Category Archives: language

How Not to Do Comparative Linguistics

The March/April issue of the pop science magazine Archaeology contains an article by UC Press editor Blake Edgar about Cal Poly San Luis Obispo archaeologist Terry Jones and UC Berkeley linguist Kathryn Klar entitled “The Polynesian Connection: Did ancient Hawaiians teach California Indians how to make ocean-going canoes?” The short answer is, “No.”

Edgar cites convincing archaeological counterevidence from Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History archaeologist John Johnson before conceding that “their strongest evidence may rest on a few words.” That’s sad, because the linguistic argument is almost a textbook example of how not to do historical and comparative linguistics. Here’s the essence of it, as presented in the article.

Any language, says Klar, includes words that are native to it, words borrowed from other tongues, and others of unknown origin. When Klar began studying the island variant of Chumash, she found words alien to mainland Chumash dialects. She looked at distant native languages, from Aleut to Uto-Aztecan, whose speakers could have had contact with Chumash. Each time, Klar came up empty–until she tried Hawaiian, a member of the Polynesian language family.

Klar noticed a Hawaiian word that translates roughly as “useful tree,” kumulaa‘au. This bears a striking resemblance to the ancient Chumash word for “sewn-plank canoe,” tomolo‘o, which Klar reconstructed from the terms for “plank canoe” in different branches of the Chumashan language family. The first letters differ, but in Hawaiian “k” words often derive from older words that begin with “t.” Both the Hawaiian and Chumash words contain four corresponding consonants. That’s too many for a coincidence and to a linguist signals the virtual certainty of genetic kinship or borrowing from the native language. Since Hawaiian and Chumash don’t share a traceable ancestry, that leaves borrowing.

So what’s wrong with this linguistic evidence?

  • Normally, you’d expect Polynesian linguistic evidence to come from a specialist in Polynesian, or at least Austronesian. Not Celtic.
  • Polynesian ocean-going canoes are either double-hulled (like catamarans) or have outriggers. In fact, outriggers are standard all over Oceania. The Chumash canoes were single-hulled, without outriggers.
  • Hawaiians call their canoes wa‘a, from Proto-Polynesian *waka, which has cognates all over Polynesia–and Oceania more generally. They don’t call their canoes ‘useful trees’.
  • The Hawaiian word mistranslated as ‘useful tree’, kumulaa‘au (where aa indicates a long a), translates better as something like ‘tree (with trunk)’, from kumu ‘bottom, base, foundation, trunk’, plus laa‘au ‘tree, plant, wood, timber, forest, stick, pole’.
  • The semantics are a stretch. If the Chumash islanders were going to borrow a form for ‘sewn-plank canoe’, why didn’t they borrow Hawaiian wa‘a ‘canoe’ or kaula ‘rope, cord, string’, or even humuhumu ‘to sew’, instead of the word for ‘tree (with trunk)’. ‘Treetrunk’ would be a better match for ‘dugout canoe’.
  • The sound correspondences are haphazard. The “ancient Chumash” form tomolo’o is paired with modern Hawaiian kumulaa‘au. But the “ancient” Eastern Polynesian form for the latter would have been something like *tumu ‘trunk’ plus *la‘akau ‘wood’. It wasn’t just Polynesian *t that shifted to k in Hawaiian (and that fairly recently); Polynesian *k had earlier shifted to ‘ (glottal stop). So, if we’re going to restore Hawaiian kumu to Polynesian *tumu to make it match Chumash tomo- then we also need to restore Hawaiian laa‘au to Polynesian *la‘akau, where *la‘a would have to match Chumash -lo and *kau would match Chumash -‘o. Let’s not even talk about the vowels, which famously count for little in historical and comparative linguistics.

It wouldn’t be at all surprising if ancient Polynesians had visited the coast of North America. They apparently reached the coast of South America, from which they brought back the sweet potato. But the evidence they had anything to do with Chumash ocean-going canoes is far from convincing.

SOURCE: Hawaiian Dictionary, revised and enlarged edition, by Mary Kawena Pukui and Samuel H. Elbert (U. Hawai‘i Press, 1986).

