, being adverbs instead of adjectives.2 And there is greater similarity within the class than with lexical elements in other classes. Thus, CV is a common shape of the verb; it is rare in ideophones. Verbs rarely have more than two syllables; ideophones commonly do. One can find close parallels between ideophonic and nonideophonic vocabulary (such as 3 ding 'heavy' and dong 'back'; püm 'cleared' a n d p i m 'tsetse fly'), but these are few indeed. The phonological features that characterize the class consist of the following: nowhere else is voiced "h" in contrast with the voiceless one; nowhere else are all words consistently high- or low-toned; nowhere else is reduplication used in the canonical form of the word (e.g. batata)', nowhere else are certain compounding and echoic processes used (e.g. kalang kilong, gada guda, kiri wiri, zong dong); nowhere else does sound symbolism distinguish grades of differentiation (illustrated below). It is the phonology of Gbeya ideophones, not their semantics, I must make clear, that is distinctive. In the first place, these words do have meanings that contribute to the total message of a sentence; they do not merely give color to the sentence. Notice the communicative importance of ideophones in the following contrastive sentences: 'He stands fearless' (cf. a yonga ti-sewa gbäkädä 'He gritted his teeth fearlessly' [literally, 'he ate top of liver']). 3 γόό ytkkde 'He stands weak'. ä fe perä-döo gä ä ηέ n5 goßilo goßilo 'He's drunk so he staggers in a weaving manner'. ... gä α ηέ no hiring hiring '(He's drunk) so he walks tippity-toe feeling around before he puts his foot down'. ä γόό gbakädä

It is possible, therefore, to arrive at dictionary-type definitions for 2

There is in Gbeya virtually no crossing over from one class to another. Bantu languages have deverbative ideophones and de-ideophonic verbs, writers claiming to know what the direction of derivation is (Samarin 1971a). There are only occasional similarities: e.g. ndadak ndadak '(wood that) doesn't split well in chopping' (cf. ndadi 'to glue, adhere'), see Samarin (1966a: 89-90). Only a few nouns have ideophonic shape. However, ideophones behave as nouns with respect to tone when they function as preposed noun modifiers, e.g. gonggong-tuwa 'square house' (Samarin 1966a: 122). In insults this pattern is more common (Samarin 1969). 3 The orthography used here differs from my original one (Samarin 1966a) substantially and from subsequent ones superficially. Since my fieldwork in 1966 I have interpreted implosive stops and preglottalized nasals as conditioned variants, the latter occurring only in the environment of nasalized vowels and the stops elsewhere: e.g. [öa] and [?mä] written 6a and Bä. Nasalization also conditions nasal continuants, which are now united with the prenasalized stops: [mba] and [mä] are interpreted as ma and mä. The sounds [η] and [qg] are represented as ng whereas [qm] (coarticulated) and famgb] are represented as ngm. Voiced "h" would be fi.

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Gbeya ideophones. A tentative one for gadacfa will include the following kinds of information: descriptive of sticking or standing up or out (e.g. of ear, tail, or similar rigid appendage); occurs with verbs yu 'flee', ηε 'go', ο 'be', yoo 'stand', de 'make' ( = 'to open up'); am dttmo buturu ηε sire gä ä yu Ί speared a Nile perch and it fled with the spear sticking out'. (A dictionary of Gbeya ideophones is in preparation, see Samarin 1971c.) As for uniformity of meaning, I have already reported on the results of investigations and experiments I undertook among the Gbeya. For some words (like ζόΐόΐό 'white') the meaning is as constant as it is for toro 'dog'. And if the meaning of other words, as illustrated below, varies somewhat, this is certainly a common phenomenon in language, especially of words with attributive or qualitative meanings (Samarin 1971b). The Gbeya case may not be exactly what it is in other African languages, but neither can it be unique. I therefore suspect that statements made about some languages, especially those by people with a linguistically naive approach to the study of language, will have to be taken with a grain of salt. For example: These words ... we may call Ideophones (notion-noises), since in very many we can feel that the sound immediately suggests the sense, and all leave us to relate the bare notion they convey to the necessary frame-work of actors, time and place. What is gained in vividness is lost in exactness of reference; but exactness is not always possible in creating or retailing a vivid impression, and ideophones are an excellent device for conveying essentials but leaving detail vague. They flash a series of pictures or sounds at us, to illustrate a situation already explained or actually present about us (T. Price 1958: 240). Also: "The meanings are often indescribable" (E. Price 1947: 53); "The use of ideophones is similar to that of symbols in that it is not always easy to know exactly what is meant" (Krige 1968: 188). Emphasis is being placed here explicitly on the fixed, that is, socialized, forms of these words. The intent is to underline the fact that features which, in other languages, are scattered about — a little here, a little there — in Gbeya appear to be collected in one place and exploited to their full advantage. (And we shall presently see that ideophones are also rendered, or "interpreted," in characteristic ways. Their occurrence in the stream of speech elicits a characteristic behavior in parole.) The socialization and systematization of ideophones must be asserted without ambiguity. We are not confronted with words whose form or meaning depend on personal whim or unconscious factors. But this is what others, with perhaps less experience, have suggested. It has been said, for example, that speakers coin their own ideophones (Ziervogel 1952:

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160) and that the meanings of ideophones change drastically from one area to another (Doke 1954: 86). No support is given for these assertions about creating new ideophones, although experiments would not be difficult to devise. One or two casual remarks by native speakers (perhaps only a "I never heard the word before" to put off the inquirer) do not constitute proof. In all my experience I have found no evidence for wholesale coining, even though my opinions about the expressive function of ideophones would lead me to expect it. Informants may have disagreed with the phonetic form (e.g., ngbang instead of mbang) of a word or its meaning ("short" of a tree stump, not of a person), but they never said of a new word I had collected that it was unknown to them. This personal report, based on random incidents, is confirmed by work that one of my assistants did on my collection of (at that time) over 4,000 different words. I even collected ideophones from a group of children about six or seven years old and checked them with a group of adult males. Not a single one was deviant in any way. Only once was I witness to what I thought was a word-creating event. I was seated with a family that was dividing up a pumpkin that had just been cooked for an afternoon snack when a three-year-old child, not yet fluent in his parents' language, said pirim pirim with the obvious meaning of "I want pumpkin." The adults laughed in amusement at the child's ignorance of the proper name for pumpkin, say. It turned out that the child already knew at least one ideophone, and he was not wrong at all in asking for some "yummy" to eat. The ideophone, with low tone, means tasty without being sweet (like something with just the right amount of salt or like squash) and refers also to tongue-licking motions. Far from being wrong or ignorant, this child revealed knowledge about the word's meaning, and displayed an inherent linguistic capacity to generalize this knowledge. As he becomes socialized, the child will learn that his society is inhospitable to the nominalization of ideophones; they are extremely rare in Gbeya. The socialization of descriptive adverbs in Gbeya is particularly salient by virtue of their great number. The main entries in my collection now stand close to 5,000. Another 6,000 emerge from the "synonyms" and "antonyms" provided in writing by my semiliterate assistants, but these words will have to be checked for accuracy. By comparison, there are only about 400 verbs in my collection of about 11,000 sentences illustrating the main entries. About 2,500 descriptive adverbs in my collection were originally compiled over a period of four years without any special effort being made, that is, while simply learning and speaking Gbeya daily.

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GBEYA AND ENGLISH COMPARED Some of these observations are illustrated by comparing Gbeya and English vocabularies with respect to the concept "hot" (of temperature). The only nonideophonic means for making reference to this state in Gbeya is to use the locution ba wey 'take fire' (as in wese ad seni go baa wey 'The sun shone [i.e. poured] there so it has become hot'). One can also say of something: 6 wey '[it] is hot'. Intensity ("very") can be expressed in both cases with a closing ηέ saa na, literally 'is fun no'. Beyond this, both for referential and expressive purposes, one must use ideophones. A sample of English and Gbeya words for hotness are compared: "hot"

"cool"

English

Gbeya

Gbeya

burning searing scorching red-hot fiery warm tepid hot as hell damn hot nice and hot too hot to touch

bang beng derere herere gbiling kpökpökpö kpoyong seseng sesese ngeveng ngbeng keteng

d5ng d5ng dososo 6s5s5 ososo tsisi οηόηό yokoko yikiki zokolom

The salient features of the Gbeya words are: the preferred vowels are repeated in polysyllabic words; vowels are e and ο (in Gbeya belonging to a harmonic set); there is a tendency toward repeated syllables; and high tone is preferred over low tone. When these words are compared with the words for "cool, cold," their saliency is brought into even sharper focus. Notice that with "cool," the vowels are i and o, vowel nasalization is prominent, tone is either high or low, and repetition is even more pronounced. What is striking about this comparison is that English fails to exploit phonetic means to evoke the concept of hotness and to signal the semantic unity of the set. (If [hätata] or [häratatät] have ever been used by native speakers of English, the fact has probably gone unheralded.) But this is probably what is happening with the Gbeya sets for "hot" and "cool." Although it is referential meaning that brings these words together, it is

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clear that they are the product of some kind of process. English words are not reworked. We do not intend to suggest that in other ways the sets of English and Gbeya terms are alike. The semantic differentiation of the members of the sets is certainly language-specific; the same is true for whatever subjective response is signaled in these words. In fact, at this stage of our analysis of Gbeya ideophones, we are not yet certain how these ideophones are related to each other. They come from different lists of synonyms for "(too) hot to touch." From personal experience I would say that most of them are very close if not identical in meaning. It should be noted, moreover, that all Gbeya ideophones are members of such formal-semantic sets. This is evident from the data, and I should expect it to be confirmed by experiment: given the syllable [/£], fully socialized speakers of Gbeya would be expected to produce a constellation of ideophones with a core of soundmeaning similarity e.g. /έδέδέ 'narrow'. It follows from what I have said that speakers of Gbeya would be able to detect (in a statistically significant way) words that were foreign to a set. Having examined my data for over a decade now, I feel sanguine about such a hypothesis being confirmed. In one list I prepared for "hot," for example, I found kpäyäng. This seemed wrong to me, unless it referred to hot oil. (I could not recall the word for "sizzling," but I thought its vowel was a. Only later did I remember it: säyaya.) It turns out that this word means 'clean as a well-swept yard'. There is also a word with low tone that imitates the sound of a bell. If the inclusion of kpäyäng was not an error, if one of my assistants did use it with the meaning "hot," then, for him, it constellated with words like säyaya. There is evidence, in any case, that formal-semantic sets are not monolithic. They are not paradigmatic in any sense. Such structure would hardly be expected with words fulfilling an expressive function.

SOUND SYMBOLISM Because the concept "hot" was chosen for convenience, being easy to gloss, it does not necessarily illustrate the full range of phonological processes that characterize the word class. In this paper, we will not, in fact, deal with them exhaustively. But, because sound symbolism has already been referred to as one of the manifestations of the expressive function, we should show how this appears in Gbeya. Here are several soundsymbolic lists. The verbs within parentheses* illustrate the kind of verb with which the ideophones collocate.

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ßit: bet: Bet: bat: but: bot: bot : del: del: dul: dol: dhl dal:

WILLIAM J. SAMARIN

(imisi 'to flick, twitch') of the snapping up of the cord of a snare (da 'to do, make') a quick, upward motion (like that of an animal's tail) of lifting a heavy object (misi 'to flick, twitch', hüy 'to open') of sudden snapping up ( f ü 'to explode, pop') sound of a joint (of bones) cracking or popping {yöng 'to eat, chew') sound of crunching something succulent (dok 'to rub') sound of cracking or creaking falling away falling away (susi 'to swell, be swollen') of swelling, bulging (like a pocket) (suri 'to swell') of swelling (like lump on head) (ηε 'to go, run') of up and down motion of an animal running (ο 'to be') of being braced open (like the lid of a box), of bulging or being squat and large (like a covered typewriter)

Unexpected confirmation for this kind of socialized phonaesthetic ranking comes from a test for ideophone appropriateness (reported in Samarin 1971b). Gbeya subjects were asked to approve or disapprove of eighteen different words with the meaning "short, stocky, stubby, etc." for the sentence bisa körn nfo-i gan άύύ örö mi gä na, gä ä ό kä α ηέ doo ... 'This adolescent son of mine is not as tall as I am; he's short...' (literally, 'adolescent male of-me this-clitic negative is-tall like me like not and he is of him identifier short'). Of three words differing only in vowel quality, 95.6 percent agreed that ngbidi kiri was appropriate, 86.9 percent agreed that ngbodo koro was, and 71.7 percent agreed that ngbocb koro was. Notice also that the meanings for these words are something like 'short and robust, solid (like a tree trunk)', 'short and heavy (like a log sawed off at both ends)', and 'short and flabby or obese (like a pregnant bitch), respectively. Gbeya being a tone language, a pitch contrast is also used in ideophones to distinguish between small and large objects, high and low tones respectively. Thus, redeng is the common form with the meaning 'short', but if a Gbeya is asked if he can use riding, he might answer, for example, "Yes, that's for a child." This does not mean, however, that every occurrence of tone (or tone sequence) is automatically replaceable by the other, for tone is in some instances contrastive: e.g. Idm Idm 'quickly', lam lam 'distributed loosely, far apart'; ngbong ngbong 'far away', ngbong 'motionless'. It would appear that low-toned words can be said with high tones to mark "small," butJiigh-toned words are not said with low tones to mark "big."

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In addition to this apparently regular marking of diminution by pitchraising, there may be others. Although the lexicon has not yet been analyzed with this problem in mind, the following kinds of contrasts appear: ri ηέ veyoo 'water is flowing out (before one's eyes)', ri ηεά veyoo 'water has flowed out (as told to a second person)'; e rat 'put something so that it sits snug and tight (as in the fork of a tree)', yoo rat 'stand (or be) strong, unflinching'; türü ko mi 6 wese wese 'your shirt is in rags', türu ko mi aka \νέςέ \νέδέ 'your shirt has become (is) torn up'.

IDEOPHONES IN EXPRESSIVE SPEECH Ideophones can occur in neutral or colorless speech, as in the sentence äm zok ngma te ηε γόο me peloo Ί see a tall tree standing there' (literally, Ί see tree stands there peloo')·, when they do, there is nothing distinctive about the way they are delivered. (The long vowel oo in the example is part of the shape of the word; *pelo would be a nonce form.) But when speech is charged with emotion, ideophones are the focus of certain stylistic devices. Repetition is one of them. If the word already has a repeated syllable, it may be repeated at will. Thus, at the dramatic moment in a fable when Wan-to, the Spider, strikes the pots in which water has been hidden, the water bursts out and goes hadadadada pouring out. (The canonical form is hadada.) Complete words can also be repeated to indicate intensity, prolonged action, and other meanings. (It is possible also that repetition is sometimes just a way for providing oneself with vocal material for artistic manipulation.) Thus, in another story Wan-to trips on a tree stump and falls forward, off balance, going gede gede gede gede geds, 'geds ηε rtk nu and falls down. The first five instances evoke increasing speed as he hurtles forward. Suspense is broken by introducing the slight pause (,) and one more geds with greater volume and intensity ('). Explicitness is fulfilled by ne rtk nü 'and (he) falls ground', but this strikes me as an anticlimax. A specifically ideophonic stylistic device is tone dropping on hightoned words. That is, all tones following the initial one are somewhat lower, but not as low as phonemically low tone, and level. This is true for both nonrepeated and repeated words, e.g. gbilik 'of being sound asleep', ίόΐόΐό 'of being parched from thirst', mbol mbol 'of turning around slowly'. The other phonological distortions to which ideophones are subjected do not differ in kind from those that characterize the stream of emotional speech (like increasing or decreasing volume, stressing the first syllable, lengthening vowels and consonants, raising or lowering level of pitch,

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modifying the vocal channel to produce sounds of anomalous quality, etc.), but it is possible that they differ in degree. I suspect that acoustic analysis will confirm my supposition. It is not irrelevant that stylistic delivery of ideophones (or ideophonic stylistics) coincides with the characteristic syntax of ideophones. Final position in the sentence is their preferred location; only occasionally, and then only optionally, are they followed by some kind of complement (e.g. 5 te-ngon dal 'it is up propped-up' or 5 dal, te-ngon), in which case, as here, a pause is introduced. It is not true that clauses with ideophones are simpler — having fewer syntactic elements or fewer words — than those without ideophones. Gbeya clauses are typically simple anyway. For example: ä sää sek, si te οά nä ä kpä ri, tä ä no te wi-re no tnaa. Gä ä käy sünu, gä ä hän, ά tong seni, go rok ηέ saa nä, go 6 reng ring 'He [the Spider] wondered how he and other people would find water to drink. So he took sesame, roasted it, added salt, making it very good and salty'. (Literally, 'he thinks, so that it would and he find water, and he drink then people drink with him. And he take sesame, then roast, put salt there, then it-be-good is fun no, then is yummywith-salt'.)

IDEOPHONES IN LINGUISTICS The significance of ideophones for linguistics is that they reveal that language, as langue, can be adapted for expressive function to a greater degree than we had thought possible. They reveal that, although affect tends to be inimical to codification and socialization, it is not incompatible with them. There is a way for these two principal functions to coexist in linguistic structure. The trick is to utilize phonological processes that humans (for neurophysiological and psychological reasons not yet fully known to us) are inclined to adopt for mediating their subjective responses. The language may cheat just a bit, departing from the canons that govern all other lexemes. And whatever may be the origin of the wide selection of alternative elements for any concept, as above, with "hot," it contributes to a speaker's freedom in self-expression. It is not necessary, of course, to try to account for the African specialization in an expressive lexicon. (Evidence suggests, however, that it can be traced to the ancestor of contemporary Niger-Congo languages.) Once the speakers got on to the trick and approved of its use, there was no particular reason — except for a sociopsychological one — why it should not go as far as it could. In Gbeya and related languages of the Ubangian

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group it has gone very far; in other languages, not anywhere near as far — or maybe a fully developed ideophony has virtually disappeared in them. The present analysis would therefore appear to be a contribution to the fulfillment of Bühler's call for the comprehensive treatment of representation and expression: "La theorie du langage doit reconnaitre et expliquer ou et comment ce retour au sensible peut se faire que le langage lui-m6me soit ditruit" (1969: 113). Onomatopoeia is a reversion, in his opinion, because language has evolved beyond the primitive needs and means of self-expression. The genius of language is its success at symbolic representation. The present analysis also illustrates the adaptability of language for human needs: "The uses to which a tool is put, naturally react on the tool itself, especially in the case of a tool so sensitive and flexible as language" (Stern 1965: 23, cf. 184). Stern was talking explicitly about the influence of expression on language, but about its meaning, not its form (p. 173). In any case, for him, and others who have concerned themselves with semantic changes, words have individual histories (p. 42). If this is true of, for example, scrawl and scribble, I do not think that it is the whole truth for ideophones. Whatever may be the truth about "individual histories" of words whose primary function is referential, it is wrong to think of ideophones as if they were individual organisms. Ngbeng keteng '(too) hot to touch' may be formally different from — that is, not homophonous with — every other word in the constellation of words with this and similar (or contrastive) meanings, but it is surely not irrelevant that these words, like the words for "cool," have some "family" resemblance. It is semantics that brought these words together for our inspection. It was form that brought the following words together in a preliminary analysis of phonological form (here -ing, -eng, -ong). One can see, even from these very much abbreviated glosses, that we are confronted with a chain of related meanings: kengeng kengeng keng kedeng teng teng tendeng zong dong geng gereng gong tong gbong tong

'stiffly walking (wearing a bark clout)' 'stiff (shirt sleeves)' 'stiff (neck)' 'stiff (neck)' 'stiff (with cold)' 'wide (elephant's ear)' 'wide (elephant's ass)' 'wide (pant leg)'

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deng Beteng ngbang ding ding ding ndang ding mbong ding ngbong cbng

'thick and heavy (elephant hide)' 'thick and heavy, covered with mud' 'thick and heavy (hoe blade)' 'thick, fat' 'dirty and wet [pejorative]' 'obese'

Similarly, words for "rough to touch, scratchy" constellate with k and the vowel a: haka yaka 'of a pumpkin leaf, sandpaper, crocodile hide', saka yaka 'of dry sand', soko yoko 'of dry sand, food sauce that does not contain a mucilagenous vegetable (e.g. okra)', vakaka 'of upright sorghum stalks, scattered hairs on a pig's body', raka raka 'surface of a file or rasp, snake skin, turtle shell', sakada 'of calloused palm, log with bark; spiny'. These should be compared with words differing principally by the presence of nasalization, for example: vünguyüngu 'of the surface of a certain caterpillar whose body is covered with hair', vänga yänga 'of the collection of twigs and leaves on the back of a certain insect, month-old growth of beard on a European's face', vengem vengem 'of itchy feeling after a certain pollen has fallen on one's body'. (The description of the relationship between, say, [Vk] and [Vq], in historical terms has not yet been made. There are Gbaya languages without nasalized vowels; see Samarin 1959.) The closest thing to this phenomenon in English is the existence of lists of words like cringe, crunch, craunch, squeak, screech, shriek, squawk, etc. But unlike Gbeya descriptive adverbs, these are for the most part onomatopoeic, and this is an important fact. Ideophones display the same kinds of processes even though they signal nonacoustic experience. I suggest, therefore, a corollary of the axiom about word histories. Ideophones, as a class of words, have their own history. It is a fact that a word is a member of this class and that it has a certain kind of meaning and a specific syntactic behavior that makes the word what it is. Whatever its ultimate source might be (e.g. a verb, although this kind of derivation is not productive today in Gbeya, unlike most Bantu languages; or a borrowing from another language), it becomes naturalized in the associational environment of the others.4 Thus French zero behaves just like an ideophone with the meaning 'a mile wide of the mark' {a riko a zero 'be struck [at] him missing him completely'), a meaning for which there are perfectly good Gbeya alternatives; yet zero will, I suspect, lead to several others: *zeroro, *zere were. (The actual forms are wildly speculative.) We should note, moreover, that, in being adapted to expressive function, 4

It should be noted that Gbeya has very little grammar at the level of the word, and word derivation by affixation and compounding is absent all together.

