Text
linguistics at the millennium:
Corpus
data and missing links
robert
de beaugrande
Abstract
Text
linguistics seems to have originated chiefly in order to expand the search for
constraints, which was being noticeably impeded by the self-imposed
restrictions in a ‘linguistics’ centred on isolated, invented sentences
and abstract formalisms. Yet early attempts to bring the ‘text’ into the
scope of such a linguistics now seem inverted: for us the actual text, not the
invented sentence, must be the essential linguistic unit, and is sustained by
internal systemic organisation and by its external systemic organisation
within one or more ‘intertexts’. In the coming millennium, this prospect
can now finally be documented and clarified by working with very large corpora
of authentic texts, whereby we can hope to uncover some of the vital and
delicate missing links between ‘language’ and ‘text’.
Keywords:
virtual and actual system; theory and practice; theoretical and
practical; intuition; collocability and colligability; delicacy; large corpus
data; intertext; intersystemic event
A. ‘Language’ and ‘text’ in ‘modern
linguistics’
1.
Modern ‘general linguistics’ has been a singular enterprise, at times most
sharply distinguished from other approaches to ‘language’ by its
self-imposed restrictions. Since its outset, it has been influenced by Saussure’s
(1966 [1916]: 232) aspiration that ‘the true and unique object of
linguistics’ should be ‘language studied in and for itself’. In effect,
this vision of ‘linguistic’ science has been pursuing the question: what
would ‘language’ look like when it’s off by itself and not being used
(cf. § 14, 82) ?
2. An unwelcome answer would
be that it no longer looks like a real
language. If so, the term ‘language’ used by this linguistics loses
its ordinary meaning, namely: a mode of communication used among the members of a
human community. Some common uses in this meaning can be seen in these
authentic data supplied in July 1994 from the ‘Bank of English’ at
Birmingham University, the world’s largest computerised text-data corpus,
then containing over 200 million words (cf. § 60, 64, 89) :
(1) you should be pleased that the French
language has been spared
(2) he has no qualifications in teaching
English as a Foreign Language
(3) it’s old-fashioned, and it’s in a
foreign language. People are frightened of it
(4) I was told afterward that my language was
most entertaining
(5) fatally damaged? I don’t want to use
language of that sort
(6) there is a lot of bad language and
gratuitously oafish behaviour
(7) General
Kryuchkov used the language of the Cold War when he accused the US
(8)
He violently opposes the new language law, which makes major
concessions to ethnic minorities
Sample
(1) concerns the ‘French language’ spoken as a native language by a
whole nation, whereas sample (2) concerns the ‘English language’ as
a subject-matter to be ‘taught’ to, and learned by, people who speak a
different native language. Sample (3) implies that ‘a foreign
language’ may contribute to ‘frightening people’. Samples (4) , (5) ,
and (6) indicate how particular uses of ‘language’ get evaluated. In
sample (7) , ‘language’ covers both the style and the content of what a
Russian General said — belligerent in tune with the ‘Cold War’. And
sample (8) mentions a government regulation concerning which language or
languages should be used and when, for instance as an ‘official language’
in a multilingual country. So all these uses relate to real people who either
might use a ‘language’ for communication, or else might be hindered in
doing so because they had ‘no qualifications’ (2) , or because the
‘language’ was ‘foreign’ (3) or was restricted by a ‘language
law’ (8) , and so on. None of the uses matches ‘language in and for
itself’ in the austere theoretical meaning of Saussurian linguistics.
3.
This mismatch might explain why Saussure (1966
[1916]: 9, 11) asserted that ‘speech cannot be studied’, ‘for we
cannot discover its unity’; it is only a ‘heterogeneous mass’ of
‘accessory and accidental facts’ (§ 10, 21f, 39, 82) . Later, Chomsky
(1965: 4, 201) asserted in similar vein that the ‘observed use of
language’ ‘surely cannot constitute the subject-matter of linguistics, if
this is to be a serious discipline’; ‘much of the actual speech observed
consists of fragments and deviant expressions of a variety of sorts’. As if
in parallel, these same linguists asserted that ‘the concrete entities of language are not directly
accessible’ (Saussure, 1966 [1916]: 110) ; and that
‘knowledge of the language, like most facts of interest and importance, is
neither presented for direct observation nor extractable from data by
inductive procedures of any known sort’ (Chomsky, 1965: 18) .