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Senkyoushigo: Macaronic Missionary Talk

Hey dode [partner < doryo], okinasai [wake up]! It’s time I got a start on asagohan [breakfast] so we can have some oishii [tasty] muffins before benkyokai [study meeting]. You’re dish-chan this week, so you go take the first fud [bath < ofuro]. Come on in and I’ll show you how to tsukeru [turn on] the mono [thing].

This sample of Japanese-English mixed speech is from an article by former Mormon missionary Kary D. Smout published in the Summer 1988 issue of American Speech (pp. 137-149). He explains:

Because there were so few English monolingual speakers in southern Japan, I gradually eliminated standard English from my active language list over the next few months; eventually I spoke no English, about eight hours of Japanese, and about eight hours of senkyoshigo [missionary-language] per day. As is generally true of Mormon missionaries in Japan, I spoke senkyoshigo so much and standard English so little that, when I returned to America at the end of twenty-two months, I could not form a single English sentence without first mentally editing it in order to eliminate the senkyoshigo expressions it contained.

At lot of senkyoushigo consists of normal Japanese words in normal English sentences, but it does contain some unique combinations:

  • cook-chan Person assigned to cook
  • dish-chan Person assigned to wash dishes
  • Eigo bandit Japanese person who speaks only English to American missionaries
  • golden kazoku Family interesting in joining the church
  • kanji bandit, kanji jock Missionary who can read and write Japanese characters

Other unique aspects are anglicized slang truncations of commonly used Japanese terms:

  • benny [< obenjo] Japanese toilet
  • bucho, buch [< dendo bucho] Mission president, supervisor of the missionaries (pejorative)
  • dode [< doryo] Companion, assigned roommate and work partner of a missionary
  • fud [< ofuro] Japanese bathtub

Finally, there are English terms with alternative meanings specific to the mission context:

  • armpit of the mission Least promising and most unpleasant city within the mission boundaries
  • greenbean New missionary who has just come from America
  • trunky Excited about going home; unable to concentrate or work hard [packed and ready to go]

Some of the above may now be obsolete.

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What’s the Etymology, Dude?

Dude! Today CNN.com posted a nerdy AP story about sociolinguistics and etymology and stuff like that. Here’s the most boring part.

A linguist from the University of Pittsburgh has published a scholarly paper deconstructing and deciphering the word “dude,” contending it is much more than a catchall for lazy, inarticulate surfers, skaters, slackers and teenagers….

Historically, dude originally meant “old rags” — a “dudesman” was a scarecrow. In the late 1800s, a “dude” was akin to a “dandy,” a meticulously dressed man, especially out West. It became “cool” in the 1930s and 1940s, according to Kiesling. Dude began its rise in the teenage lexicon with the 1981 movie “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.”

“Dude” also shows no signs of disappearing as more and more of our culture becomes youth-centered, said Mary Bucholtz, an associate professor of linguistics at the University of California, Santa Barbara.

“I have seen middle-aged men using ‘dude’ with each other,” she said.

Middle-aged men? Eeeewww! Time to retire that usage.

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Regions of Mind on Ukraine

In case you missed it, Regions of Mind has a series of meaty posts on Ukraine, with unique contributions from an old friend who is a Ukraine specialist:

For more on the complexities of the language picture, see Language Log (via Language Hat).

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The Meanings of Kamikaze

Language Hat has an interesting discussion thread about how kamikaze came to mean ‘suicide attack’. I’ll elevate my comment there to a blogpost here.

I suspect kamikaze ‘divine wind’ was probably first no more than an inscription on the hachimaki ‘headband’ that is still worn by many Japanese on a special mission, whether or not that mission is likely to be fatal. Other hachimaki can have other motivational slogans like ‘Victory’, ‘Success’, or ‘Fighting Spirit’. (Too bad there aren’t old Confucian slogans that literally translate as ‘Exceed Sales Target’ or ‘Constantly Innovate’!)