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African languages exploit certain phonological devices primarily with one class of words. Since language is by definition a system of arbitrary units, there is no reason why "spear" could not have been designated by gbang kalang, but it wasn't. Sire is its name, and no other word approximates it. But gbang kalang 'wide' is related to others of its kind. This is not to say, of course, that gbang kalang is less arbitrary than sire with respect to its specific meaning. The point is that its form suggests its KIND of meaning. A comparable instance for nouns would be the word for butterfly: peri were. If my attempt at accounting for ideophones falls short of the truth, this should not prevent us from trying again. The existence of such a large stock of words (in Gbeya certainly more than 5,000) similar to words in other languages that are few and sometimes anomalous should challenge us to provide an explanation. It is not an accident that Gbeya is rich in expressive adverbs; it could have managed somehow without them.

IDEOPHONES FOR SOCIOLINGUISTICS If ideophones are significant for a more complete understanding of the nature of language, they are no less significant for an understanding of man's use of language. This division, in any case, is only a heuristic one. For some purposes it is useful to focus on one or the other aspect of language, but convenience is not license. Language requires us to look at it holistically. Expression is no less important than reference; it is just less disciplined. And we learn from African languages that this speech function is actualized adaptively in linguistic structure. What is the significance, then, of ideophones for the behavior of Africans whose languages abound in them ? Is the quality of their psychic and social existence different from that of other people ? Sapir at one time in his career thought that word classes might have some such significance: No language fails wholly to distinguish at least between noun and verb, although in some cases the distinction is an illusive one. It is, however, different with the other parts of speech. No one of them may be said to be imperatively required for the life of language, although they may greatly increase the fluidity and significance of that life. Later, he chose to be more cautious and deleted the last clause in other editions of his work (1921: 126).5 This was not because he felt less strongly 6

The quotation cited here, taken from Sapir's Language (p. 125), according to Urban (1939: 87), is not found in any edition I have consulted. In the original 1921 edition and

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about the consequences of language for man; rather, one would suppose, it was because this was not the best way of expressing it. But one does not need to get embroiled in the controversy over linguistic determinism in addressing oneself to the question of linguistic relativity. Languages are different. The features that make them different — at whatever level of grammatical structure — demand, at the very least, identification and classification. But with relativity we imply that typology has a differential effect. Linguistic resources lead to different patterns of speaking. In Gbeya one would not talk about Hawaii in the same way as the travel brochure quoted below: [The lassitude] may come when [the visitor] sweeps back the curtain in his airconditioned hotel room to survey a velvety emerald view of rice fields, crew-cut golfing greens, jagged peaks with their heads in the clouds, or azure ocean. Nor would a rock music concert be described as in the following newspaper article: [Twenty], even ten rows back, the words can scarcely be heard. They exist not as nouns and verbs, but as a physical mass, a hot, indistinct slur like sausage meat: ground out of the famous lips, eaten by the mike, driven into banks of amplifiers and rammed out through two immense blocks of speakers high on either side of the stage. The vowels mix stickily with the air of the auditorium, already saturated by the fume of tens of thousands of packed bodies, the smoke of 50,000 cigarettes and a few pounds of weed, forming an acrid blue vault overhead. In Gbeya one can talk about "velvety," "crew-cut," "slurred," "stickily," "packed," and so on, but doing this requires a differently structured text. And it is possible that talking this way would be possible in only certain contexts. Differences in idiom, of course, need no demonstration. It is their nature and their consequence that require analysis. We are primarily concerned with consequences for the speech community itself, but linguistic relativity is also revealed in the history of language contact. The idiosyncracies of African languages, for example, have all been accepted by Europeans with practical or scientific concerns — even their use of tone.

the 1949 reprinting, this statement ends Chapter 5 on page 126, not 125. There are also significant textual changes: "No language wholly fails to distinguish noun and verb, though in particular cases the nature of the distinction may be an elusive one. It is different with the other parts of speech. Not one of them is imperatively required for the life of language."

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Only ideophones confronted the greatest resistance. Europeans either ignored them or assigned them, as we saw above, to marginal status as "vocal gestures," interjections, and the like. This was bias, of course, but not entirely naive. Europeans equated ideophones with their own ludic vocalizations; recognizing similarity in form, they assumed similarity of function. African languages, as a consequence, have been grossly misunderstood and underanalyzed. If Europeans have been in contact with African speech, Africans have been in contact with European speech. This has already had consequences for African languages, and I suspect that ideophones are not invulnerable to change. But it is social change much more clearly than language contact that seems to have already affected the use of ideophones in Africa. I found during intensive research in Bangui, the capital of the Central African Empire, that the Gbeya who had spent most of their lives as city dwellers had a more imperfect knowledge of ideophones than their country cousins. By this standard, then, they demonstrate less competence. By the canons of contemporary linguistics, however, they are fully competent: they can still produce grammatical sentences and nativelike discourse. Yet the quality of their Gbeya must be judged to be different. These observations are supplemented by observations made in studying ideophones with a university-trained native speaker of Yoruba who had an excellent primary and secondary education in his native language. His knowledge of Yoruba ideophones was only vestigial; he also attributed their use to the smart-aleck, "half-educated" young people of his country. It is possible, therefore, that an aspect of the evolution being experienced by African languages is the emergence of rural and urban styles of speaking, one of whose differences is the use and nonuse of ideophones (to put it crudely). Perhaps the sophisticated speaker of Gbeya will some day say that his rural relative speaks in a colorful way. The development of literacy is an aspect of Africa's culture change, and it has linguistic as well as social consequences. Not having investigated this matter, I am unable to report on what these consequences may be with respect to ideophones. In Nguni contemporary literature, according to the late A. C. Jordan, there is no dearth of them. But I would imagine that they are infrequent in vernacular newspapers. (By all reports they are virtually nonexistent in Bible translations and other religious publications, but until very recently these have been the work of missionaries.) In any case, we are not interested merely in the type or token frequency of ideophones in published literature but also in the way in which they are used. Moreover, we should expect writing to affect spoken language as we have found urban life doing so. There is evidence that similar words were much

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more common — indeed, fashionable — in sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury English than they are today (Thun 1963: 29). Literacy returns us to the topic of relativity, because literacy represents a new stage in the sociolinguistic evolution of a language. One can claim, in fact, that languages that have gone through this experience are also linguistically different. Thus Paul Kay (1971) has revived a hypothesis mentioned by other authors but never fully exploited, that autonomous speech — that which is precise and logically explicit — is characteristic of communities speaking "advanced languages" (exemplified by world languages). What makes this autonomy possible, among other things, is the fact that the lexicons of these languages have evolved towards having more abstract AND more concrete words than local languages. It is tempting indeed to find in the African's predilection for ideophonic speech evidence for nonautonomous language-speech that is dependent on context for disambiguation. One can find occasional parallels for this kind of dependence in our own highly explicit languages. I witnessed the following. In the subway a seated woman gestured to her standing friend, offering to take the package she was holding. The latter handed this to her, saying, "Yes, it's shugly ... (with erratic waving of one free hand). You know what I mean? ... Spineless!" Although I consider this neologism an instance of ideophony, I am not ready yet to turn over Gbeya adverbs to the support of the autonomy hypothesis. I may yet do so, but with several stipulations. For example, we must make a distinction between autonomous speech and autonomous lexicon. It is possible that in Gbeya there are both autonomous and nonautonomous uses of ideophones. It is also possible that some of these words have evolved toward greater autonomy than other words. And because this is a possibility, then African languages can differ with respect to the autonomy of their ideophones. Very much more work will have to be done on individual languages and then in comparing them before we can speak with certainty about these matters. Kay rightly takes me to task for not attempting to account for the association of "backwoodsiness" with the use of ideophones on the part of city dwellers. His own suggestion, which I am happy to consider, is that urbanization is associated with language standardization where different varieties of the same language or different languages are in "conflict." This, of course, is consistent with my saying that urbanized Gbeya, for example, is pidginized.

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REFERENCES BALLY, CHARLES

1926 Le langage et la vie. Paris: Payot. BÜHLER, KARL

1969 "L'onomatopee et la fonction repräsentative du langage," in Essais sur le langage. Edited by J.-P. Pariente, 111-132. Paris: Les Editions de Minuit. (Partial translation of work originally published 1933 as Sprachetheorie. Jena: Fischer.) DIFFLOTH, GERARD

1972 "Notes on expressive meaning," in Papers from the Eighth Regional Meeting of the Chicago Linguistic Society. Edited by Paul Perateau, Judith Levi, and Gloria Phares, 440-447. Chicago: Chicago Linguistic Society. DOKE, C. M.

1935 Bantu linguistic terminology. London: Longmans, Green. 1954 The southern Bantu languages. London: Oxford University Press. KAY, PAUL

1971 "Language evolution and speech style." Paper presented at the session on "The Relation of Anthropology and Linguistics in Honor of C. F. Voegelin," Annual Meeting of the American Anthropological Association, November 1971, New York City. KRIGE, EILEEN JENSEN

1968 Girls' puberty songs and their relation to fertility, health, and morality among the Zulu. Africa 38: 173-198. NEWMAN, PAUL

1968 Ideophones from a syntactic point of view. Journal of West African Languages!·. 107-117. PRICE, E.

1947 "Ngombe grammar." Mimeographed. London. PRICE, THOMAS

1958

The elements of Nyanja for English-speaking students. Blantyre: Church of Scotland Mission.

SAMARIN, w . J.

1959 Prospecting Gbaya dialects. African Studies 18: 68-73. 1965 Perspective on African ideophones. African Studies 24: 117-121. 1966a The Gbeya language. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. 1966b Review of Reduplicative words in English by Nils Thun. Journal of African Languages 5: 161-163. 1967 Determining the meanings of ideophones. Journal of West African Languages 35-41. 1969 The art of Gbeya insults. International Journal of American Linguistics 35: 323-329. 1970a Field procedures in ideophone research. Journal of African Languages 9: 27-30. 1970b Inventory and choice in expressive language. Word 26: 153-169. 1971a Survey of Bantu ideophones. African Language Studies 12: 130-168.

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1971b "Measuring variation in the use of Gbeya ideophones," in Actes du huitiime congris de la Societe Linguistique de VAfrique Occidentale, volume two, 483-488. Annales de PUniversite d'Abidjan, Sdrie H, Fascicule hors serie. Abidjan. 1971c "Semantics without native intuition." Paper presented at the Colloque International sur les Mdthodes d'Enquete et de Description des Langues sans tradition 6crite (Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique), June 1971, Nice. 1971d "Theory of order with disorderly data." Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Anthropological Association, November 1971, New York City. 1972 Appropriateness and metaphor in the use of ideophones. Orbis 20: 356-369. SAPIR, EDWARD

1921 Language. New York: Harcourt, Brace. SLAMA-CAZACU, TATIANA

1961 Langage et contexte. Janua Linguarum, Series major 6. The Hague: Mouton. STERN, GUSTAF

1965 Meaning and change of meaning. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. (Originally published 1931.) THUN, NILS

1963 Reduplicative words in English. Lund: Carl Bloms Boktryckeri. URBAN, WILBUR M.

1939 Language and reality. London: George Allen and Unwin; New York: Macmillan. ZIERVOGEL, D.

1952 A grammar of Swazi. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press.

Language Competence and Culture Transmission

D. P. PATTANAYAK

The nature and use of language and culture have held the attention of scholars for a long time. Whether language is an expression of culture, and thus forms part of the total cultural milieu, or is a parallel system outside culture has been hotly debated. Language mirrors culture as much as it is a product of it. As a phenomenon, it thus operates partially with its own unique laws and principles and partially as a reflection of the laws and principles of the human mind, which is at the source of all culture. The ability to generate grammatical sentences in a language does not by itself generate the ability to manipulate these sentences in a culturally acceptable manner. Take, for instance, the Oriya pronominal system, which has three forms, tu, tume, and apono, corresponding to three degrees of intimacy, familiar, polite, and honorific. Each of these pronouns has obligatory verb concord, as in tu jaucu 'you (familiar) are going', tume jauco 'you (polite) are going', and apono jauconti 'you (honorific) are going'. One may be able to generate these sentences, but unless one is aware of the social context of the usage of these pronouns, one is bound to make mistakes. For instance, one has to know that tu is used for social inferiors, children, and very intimate personal friends. Similarly, apono not only marks respect but is used for elderly persons and strangers. It signifies distance and is sarcastic if used for younger persons and those of low social status, as much as tu used for elders may be interpreted as an insult. The above situation can be further clarified by the Hindi pronominal system, in which there is tu, tum, and ap corresponding to Oriya tu, tume, and apono. In Hindi also, the use of a pronoun outside its specified context creates problems. But Hindi, in addition to the above, uses the infinitival

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form (jana 'to go', ksrna 'to do', etc.) in a way that neutralizes the context, and they can thus be used for anybody without committing social offense. For instance, when doubtful of the status of the addressee, one can use the infinitival form without the pronoun. Thus one could say (pra) phal lana 'bring fruit' and ye dena 'give this', which would be valid for people of all three levels. Besides the regular form ap jaiye 'You (honorific) go' and the neutralized form jana, one may also find a usage like ap jao, which combines the verbal endings of the tum form with ap. This usage immediately marks the variety of Hindi (such as Punjabi Hindi) and the domain of usage (such as parent-child communication, intimate formality). Marked and unmarked features at different levels of language provide a new dimension for the study of cultural competence as well as performance. Marked features are usually culture-bound. The linguist is faced with the problem of deciding how much cultural information can be coded in his semantic deep structure so that he can accommodate wider considerations within his theoretical framework and handle everything within the purview of his discipline. He is constantly confronted by the dilemma that, on the one hand, the formalized artificial superstructure of language, like all such superstructures, tends to have contextual freedom, while, on the other hand, the living sociocultural phenomena have a context sensitivity which defies all attempts at formalization. Like linguistic synchrony, cultural synchrony is dynamic. Just as any speech community and any verbal code lacks uniformity at any given time, so does a culture group. Jakobson rightly observes that, "At each level of verbal code we observe a scale of transitions that range from maximum explicitness to the briefest elliptic structure, and this scale is subject to a set of rigorous transformational rules" (1972: 77). In the study of culture, the superposition of several interconnected yet differently structured levels is also discernible. However, because the interrelationship of these levels is synaptic, in many cases it is not amenable to explanations by the set of ordered transformation rules of the verbal code. Moreover, cultural transmission may consist of signs, signals, written images, sounds, or any other skill of the mind, and these go beyond the study of language. Cultural competence, therefore, may be said to embrace linguistic competence. Built-in heterogeneity is a characteristic of human culture. A human being operates within four kinds of time. Biological time with its diurnal rhythm; social time based on the dependent social role, status, function, and the desirability or undesirability, or rate of change attendant on it; historical time binding all differences in a thread of continuity; and geological time measured in terms of the decay of radioactive elements may

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all impinge upon human life cycles at any moment. One can also speak of levels of space consciousness constantly affecting and shaping the human mind. Primates operate within the restricted area they know. Research with baboons shows that, when a herd is chased, it goes to the outer limits of its known area and turns back. The largest area known to any nonhuman primate group is supposed to be twenty-four square kilometers. Even from the hunting and gathering stage, a human being knew hundreds of square kilometers. This time-span and space-span consciousness is a typically human phenomenon and is qualitatively different from the instinctive and restricted time and space consciousness of nonhuman primates. In the field of verbal communication, individual as well as group heterogeneity is the rule. A person uses different functional varieties of a language and/or different languages in different situations. For example, he may use different varieties of language in communicating with people of different roles and statuses (as in talking to a superior officer, a servant, to one's father or child, etc.) or in different social settings (like formal, informal, and nonformal). He may also use different languages, thus, for example, praying in Sanskrit, using broken Hindi in the marketplace, doing office work in English, enjoying a Bengali novel, and using French for research purposes. An educated Tamil speaker, who is simultaneously confronted with forms like aDittuKoNDanan (archaic written Tamil), aDittuKKoNDaan (modern written Tamil), aDicciKKiTTää (standard spoken Tamil), aDiccunDää (Brahmin dialect of spoken Tamil), and ADiccuKKinää (Madras regional dialect of spoken Tamil), along with various styles and registers of the language and the other languages he needs for the specific purposes indicated above, presents a good picture of heterogeneous competence and performance. Viewed from this angle, a homogeneous speech community is a fiction. In reality, a speech community is always a heterogeneous one in which each member displays differential competence, whether as a monolingual using different functional varieties or as a multilingual using different languages in defined domains. Heterogeneity in competence can be approached from another angle. Labov has established that a lower-class Negro child in the United States may have dual competence in reception whereas he may have single competence in production. He may comprehend both standard and nonstandard phonology. A mere observation of the multidialectal and multilingual situation in India would support Labov's contention. Hindi, with its nineteen to twenty-one dialects, is illustrative of a situation in which most dialect speakers practice effective bilingualism with receptive control

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of the standard, with or without productive control of it. A multilingual child usually comprehends more languages than he has verbal control over, and the degree of both receptive and productive control varies depending on the functional need of a language. On the other hand, Albert presents a case of dual productive competence for the peasants of Burundi in East Africa (Albert 1964). Because equal competence between two persons may result in unequal performance and unequal competence in equal performance depending on the social environment in which a person is nurtured, no simplistic mechanical model is adequate to explain the complexity inherent in cultural competence. The complexity of cultural phenomena arises out of the fact that something which is possible, feasible, and appropriate does not occur (Hymes 1971). At the same time, something which appears to be inappropriate, nonfeasible, and impossible occurs and is accepted. The Sanskrit dictum, Yadyapi siddham loka viruddham nädaraniyam näcaraniyam 'nothing socially unacceptable should be practiced even if sanctified by rules' forbids the occurrence of practices even if they are possible, feasible, and appropriate. On the other hand, the dictum, prayogasaranäh vaiyäkaranäh 'grammar must follow usage' is an echo of the medieval phrase factum valet, meaning that an action otherwise prohibited by rule is to be treated as correct if it happens nevertheless (Garfinkel 1971). All these go to demonstrate the dynamic creative aspect of culture and force the analyst to posit "scales of transition" at different levels of culture in his analytical framework. The transmission of culture, like the transmission of language abilities, poses a knotty problem. The biological transmission of cultural facts is much slower than cultural transmission. The average generation time span is twenty-five years, and the traits that are genetically transmitted are limited. Even geneticists, talking of the nervous system vis-ä-vis behavior, hold that, "specificity is the genetically programmed, invariant response of the system, whilst plasticity is the learned result of the sum of — often the tension between — the plasticity and specificity of its nervous system" (Rose 1972: 129). There is a view that experience can be gained only in the natural setting and that cultural transmission takes place only in the environment of the culture concerned. Some go a step further and suggest that very little is gained by teaching language in the classroom and therefore a person should be left in a new environment to absorb the language and culture around him. Although there is no doubt that environmental enrichment has a significant role to play in understanding culture, mere conditioning and association do not endow one with the innovativeness that is im-