There is nothing intrinsic in kamikaze that suggests suicide (less than there is in an American slogan like “Remember the Alamo!”), but there is a strong suggestion of a devastating air attack on shipping. I wonder if the suicide submarine Kaiten Tokkoutai (‘Turn Heaven Special Attack Force’) also wore hachimaki with kamikaze written on them. I can’t quite make out the characters on the hachimaki in the photos at the link, but I doubt they say ‘Safety First’. Like the original kamikaze, the suicide submarines and airplanes both aimed to destroy ships at sea.

There were at least two varieties of “special attack” planes: Thunder Gods and Kamikaze. ‘Thunder god’ may translate kaminari ‘thunder’, now written with a single Chinese character but clearly derived from something like ‘god-sound’. The Kaminari Ohka (‘thunder cherry-blossom’) “was a piloted glider bomb released from beneath a mother plane and used in suicide attacks on Allied ships.” Cherry blossoms in samurai culture connote the transience of life–therefore death, and frequently death in battle.

To end off on a lighter note: I’m sorry, but the much rarer Chinese reading of kamikaze–shinpuu–just makes me think of a divine wind of the odiferous (though hardly suicidal) kind!

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English Accent Recordings

The British Library has deposited online a selection of recordings of English Accents and Dialects collected during the 1950s. Turn up your speaker volume and try out this one, by Miss Dibnah, b. 1890, from Welwick, Yorkshire, recorded in 1955, about ‘how to make white bread, brown bread and spice bread’. Here are the grammar notes for this one.

grammar

adjective as adverb (I kneaded it real well; if you don’t knead it real well; I kneads it real well; then it’s real brown)

zero definite article (if you don’t put it in front of _ fire; I puts it in front of _ fire again; I puts it into _ oven; I leaves it in _ oven; I pokes _ fire up; I shoves _ damper in; put it into _ oven)

past participle gotten (when it had gotten risen; we’d gotten egg in)

verbal inflection with I (I takes; I kneads; I puts; I leaves; I pokes; I shoves; (I) stands it); verbal inflection with plural noun (some folks puts whole brown flour in)

non-standard plural marker (if they are big loafs; today they were big loafs)

first person singular has (then I has a look at it)

second person be + negative particle (if you ain’t)

zero for + time phrase (I leaves it _ another twenty minutes; it has to bake _ two hours)

use of thou (thou means spice bread)

word order with infinitive phrase (you have it to weigh = you have to weigh it)

past participle baken (when you get that baken)

note use and phonetic quality of utterance initial discourse marker why [wa:I]

via Foreign Dispatches

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Language Hat on Native Speakers

Language Hat has inspired another long and fascinating comment thread by asking his multilingual lay and linguist readers to weigh in on the question of whether the label “native speaker” describes primarily one’s linguistic competence or one’s biography. Responses come from all over the sociolinguosphere.

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Language Politics in Rwanda?

KIGALI, Sep 20 (IPS) – Since the 1994 genocide, relations between France and Rwanda have been chilly due to France’s links to the Hutu-dominated regime which incited the carnage.

Up to now, France seems unwilling to come to terms with the fact that the former rebel movement, the Rwanda Patriotic Front (RPF), led by exiled Tutsis mainly from neighbouring Uganda, is now in control in the tiny central African country.

In July 1994, Rwanda, whose official language had been French since independence in 1962, decreed that all laws be published in both French and English and that daily transactions take place in either.

via the Head Heeb, whose post attracted an interesting comment.

It’s worth mentioning that one of the reasons that France was so strongly opposed to the Tutsi rebels was that they’d grown up in Uganda, a former British colony, and therefore spoke English, rather than French.

Over the medium term, I don’t think that we’ll see much switching between English and French in sub-Saharan Africa. Instead, we’ll see a continuing erosion of minority colonial languages as former Portuguese and Spanish colonies align more closely with the Anglophone and Francophone neighbors.

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Yapese Spelling Reform: "That Damn Q!"

Like Marshallese speakers at the eastern end of Micronesia, Yapese speakers at the western end seem to be resistant to spelling reforms designed by outside linguists.

The most recent Yapese Bible orthography makes do with only 5 vowels, but writes all the consonants. However, it spells glottal stop inconsistently. A glottal stop is implicit between any two adjacent vowels in a word, as in gaar ‘to say’, which has two syllables with a glottal stop in between. People used to use the same device to indicate final glottals, as in pii ‘to give’, but the most recent Bible orthography now writes the final glottal with an apostrophe, thus pi’. Except on a handful of grammatical forms, like u ‘at’, i ‘he, she, it’, glottal stops are predictable on words written with initial vowels, just as they are in English or German, so the Bible orthography doesn’t write them at all.

In the new orthography, however, the glottal stop is everywhere spelled with a q, and resistance to the new orthography centers on “that damn q” in new spellings like Waqab ‘Yap’, girdiiq ‘people’, qarcheaq ‘bird, bat’, and even Qapriil ‘April’ and Qaawguust ‘August’. (Imagine German Qach, du lieber Qaugustine!)

The decision to use q in place of the apostrophe for glottal stop was motivated by the fact that the apostrophe was already used to indicate a glottalized release on consonants. Yapese, like Navajo, has a whole series of glottalized consonants in addition to plain equivalents in initial, medial, and final position within the word, thus:

p, t, k vs. p’, t’, k’

m, n, ng vs. m’, n’, ng’

f, th, vs. f’, th’

l, y, w vs. l’, y’, w’

So, in theory, it is possible that rung’ag ‘to hear’ might be ambiguous between rung+’ag and the nonexistent forms *ru+ng’ag or *rung’+ag. In practice, this seems to be an awfully weak justification for introducing “that damn q.”

Writing more vowel distinctions, on the other hand, seems well motivated. Yapese distinguishes among 8 long vowels, with a further possibility of 8 short vowels–although length is partially predictable from the position of the vowel in the word. All eight long vowels show up in the following minimal octet, so convenient for linguistic analysis: miil ‘to run’, meel ‘sail rope’, meal [æ] ‘rotten’, mael [a] ‘war’, maal [a] ‘taro type’, mool ‘to sleep’, moel ‘adze handle’, muul ‘to fall’. Using digraphs to write vowels, of course, precludes the old reliance on adjacent vowels to indicate glottal stop.

Examples of the old and new renditions of the most common greeting exchange follows.

  • ‘Where are you going?’

    Old: Ngam man ngan

    New: Nga mu maen ngaan
  • ‘I’m (just) going over there’

    Old: Nggu wan ngaram

    New: Ngu gu waen nga raam

The Pacific Area Language Materials website gives a sample of what the Japanese story Momotaro looks like in the new orthography. Look at all those paragraphs beginning with Q, especially on Qeree ‘and then’, which in the Bible is written Ere.

Once again, a socially optimal orthography in actual use can get by with even fewer alphabetic distinctions than a linguist might desire for the purpose of distinguishing each word in isolation from the sentential, semantic, and social context in which those words are normally used. A simpler, underspecified writing system would allow more Yapese to write their own language without having to run everything by someone with sufficient linguistic training to understand the New Orthography. It would take literacy out of the hands of experts and give it back to the people who need it most.

SOURCES: John Thayer Jensen, Yapese Reference Grammar (Hawai‘i, 1977; out of print) and Yapese-English Dictionary (Hawai‘i, 1977; out of print); Thin Rok Got nib Thothup [‘Word of God that’s Holy’ = the Bible].

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Marshallese Spelling Reforms

The public renunciation by several media giants of spelling reforms promulgated in Germany less than a decade ago has generated some discussion in the blogosphere, notably on Rainy Day, Crooked Timber, and a Fistful of Euros, the last two with wide-ranging comment threads.

To take the discussion a little farther afield, I’d like to add a glimpse of what teachers and writers of two Micronesian languages are up against. In Marshallese and Yapese, spelling reforms promulgated in the early 1970s have yet to take hold. (I use “promulgated” to mean ‘imposed by specialists whose expertise is unimpeachable, but whose vision is clouded by thoroughly impractical ideals’.)