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perative for going beyond the empiricist limitation of cultural transmission through the senses. Also, people usually display a narrower competence as senders of verbal messages and a wider competence as receivers. St. Augustine's observation, "in me it is the word which takes precedence over the sound [in me prius est verbum, posterior vox], but for thee who looks to understand me, it is first the sound that comes to thine ear in order to insinuate the word into thy mind," may be said to hold true even for culture. Any formal training program has to keep both factors in view. Just as linguists make a distinction between mother-tongue teaching and other-tongue teaching, it is also necessary to make a distinction between a child acquiring his own culture (enculturation) and one acquiring a culture other than his own (acculturation). It must be recognized that one can immediately understand with no feeling of difficulty and strangeness innumerable traits of one's native culture. It must also be recognized that one's native culture acts as a filter while learning about an alien culture. Contrastive study of culture traits and complexes, therefore, is essential for devising a suitable curriculum for a systematic program of imparting cultural phenomena in a controlled classroom situation. Making inferences about a culture through language and the actual phenomena (both being diverse and dynamic) demands the understanding of various contrastive traits and complexes, their domain and functional role, on the one hand, and the cultural universals, on the other. In the actual teaching situation, simulation of culture in a controlled situation in instructionally feasible terms therefore poses a challenge. Instructional material forms only a part of the milieu, though an important one. There cannot, however, be a course for culture independent of language. Cultural material has to be carefully graded along with the language material. Take, for instance, these sentences: "the Khonds eat crows and cockroaches;" "the Khonds eat wood;" "the Khonds eat dung." From the purely formal structural point of view, the Khonds (a tribal community), a noun, eat something that is also a noun. It is only when one comes to subcategorization rules that appropriate semantic markers prohibit eating wood and dung. Although the first sentence is grammatical and culturally true, introducing it in the beginning lessons of a foreign language course which is intended at the same time to present the culture of the Khonds, may not be a happy experience for the learner. If eating crows and cockroaches is considered a revolting phenomenon in the learner's culture, then it may create adverse values about the Khonds and thereby inhibit learning. Gradation of cultural material is not, however, a simplistic matter of properly phasing the potentially prejudicial yet relevant material. Because

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of context specificity, common yet complex items like greeting tokens, which need to be introduced at the very beginning, require the special attention of the producer of the material. Take, for instance, the words namaste and nsmaskar in Indian languages, which are used as greetings both at the time of meeting and of parting, irrespective of the time of the day, and which elicit an echo of the same word by way of response. They cover the equivalent semantic space of hello, how do you do, hi, good morning, good afternoon, good evening, good night, good day, and good-bye of the English speaker and salam alekum and alekum salam and a host of other expressions of the Urdu speaker. In the later case, the distinction between the greeting of the speaker and the response of the addressee deserves special notice. Most of the existing language courses, in their concern for formal structural rules, have not given due attention to these aspects of cultural transmission. Linguistic features reflecting cultural phenomena are relatively easier to handle. For example, Hindi billi dekhi, billi ko dekha exemplify a generic: specific difference, whereas hrki dekhi, hrki ko dekha do not quite parallel the above pair. The latter pair has overtones of nonrespectability: respectability, informal: formal, etc., which can be expressed through rules and thus be programmed into the instructional material with relative ease. Concepts like jhuthä, pän, and sindur, which are expressive of complex cultural phenomena, are not as easy to handle. The discovery of the deep structure in languages is the result of a scholarly concern to explain the intralanguage surface divergences, and to establish the underlying rules which reveal, on the one hand, the relationships of components and levels within a language and, on the other, their orderly transformation. This is qualitatively different from the description of a finite corpus of facts, no matter how big it is. The search for language universale may be said to be an extension of this concept of deep structure to the interlingual canvas. The deeper one goes in one's analyses, the nearer one comes to reality or at least to a mental image of it. Cultural transmission therefore presupposes language analysis in depth. With deeper analysis, areas normally ignored become "focused;" they highlight cultural factors, which in turn help in positing rules for culture and cultures. Cultural universale, once they are established, facilitate production of integrated material, which in turn aids learning of both language and culture.

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REFERENCES ALBERT, E.

1964 " 'Rhetoric,' logic and poetics in Burundi: culture patterning of speech behavior," in The ethnography of communication. Edited by J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes, American Anthropologist 66, part 2 (6): 35-54. GARFINKEL, H .

1971 "Remarks on ethnomethodology," in Directions in sociolinguistics: the ethnography of communication. Edited by J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. HYMES, D .

1971 "Competence and performance in linguistic theory," in Language acquisition: models and methods. Edited by Renira Huxley and Elizabeth Ingram, 11-16. London and New York: Academic Press. JAKOBSON, ROMAN

1972 Verbal communication. Scientific American (September) 73-80. ROSE, STEVEN

1972 "Environmental effects of brain and behaviour," in Race, culture, and intelligence. Edited by Ken Richardson, David Spears, and Martin Richards. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books.

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For a long period the teaching of foreign languages was dominated by traditional methods based on translating, directed primarily to facilitating access to the literary works of other countries. At the beginning of this century, under the pressure of the requirements (economic, administrative, touristic, etc.) of contemporary society, the need to teach foreign languages as instruments of communication was recognized. Educationalists gradually abandoned the traditional grammars as being of little use, as they did not deal with the spoken language in use at a given time. They turned to linguists who, after Saussure and Bloomfield, introduced a more systematic concept of language and proposed new and more precise descriptions of the languages taught, particularly the oral code (cf. Roulet 1972). Thus a new field of research rapidly developed, i.e. linguistics applied to the teaching of languages. And so it is that, since World War II, methods and courses called "linguistic" have appeared. These were intended to allow students, through carefully graded structural exercises (pattern drills), to acquire the automatic responses necessary for daily communication. It is true that the results obtained with beginners, especially by audiovisual or audio-oral intensive measures, appeared at first to be quite impressive. Students were capable of understanding and producing more rapidly and more correctly numerous structures of the spoken language, and they obtained better results in second-chance tests. However, researchers gradually realized that this new approach also had major defects. We will recall just three of these here: a. These new courses do not appear to help one develop the capacity to express himself freely and to communicate in the various situations of

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daily life. Gumperz acknowledges: "It is fair to say that we have not been completely successful in providing students with the linguistic ability they need to communicate effectively in speech communities where these languages are spoken" (1965: 82). This is the paradox set forth by Jakobovits concerning this new approach to the teaching of foreign languages: "The irony of the matter lies in the fact that the 'New Key' approach, unlike the traditional methods in which reading classical literature was considered a worthwhile activity in itself, does not attach an intrinsic value to grammatical knowledge per se, but views habit drills as means towards achieving communicative skills, yet it seems that these very activities are the chief roadblocks to attaining meaningful skills ('liberated expression', as it has been called)" (1970: 84). Furthermore, many teachers had realized that the students who obtained good results in attainment tests were often incapable of holding a conversation in the foreign language (see Savignon 1972: 154). It can be argued that the majority of audio-visual or audio-oral methods include a so-called exploitation phase, which should in fact help the pupil pass from the strict conditioning of structural exercises to a freer expression in situations of communication. But this is an illusion, for, as Savignon recalls: "When so-called 'directed communication' is introduced, it is not communication at all, as the structural frame, if not the lexical content, remains in the control of the instructor" (1972: 153). In short, the courses do not permit attainment of the objective in view. b. These new courses, far from interesting students, seem to bore them, at times to the point of discouraging them from learning new foreign languages. Let us read Hester's evidence: "Everywhere, we see a tendency to abandon foreign languages, among various other disciplines, because they are a hindrance to the young learner's freedom, self-discovery, and natural 'creativity' " (1970: viii). It is difficult to see how one can develop the capacity for students to communicate in a foreign language if they do not feel the need to use it, because they are not given the opportunity to express their wishes and requirements. c. If the principles of this new approach turn out to be relatively effective in the acquisition of the first elements of a foreign language, they seem to be of little application to other levels of teaching. This is undoubtedly not an accident if there are a great number of audio-visual and audio-oral courses for the first level of learning a foreign language, while such courses for advanced levels are rare and less systematic. "Unfortunately," write Allen and Widdowson, "the generous provision of basic courses has coincided with a striking lack of new material specially designed for intermediate and advanced students. As a result, students

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who have become accustomed to an orderly progression of graded materials, simple explanations and easily-manipulated drills during the first two or three years of language learning find that these aids are suddenly withdrawn when they reach the end of the basic course, and that they are left to fend for themselves with little or no guidance at a time when the language is rapidly becoming more difficult" (1972: 2). The balance-sheet of this "linguistic" approach for a complete change in the teaching of foreign languages thus appears very much less favorable than anticipated. It is advisable to ask why an attempt based on scientific data borrowed from psychology and linguistics, and which has received the benefit of considerable investments, has ended in this relative failure. It seems to us that one can explain and try to repair the errors committed by examining three factors: a. one must clearly state what is meant by "being proficient in a language as an instrument of communication"; b. one must ask whether structural and transformational generative linguistics, from Saussure to Chomsky, supply the information necessary for the drawing up of the contents of a language course directed to inculcating this communicative competence; and c. one must reexamine the principles for learning a foreign language which underlie these methods in the light of recent research in psycholinguistics. We shall limit ourselves here to dealing with the first two points, which are of direct concern to the subject of this paper (for the third, see Roulet 1974). What does one mean by being proficient in a language as an instrument of communication ? First, it is not sufficient to be capable of reading and writing a sentence correctly, as in traditional teaching; nor is it enough to be capable of understanding and producing rapidly and automatically a correct sentence in response to certain elementary stimuli, as in audio-visual and audiooral teaching. One must know how to use the sentences appropriately in a linguistic context and in a given situational context. In other words, one must know how, on the one hand, to combine these sentences into larger units of communication, such as text and dialogue, and on the other hand, to use expressions appropriate to certain situations of communication (Allen and Widdowson 1972: 3^4). Second, to be proficient in a language as an instrument of communication is not just to be capable of transmitting information and asking questions of the universe which surrounds us ("Mrs. Thibaut opens the

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door," "How many rooms do you have?," etc.) (see Ducrot 1972a: 1-5; Gumperz 1965: 84). Barthes noted appropriately in Uempire des signes: "Open a travel guide: there you will usually find a small vocabulary list, but this glossary will bear whimsically on tedious and useless things: customs formalities, post, hotel, hairdressers, the doctor, prices. Yet, what is travelling? It is meeting people. The only important vocabulary is that for arranging meetings" (1970: 25). One may make this observation more general by replacing "glossary" with "language," and "travelling" with "living in a community." In fact, we speak less generally to describe the universe which surrounds us (what Jakobson [1963: 213] calls the referential, cognitive, or denotative function of language) than to establish contact with other people (the phatic function), to express our attitude with regard to the person with whom we are speaking or the subject of the conversation (expressive function), or to make the other person act (conative function). Furthermore, this observation is confirmed by the fact (which might for a moment surprise and embarrass the creators of audio-visual material) that words designating many common objects do not appear in the summaries of basic French drawn up from recordings of conversation. If one thinks of the situation of a student landing in a foreign country, there is no doubt that the most important thing for him is to establish and maintain contact with the natives in order to be able to participate as much as possible in the life of their community. Now, it may frequently happen that this contact, that communication, may be hampered or strained, even when the referential content of the message is transmitted perfectly, through a simple failure to recognize expressive, phatic, or conative features of the dialogue. Consequently, to be proficient in a language as an instrument of communication is to master not only the referential function, but also the expressive, phatic, conative, and even poetic functions. Third, and as a corollary, in order to be able to communicate satisfactorily in a linguistic community, it is not sufficient to know a pure, homogeneous, monolithic language. One must be capable at least of understanding, and if possible of using, the different varieties of language used in the community in question. "Without any doubt," writes Jakobson (1963: 213), "for every linguistic community, for every person speaking, there is a unity of language; but this overall code represents a system of sub-codes in reciprocal communication. Each language embraces several simultaneous systems, each of which is characterised by a different function." This is a very important fact, because in communication with other people the choice of variety of language used often says more about the emotional, professional, and social relationships (present and future)

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of the speakers than the content of the conversation. To be proficient in a language as an instrument of communication is thus also to understand its principal subcodes and to know how to use them in appropriate situations. To illustrate our remark, let us take a concrete example which is well known today by sociolinguists, but which has never been treated systematically in language courses: the use of expressions of address and greeting. In a great number of languages the speaker has a choice between two pronouns to address the person to whom he is speaking: tu and vous in French, ty and vy in Russian, du and Sie in German, du and ir in Yiddish, etc. Concurrently, the speaker generally has the choice between different forms of address: Christian name (James), family name (Wood), title plus family name (Mr. Wood), and different forms of greeting {Salut!, Bonjour, Monsieur!, etc.). In communication these choices often have a more important significance than the purely referential content of the message. This is because they give each speaker valuable information, especially in the first moments of a new relationship, about the attitude and feelings of the other to himself, and may exert a decisive influence on the development of this relationship (cf. the importance of using the familiar tu form in French, for example). For subjects expressing themselves in their mother tongue, the use of these forms with respect to the emotional and social status of the person to whom they are speaking is so automatic and natural that there is no problem. The same is not true for the foreigner. For if this use is controlled by features which are probably universal, the norms for their use differ from one community to another (see Brown and Gilman 1962; Brown and Ford 1961; Slobin 1963; Friedrich 1972). The failure to recognize the rules for the use of these expressions in a certain community, in comprehension as well as in expression, may have much more unfortunate consequences for the community life of a foreigner than errors, even serious and repeated ones, of grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation. Now, language courses do not deal with these problems and language teachers generally only have a vague knowledge of the rules of the employment of these expressions. We have now sufficiently described the requirements for the use of a language as an instrument of communication to be able to reexamine the contribution of linguistics to the teaching of languages. We can state at once that the principal linguistic theories which have been applied to the teaching of languages have been so scaled down in the definition of their objective, from Saussure to Chomsky, that they do not furnish any information on the use of language as an instrument of communication. In fact:

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a. They describe only the rules and not the use of the language; for, as Candlin writes, "Useful though such an input from several linguistic grammars may be, the question begged is clearly that if a pedagogical grammar is at the basis of LT materials, and if such materials have as their aim to lead the learner to 'knowledge' of the L2, then they, and the pedagogical grammar, must be as concerned with rules of language USE as they are with rules of grammatically and well-formedness of sentences" (1972b: 58). b. They deal only with the structure of the sentence and therefore neglect units of communication such as text and dialogue. Therefore, Widdowson writes, "If we are to teach languages in use, we have to shift our attention from sentences in isolation to the manner in which they combine in text on the one hand, and to the manner in which they are used to perform communicative acts in discourse on the other" (1972: 69). For that, one must have at one's disposal a grammar of text, which presents the rules for combining sentences in a text, and a grammar of discourse, presenting the rules for the use of sentences in acts of communication. c. They systematically study only the referential function, neglecting the other functions of language. Frake notes: "To ask appropriately for a drink among the Subanun it is not enough to know how to construct a grammatical utterance in Subanun translatable in English as a request for a drink. Rendering such an utterance might elicit praise for one's fluency in Subanun, but it would probably not get a drink.... Our stranger requires more than a grammar and a lexicon; he needs what Hymes (1962) has called an ethnography of speaking; a specification of what kinds of things to say in what message forms to what kinds of people in what kinds of situations" (1964: 87-88). We shall return later to Hymes' contribution. d. They study only one variety of language, regarded as homogeneous and representative, and neglect the other varieties which form part of the verbal repertoire of a linguistic community. The gap between the two approaches, the theory of the rules of language and the theory of the use of language, undoubtedly goes back to the distinction between LANGUAGE and SPEECH, as established by Saussure in his Cours de linguistique generale. Language is a code, a system of social conventions common to all members of a community. Speech is the individual use of this code in daily communication. Therefore, linguistics will study the rules of language as a matter of priority, even exclusively, relegating the study of speech, if it is possible, to an indefinite period in the future. So it is that the distinction established by Saussure is going to lead to a rapid and necessary development of the study of the rules of language, but it is also unfortunately going to draw linguists away from the study of

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the use of language. Saussure, in fact, as Ducrot notes (1972b: 11), "identifies linguistic activity and individual initiative," thus relating all study of our linguistic activity to the linguistics of speech, which is regarded as of minor importance. This is the source of the neglect which has left to one side studies of the use of language, units of communication such as text and dialogue, and the different functions of language. Now, numerous features of these linguistic activities do not depend on our individual initiative and are governed by social conventions as hide-bound as the code of language. They may thus form the subject of a study which is iust as strict. The classic transformational generative theory of Chomsky, Katz, and Halle, though it constitutes a fundamental contribution to the theory and description of linguistics on other points, remains a THEORY of the rules of languages. It characterizes competence in the restricted sense, that is to say, the capacity to construct correct grammatical sentences independently of any linguistic or situational context, and it maintains the fiction of a monolithic language which is pure and homogeneous. "Despite the increase in the scope of linguistic descriptions," writes Gumperz (1965: 82), "the new theory continues to make sharp distinctions between grammars and the social context in which utterances are used." Very varied elements are consigned to the domain of performance, as, in earlier days, they were consigned to the domain of speech, without distinguishing the individual psychopathological factors of social conventions. In short, though the classic transformational generative theory considerably increases our knowledge of the rules of language, it doesn't teach us anything concerning the use of language and its different subcodes in different functions as instruments of communication (see Roulet 1972). Such a limitation of the field of study seems acceptable as long as one is merely preparing a theory of limited dimensions, but it becomes untenable once one tries to apply this theory to a concrete field of activities, such as the teaching of foreign languages. One must also not be surprised at the relative failure of attempts to apply linguistics to the teaching of languages. Linguistics, from Saussure to Chomsky, is simply unable to supply the information necessary for the teaching of languages as instruments of communication. Rather than start from the contribution of the most well-known linguistic theories and ask what they can contribute to the teaching of languages, it is better to start with the requirements to teach languages as instruments of communication in order to examine other approaches to language.

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Gumperz posed the problem clearly in 1965: "It seems necessary, at least for the purpose of applied linguistics, to reopen the question of the relationship between linguistic and social facts. More specifically, the question arises: given a grammatical analysis of the languages involved, what additional information can the sociolinguist provide in order to enable the language teacher to give his students the skills they need to communicate effectively in a new society?" (1965: 84). Now, alongside the flow of research of which we have spoken, a current has always existed which remained marginal for a long time before occupying, for some years now, an important place on the linguistic scene, and the preoccupations of this latter current are much closer to those of applied linguists. We wish to speak of what Hymes today calls the ethnography of communication. As early as 1935, Firth rejected the traditional concept of a monolithic and homogeneous language. "There is no such thing as une langue une and there never has been" (1935: 67). He observes that we all, according to the situation, play different social roles and that a certain variety of language corresponds to each role. He asserts, as a corollary, that speech is not an "endless chaos" and that conversation is much more structured than is generally believed. In fact, we are not all that free to say what we want in the way we want to, for our linguistic activity is controlled to a large degree by conventions linked to our role and the situation. Malinowski, in 1937, proposed an abandoning of the language-speech distinction and declared that the principal objective of linguistic study should be living speech in its context of situation: "The present reviewer, like most modern anthropologists, would plead for the empirical approach to linguistics, placing living speech in its actual context of situation as the main object of linguistic study" (1937: 173). Finally, Trubetzkoy, in his Principes de phonologie, asserts during the same period, after K. Bühler, the necessity of making a systematic study of the expressive and appellative functions of language, along with the representative (or referential) function: "Among the phonic impressions through which we recognise the person of the subject speaking, and the emotional influence which he intends to exercise on the listener, there are those which, to be correctly understood, must be put together in accordance with well-defined norms which have been established in the language in question. These norms are to be considered as linguistic values; they belong to the language, and phonology must consequently deal with them" (1949: 17). These few references suffice to show that at the time of the first attempts to apply linguistics to the teaching of languages, a number of linguists were already asserting the possibility of and the need for a systematic

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study of the use of the different varieties of language. One may regret that they were not heard more by applied linguists and pedagogues. It was only in the sixties that the study of the use of different kinds of language, under the impetus provided by Hymes and other sociolinguists and under the label of the ethnography of communication (or the ethnography of speaking), began to take shape as a field of research within linguistics and to undergo very rapid development. Hymes defined its objective in these terms: "This is a question of what a child internalizes about speaking, beyond rules of grammar and a dictionary, while becoming a full-fledged member of its speech community. Or it is a question of what a foreigner must learn about a group's verbal behavior in order to participate appropriately and effectively in its activities. The ethnography of speaking is concerned with the situations and uses, the patterns and functions, of speaking as an activity in its own right" (1962: 101). This definition itself immediately reveals how much the preoccupations of researchers in the field of the ethnography of communication completely respond to the requirements of teachers (see Gumperz 1965: 85). The main feature of this approach is to examine the verbal activities of a linguistic community as a whole and to study all the varieties of language that it uses (i.e. its verbal repertoire), instead of sticking to the description of only one of its codes or subcodes. Verbal exchanges within a community are analyzed in situations of communication (hunting, meals, courting a girl), which are subdivided into events of communication which are more limited and essentially verbal (conversation), which are themselves formed by acts of communication (order, question, joke, etc.) (Hymes 1972). Each act of speech or communication is analyzed in turn in terms of a certain number of components, which are etic at the present state of research: form and content of the message, framework (geographic, temporal, and psychological), participants (speaker, the person addressed, listener), objectives intended, methods (i.e. intonation, spirit in which the action is committed), channel of communication (oral, written, telegraphic), varieties of language used (dialects, tone qualities, etc.), norms of interaction (expression in a whisper or silent listening, for example), norms of interpretation (with respect to the community's system of beliefs) and genres (poem, story, proverb, etc.) (Hymes 1972: 58-65). One may then draw up rules of speech or communication which relate these different components of an act of communication so as to give a formal description of the latter (Labov 1970; Ervin-Tripp 1972). Very interesting results have already been obtained by describing the use of expressions of address, the importance of which we have already noted in communicative competence. Brown and Ford (1961), Brown and

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Gilman (1962), Slobin (1963), and Friedrich (1972) have isolated the different variables which govern the use of these expressions of address in English, Yiddish, and Russian, and Ervin-Tripp (1972) has recently shown that it was easy to formalize their rules. Undoubtedly such an approach may contribute valuable information for the teaching of languages as instruments of communication. Unfortunately, its theory has still scarcely been outlined, their analysis patterns have only begun to be programmed, and descriptions are still rare and very incomplete. Now, it is very well known that applied linguists and teachers cannot wait for the eventual completion of the works of general practitioners in order to set to work. The situation is less serious than it appears, for it is already possible, while waiting for the completion of more important and systematic descriptions, to draw inspiration from the principles of the ethnography of communication, to gather materials that are of use for pedagogical purposes, to redefine the objectives and the content of language courses — in short, to prepare and experiment with new courses. In reference to this first point, let us cite the sociolinguistic survey on the French spoken in Orleans (cf. Blanc and Biggs 1971), which will provide teachers with a large amount of systematic data and authentic documents on the use of French by different persons from different environments in different situations of communication within an urban community. As to the redefinition of the objectives and contents of language courses, this is illustrated by the attempts of Candlin (1972a) and Wilkins (1972). The first, after having drawn up an inventory of the components of a course aimed at teaching competency in communication with regard to the social roles, purposes, and attitudes of the people speaking, proposes a program for teaching the principal acts of communication: presenting information, expressing an opinion, introducing someone or something, suggesting, advising, agreeing, criticizing, etc. Wilkins, within the framework of the great project launched by the Council of Europe for teaching languages to adults, defines on a notational basis the principal functions of communication which should constitute the heart of a system of training by capitalizable units: modalities (certainty, necessity, conviction, doubt, etc.), assessment (judgments), argumentation (agreement, disagreement, refusal, concession, etc.), persuasion, enquiry or rational exposition, etc. Although these two experiments are still at the draft stage, several attempts already exist for the preparation of and experimentation with language courses directed to teaching communicative competence. Gumperz, based on the knowledge he acquired during his sojourn and socio-

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linguistic research in India, prepared a course in Hindi and Urdu with Rumery (Gumperz and Rumery 1962) and tried it out at the University of California. It not only offers the most up-to-date constructions in these languages, but also teaches their use in an urban environment such as that of New Delhi. From the beginning the student is placed, with the assistance of prepared recordings and slides, in the most typical and frequently encountered situations of communication for a stranger arriving in this city. Gumperz (1965: 87) describes the contents of the course in these terms: "After setting up a list of likely conversational situations and identifying each with respect to their cultural labels, these situations and the statuses of participants can then be graded in terms of their social complexity and in terms of the amount of knowledge of the culture that they require." Such an approach leads to excellent results in the acquisition of communicative competence, as is proved by the experiences of students who stayed in India after having taken the course. In addition (an interesting fact for the applied linguist and teacher), it offers a happy solution to the difficult problem of preparing lexical and grammatical progressions: "The initial assumption regarding the dependence of linguistic form on social setting receives partial confirmation from the fact that in our text grammatical grading of conversational material emerges as a natural consequence of contextual grading" (Gumperz 1965: 89). For a more advanced and specialized level of apprenticeship in a foreign language, Allen and Widdowson have prepared a scientific English course which no longer aims only to teach students to construct correct sentences, but encourages them to use these sentences adequately in different situations of communication. They recommend a whole series of a new type of exercise, some aiming to show how sentences are combined in the text, others showing how they are used in different functions of communication (see Allen and Widdowson 1972). Finally, let us report the results of a recent comparative test on the relative effectiveness of the teaching of the rules and the teaching of the use of language with a view to acquiring communicative competence. The experiment is undoubtedly too simple for us to be able to draw any final conclusions from it, but it already provides some revealing information. Savignon (1972) describes an experiment in the teaching of French to beginning students at the University of Illinois: a control group used classic audio-oral teaching methods, with a language laboratory; a second group used materials consisting essentially of conversational exercises on French culture and civilization; a third used materials based on the carrying out of specific acts of communication. In this last group, which is of special interest to us here, the researchers particularly sought to enable

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students to use French in situations of communication from the first week of the course on without attaching importance to the linguistic accuracy of what was said. The results of the experiment, as reported by Savignon (1972: 160), are striking: "To summarize, all students had received similar instruction in linguistic skills, and there was no evidence that one group knew more French than the other in terms of the level of linguistic competence attained. However, those students who had been given the opportunity to use their linguistic knowledge for real communication were able to speak French. The others were not." We have tried in this brief survey of the contribution of linguistics to the teaching of languages to show that a linguistic theory and description could only be validly applied to the teaching of foreign languages if they took into account the use of different varieties of language to carry out acts of communication in different situations. The majority of linguistic theories and descriptions, from Saussure to Chomsky, which have been used in applied linguistics do not fulfill this elementary condition. On the other hand, the ethnography of communication, as developed by Hymes and sociolinguists, completely answers the requirements for teaching languages as an instrument of communication. Consequently, it is advisable to guide research in applied linguistics and to modify the conception of language courses by taking into account the fundamental contribution of the ethnography of communication.

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1972 "Teaching the communicative use of English." Mimeographed manuscript. Edinburgh. BARTHES, R.

1970 Uempire des signes. Geneva: Skira. BLANC, M., P. BIGGS

1971 L'enquete sociolinguistique sur le fran^ais parte ä Orleans. Le Frangais dans le Monde 85: 16-25. BROWN, R. W., M. FORD

1961 Address in American English. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 62: 375-385. BROWN, R. W . , A. GILMAN

1962 "The pronouns of power and solidarity," in Style in language. Edited by T. A. Sebeok, 253-276. New York: Wiley. CANDLIN, C.

1972a "Acquiring communicative competence." Paper presented at the 32nd Dutch Philologists' Conference, Utrecht.

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1972b "The status of pedagogical grammars," in Theoretical linguistic models in applied linguistics. Edited by S. P. Corder and E. Roulet. Brussels AIMAV; Paris: Didier. DUCROT, O.

1972a Dire et nepas dire: principes de semantique linguistique. Paris: Hermann. 1972b "De Saussure ä la philosophie du language." Preface to Les actes de langage, by J. R. Searle, 7-34. Paris: Hermann. ERVIN-TRIPP, S.

1972 "On sociolinguistic rules: alternation and co-occurrence," in Directions in sociolinguistics. Edited by J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes, 213-250. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. FIRTH, J. R.

1935 The techniques of semantics. Transactions of the Philological Society, 36-72. FRAKE, C. O.

1964 How to ask for a drink in Subanun. American Anthropologist 66 (6): 127-132. FRIEDRICH, P.

1972 "Social context and semantic features in the Russian pronominal usage," in Directions in sociolinguistics. Edited by J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes, 270-300. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. GUMPERZ, J. J.

1965 Linguistic repertoires, grammars and second language instruction. Monograph Series on Languages and Linguistics 18: 81-90. GUMPERZ, J. J., J. RUMERY

1962 Conversational Hindi-Urdu. Berkeley: University of California, Institute of International Studies. HESTER, R.

1970 Teaching a living language. New York: Harper and Row. HYMES, D .

1962 "The ethnography of speaking," in Anthropology and human behavior. Edited by T. Gladwin and W. C. Sturtevant, 13-53. Washington: Anthropological Society of Washington. 1972 "Models of interaction of language and social life," in Directions in sociolinguistics. Edited by J. J. Gumperz and D. Hymes, 35-71. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. JAKOBOVITS, L. A.

1970 Foreign language learning: a psycholinguistic analysis of the issues. Rowley: Newbury House. JAKOBSON, R.

1963 Essais de linguistique generale. Paris: Minuit. LABOV, w .

1970 The study of language in its social context. Studium Generale 23: 30-87. MALINOWSKI, Β.

1937 Review of "Infant speech" by Μ. M. Lewis. Nature 140: 172-173. ROULET, E.

1972 Theories grammaticales, descriptions et enseignement des langues. Brussels: Labor; Paris: Nathan.

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1974 "Vers une grammaire de l'emploi et de l'apprentissage de la langue," in Proceedings of the 3rd Congress of the International Association of Applied Linguistics, volume three, 24-37. Heidelberg: J. Groos. SAUSSURE, F. DE

1972 Cours de linguistique generale (Critical edition of T. de Mauro). Paris: Payot. SAVIGNON, J. A.

1972 Teaching for communicative competence: a research report. AudioVisual Language Journal 10:153-162. SLOBIN, D . I.

1963 Some aspects of the use of pronouns of address in Yiddish. Word 19: 193-202. TRUBETZKOY, N . S.

1949 Principes dephonologie. Paris: Klincksieck. WIDDOWSON, H. G.

1972 "Directions in the teaching of discourse," in Theoretical linguistic models in applied linguistics. Edited by S. P. Corder and E. Roulet. Brussels: AIMAV; Paris: Didier. WILKINS, D .

1972 An investigation into the linguistic and situational content of the common core in a unitjcredit system. Strasbourg: Council of Europe.

SECTION SEVEN

Discussion

Summary of Discussion

S. A. WURM

The central issue emerging from the totality of discussion of language in anthropology, and in fact one of the major subjects to which much of the discussions was devoted, was the importance of studying language in its social and cultural setting and of recognizing the paramount role of sociolinguistic approaches in studying language in its function as a means of intercommunication, and also in studying the nature of language itself. Approaches widely regarded as valid, especially transformational-generative approaches, came under severe criticism. Their artificially restrictive approach of dissociating the subject matter which they study from the social and cultural background in which the subject matter functions was regarded as a severe drawback which made the value of their findings questionable. It was argued that the subject matter of linguistics has a real existence only in the social and cultural settings in which it appears, i.e. it can function only against the background of these settings. It was pointed out that approaches to the study of language which ignored these settings and backgrounds in the light of their orientation could only produce results of doubtful validity, or results which lack relevance. In other words, they indicated WHAT was going on in language, but not HOW it related to the world. Other views put forward admitted that a distance exists between the transformational-generative approach and sociolinguistics (which was increasingly being hailed as THE linguistics), but it was suggested that the transformational-generative approach could be extended to include sociolinguistic factors in its system of description. This was countered by holders of the opposite view, who felt that the sociolinguistic approach involved the utilization of methods which belonged basically to realms lying outside the field of linguistics.

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In general, there was wide agreement that it was necessary to include in the study of language a fundamental tenet of sociolinguistics, namely, the study of variation and sociocultural setting, but there was disagreement as to the nature of the approach. The essence of the opposition was the view that (a) such an extension required the utilization of methods which came into linguistics from other disciplines, whereas (b) the adherents of the transformational-generative school argued that it could be achieved from within linguistics through an application of linguistic methods to the study of social factors impinging on language. In this connection, Approaches to language constitutes a transitional link from its more thematically focused World Anthropology sister volumes on Language and man and Language and thought to the sister volume on Language and society, whose essential feature consists of the treatment of language under the heading of several approaches which are all subsumed under the overall theme of sociolinguistics. The core problem scrutinized in the papers in the present volume is largely language itself, viewed from a variety of angles, each of them akin to approaches dealt with in one or the other of the three companion volumes, but different in being perhaps more oriented toward the central theme of language itself. The papers included in this volume examine language in a variety of settings which impinge on its nature and on parts of its multiform manifestations, and to which language, in one or another of its manifestations, stands in certain relations. These settings can be labelled "time and contacts," "space and areal influences," "thought," "cultural and semantics," and "society." Elaborating on these, the label "time and contacts" is to be understood as the setting of language in time, in terms of similarities observable in languages which are attributable to genetic and historical factors against the perspective of the lapse of time, and in terms of the operation of the effects of contacts between languages against the same background. "Space and areal influences" refers to the situation of languages and factors impinging upon them which are attributable to areal traits, and to phenomena attributable to contacts between languages in the light of areal rather than temporal influences. "Thought" is a label for the interplay between language and thought and, ultimately, thought-determined systems in language, dealt with from points of view which are more language-oriented than the mostly more thought-oriented papers included in the sister volume on Language and thought. "Culture and semantics" relates to the setting of language in, and its relations to, semantic categories based on cultural backgrounds, and to the interplay between the two, with particular attention paid to the lexical side of languages, and to

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641

the meaning of function morphemes. Finally, "society" is the label for features of language which are attributable to its functioning as a means of intercommunication and expression in a social setting, and to its multiform manifestations, variations and changes which it undergoes as a result of the interplay between language and its social settings. The papers included under these five settings, which constitute the same number of subheadings in the table of contents of this volume, fit the definitions given above to varying degrees. Some come under them and represent them quite clearly; others are more or less marginal — these have been listed as the final items under their respective subheadings in the table of contents. The papers included in this volume add important new insights and refinements to already familiar topics of study in the field of language in the five settings mentioned above; a number of new topics are introduced and elaborated on. The main discussion on the papers of the present volume was given by the three formal discussants, Drs. Adam Makkai and Valerie Becker Makkai of the University of Illinois at Chicago Circle, and Professor Eric Hamp of the University of Chicago, whose comments were, in his absence, read by Professor Herbert Landar of California State University, Los Angeles. The essence of A. Makkai's remarks are concerned with the "ecology of language," a term constituting the title of a book by Einar Haugen published in 1972. A. Makkai sees a number of the papers in the present volume, e.g. those by Anttila, Baskakov, Campbell, Koo, Green and Millward, and Landar, as addressing themselves to the currently best understood approach to the ecology of language, i.e. the approach studying the effect of languages and dialects in contact, and the mutual effects of these contacts; he likes to call this approach the exo-ecology of language. However, he feels that another view of language ecology treating a language or dialect as an evolving entity is emerging, and he coins the term endo-ecology for it. He refers to Hill's paper as an example, and mentions Fonagy's paper as demonstrating the coexistence of several systems in human speech as if in ecological symbiosis. He then turns to the discussion of his own paper in the volume and defines endo-ecology as the statistical relationship existing between the formal ecological parts of a language. He mentions Sen Gupta's paper as one in which the author uses linguistic exo-ecology while practicing linguistic endo-ecology in conjunction with it. Turning to Newmeyer's paper, he sees in it an illustration of another form of symbiosis, i.e. that of grammatical theory and social class. He concludes his remarks by saying that, in his view, the ecology of language approach is likely to persist for a long time to come, and feels

642 S. Α. WURM

that it now may become a genuine possibility that the insights of traditional language ecology will be united with a better understanding of how human language actually works in the real person-to-person communication situation. V. Makkai's remarks focused essentially on the fact that one of the important themes of the papers under discussion is the emphasis on the need to incorporate cultural and sociological facts in language description. In the heyday of Bloomfieldianism, "mentalism" was discouraged and only overt linguistic data were considered valid. Recent progress in linguistics and the resultant widening of scope of the field show that, without an understanding of the social and cultural factors, language description remains an empty endeavor. It is essential, she says, to take into consideration more than just linguistic observables when doing language analysis or historical reconstruction, and mentions the papers by Anttila, Hill, Liem, Maher, Roulet, Samarin, and Wald as examples showing that a look at the extralinguistic contexts of language and the organic inclusion of cultural-social information in arriving at results is indispensable for attaining a fuller treatment of language itself. She points out that such extra-linguistic contexts may include quite diverse matters such as language contact, bilingualism, gestures, and other paralinguistic features. She recalls that, in the days of Bloomfieldian behaviorism, such considerations were irrelevant, but points out that in those days such an approach had definite merits in teaching linguists to separate observable facts from unobservable ones. However, she feels that it should now be possible to return to an approach which makes it possible to consider extralinguistic phenomena within their linguistic context while being conscious of the need to keep them separate. She points out that linguistic observations are bound to benefit from this in the long run, since some linguistic facts can only be understood within this larger context. An extension of this approach would allow the consideration of the extralinguistic context as being in some sense part of the meaning of an utterance. These facts do, for instance, emerge clearly if an English sentence is to be translated into a foreign language in which there is greater differentiation of expression in certain respects than in English. She gives the sentence, "you can lift the chair," as an example: only knowledge of the proper extralinguistic context in which the sentence is to be understood will make a correct translation into certain foreign languages possible. Y. Makkai adds that a possible expansion in a different direction of this tendency to go beyond linguistic facts would be an attempt to investigate, in some observable way, what actually goes on in a speaker's head, i.e. the mental processes he goes through in producing a sentence. However, she

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643

points out that extensions of linguistics into such realms do not negate the usefulness of strict descriptions of overt observables, and feels that it will always be necessary to make a strictly behaviorist analysis of the linguistic facts of any language before any mentalistic observations can be made. Hamp's extensive comments as formal discussant come under four main headings: (1) "What is linguistics about?", (2) "Grammar", (3) "Language change", and (4) "Language and culture change". Under (1), "What is linguistics about?", he starts by discussing Kelkar's paper and looks upon it, in fact, as a miniature textbook with an abundant taxonomy. He then proceeds to Pattanayak's paper and raises the question whether a lot of the claimed opposition in linguistics today between the ethnography of communication and correlational sociolinguistics is not really a procedural rather than a substantive question, and whether these two approaches, together with semantics as a third, are not simply three names for an ideal, each named by workers starting from their own vantage point of interest, and whether there may not be the possibility of a new synthesis now. He sees Roulet exploring the same themes at some length. He welcomes Samarin's paper as a fundamental gain in our grasp of ideophones as an integral part of the phonology and syntax of a language. Under the second heading, "Grammar," Hamp talks about Koo's paper and praises its presentation of an underlying element which appears only in a minor context. He discusses Frantz's paper, making detailed remarks about various points in it concerning possible alternative orthographic solutions. He praises Green and Millward's paper as an imaginative contribution to toponymies, to the semantics of Algonquian, to our grasp of their views of the world, and to the dossier of evidence for subgrouping the branches of the family. He sees Liston's paper contributing to important problems of synonymy, polysemy, metaphor, semantic extension, and domain intersection. Under the third heading, "Language change," he talks at length about Cook's paper and elaborates on the problems raised by the latter as having been triggered off in recent years by a simplistic extrapolation from the new-found results of synchronic grammatical study. He then refers to Rauch's paper and feels that the time may not yet have come, given the basis of our present grasp of universal grammar, to probe deeply into the questions of the origin of human language. Talking abour Bar-Adon's paper, he praises it as an imaginative evidential document for the dossier on language acquisition and the discussion of a beautiful laboratory case which seems to have been hitherto underappreciated. Discussing Traugott's paper, he agrees with her statements that developing Creoles form a superb laboratory for studying acquisition and change, and that