In both cases, the new orthographies suffer from two major drawbacks. (1) The only major literature written in each language has been the Bible. One tampers with holy scripture at one’s peril. Just witness how many Christians still stick to the King James Bible or to Latin liturgy. (2) Linguistic experts were overzealously committed to the “one phoneme, one symbol” principle of orthography design. Among all the languages I’ve dabbled in, Marshallese, Yapese, and possibly Nauruan seem the most resistant to any orthography that places that principle above all others.

Here’s a bit of a glimpse at Marshallese. Yapese will follow in another post.

Marshallese can be analyzed as having only four vowel phonemes that differ by height, but whose roundness (oh-ness vs. eh-ness) or backness (uh-ness vs. eh-ness) depend on their neighboring consonants. For instance, the vowel phoneme /e/ can sound like eh (open e), uh (schwa), or oh (o). In the textbook Spoken Marshallese (1969) the vowels are written i, e, a, & (yes, ampersand, but it was later replaced with an ę). The linguist Mark Hale refers to these four phonemes as cup of coffee, telephone, yinyang, and soccer ball, presumably because each word or phrase contains the varying sound values of the respective abstract phoneme.

Marshallese consonants distinguish only three main positions of articulation: lips (p, m), tongue tip (t, n), and tongue back (k, ng). Voicing (t vs. d, p vs. b) is not distinctive, but three secondary articulations are: “light”/palatal (py, my, ly), “heavy”/velar (p, m, l), and rounding (kw, ngw, lw). The parenthetical examples are not orthographic, but only intended to hint at pronunciation differences. One solution is to write the “heavy” consonants as if they were voiced: b, d, g vs. p, t, k, but that doesn’t help with the nasals: m, n, ng (the latter also written g).

The “light” consonants front the neighboring vowels (e > eh), the “heavy” consonants back them (e > uh), and the round consonants round them (e > oh). Two different consonant types on either side can pull the vowel in two different directions, creating dipththongs.

Examples of “improvements” in the 1969 textbook orthography:

  • ‘Hello’

    Old: Yokwe yok

    New: Yi’yaqey y&q
  • ‘I’m going to Ailinglaplap / Jaluit’

    Old: Ij etal ñan Ailinglaplap / Jaluit

    New: Yij yetal gan Hay&l&gļapļap / Jalw&j

Since Marshallese makes too many distinctions for the standard keyboard, a linguistically optimal solution to facilitate literacy in Marshallese could go in either of two directions. The first direction seems by and large to prevail.

  • Write more vowels than strictly necessary in order to keep them less abstract and because vowel diacritics are easier to keyboard, while relying on the neighboring vowels to show some of the consonant distinctions. This allows people to write with lower levels of linguistic or computer literacy.
  • Write only the minimal (four) vowel distinctions, and add diacritics to distinguish all the consonants in order to show the full beauty of the underlying phonological system. This requires higher standards of linguistic and computer literacy before people can write their own language.

I would suggest that a socially optimal orthography might get by with even fewer alphabetic distinctions. People could write fewer vowels and consonants than would be optimal in isolation, while relying instead on sentential, semantic, or social context to reduce ambiguity. But this approach would make linguists feel rather less useful.

A revised Marshallese Bible was published in 2002. I’m not sure which of the several previous orthographic practices it relies on. Marshallese editions of (portions of) the Bible go back to the the 1860s, after the first missionaries had arrived, some of them from Hawai‘i.

Sample PDFs of Marshallese materials in a vowel-rich, consonant-poor orthography are accessible from the Pacific Area Language Materials website.

SOURCES: Heather Willson, A Brief Introduction to Marshallese Phonology (PDF, UCLA); Byron Bender, Spoken Marshallese (Hawai‘i, 1969); R.W.P. Brasington, Epenthesis and deletion in loan phonology (PDF, U. Reading, 1981).

UPDATE: David at Rishon-Rishon examines the question of “social optimality” at greater length, with evidence from Russian and Hebrew, noting that Russian writes consonantal palatalization on the vowels, while Hebrew writes velarization on the consonants.

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