644 S. Α. WURM

acquisition must be seen not as a function of simplification, but as degrees of elaboration and, also, that pidginization is a communicative reflex while creolization is acquisitional. He feels that Traugott's arguments in favor of pidgins drawing on a simplified register are correct and support Ferguson's pidginization theories. He finds Molony's paper interesting in its successful presentation of a stratified etymological study of a traditional kind in a Creole language which is treated as a "normal" language. He regards Baskakov's paper as a particularly instructive contribution to language change in a multilingual setting, and proceeds to give Hasler's paper similar praise for being another fine contribution of solid data to the growing file of contact case studies. He welcomes Hill's paper as a valuable contribution to the little-discussed topic of language death but points out that, in his view, pidginization broadens communication while language death reflects a vestigial narrowed communication; this constitutes a fundamental distinction, not a parallel. He comments on Campbell's paper by pointing out that it is distinguished in the area of debate to which it belongs by its orthodoxy; he feels that Amerindian studies will be increasingly obliged in the future to cultivate such studies. He then turns to Wurm's paper which he praises as a report on nearly twenty years' work in an enormous area. He points out as being of particular interest the presence of Austronesian loanwords in the interior of New Guinea, and the appearance of a typological correlate to this. He feels that the possibility of crediting the phonetic monotony of Australia not to diffusion but to long isolation is of great theoretical interest, and sees the question raised as to how linguistic research may best be stretched into the past beyond 7000 B.C. Under the fourth heading "Language and culture change," he looks upon Landar's paper as an exemplary attempt, given the uncertainties presented by the still persistent lack of genetic familial phonetic reconstructions in the area concerned, our still only fragmentary understanding of relevant cultural semantics, and the persistence of doubtful areas in our understanding of historical chronology and diffusional transmission. Finally, he mentions Maher's paper as an unusual contribution offering substantial interest in two quite separate directions: it provides, on the basis of well-charted data, an interesting case study with theoretical implications, and it is also a fine and perceptive contribution to the specific fields of Indo-European philology and comparison. Hamp quotes as particularly important Maher's statement that "purely formal linguistics, however necessary, is never sufficient either to etymology or to synchronic semantics. Linguistic forms are used in and motivated by cultural contexts of situation."

Summary of Discussion

645

Apart from the general criticism of the narrowness of extant approaches to language study, as stated at the outset of this "Summary of Discussion," only a little was added to the formal discussants' remarks during verbal discussions from the floor. (Some detailed written comments on points in Samarin's paper, similar to Hamp's comments, were received from J. B. Pride.) The essence of much of what was said, e.g. by Els Oksaar, pointed out that the organic inclusion of considerations of culture and society in linguistics had been practiced in Europe since the 1920's, and that the basic finding arrived at by this session and other sessions, namely, that linguistic approaches of recent years had been too narrow, constituted essentially nothing new. This was retorted to by arguments that the European preoccupation with culture had been prescientific, and that a period of mechanism had been needed to gain more precise methodology. It was foreseen that culture would now be considered again, but with the methods of structural precision. Exception was taken by some people, such as Gloria Sampson, to the term "prescientific" used in this argumentation, and it was only conceded that the work referred to was not formal enough. It was pointed out in A. Makkai's reply that "prescientific" and "nonformal" were synonymous in a certain sense. Eung-Do Cook, unable to attend the Congress due to a prior commitment in Europe, was afterwards sent a copy of this "Summary of Discussion," and responded as follows: First, I'm a little surprised to read the claim that TG [transformational-generative] is "artificially restrictive." I do not know how the critics got this idea. I do not recall any such statement by a TG linguist. On the contrary, TG linguists are the ones who have tried to broaden their scope. Best known is the move from antimentalism to mentalism, which is what turned on many psycholinguists, and their recent achievements tell it all. Second, anyone familiar with Labov's work will find it difficult to accept this criticism of TG, since Labov's main contribution has been his effort to incorporate social variables into generative rules in a formal analysis of language. Third, I'd like to mention Bever and Langendoen's proposal to incorporate historical (including social) facts into a synchronic grammar (cf. Saussurian dichotomy). Finally, it is a well-known fact that almost all TG grammarians try to use findings on language acquisition in formulating their generative rules and evaluating their grammars. No TG grammarian has ever denied the commonsensical observation by V. Makkai that "only knowledge of the proper extralinguistic context ... will make a correct translation ... possible." In fact, what she considers "extralinguistic" (or what Trager considered "macrolinguistic") is now considered "intralinguistic" in TG! Furthermore, TG grammarians have long been attempting "to investigate ... what actually goes on in a speaker's head." Isn't this what mentalism is all about ? Similarly, no TG grammarian has ever denied what linguists have been aware

646 S. Α. WURM

of from the time of Malinowsky to Chomsky, i.e. Maher's statement (quoted by Hamp) that "purely formal linguistics, however necessary, is never sufficient either to etymology or to synchronic semantics. Linguistic forms are used in and motivated by cultural contexts of situation." It's structuralists who have failed to take account of this in formal descriptions. Chomsky early stated that the three most important questions for linguistics to investigate are: (1) What is language? (intralinguistic, formal ...); (2) How is it used? (socio- ...); (3) How is it acquired? (psycho-...). Moreover, he said that (1) logically precedes (2) and (3), but he warned that linguists should not put aside (2) and (3) until the work is finished for question (1). (Cf. Noam Chomsky and George Miller, "Introduction to the Formal Analysis of Natural Languages," in: Handbook of mathematical psychology, volume two, ed. R. Duncan Luce, Robert R. Bush, and Eugene Galanter. New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1963.) In short, these critics have set up a straw man in order to attack it, for what they class as weaknesses of TG are actually precisely the concerns of TG, no matter how little has been accomplished. How can a person who has done nothing criticize another person for not doing more?

Biographical Notes

) studied English, German, Latin, and Greek at the University of Turku, Finland ( 1 9 5 7 - 1 9 6 1 ) , English at the University of Toronto ( 1 9 6 1 - 1 9 6 2 ) , and linguistics at Yale University ( 1 9 6 2 - 1 9 6 5 ) . Since 1965 he has taught Indo-European and historical linguistics at the University of California, Los Angeles and was Professor of General Linguistics at the University of Helsinki from 1 9 7 2 - 1 9 7 4 . His present research interests comprise semiotics and field theory in linguistics. Among his book are Uusimman äännehistorian suunnasta ja luonteesta (1969), Proto-Indo-European schwebeablaut (1969), An introduction to historical and comparative linguistics (1972), The indexical element in morphology (1975), and Analogy (1977). He is a member of various editorial boards and international committees. RAIMO ANTTILA ( 1 9 3 5 -

) is Professor of Linguistics at the University of Texas, Austin, Texas. He received his M.A. (1948) and Ph.D. (1959) in Linguistics from the Hebrew University, Jerusalem and has taught in Israel, Wisconsin, and Michigan. Since 1963 he has worked at the University of Texas and in 1974/75 was Visiting Professor at the Hebrew University, Jerusalem. Among his recent publications are Child language: a book of readings, with the collaboration of W. F. Leopold (ed.) (1971); The rise and decline of a dialect: a study in the revival of Hebrew (1975); Agnon and the revival of Hebrew, Jerusalem (1977); Discussions with S. Y. Agnon on language and society (1978). AARON BAR-ADON ( 1 9 2 3 -

A. BASKAKOV is Professor and Doctor of Sciences at the Institute of Linguistics, USSR Academy of Sciences. An Honored Scholar, he is an

NIKOLAI

648

Biographical Notes

honorary member of the following scholarly societies: International Society of Uralo-Altaists, since 1968; Society of Finno-Ugrian Studies, since 1969; Hungarian Orientalist Society, since 1971; Turkish Linguistic Society, since 1971; Polish Orientalist Society, since 1974; Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, since 1975. He is an Orientalist specializing in Turkology and studying Turkish languages, folklore, literature, and ethnography. He has published works on phonetics, grammar, lexicology and history of Turkish languages as well as grammars and dictionaries of Karakalpakian, Nogaian, Uighur, Altaic, Turkmen, Khakassian, Karaim, Karachaiv-Balkarian and others. He is the author of the following general studies: Altaiskii foVklor i literatura (Altaic folklore and literature) (1948); Tiurkskie iaziki (Turkish languages) (1960); Vvedenie ν izuchenie tiurkskikh iazykov (Introduction to the study of Turkish languages) (1962, 1969); Istoriko-tipologicheskaia kharakteristika struktury tiurkskikh iazykov (Historico-typological characteristic of the structure of Turkish languages) (1975); Sovremenny kypchakskie iazykov (forthcoming as Contemporary Kypchakian languages by Μ out on, The Hague). (1942) received his B.A. in Archaeology (1966) and his Ph.D. in Linguistics (UCLA, 1971). He is an Associate Professor at the State University of New York, where he has been since 1974. His research has been in phonological theory, historical linguistics, Mesoamerican languages and prehistory, and Finnish. He is currently a member of the International Committee on Historical Linguistics and a member of the editorial board of Mayan Linguistics. LYLE CAMPBELL

Louis CHEVRETTE (1944) is L. es L., M.A. from Laval University, where he is researcher and professional archivist. He is Associate of the Harvard Graduate Society for Advanced Study and Research and Membre de l'Institut d'histoire de l'Am6rique frangaise. From 1964 to 1974, he invaded the realm of archaeology and achieved eight excavation campaigns throughout Canada, one, at Fort Wellington, which was remarkably successful. In the last decade, he has mostly specialized in ethnopsychology, linguistics, and divinity applied to Algonkian and New France raw data. His numerous publications include "Two geophysical techniques applied to archaeology: magnetic location and resistivity surveying" (Anthropological Journal of Canada, 1971); "Un modele psychomoteur du processus du changement social et un concept d'idiologie y int6gre" (Culture, Qu6bec, 1971); "Aspects de la psychologie du groupe de pression ultramontain canadien-franpais (1870-1890): essai d'analyse thömatique de 60

Biographical Notes

649

messages 6crits" (Ethno-Psychologie, France, 1972); "Pontiac" (Dictionary of Canadian biography, vol. 3 , 1 9 7 5 ) ; "Rapport präliminare de l'excavation partielle des casemates du fort Wellington (Prescott, Ontario)" (Canadian national historic sites branch reports, no. 1 3 0 , 1 9 7 5 ) ; and Le fonds Dabrowski (psychiatre): apergu, classement et repertoire (World, 1977). ) was born in Korea. He studied English at Chung-ang University (Seoul) and linguistics at the University of Hawaii, Indiana University, and the University of Alberta, where he received a Ph.D. in 1968. He has been teaching at Calgary as Professor of Linguistics since 1975 and as Head of the Department of Linguistics since 1976. His primary research interests include phonology and Athapaskan (particularly Sarcee and Chilcotin). His recent publications include works on generative phonology based on his research projects on Athapaskan, most of which have been supported by Canada Council fellowships and grants. Currently, he is heavily involved in Native literacy projects. EUNG-DO COOK ( 1 9 3 5 -

) is Reader in General Linguistics, Department of Modern Languages, University of Aston, Birmingham, England. He was the first Chairman of the Linguistics Association (Great Britain) ( 1 9 5 9 - 1 9 6 2 ) . Formerly he has been Lecturer in German, Hull ( 1 9 5 3 - 1 9 6 1 ) , Lecturer in General Linguistics, Edinburgh ( 1 9 6 1 - 1 9 6 5 ) , Fellow in General Linguistics and Director of the Contemporary Russian Language Analysis Project, Essex ( 1 9 6 5 - 1 9 6 6 ) , and Professor of Linguistics, University of Ghana, Legon ( 1 9 6 7 - 1 9 7 3 ) . His publications include An elementary Old High German grammar (descriptive and comparative), Towards a general comparative linguistics, "The grammatical status of initial mutation" (Lochlann), "The place of Balkan linguistics in general linguistic theory" (Linguistique Balkanique), "Some dimensions of being (a transfer presentation of descriptive comparison)" (Journal of African Languages), and "The role of the concept of text in the elaboration of linguistic data" (York Papers). JEFFREY ELLIS ( 1 9 2 2 -

) born in Rosario (Argentine Republica), studied philosophy at the Universidad Nacional de Cördoba and the Universidad Nacional del Litoral, where he was awarded the degree of Profesor de Filosofia (1954). He studied cultural anthropology, linguistics, and folklore at Indiana University ( 1 9 5 7 - 1 9 5 8 ) and linguistics at the Universidad de la Repüblica (Uruguay, summer, 1966). He was granted the degree of Doutor em Letras from the Universidade de Säo GERMAN FERNANDEZ-GUIZZETTI ( 1 9 3 0 -

650 Biographical Notes

Paulo (1972). He was taught linguistics and cultural anthropology at the Instituto Nacional del Profesorado de Rosario, the Universidad National de Cuyo, the Pontificia Universidad Catolica Argentina, and the Universidad Nacional de Rosario, where he organized the Department of Anthropology. He was professor of Anthropological Linguistics and head of the corresponding research group at the Universidad Nacional de Rosario until July, 1976, when he and nearly all members of his research group were barred, by the military government, from any position in Argentine institutions of higher learning for a period of five years. His main fields of interest are model research in ethnosemantics and general linguistics theory, as well as American Indian languages. He has just completed the final version of his axiomatic generative metamodel based on anthropological criteria. Being a Third World scholar, he was concerned with the defense of ethnic minorities in Argentina. He is author of various works, including "La etnolingüistica: del mundo del idioma al mundo de la cultura" (Säo Paulo, 1957) and "Sentido, distribuciön y significado . . . " (Säo Paulo, 1958). In 1963 he published Gramätica funcional del idioma Guarani (mimeographed edition) and La antropologia cultural como ciencia unificada frente alproblema de los niveles culturales (Universidad Nacional del Litoral, Paranä). ) studied romance linguistics at the University of Budapest where he received his Ph.D. He headed the Phonetics Laboratory of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences (1957-1967), lectured on phonetics and general linguistics at the University of Paris (1967-1970), and is at present "maitre de recherche" at the "Centre National de Recherche Scientifique" (CNRS) Paris. He is primarily concerned with the analysis of prosodic features (Stress, 1958; Hungarian intonation, 1967, with Klara Magdics-Wodarz; Intonation [forth-coming]), the study of linguistic change {Über den Verlauf des Lautwandels, 1956), poetic language (Phonetics of poetry, 1958), metaphoric and conceptual thinking (Metaphern in der Phonetik, 1963), and verbal style. His present research interest is in artistic vocal creation {The voice of the poet, 1976). IVAN FÖNAGY ( 1 9 2 0 -

) is Linguistic Advisor and Consultant for the North American Branch of the Summer Institute of Linguistics, as well as part-time faculty in the Native American Studies Department at the University of Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada. He received a B.A. in Linguistics from the University of California at Berkeley in 1960 and a Ph.D. in Linguistics from the University of Alberta in 1970. His primary interests are research in Native American languages and syntactic universals. DONALD G . FRANTZ ( 1 9 3 4 -

Biographical Notes

651

) was born in San Luis Potosi, Mexico. He studied in Mexico at the Universidad Nacional Autönoma (Maestria y Doctorado de Letras, 1953) and in Paris at the Bibliotheque Nationale (Diplome Superieur de Bibliothecaire, 1955), Universit6 de Paris I-Sorbonne (Certificat d'itudes supirieures d'Ethnologie, 1958) Universit6 de Paris V-Rene Descartes (Doctorat d'Ethnologie-Ethnohistoire, 1973), £cole des Hautes ßtudes en Sciences Sociales (Doctorat d'Etat £s lettres et sciences humaines, 1977). He has been a resident of France since 1954. Since 1958 he has been at the Musie de FHomme, first as a librarian, then as a Research Fellow of the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, where he entered in 1962. His special research interest is the Aztec writing system. He tries to seek a scientific method of work based on detailed and systematic analysis of the manuscripts for attempting to read the pictographic documents in full. His main publications are: Lienzos de Chiepetlan (1972) and Codex Mexicains (1974). JOAQUIN GALARZA ( 1 9 2 8 -

) was born in New York City. He received his B.A. and M.A. from Ohio State University in 1953 and 1957, and his Ph.D. from the University of Michigan in 1962. From 1964 to 1966 he was Research Associate for the Dialect Atlas of Ashkenazic Jewry at Columbia University. A consultant at the Boston Veterans Administration Hospital and a Professor of English at Boston University, his principal areas of research in the past decade have been in psycholinguistic aspects of aphasia, in stylistics, and in place-names. EUGENE GREEN ( 1 9 3 2 -

A. HASLER (1927) is Professor at the Universidad del Valle, Cali, Colombia. He studied descriptive linguistics at the Escuela Nacional de Antropologia e Historia, and Spanish philology at El Colegio de Mdxico, both in Mexico City (1948-1952), and later, social anthropology (19581964) at Jalapa, Yer. (Mexico); he received his doctoral degree at Köln (1967) in ethnology and linguistics with a dissertation on the genii speciei in America. He has published over fifty articles on glottology and history of culture. JUAN

) is Associate Professor of Anthropology at Wayne State University in Detroit, Michigan. She received her B.A. (1960) from the University of California, Berkeley and her M.A. (1962) and P.h.D. (1966) from the University of California at Los Angeles. Her interests include language change, particularly language obsolescence, in American Indian languages, and the functions of language in human evolution. She has authored a number of articles in these areas and is coJANE H . HILL ( 1 9 3 9 -

652 Biographical Notes

editor with Roscinda Nolasquez of a volume of Cupeno oral literature, Mulii wetam: the first people, ) born in Pune (Poona), India, studied at Fergusson College (B.A. 1950), University of Poona (M.A. 1953), and Cornell University (Ph.D. 1958). He has taught linguistics at Agra University (1958-1962), the University of Poona (1962-1967), and Deccan College (Professor of Applied Linguistics 1967). Besides Studies in Hindi-Urdu I (Pune, 1968), he has published articles in English, Hindi, and his native Marathi in the areas of linguistic theory, phonetics, linguistic analysis, lexicography, theory of translation, theory of literature, and theory of signs in relation to language and culture. Technical terminology: problems and principles (1978) is in press. ASHOK R . KELKAR ( 1 9 2 9 -

) received his M . A . from the University of Texas and his Ph.D. from Indiana University. He is Associate Professor of Linguistics and is Chairman of the Department of Linguistics and Foreign Languages at the University of Alaska. His numerous publications include works on Eskimo (Yupik), Japanese, and Korean linguistics. He has recently published A basic conversational Eskimo (Yuk).

JANG (JOHN) H . KOO ( 1 9 3 2 -

(1927) was born in New York City. He received his B.A. in English from Queens College in 1949, and his M.A. and Ph.D. in Linguistics from Yale University in 1955 and 1960. He has taught at Reed College, Indiana University, and California State University, Los Angeles, where he has been Professor of English since 1966. He is the author of Language and culture (1966), recently issued in Tokyo as Kotobato Bunka (1977). He has specialized in American Indian and Austronesian languages and cultures. HERBERT LANDAR

C. LAYCOCK (1936) is an Australian scholar who came to the study of Australian and Oceanic languages after an initial interest, and degree, in English and Germanic philology. After a year spent as a Research Assistant in Australian Aboriginal Languages at the University of Adelaide, he joined the Australian National University for postgraduate work, and obtained his doctorate there for a description of a family of Papuan languages in New Guinea. Following an academic year of lecturing in linguistics and anthropology in the United States, at Indiana and Northwestern Universities, he returned to a permanent staff position in the Department of Linguistics in the School of Pacific Studies of the Australian National University in 1964. In 1969 he was appointed Senior DONALD

Biographical Notes

653

Fellow. He has undertaken extensive fieldwork in Australia and Papua New Guinea, and is currently interested both in New Guinea Pidgin and in the taxonomy of, and sociolinguistic questions concerning, the Papuan and Austronesian languages of New Guinea, especially those of the Sepik area. He has published widely on these subjects. NGUYEN DANG LIEM (1936-

) is Professor of Southeast Asian Languages and Literature, University of Hawaii. He holds a Licence-ös-Lettres (University of Saigon), M.A. (University of Michigan), and a Ph.D. in Linguistics (Australian National University). He has authored fourteen books and numerous articles on Vietnamese, English, French, and other Southeast Asian languages and linguistics, and is Editor of the South-East Asian Linguistic Studies series, Pacific Linguistics, The Australian National University. L. LISTON ( 1 9 3 5 ) was born in Utah, where he earned a B.A. in Anthropology. He received a Ph.D. in Slavic Linguistics from Columbia University in 1971. His primary research interests lie in semantic analysis, figurative meaning, semiotics (functions of language), structure of technical terminology, and language standardization. He has taught at Cornell University and the University of Texas at Austin, and he has served as Research Coordinator in the Texas State Department of Human Resources, directing a project, to develop a dictionary of human service terminology, under contract with the U.S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. He is presently working as an independent research consultant in Millville, New Jersey. JERRY

) was born in New York State. He received a B.A. (1955, Harpur College, SUNY/Binghamton). After taking a M.A. in Greek and Latin at The Catholic University of America he served as interpreter-translator in the United States Army and as a Latin teacher in New York high schools. He took a doctorate in historical linguistics, with minors in Slavic and Latin, at Indiana University (1965). Since the dissertation his primary research interest has been the lexicon under both synchronic and diachronic viewpoints, with particular attention to derivational morphology, word meaning, and the relation of word syntax to the perceived syntax of phenomena in the culture context. From 1964 to 1975 he taught linguistics in Chicago, except for stints teaching or doing research in Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria, Switzerland, Italy, and Austria. He serves on the editorial boards of Amsterdam Studies in the

J(OHN) PETER MAHER ( 1 9 3 3 -

654

Biographical Notes

Theory and History of Linguistic Science, Historiographia Linguistica, the Journal of Indo-European Studies, is a co-founder of LACUS (Linguistic Association of Canada and the United States), and directed the 3rd International Conference on Historical Linguistics (August, 1977) in Hamburg, where he assumed the chair of English linguistics in 1975. ) born in Budapest, Hungary, came to the U.S. in 1957 where he became a citizen in 1963. He received his B.A. (cum laude) in Slavic Languages and Literatures from Harvard (1958), and his M.A. (1962) and Ph.D. (1965) in General Linguistics from Yale. He has taught at Iolani College Preparatory School in Honolulu, the University of Hawaii, Yale, the University of Malaya, Occidental College, California State University at Long Beach, and at the University of Illinois at Chicago Circle, where he has been since 1967 and is currently Professor of Linguistics. He is a co-founder, with his wife, Valerie Becker Makkai, of LACUS, Inc., the Linguistic Association of Canada and the United States, a 600 member (17 country) non profit scientific and educational organization; he edits the association's triquarterly journal, Forum Linguisticum. A trilingually published poet (Hungarian-English-French), he has published numerous pieces of poetry in translation and is the author of the books Idiom structure in English (Mouton, 1972); Readings in stratificational linguistics (with D. G. Lockwood) (Alabama, 1973); A dictionary of space English (Chicago, 1 9 7 3 ) ; Toward a theory of context in linguistics and literature (Mouton, 1 9 7 6 ) ; A dictionary of American idioms (Barron's, 1976); and Linguistics at the crossroads (with V. B. Makkai and Luigi Heilmann) (Jupiter Press and Liviana). ADAM MAKKAI ( 1 9 3 5 -

(1929), a Canadian, is Professor of Anthropology and Linguistics at the University of Calgary. Born in the U.S.A., he received a B.A. in Liberal Arts from the University of Chicago in 1948, a B.A. with distinction in Psychology from Stanford University in 1949, an M.A. in Anthropology from Stanford in 1950, and, after also studying at the University of California (Berkeley, 1950-1951), a Ph.D. in Anthropology from the University of Chicago in 1956. Having studied linguistics, he took part in a Summer Institute at the University of Michigan (Ann Arbor, 1956), then taught and researched in linguistics during 1956— 1958 at Deccan College, Poona, India, with special reference to Kannada ethnolinguistics and sociolinguistics. He is author of Kannada: a cultural introduction to the spoken styles of the language (1966) and of many articles on language in relation to society, religion, and identity in India. Since his fieldwork in Friesland and Scotland in 1967-1968, his research orientations WILLIAM C .

MCCORMACK

Biographical Notes

655

have been comparative over forms of religious communication among Lingayats of South India and selected Calvinists of the West. ) was born in Voghera, Italy. He received his B.A. (1963), M.A. (1968), and Ph.D. (1972) in Linguistics with a minor in Anthropology and Romance Languages at Indiana University. Since 1958, after studying architecture in Italy he has done field research in the languages and cultures of South American aborigines with a concentration in the northern Amazon area of Brazil, Venezuela, and the Guianas. In 1 9 7 1 - 1 9 7 2 and the summer 1977, he was Research Associate in the Department of Human Genetics at the University of Michigan. He has taught anthrolinguistics at the University of Maryland since 1972.

ERNEST C . MIGLIAZZA ( 1 9 3 6 -

) was born in Endicott, New York. She studied linguistics and English at Brown University, where she wrote a dissertation on Old English grammar. Since 1966, she has been teaching at Boston University, where she is at present Professor of English. Her special interests include medieval English, English grammar, and semantic change. CELIA M . MILLWARD ( 1 9 3 5 -

CAROL H . MOLONY. N O

biographical data available.

) was born in Philadelphia. He received his B.A. and M.A. from the University of Rochester, and his Ph.D. from the University of Illinois in 1969. Since then, he has published extensively in linguistic theory, English syntax, and sociolinguistics. He is the author of English aspectual verbs (Mouton, 1975) and Modem American linguistics: the history of generative grammar (Academic Press, forthcoming). FREDERICK J. NEWMEYER ( 1 9 4 4 -

(1931) was born in Tigiria, Orissa. Presently the Director of the Central Institute of Indian Languages of the Ministry of Education and Social Welfare, Government of India, he specializes on language in its manifold manifestations with reference to education, administration, and mass communication. His publications and papers reflect his diversified interest in literary criticism, comparative religion (medieval India), anthropology, historical, comparative and synchronic linguistics, language teaching, and various aspects of education. His plea is "deschooling" with a focus on the mother tongue. DEBI PRASANNA PATTANAYAK

IRMENGARD RAUCH

(1933-

), born in Dayton, Ohio, is Professor of

656

Biographical Notes

German and Linguistics at the University of Illinois. She studied at the Ohio State University (M.A., 1957) and the University of Michigan (Ph.D., 1962). Her interests and publications are in semantics, phonology, syntax, linguistic method, semiotics, language change, and language origin. Recent publications include The Old High German diphthongization: a description of a phonemic change (1967); coeditor of Approaches in linguistic methodology (1967) (Spanish edition: Estudios de metodologia linguistica 1974), Der Heliand (1973), and Linguistic method: the Herbert Penzl Festschrift (1977). ) was Professor of General Linguistics at the University of Neuchätel (Switzerland) from 1 9 7 1 - 1 9 7 7 . Since 1977 he has been Professor of French Linguistics at the University of Geneva. He is the author of numerous books and articles on the applications of linguistics to the pedagogy of languages. EDDY ROULET ( 1 9 3 9 -

J. SAMARIN (1926) earned his B.A. and Ph.D. in Linguistics and Anthropology at the University of California, Berkeley. After serving as Missionary-Linguist in the Central African Empire (formerly OubanguiChari) for eight years, he taught linguistics at Hartford Seminary Foundation for seven. He is now Professor of Anthropology and Linguistics at the University of Toronto, where he came in 1968. His career as linguist has been devoted almost entirely to anthropological and sociolinguistics, with Africa, pidgins, and the language of religion as topical specializations. He is a Charter Member of both the West African Linguistic Society and the International Congress of Africanists. In 1966-1967, he was Visiting Professor of African Linguistics at the University of Leiden and Research Fellow at the Afrika-Studiecentrum, where he pursued research on African ideophones. WILLIAM

) studied Linguistics, Chinese, Tibetan, Indian and other Southeast Asian languages and received his Diplom Sinologist (Visva-Bharati University, Cheena Bhavan, 1955) and his M.A. (Calcutta University). He received his doctorate from Humboldt University, Berlin, with a dissertation on the semantic structure of number, numeral, and numeral classifiers in Southeast Asian languages. He received the academic title Dr. sc. phil. (Professor) from the same university with a research work on semantic analysis for information retrieval of Bengali. He then joined the regular teaching staff of Humboldt University. His publications include works on general linguistics, phonetics, theory of semantics, various specific problems of linguistics (applied and general), SUNIL SEN-GUPTA ( 1 9 3 3 -

Biographical Notes

657

and orientalist studies. He is one of the executive editors of the Indian Journal of Linguistics, Calcutta. ) was born in Bristol, England. She received her B.A. in English from Oxford University in 1960 and her Ph.D. in English Language from the University of Calfornia at Berkeley in 1964. She has taught at the University of California at Berkeley, the University of East Africa, Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania, at the University of York, and Princeton University. She is now Professor of Linguistics and English at Stanford University. Her major research interests are: the theory of language change, with emphasis on the relation of language acquisition to language change; and applications of linguistics to literature, including linguistic analysis of multidialectal and multilingual literature. ELIZABETH CLOSS TRAUGOTT ( 1 9 3 9 -

) studied classical philology at the University of Bucharest. She received her Ph.D. (1968) with the dissertation "Progress in language." Since 1949 she has been teaching at the University of Bucharest and is now Professor of Latin and General Linguistics at the Faculty of Foreign Languages in Bucharest. Her publications include works on general linguistics, history of linguistics, comparative studies of IndoEuropean languages, and history of the Latin language. LUCIA WALD ( 1 9 2 3 -

A. WURM ( 1 9 2 2 ) studied linguistics, anthropology and Oriental languages at the University of Vienna where he received his doctorate. He held teaching and research posts at the University of Vienna, the Central Asian Research Centre (associated with St. Antony's College, Oxford University), Sydney University, and the Australian National University, and visiting appointments at Northwestern University, Indiana University, and the University of Hawaii. Since 1958, he has been in charge of the extensive research progam in Pacific Linguistics at the Australian National University and was appointed to the Chair of Linguistics in the School of Pacific Studies of that University in 1968. He has been Editor of the serial publication Pacific Linguistics since its inception in 1963. His major research interests are concerned with the Papuan, Australian, South Western Pacific Austronesian, and pidgin languages of the Pacific, as well as with sociolinguistics (formerly he studied Turkic languages as well). He has published widely in these fields. STEPHEN

Index of Names

Ady, —113-114 Agheyisi, R. N., 145 Albert, E., 618 Albright, Sue, 575n Alkalai, J. H., 538 Allen, —., 250-251 Allen, J. P. B., 624-625, 633 Ampere, J.-J.-Α., 487 Andersen, Henning, 477n Angel, —.,231 Anttila, Raimo, 6, 8, 35, 457n, 477n, 525529, 641-642, 647 Aristotle, 96, 377 Augustine, St., 619 Austin, —., 86 Bacon, Francis, 391 Bally, Charles, 88,96 Bar-Adon, Aaron, 531-549, 643, 647 Bärczi, G., 92 Barlow, Robert H., 272 Baron, Naomi, 532-533 Barthes, R., 626 Baskalov, Ν. Α., 6,553-559,641,644,647648 Basseta, Domingo, 228 Batalha, G. N., 405 Bateson, Gregory, 253 Bazell, C. E., 158-159,168 Becker, Alton L., 279 B6dard, Isidore, 486 Ben-Avi, Itamar, 531-532 Ben-Yehuda, Eliezer, 531-532, 534, 536 Benveniste, E., 392, 395, 467

Bergsland, Knut, 529 Berne, Eric, 354-356 Besserer, Louis-Theodore, 486 Bever, T., 22, 70, 645 Bickerton, D., 139-140,144n Bidney, David, 371 Biggs, B., 257-258 Birnbaum, Η., 34 Blackwood, Beatrice, 256 Blaes, J., 249 Bloomfield, L., 3, 9, 73, 175, 327-328, 357 375, 419, 583-585, 623, 642 Boadi, L., 297, 298 Boas, F., 8-9, 328, 357 Bolinger, D. L., 81 Booth, P., 195, 201 Bordaz, Jacques, 458n, 461, 472 Borgman, Donald M., 564 Boscana, G., 51 Brinton, Daniel G., 231 Brown, R. W., 627, 631-632 Bruce, K., 254 Bruce, L., 254 Bühler, Κ., 100,101, 597, 607, 630 Bulmer, R., 257 Burland, Cottie Α., 448 Campbell, Archibald, 485 Campbell, George, 582 Campbell, L., 6, 223-231, 641, 644, 648 Candlin, C., 628, 632 Capell, A , 203, 204 Casgrain, Henri-Raimond, 484n, 485 Caso, Alfonso, 436,446

660 Index of Names

Cassidy, F. G., 138,140 Chadwick, Robert, 447 Chafe, W., 21, 26, 47 Chagnon, Napoleon Α., 568n Chantraine, Pierre, 467 Chauveau, Pierre-J.-O., 484n Chevrette, L. Α., 7-8, 483-505, 648-649 Childe, V. Gordon, 458n, 461, 529 Chomsky, Noam, 3,4-6,18,175,307,313η, 328, 335, 348, 371-373, 378-383, 475476, 544, 625, 627, 629, 634, 646 Clark, E., 142 Cline, —., 272 Codazzi, Augustin, 566 Collis, D. R. F., 386 Conrad, J., 252 Conrad, R., 252 Cook, Eung-Do, 4, 17-30, 643, 645-646, 649 Cook, W. Α., 384n Cooper, H. L. F., 377 Cöte, Augustin, 488 Coto, Thomas, 226 Cowgill, —., 328 Craig, B., 257 Craig, R., 257 Cratylus, 79 Curme, G. O., 40 Czartoryski, Adam, 486, 489 Darnell, R., 73 Dawson, M. and M., 258 De Alonso, Juan, 226 De Betanzos, Pedro, 226 Debrunner, Α. Μ., 468n De Cördova, Juan, 436,446 De Guzman, Pantaleon, 224-226, 228 De Jussieu, —., 458, 468 De Lacouperie, T., 37 De Laroche-Horon, —., 488 De Morales, Juan, 230 De Reynoso, Diego, 228 Derivas, —., 486 De Saussure, Ferdinand, 17,18,21-22,175, 328, 337, 393, 581, 623, 625, 627-629, 634, 645 De Varela, Francisco, 226 De Vico, Domingo, 224, 228 Devoto, G., 392 De Vries, Jan, 463 De Zufiiga, Dionysio, 229-230 Diffloth, Girard, 598 Dik, Simon C., 384n

Di Peso, Charles C., 446 Dixon, R. M. W., 208 Dmitriev, Ν. K., 558 Doke, C. M., 598, 601 Dolgopol'skij, Α. B., 513n Dornstreich, J., 257 Dornstreich, M., 257 Dressier, W., 45, 72 Ducrot, O., 629 Dudley, May, 249 Dye, S., 254 Dye, W., 254 Dyen, I., 204 Edgerton, —., 328 Eisenstadt, Shemuel, 538n Ellis, J., 7, 156, 297-305, 649 Emonds, Joseph, 58In Epstein, Isaac, 540 Erdweg, M. J„ 249, 251 Erichsen, M., 40 Ernout, Alfred, 476 Ervin-Tripp, S., 632 Eustathius, 470-472 Faye, Paul-Louis, 49-50, 52, 63, 67 Fehderan, H., 145 Feist, S., 392 Fell, John, 582 Ferenczi, C., 115 Ferguson, C. Α., 140, 487, 644 Ferguson, C. C., 561-562, 572n, 575 Ferland, Jean-Baptiste, 488 Fernändez-Guizzetti, G., 6, 371-386, 649650 Fick, August, 467 Fillmore, C. J., 136, 160, 280 Firth, J. R., 630 Fishman, Joshua Α., 535n, 538n, 561, 575 Flores, Ildefonso Joseph, 231 Fokos-Fuchs, David, 88 Fönagy, I., 8, 79-129, 641, 650 Ford, M., 627, 631-632 Foreman, V., 252 Forge, Α., 253, 254 Forrest, R. A. O., 40 Fortune, R. F., 251 Fraenkel, E., 468 Frake, Charles O., 407,411, 415, 628 Francisco, Juan R., 409n Frantz, Donald G., 307-324, 643, 650 Freud, Α., 107 Freud, S., 85, 121, 354

Index of Names

Friedrich, P., 627, 631-632 Friederici, George, 249 Fries, Charles C., 582-585 Fries, Peter H., 279 Galarza, J., 6, 271-275, 651 Garcia, L. Reyes, 274 Garneau, Frangois-Xavier, 483-505 Gehberger, J., 250, 255 Gell, Α., 257 Gerstner, P., 251, 253 Gheerbrant, Alain, 566 Gilman, Α., 627, 631-632 Gimbutas, Marija, 459-460, 462 Glass, John, 272 Gleason, Henry, 582n Goddard, R. H. !., 419n Gödel, —., 380 Golab, Zbigniew, 463n Golson, J., 195, 214-215 Gordon, Ray, 310n Gorlin, P., 253 Grace, G. W., 51, 52, 60, 62, 64, 67 Grace, G„ 211, 215 Graham, D., 257 Graham, G., 257 Green, E., 6,417^29, 641, 643, 651 Green, R., 213-214, 218 Greenberg, J. H., 21, 156-157,196, 379 Grimes, Joseph, 575n Grimm, Jakob, 470 Gudschinsky, S. C., 439^141 Guerin, Pierre, 486 Gumperz, J. J., 624, 629-631, 632-633 Güntert, Hans, 468 Haas, M. R., 35 Haas, W., 151 Haberland, Eike, 249-250, 255, 256 Hale, K., 203, 204, 442, 443, 577 Hall, Robert, 584 Halle, M., 18,307,313n, 335,475^76,542, 629 Halliday, Μ. A. K., 156,160,175,297,299, 304, 356 Hallowell, A. Irving, 429 Hamp, Eric, 5, 457n, 462, 468n, 641, 643646 Harrington, J. P., 51 Harris, Zellig S., 327 Har-Zahav, Z., 531-532 Hasler, Juan Α., 235-243, 644, 651 Hatanaka, S., 254

661

Haugen, Einar, 329, 335-336, 358, 641 Hayes, B., 253 Heckzwelder, John G. Ε., 419n Healey, Α., 257 Healey, P., 257 Heine, —., 127 Heller, L. G., 461-462, 470 Hermogenes, 79 Herodotus, 391 Herzl, Theodor, 535n Hesiod, 472 Hester, R., 624 Hill, J. H., 6,45-75, 641-642,644,651-652 Hill, K., 63 Hill, T., 157 Hirt, Η., 392 Hjelmslev, L., 175, 329, 337 Hockett, C. F., 22, 156, 175 Hoffman-Krayer, Ε., 457n Hofmann, J. B., 479 Hogbin, H. Ian, 250 Höltker, George, 250, 255 Hollös, I., 115 Howells, W. W., 213, 218 Hsieh, Hsin-I., 478n Huber, P., 257 Huden, John C., 418 Husserl, E., 84 Hyde, Villiana, 52, 55 Hymes, D. H., 156, 628, 630-631, 634 Isidore of Seville, 108, 476 Itkonen, Τ. I., 526, 528 Jackson, —., 258 Jacobs, R., 67 Jakobovits, L. Α., 624 Jakobson, R., 18, 101-102, 159-160, 385, 513, 533, 616, 626 James, William, 8, 9, 329-330, 333, 351 Jordan, A. C., 611 Juillerat, B., 257 Käbel, I., 369 Kaberry, Phyllis, 253 Kant, I., 377 Katiöic, R., 36 Katz, —., 629 Kaufman, T. S., 436-439 Kaufmann, Christian, 253 Kay, P., 72, 75,140, 512n, 595n, 612 Kelkar, A. R., 151-176, 643, 652 Keim, Η., 252

662 Index of Names

Keyser, S. J., 19 Kim, C.-W., 24 Kiparsky, P., 22, 26, 28-29, 69, 136, 314, 318,324n, 542-543 Kirkham, Samuel, 582 Klaffl, J., 249 Klima, Ε. S., 22, 589 Koo, Jang H., 451-454, 641, 643, 652 Kooyers, H., 253 Kooyers, O., 253 Korhonen, Mikko, 529n Kosover, Mordecai, 538n Kowalski, Τ., 556 Krige, Ε. J., 600 Kroeber, A. L., 49, 51, 52, 60, 62, 64, 67 Krohn, Robert Κ., 478n Kuhn, Α., 392 Kuhn, Τ. S., 3 Kurytowicz, Jerzy, 516-517, 519 Kuun, G., 554-555 Laberge, S., 145 Labov, W., 5, 23, 145, 589, 617, 645 Lach-Szyrma, Krystyn, 486 Lakoff, G., 136,175 Lakoff, R., 5, 136 Lamb, S. M., 175, 330, 337, 350, 354 Lambert, Wallace E., 576 Lanctot, Gustave, 484n Landar, H., 6, 435-448, 641, 644, 652 Langacker, R. W., 52, 67, 316, 586 Langendoen, D. T., 22, 70, 645 Laszlo, M., 252 Laumann, K., 255 Launay, Michel, 485n Lawrence, C., 257 Lawrence, M., 257 Laycock, D. C., 6, 195, 201, 245-262, 652653 Lea, David A. M., 249,253 Leach, E., 429 Leigh, Howard, 436 Leonard, Sterling, 583n Leumann, Manu, 479 Levin, Saul, 457n, 473n Lewis, Α., 250 Lewis, C. I., 377 Lewis, G., 250 Lewis, R., 254 Lewis, S., 254 Lieberman, P., 72 Liem, N. D., 7, 279-292, 642, 653 Liston, J. L., 8, 507-521, 643, 653

Litteral, R., 257 Litterai, S., 257 Locke, J., 9 Lockwood, David G., 329 Lockwood, W. B., 41 Longacre, W., 328 Lorge, P., 340 Louis XVIII of France, 111 Lounsbury, F. G., 4, 328 Lucretius, 475-476 Lyons, J., 159, 508 MacAfee, Byron, 272 McCawley, J. D., 175 McCormack, W. C., 3-9, 654-655 McDowell, N., 255 McElhanon, Κ. Α., 193 MacGregor, John, 486 Mackenzie, William Lyon, 486, 489 McLaughlin, David, 486 MacNeish, Richard S., 447 McQuown, Norman Α., 439,443 Mäher, J. P., 6, 7, 457^59, 525n, 526n, 527, 529, 642, 644, 646, 653-654 Makkai, Α., 8, 9, 327-359, 641-642, 645, 654 Makkai, Valerie Becker, 641,642-643,645, 654 Malecot, Α., 52 Malinowski, B., 7, 101, 630, 646 Mammata, 84 Mansilla, Lucio V., 237 Manuel, E. Arsenio, 409n Marmier, Xavier, 487 Mart, —., 461 Marten, H., 252 Martinet, Α., 81 Mead, Margaret, 251, 255 Meillet, Α., 395,460n, 476 Mercati, — 4 5 8 , 468 Meyer, H., 249 Michelet, —., 487 Michelson, Truman, 428 Migliazza, E. C., 7, 561-577, 655 Milke, W., 216 Mill, J. S., 5 Miller, George A,, 477, 646 Miller, Wick R., 442, 529n Millward, C. M., 6,417-429, 641, 643, 655 Mitchell, J., 250 Mitchell, W., 250, 252 Miyaoka, Osahito, 45In, 454n Molony, C. H., 6, 401-415, 644, 655

Index of Names

Moran, Pedro, 224, 230 Morren, G., 257 Moskovic, V. Α., 507-508 Mulvaney, D. J., 206 Nacaskul, Karnchana, 291 Newman, Paul, 598n Newman, S., 73-74 Newmeyer, F. J., 9, 581-591, 641, 655 Newton, Douglas, 252, 253 Nicholson, — 2 7 2 Niemcewicz, Johan-Ursyn, 486 Nolasquez, R., 52 Noreen, —., 337 O'Grady, G. N., 203 Oksaar, E., 98, 645 Olmsted, D. L., 9 Omer-Cooper, J. D., 74 Papineau, Louis-Joseph, 487 Papp, Ferenc, 343 Parent, Etienne, 486 Parra, Francisco de la, 224,226 Parsonson, G. S., 215 Pattanayak, D. P., 615-620, 643, 655 Pawley, Α., 211, 258 Penafiel, Antonio, 272 Pentikäinen, Juha, 528 Perreault, Joseph-Francois, 484-485 Perry, Α., 257 Philsooph, H., 250 Pictet, Α., 392 Pike, K., 7, 173, 279, 288, 308n, 328, 371, 384 Plato, 391 Pond, A. W., 471 Poole, J. F. P., 254 Pooley, Robert, 583n Postal, P. M., 26, 542, 582 Price, E., 600 Price, Thomas, 600 Pride, J. B„ 645 Priestly, Joseph, 582-583 Quine, W. Y., 124 Quintilian, 86 Rattray, —., 302 Rauch, I., 7, 33^1, 643, 655-656 Redfield, R., 529 Reed, Stephen W., 253 Reeves, Susan C., 249

663

Rehburg, J., 252 Reichelt, Hans, 463-467, 475 Reichenbach, Η., 124 Richardson, Penelope, 249 Roberts, Paul, 584-585, 590-591 Robertson, —., 272 Roche, Daniel, 485n Roebuck, Arthur, 486 Roget, —., 339 Roheim, G., 115 Rose, Steven, 618 Ross, —., 175 Rotter, Lilian, 84 Roulet, E., 8, 623-634, 642-643, 656 Rubin, Joan, 336 Rubinstein, Α., 545-546 Rumery, J., 633 Salathe, George, 566 Samarin, W. J., 6, 46, 67, 70, 72, 74, 595612, 642-643, 645, 656 Sampson, Gloria, 645 Sankoff, G., 139-140, 145 Sapir, E., 288-289, 328, 379,468, 470, 596, 609-610 Saporta, S., 20-21, 24 Saussure. See De Saussure, Ferdinand Savard, Pierre, 484 Savignon, J. Α., 624, 633-634 Schiller, F. von, 111 Schleicher, Α., 392-393 Schlesinger, A. J., 538 Schmidt, J., 255 Schmidt, Johannes, 466,467 Scholz, Η., 258 Scholz, L., 258 Schräder, Ο., 392 Schreber, D. G., 114 Schulz, James W., 418,429 Schultze, L., 249, 254 Schuster, Meinhard, 252, 256, 257 Schwartz, Τ., 249, 256 Schwyzer, Ε., 88 Scorza, D., 250 Scorza, J., 250 Searles, H. F., 113, 114 Sebestyfcn, Irfene, 88 Seiler, H.-J., 52, 61-62, 68 Seler, Eduard, 436 Semenov, S. Α., 460-462 Sen-Gupta, S„ 7, 363-370, 641, 656-657 Shafer, Robert, 445 Slama-Cazacu, Tatiana, 597

664 Index of Names

Sledd, James, 589n Slobin, D. I., 627, 631-632 Smith, —., 337 Smith, Douglas, 487 Solheim, W. G., 214 Sommer, Β. Α., 208 Sommerfelt, Α., 393 Southworth, F. C., 156,166 Sparkman, P. S., 51, 52, 62-63, 65 Spitzer, Leo, 111 Spolsky, Bernard, 575-576 Staaken, P., 253 Stark, Louisa R., 513n Starosta, S., 7 Steadman, Lyle, 254 Stern, Gustaf, 607 Stockwell, R. P., 21 Stone, Doris, 446 Strindberg, Α., 116 Stuart, James Andrew, 486 Sturtevant, W., 328 Swadesh, M., 6, 34-35,445 Sweet, H., 40 Szantyr, L., 479 Tac, Pablo, 51, 52, 59, 65-66 Taylor, D., 145 Tedesco, —., 328 Tesnidre, L., 92 Thieme, —., 328 Thierry, Augustin, 487 Thomas, Κ. H., 251 Thomas, Owen, 585-586 Thompson, J. Eric S., 438, 441 Thorndike, E. L., 340 Thun, Nils, 598 Thurnwald, R., 255, 256 Tirado, Fermin Joseph, 228 Torresano, Estevan, 231,438 Tozzer, Α. M., 438-439, 446 Trager, G. L., 156,175,337, 645 Traugott, E. C., 5,135-146, 643-644, 657 Trubetzkoy, N. S., 81, 337, 347, 630 Trumbull, James Η., 419n Tryon, D. T., 211 Tukan, B., 556 Tuzin, D., 250-251 Twaddell, W. F., 35

Uhlenbeck, C. C., 419n Uhlenbeck, M., 40 Urban, Wilbur M.p 609n Van Wyk, H. L., 241 Varro, 391, 475-477 Verhaeren, —., 115 Viger, D.-B., 485-486 Voegelin, C. F., 203, 419n, 442, 561-562 Voegelin, F. M., 203,442, 561-562 Vogt, Evon Z., 443 Von Humboldt, Wilhelm, 372-376, 378, 396 Voorhoeve, C. L., 193, 197,200 Vormann, F., 249 Wackernagel, J., 468n Wald, L., 6, 391-398, 642, 657 Ward, R. Gerard, 249 Watkins, C„ 467 Weber, Max, 372 Wedgwood, Camilla, 250 Weinreich, U., 17, 336 Wheatcroft, W., 257 White, C., 206-207 White, Leslie, 483n White, R. C., 50, 60 Whitehead, Α. Ν., 5-6 Whiteman, J., 253 Whiting, John W. M., 253 Whorf, Benjamin Lee, 288, 373-379, 386, 418 Widdowson, G. H., 624-625, 628, 633 Wilkins, D., 632 Wilkomitz, S. H., 540 Wundt, W., 396 Wurm, S. Α., 6-7,9,191-218,639-645,657 Wyatt, W. F., Jr., 37 Wyczynski, Paul, 484n, 488n, 489 Ximenez, Francisco, 231 Young, Richard E., 279 Zerries, Otto, 562, 564 Z'Graggen, J., 249, 256 Ziervogel, D., 600 Zwicky, Α., 18-19

Index of Subjects

"Absolute neutralization", 28,30,314,318 Abstraction, 307-324 Addition, rule, 18-21, 23, 25-26, 28-30 Adverbs, 117-119, 139,144-145 African languages, 38, 40, 74, 164, 166167, 297-305 Akan, 297-305 Algonquian waterways, 357,417-429 Allomorphy, 20, 23, 25-26, 138, 314 Alphabet, 309-315, 322-324, 338-339 Amerindian: anthropological linguistics, 356-357, 373, 378, 383; language contact, 45, 47, 72; language death, 644; vowel harmony, 102 Analogy, 36, 165-166, 335, 381, 385 Analyses, 17-18,30,167-170,172-174,363 Andaman Islands, 196 Animals: communication, 96, 100, 104, 127; day names, 437,440,445; language, 36, 38; stories, 62-64, 66; toponyms, 422, 427-428 Anthropology: cultural, 327, 379; linguistic, 6, 333, 356-358, 371-386; research, 246, 249-250, 252-256, 258 Anthropos, 249, 256 Arabic, 161,166 Arandic, 206-207, 209 Araucanian, 383 Archaeology, 459-462 Archaisms: lexical, 108; literary, 97, 119, 129, 166; migration, 196-197, 199; regressional, 101,116; syntactic, 86-92 Areal language groups, 6, 34, 37, 166; Asian, 279, 289, 292; Indian, 363; Mexican, 435

Armenian, 394 Arte de la lengua de Guatemala (de Betanzos), 226 Articulation, sentence, 86-92, 113, 118, 171 Artificial languages, 104, 111, 146, 160 Aspect: categories, 27, 41, 52; markers, 138; periphrasis, 144; verbal tenses, 141, 231 Auca, 67 Australian, 191,203-210, 644 Austronesian: migration, 211-218; New Guinea, 245-246, 249-250, 255, 644; Papua, 191, 195-197, 199-201, 209; Philippines, 403,405 Automatic Information Processing, 363, 366, 367 Aztecs, 70-71, 271-275, 378, 435^148 Bahasa Indonesian, 348, 364-365, 367, 369; Tornate, 405, 410,414 Balkan languages, 34 Baltic, 394; -Finnic, 525-529 Bantu, 38, 40, 74, 166-167 Battle axe cult, 462-468 Behaviorism, 288-289, 331, 375, 383, 643 Bilingualism, 50, 101, 137; contact, 153, 156, 167, 169, 642; India, 617; Papua, 195; Russia, 553-559 Blackfoot, 307-324, 420-429 Body parts, 8,112, 166, 507-521 Borrowing, 7, 36-37; contact, 51-52, 395, 414-415, 437; correlative, 154, 166167 Breton, 45

666 Index of Subjects

Cacophemism, 86 Cahuilla, 47-49, 51-52, 60-63, 68 Cakchiquel, 223, 226, 228, 231 Calendar, astrological, 435-436,439,443 Calepino Cakchiquel, 226, 228, 438 Cambodian, 279,282, 284-287, 289, 292 Cantonese, 279, 282,285-286,288-292 Case-grammar, 279-282, 289,290 Catalogs, bibliographies, 271-272 Caucasus, 167 Celtic, 304 Ceremonies, 51, 62-63, 66-67,445 Cherkassian (Chapsough), 126-127 Children: ability to learn, 174-175; archaisms, 91-93; Creoles, 135, 137, 144-145; Hebrew revival, 531-549; India, 619; poetry, 97-98; sentences, 86-87,89; verbal development, 100-101, 103,113, 156, 334 Chinese, 38,40-41, 335 Clauses: classes, 285-288, 291-292; coordination, 60, 69, 143; embedding, 138-139, 144-145, 288, 332; levels, 279, 281, 291,297,299-301; markers, 55-57, 59-61, 63-69; types, 282-285, 290 Clichi, verbal, 93, 98 Codex Borgia, 447 Codex Mendoza, 272 Codex Vindobonensis, 448 Cognitemes/Noemes, 366-368, 370, 375 Collations, correlative, 154, 163-164,170, 172,174 Common Australian, 204-210 Communication: arbitrary, conceptual, 119; basic principles, 140; deep structure, 349; ethnography, 623-634, 639, 642; intercommunication, 379 Comparison: analysis, 18; diachronic, 30; historical, 156; linguistic, 152; metaphor, 114-116; phonological, 165,175 Conjunctions, 116-119, 138 Conscious awareness, 309, 312 Consonants, 102-103,128,171; clustering, 211, 212; Blackfoot, 315 Constraints, orthographical, 309, 314, 317-321, 323-324 Contact: ecology, 336, 642; language, 45, 51-52, 70-71, 75; pidgin, Creole, 137, 140,144; Spanish, 240-243, 644; system source, 153,167 Corpus/corpora, 151-153, 157, 174 Correlations. See Ethnolinguistics Cosmology, 457-479

Correspondences, diatopic, diachronic, 152, 156, 163, 168 Coto's dictionary, 226 Counting customs, 438-439 Creoles, 5, 70, 135-146, 167, 643-644; Hebrew, 534; Philippines, 401-415 Cretan antimony, 84 Culture: concepts, 331, 358, 386; history, 153, 161,168, 356; language universale, 371-380; patterns, 7, 34, 140, 279, 281292, 435; transmission, 615-620, 642, 644-645; universale, 371-380 Cupeno, 45-56, 58-69, 71-73, 75 Cybernetics, 167, 366, 367 Day names, 435^48, 644 Death, language, 45-75,166, 644 Dialects, 19-21, 24-26, 36, 70, 157, 380386; Aztec, 445; generational, 412-413; Philippine, 403; Quichean, 225-231; regional, 407-412; transitional, 166 Dictionaries, 224-226, 228-230, 273, 338344, 348-349 Diglossia, 7, 8, 561-577 Discourse, logic of, 5, 50, 138, 299 Disease, 215,217 Domains: arbitrary, 170; intersection, 643; selection, 160-163, 167-170, 172; subdomains, 162-163,168-169 Domestication, history of, 127 Dutch, 94,404 Dying languages. See Death, language East Papuan phylum, 192,194, 196-197 Eastern Oceanic type, 193, 195, 199, 211, 212; proto-, 216 Ecological Dictionary of English, 338, 348 Ecology, 329, 335-337, 641-642 Ecosyntax, 352-354 Ecotaxis, 338, 344, 348-349, 354-357 Eidetic elements, 386 Endo-ecology, 336-355, 358, 360-370, 641 English: and dying languages, 47-49, 66, 70-72; grammatical features, 35,38,4041,121-123,126,141-142,164,297-300, 304-305, 365; literary, 87, 91, 93, 102, 109, 115-116, 119; natural language, 334-337, 345, 346-348; as second language, 310, 314, 405, 412-414; vocabulary, 394 Entelechy, 386 Epistemic traits, 158-159, 168,175 Eskimo, 40, 166, 334, 451^154

Index of Subjects

Esperanto, 160 Ethnocosmology, 457-459 Ethnography, 8, 245-246, 255-256, 435, 623-634, 643 Ethnology, 8-9, 153, 435 Ethnolinguistics, cognitive, 7, 9,161,163 Ethno-: philosophy, science, semantics, 378-379 and η Etymology, 40Φ408, 414, 437, 468-473, 644, 646 Euphemism, 86 European languages, 164 Evolution, language, 4, 33-34; metamorphosis, 119, 128-129; semantic, 126, 395-396; signs, 84-85, 101, 11 In, 112, 117; typology, 45-46,75 Exoecology, 336-337, 348, 358, 360-370, 641 Ewe, 38

667

Glottal gesticulation, 102, 105-106, 112; glottalization, 316-317, 322; glottochronology, 116, 167,439 Glyphs, 272, 273 Gothic, 397 Grammar, 6-8; categories, 28,119; derivative, 382; generative, 136-137, 645; gerund frequency, 61, 63-64; linguistic code, 105; possessive construction, 121-122; pragmo-ecological, 327-329; prescriptive, 581-591; rules, 18-20, 22, 108; subordinate clauses, 52-56; transformational, 108-109; universal, 33; verbs (Eskimo), 451-454, 643 Graphonomy, 105,170,173 Greek, 88,120, 373, 377, 383, 394, 397 "Gripping", verbal, 101-104 Guarani-Yopara, 379, 383

Families, language, 154-155, 160, 167,168 Features, semantic, 18-19,41, 385 Fiji-Rotuman-Polynesian proto-language, 213, 216-218 Filter language, 153-154, 169 Finnish, 92,141 Finno-Ugric, 36-37, 88, 92 Forms, language: content, 372-373; cultural, 7,48,100-101,136,138-139,171; functions, 100-104, 107, 136, 138-139, 384-385, 595-612; generic, 419; underlying, 317-319 French: grammatical, 39-41, 69-70, 116118,121-123,126-127,164; literary, 80, 87-95, 97, 102, 109-110,119, 357, 393

Hebrew, 88, 531-549 Hierarchic ranking, 141-143 Historical lexicography, 483-505, 644, 645 History, 26, 28, 30, 34-35, 75; linguistics relationship, 152-153, 156-157, 163, 167-168; reconstruction, 391-396, 404, 418 Homophony, 307, 363,437 Human nature and universale, 371-380 Hungarian: grammar, 117-118, 121-123, 126; literary language, 80-81, 87-89, 92-95, 98, 102; metaphor, 110,113-114 Hybrid languages, 36-37,137 Hyperbole, 99,114-115,116 Hypostasis, 119,126 Hypotheses, 160, 164-167, 174-175

Gagauz, 553-559 Gbeya, 597-612 General Oceanic language, 211 Generative semantics, 5, 34, 136, 645; phonology, 18, 21-22, 24, 311 Genetic language groups, 34-35, 37, 210, 644 German: change, 36-37, 39-41 and n, 109, 116; correspondence, 163; grammatical categories, 121-123, 365; Junggrammatiker, 357; literature, 80, 84, 87-88, 127; phonology, 22-23, 26, 28, 315, 318; regressions, 92-94, 102, 106, 115-119; vocabulary, 394, 398 Gestalt techniques, 375, 418 Gesture, 100,106, 110, 112-113, 116, 642 Ghanaian, 298, 301, 304

Identity, 298-299, 301-302, 304-305 Ideophones, 605-612, 643 Idiolects, 152-153, 155-156 Indian dialects (Khari Boli, Braj Bhasha, Avadhi, Arabized Persian), 70,164,617; Nilgiris, Gilgit, 167 Indian languages: Apabhra-sa, 364; Bangla/Bengali, 155, 364-369; Dravidian, 70, 156, 166, 364; Hindi, 70, 153, 159, 164, 615-617, 633; Marathi, 153, 155-156, 159, 163-164, 167; MundaKol, 364; Oriya, 615; Prakrit, 364; Sanskrit, 18-19, 70, 84, 86, 155, 171, 335, 364, 394, 397; Sino-Tibetan, 364; Tamil, 165, 617; Urdu, 70, 633 Indianized English, 154,167 Indo-Aryan, 156, 166, 364

668 Index of Subjects

Indo-European, 161, 164, 289, 298, 345, 373-374, 376-377, 391-398, 457-479, 644 "The Indo-Europeanization of Greece" (Wyatt), 37 Indonesian, 216-217 Indo-Pacific, 404-405 Inflection loss, 68, 70, 144, 171 Informants, 59-68, 72-73 Innate fallacy, 6, 371-386 Interobjective Energetic Effect, 364 Intonation, 81-82, 88, 100-101, 110, 1 Π Ι 19; mutant patterns, 167; universale, 171;tone group, 299 Intuition, 371 Inventory, linguistic, 151-153, 155, 157, 160-161

Irish, 298-299, 302, 304, 397 Island Melanesia, 213-215, 217-218 Italian/Italic, 117,166 Japanese, 80 Kafir, 38 Kekchi subgroup, 223,229-231 Khmer, 364, 365-366 Kinship terms, 8, 124, 166, 409 Kiwai, 210 Koines, 139 Korean, 23-26 Kwomtari phylum, 247, 256 Language: acquisition, 22, 45, 137, 139146, 333-334, 643-645; analysis, 645, 646; archiving, 157; chain, 154, 160; change, 5, 8, 18, 36-37, 46-47, 52, 59, 68-71, 75, 109-112, 136-140, 166, 643; correlation, 297; fragmentation, 201; generalization, 34,36; history, 391,393; migration, 192-218; noematic, 363; origin, 33, 86-87; Sepik, 246-248, 258263; split, 525-529; systems, 167-168. See also Borrowing; Evolution; Forms Language and culture, 288-289 Language-specific layer, 34, 140, 168, 175 Languages, unclassified (isolates), 246247, 258 Lao, 279, 282, 284-289, 292 Lapp dialects, 525-529 Latin, 35, 88, 109-110,166, 394, 397-398 Latvian, 397 Left May phylum, 247,256 Legends, 98,113. See also Oral history

Lexemic idioms, 121, 346; subecology, 345, 349, 351 Lexical evidence, 193-194, 197, 200, 202; hypertrophe, 166; Lexicase, 279; transfer, 107-108; units, 121, 307-308, 366367, 384-385, 395, 404-414 Lexicon, 98-99,107-108,121, 128, 170 Lexicostatistics, 6-7,166 Lexo-ecology, 335-336, 348 Lexo-morphemic alternations, 345, 352 Linguistics: analyses, 7, 24, 151-152, 158160; classification, 245-247, 259-263; descriptive, 156-159; diachronic, 4, 6, 17-19, 21-22, 24-26, 30, 35, 107-112, 152, 156; code, 111, 112; comparison, 155, 164; correlative, 151-176; extra/ macro-/intra-, 645-646; historical, 154, 156, 168, 195, 204-208, 213-214, 391392; models, 4, 6-7; panchronic, 22; pansemantic structure, 359; performance, 309; synchronic, 4, 7, 17-19, 2126, 28, 30, 107-112, 140, 156; theory, 143,146, 327 Loanwords, 7, 48, 70-71, 193, 195, 199, 209-212, 394, 413,415, 644 "Local" languages, 46, 70, 75 Locative systems, 141-144 Logic, structural, 117, 122-128, 299 Logograms, 307 Loss, rule, 18,23-24,26,28, 30 Loss, language. See Death, language Luiseno, 46-69, 71-73, 75 Mabuiag, 210 Magic, 82-83, 85-86, 107, 112-114, 116117,119-120 Malay, 348, 364,404-408, 414 Mam, 228-229 Man in New Guinea (periodical), 249 Mann-Whitney U-test, 57 Markers, 119, 138, 142-145,170-171,193, 199, 301 Mayan, 223, 229,231, 271; calendar, 435436; proto-Mayan, 436-448 Meaning, 297-299, 305, 395-398 Mechanism v. mentalism, 330-331, 357 Melanesian, 213-217,246-248,251 Mentalism, 3, 129, 307, 330-331, 642-643, 645 Meta-: interpretations, 377; linguistics, 101, 377-378; logosis, 351-352, 359; model, 380-386; morphosis, 352, 359; phonosis, 352-353, 359; physics, 330,

Index of Subjects

386; scmiosis, 351-352, 359; system, 352 Metaphor, 8, 86, 119-121, 125, 128, 164, 643; lexical, phonetive, 106-114; semantic regression, 96-99 Methodology, linguistic, 36, 172-175 Mexican manuscripts, 271-274, 438; day names, 435 Micronesia, 211, 216-217 Miriam, 210 Mixtecan tribe, 436 Moluccas, 409,414 Monemes, 79-81,96-98,100,121 Monoremes, 87, 91-93 Morphemes, 20, 121, 165, 171; multiple reinvestment of, 346 Morphoecology, 336, 338, 345-347 Morphology, 22, 138-139, 141, 394 Morphophonemics, 19-22,25-27,29,347348, 351-352 Morphophonology, 476-479 Morphosyntax, 378, 386 Motivated signs, 79-83, 86, 92, 100, 105, 112, 119 Multilayer languages, 553-559 Multilingualism, 45, 47-49, 69, 195, 617618,644 Mutator-filter language, 154,167 Mutant language system, 154, 156,167 Mythology, 98, 113,437-438 Nahuatl, 271,274 Narrinyeri, 206 Native speakers, 168,170-171 Natural languages, 33,35-36,72,299,332, 334-335,348,385; articoustic featments, 344-345; types, 120,152,167 Naturalness hypothesis, 4,135-146 Negation markers, 138, 301 Negritos, 196 Neogrammarians, 165,175 Networks, language, 152-153, 160, 167168

New Caledonia, 213,217 New Guinea. See Sepik Basin New Hebridean, 211-212,216, 217 Niger-Congo, 164,166,298 Noematic analysis, 363-364, 366, 370 Non-Austronesian, 246, 250-251, 255 Nouns, 8, 69, 119, 128, 171; Africa, 300; Southeast Asia, 279-280; Southwest Pacific, 194, 211-212 Number systems, 165-166

669

Objectivism, 4-6, 9, 371-386 Oceanic Austronesian, 211 Onomasiological aspect research, 397-398, 468-470 Onomastics, 170 Onomatopoeia, 79-80 Ontogeny, linguistic, 152-153, 162-165, 170 Oral history, 49-51, 62-64, 66, 98, 113 Ordering, rule, 19, 22, 25, 26 Orthography, 170, 223-224, 307-324, 643 Otomanguean tribes, 436-448 Oxford English dictionary, 338 Palatalizing languages, 161, 310 Paleology, 117,120-121,125-126,129,392 Paleo-Siberian (Chukchi), 40 Papuan,191-203, 209-210, 212-217 Paradigms, 3,23,106-107, 111, 382 Paralinguistics, 642 Parapraxis, 85 Particles, 143,145, 287, 300 Patterns, linguistic, 152, 155, 162-165 Pearson Product-Moment Correlation, 57 Persian, Arabized, 70 Philippine Creole, 401-415 Philology, 7-9, 223-231, 459, 644 Phonemics, 18-20, 28, 104-105, 109, 171; orthography, 308, 311, 313, 315 Phonetics: Blackfoot, 309, 311, 313, 324; change, 28-30; level, 107, 109, 111; Mexican MSS, 272-273; traits, 158 Phonic weight, 118 Phono-ecology, 335-336, 338, 344-345, 347, 353 Phonology, 18-29, 36-37, 311; natural, 136, 139, 145; Southwest Pacific, 194, 203, 210-212, 225n, 258; theory, 161, 163,165, 170-171, 173 Phonotactic functions, 136 Phrase structure, 33, 279, 291 Phyla, 191-192, 246-248, 250 Phylogenetics: comparative linguistics, 152-153, 156; correlative linguistics, 162-164, 170-172, 174-175; semantic regressions, 95-96 Physical anthropology, 195,201-202,207209, 213 Pidginization, 46, 70-71, 74; adult development, 135-146, 156, 167, 644 Pidgins, 5; African, 74, 138, 143-145; Israel, 553-554; Southwest Pacific, 213, 256

670 Index of Subjects

Playful functions, 101-104,113-114,128 Poetic language, 80, 87-92, 95-98; function, 101-103, 119,127-128 Pokomchi-Pokomam, 223-224, 229-231 Polynesian, 211-213, 216-217 Portuguese, 298-299,404-414 Pragmatism, 119, 327-359 Prelinguistic communication, 81-82, 103, 105-107, 111-112; preconceptual, 119, 128-129 Prepositions, 141-143, 280 Pronouns, 127-128, 192-194, 196-202, 290-291, 299-301, 304 Prosody, 81, 83, 109-110, 117. See also Poetic language Proto-language, 35; proto-Popotecan/ Popolocan, 439-442; proto-Quichean, 226,229-231 Psychoanalysis, 106-107,112; transformations, 114, 116-117,128 Psycholinguistics, 4, 8, 103, 309; transactional, 354-356, 394, 396, 398, 645646 Psychology, 5,9,30,153,291; abstraction, 309, 313; innatist, 371, 375; names, 418 Psychotherapy, 84,100,113-116,121 Quechua, 235-243, 383 Quichean, 223-231 Reading processes, 307, 313-314, 324 Reality, 309, 313, 359; linguistic, 375, 379, 382, 384, 386, 393-394, 620 Rebus, 307 Recollections, exile, 62-63 Reconstruction, rules, 154 and n, 156 Recording techniques, 65-67 Reductionism, 375 Regressions: everyday, 87-92; functional, 100-104, 107; semantic, 92-99; verbal, 112-119 Relativism, linguistic, 139, 374 Religion, 50-52, 66-67, 435 Remotivation, 85, 100,112 Reordering, rule, 18-22,28, 30 Replication, 153-154, 155 Research, 4,17,128,168,172; Aztec, 271275, 435; Sepik Basin, 246, 248-258 Revival, linguistic, 47, 72, 531-549 Rheme and theme, 299-300 Romance languages, 35,88,109,117 Rudolf-Carnapese, 160

Rules, grammatical, 17-30, 35, 69; deletion, 88; inconvertibility, 335; levels, 171; patterns, 151-153, 157; pidgins, 140-141. See also Addition; Change; Ordering; Loss; Reordering; Simplification Russian, 34, 36-37, 357, 553-559 Sailing skills, 214, 217 Samoyed, 88 San Cristobal Cahcob dialect, 229-230 Sarcee, 19, 22-23, 26, 28-29 Scandinavian, 39-41 Schwyzerdeutsch, 69 Scientific language, 99, 103, 128, 358, 377378, 386, 645 Scribes, Quichean, 224-226, 228-230 Segments, 309,312; underlying forms, 391, 321, 324, 353 Semantics, 5, 8; change, 111-113; etymology, 643-644, 646; evolution, 126, 128, 395-396; innatist, 378, 383, 385; lexical grouping, 194; methodology, 173; metric, 103; regressions, 92-99, 100; semasiology, 468-469; structure, 120128, 138, 302, 359; toponyms, 417-429; weight, 118 Sememic-cognitive subecology, 335, 354— 357; realizates, 346; sememes, 363-364, 366 Semo-ecology, 336, 338, 351 Sentences, 33, 35, 69; agnate, 350; Amerindian, 46, 56-57, 59; children's, 86-88,91-82; enate, 349; skeleton, 348349, 358 Sepik Basin, New Guinea, 191-218, 245263, 644 Sepik-Ramu phylum, 192, 194, 196, 198, 201-202, 251, 254 Serbo-Croatian, 8, 507-521 Signs: arbitrary, 104; evolution, 84; grammatical, 80-82, 109, 128, 166; motivated, 99-101,105; poetry, 96,114; segmentation, 100; simple, 121; systems, 167; unconscious, 83-85 Simplification, rule, 24-26, 30,75 Simplified languages, 71,135,137,140-141 Skin color, 213, 218 Sko phylum, 201, 203, 247, 251 Slavic, 161, 394; Old Slavonic, 397-398 Social: anthropology, 208, 214; class, 4, 46, 69, 73, 110, 583-591; covariation, 157; factors in learning, 137, 140-141;

Index of Subjects

psychology, 8, 153; structures, 393; variables, 645 Socioeconomics, 525-529 Sociolinguistics, 4-5,7,9,45, 52,61,153n; psychic reflection, 398; Quichean, 230; social factors and setting, 525-634, 639640, 643, 646; Southeast Asia, 289; Southwest Pacific, 94-195 Sociology, 153, 308, 354, 358, 372 Solana Cakchiquel dictionary, 226 Soloman Islands, 216, 217 Sound change symbolism, 603-605 Southeast Asia, 279-292 Southwest Pacific, 191-218 Spanish, 20-21, 117; Akan, Welsh, 298299; Amerindian, 47-50, 66, 71-72; Southeast Asian, 401-415 Spatial relationship, 141-143 Spearman's Rank-Order correlation, 57 Speech: acts, 5; communities, 69, 71, 7375; perception, 136 and n, 143,145-146; style, 62-63, 67-68, 71 Spelling, 315-324 Split, language, 166, 525-529 Sprachbund language type, 34 Standard languages, 139, 141-144,161 Stratificational linguistics, 329, 336-337, 345, 350-351, 358 Stress, 117-119,317 Structuralism, 17, 358 Structures, linguistic: Akan-Welsh, 297305; archaic, 91; Blackfoot, 308; classification, 17,157; Creole, 143-144; deep, 33-34, 36, 140, 349-350, 371-372, 379, 381-383, 620; dying languages, 45; features, 193-194,203,217; innate, 143; meaning, 363; natural languages, 334, 348; shallow deep, 140-141; surface, 34, 140-141, 349, 378; underlying, 146 Studi Italiani delta Linguistica Teorica ed Applicata, 359 Style: conversational, 95-96; differences, 57-61, 68, 70, 74-75; elaboration, 46, 55-56, 66; scientific prose, 91-92,96,99, 103, 128; speech, 52, 65-68, 71, 73; speeches, 95, 103; verbal, 91, 104-107, 110-111; word values, 107,109-111 Subjectivism. See Innate fallacy Superimposed language, 567-571 Synosemes, 367, 643 Syntagmatic articulation, 100; cohesion, 95; functions, 136; transfers, 105, 107 111

671

Syntax, 279, 332, 365, 384, 643; syntactic encoding, 107; gesticulation, 113; predictability, 46, 65; processes, 136, 138, 141; regressions, 100; relationships, 279-280; synonyms, 34; transparency, 69 Tagalog, 403,405 Tagmemics, 279, 281, 285, 288, 290-291, 358, 371 Tasmanian, 203 Teaching: alphabet, 309-310, 313, 619; initial difficulties, 323-324; languages, 623-634 Tenses, 4 0 4 1 , 52, 69, 116, 231; Creoles, pidgins, 141,144-145 Textual style, 62-65, 67-68, 71, 95, 103 Thai, 279, 282, 285-292 Thematism, 299-301, 304 Thesaurus (Roget), 339 Thought patterns, 357, 363, 373; AkanWelsh, 297; Southeast Asia, 279, 289292 Tiv, 38 Toba,383-384 Tone structure, 161, 202, 300 Tonga, 38 Tools, 214, 217 Toponyms, 417-429, 643 Torricelli phylum, 192, 195, 201-202, 247, 250-252 Trait correlations, 152-153 and n, 155, 157-159, 161-165, 167-171 Transformational-generative theory, 4, 17, 35, 37, 135, 155n; anthropology, 328-329, 333-334, 349-352, 358; innatism, 372, 378, 382, 384; language study, 639-640, 645 Transformations, 171, 175; prosody, 8889, 114, 117; rules, 108, 110, 111; "Transformer", 105-107 Translation theory, 155-161, 166, 169 and η Trans-New Guinea phylum, 191-194,196202, 210, 247, 254, 256-258 Tropes, 113, 116, 120-121 Turkish, 39, 40 Typology: classification, 193-194, 197— 201, 205; domains, 172; historical, 157, 168, 170; language, 46, 157, 159 Unilateral Predicate of Dynamicity, 363 Universalist-innatist fallacy, 372

672 Index of Subjects

Universals: analytic, 168-169, 171; base structure, see Structures, deep; categories, 144, 166; communication, 138, 140141; constraints, 136, 140, 141 and n; grammar, 6, 33, 156, 371-372, 381; language, 4, 156, 161n, 167, 370-380, 620; natural languages, 334; negatives, 167, 169; phonetic, 311; syndromes, 165 Ural-Altaic, 92,102 Uto-Aztecan: Aztec, 357, 435^36, 445448; Cupefio, Luiseno, 46,48-49,51-52, 60, 63; Proto-Uto-Aztec, 437, 441-443 Vare(l)a Cakchiquel dictionary, 226 and η Variation, allomorphic, 138; geographic, 157; linguistic, 5, 140; random, 11 In; rule, 23, 74 Verbal: classifier, 365, 367, 370; expressions, 84, 86, 92; functions, 100-104; messages, 84, 104-107, 112, 307; pathology, 96,100; regressions, 112-119 Verbal signs: advanced communication type, 119; arbitrary, 79-81, 85, 101, 104-105; articulated, 79, 81; domain, 169,170 ;phatic function, 100-102,104105,107-108,112-113,116-120; poetry, 96; rule, 112; status, 79-86 Verbs: Akan-Welsh, 297-300, 303, 305; Amerindian, 52, 55-57, 59-61, 64-67, 69; morphology, 26-27, 37, 38, 40-41;

pidgin, 145, 171; possessive, 127; Quechua, 231; Southeast Asia, 279-280, 282, 284, 289, 360-370; Southwest Pacific, 194, 199, 211 Vietnamese, 279, 282, 284-290, 292, 364369 Vocabulario trilingue Guatemalteco (de la Parra), 224 Vocabulary, 6, 170-171; "external" history, 394-395, 397; Southwest Pacific, 193-194, 201, 203-206, 208, 211-212, 217 Vowels, 102-104, 128, 164-165, 171; Blackfoot, 310-314, 316-317, 319 Wayamo, 567-571 Welsh, 297-305 West Papuan phylum, 192, 196, 200 Wolof, 69 Word order, 92, 165, 211-212, 292, 340 World languages, 35, 45-46, 72, 75 Writing systems, 157, 271, 273, 300, 307 310 Yanomama diglossia, 7, 561-577 Yanyula, 206 Yokuts, 69, 73-74 Zapotec tribe, 436,439^41 Zyriene, 88