4.
The mismatch is thus a signal that ‘language’, being the true
‘subject-matter of linguistics’ as a ‘serious discipline’, is not what
real people hear or see in ‘actual speech’. Another well-known claim then
falls into place: ‘linguistic theory is concerned primarily with an ideal
speaker-listener, in a completely homogeneous speech-community, who knows its
language perfectly’ (Chomsky, 1965: 3) . Neither this ‘speaker’ nor this
‘community’ ‘exist in the real world’, as Chomsky (1977: 172)
has calmly conceded. So the true nature of ‘language’ is known only to
academics whose degrees in ‘theoretical linguistics’ somehow equip them
with privileged access to ‘perfect knowledge’ (cf. § 29, 34, 83) .
5.
One of Saussure’s (1966: 8) most candid acknowledgements also falls
into place: whereas ‘other sciences work with objects that are given in
advance’, in ‘linguistics’ ‘it is the viewpoint that creates the
object’. What he did not acknowledge but has been extensively displayed in
the subsequent history of modern linguistics is that multiple ‘viewpoints’
create multiple ‘objects’, whereby the meaning of the term ‘language’
has grown steadily more unstable and obscure. Linguistics has been fragmented
into disputatious factions, each assigning to ‘language’ its own idealised
meaning. And much time and print has been expended upon disputing over whose
idealisation is better without turning for adjudication to the evidence of
real language in ‘actual speech’ (Beaugrande, 1997a, 1998a, 1998b) .
6. What then about the status and meaning of the term text?
In the field proposed by linguists from Saussure up through Chomsky, the
‘text’ would seem to merit no home at all. As Halliday (1994: xxii)
has remarked, Saussure’s ‘understanding of the relationship between the
system of language and its instantiation in acts of speaking’ implied that
‘the text’ ‘can be dispensed with’; and ‘linguistics, for much of
the twentieth century’, has accordingly been ‘obsessed with the system at
the expense of text’
7. A few linguists did proffer a home for the ‘text’ in
their theories, but failed to secure it in their own practices of
investigation. For Hjelmslev (1969 [1943]: 12) , ‘the linguistic
investigator is given’ ‘the as yet unanalysed text in its undivided and
absolute integrity’ (but cf. § 88) . So ‘linguistic theory starts from
the text as its datum and attempts to show the way to a self-consistent and
exhaustive description of it through an analysis’ (1969: 21) . The
‘theory’ must also ‘indicate how any other text of the same premised
nature can be understood in the same way’ by ‘furnishing us with tools
that can be used on any text’ (1969: 16) . ‘Obviously, it would be humanly
impossible to work through all existing texts’, and ‘futile’ as well, if
‘the theory must also cover texts as yet unrealised’ (1969: 17) (cf.
§ 88) . Even so, Hjelmslev counselled that ‘linguistic theory’ should
seek to ‘describe and predict’ ‘any conceivable or theoretically
possible texts’ ‘in any language whatsoever’ (1969: 16f) . He even
stipulated that ‘linguistic theory’ should ‘foresee’ ‘a language
without a text constructed in that language’ (1969: 39f) (cf. § 37) .
8. Hjelmslev’s line of argument implied a programmatic move
to situate the ‘text’ inside the same abstract theoretical sphere as
‘language’ (or ‘langue’) defined by Saussure, whose programme
Hjelmslev is known to have heartily approved. We might sense a remarkable
expansiveness in the aspiration for ‘linguistic theory’ to provide one
single method of ‘description’ and ‘analysis’: first for the one
‘unanalysed given text’, then for ‘all theoretically possible texts’,
and finally even for the non-existent texts of ‘a language without a
text’. How this aspiration could be put into practice is obscure: in the
four published volumes of Hjelmslev’s writings, I could not find even one
demonstration. His only directive was that ‘the text is regarded as a class
analysed into components, then these components as classes analysed into
components, and so on until the analysis is exhausted’ (1969: 12f) . So the
text would be like a big chunk of language waiting to be taken to pieces which
would then be taken into smaller pieces, over and over, until we arrive at the
opposite end from its ‘undivided integrity’ (§ 7, 57) .
9. We might contrast Hjelmslev’s programme with that of J.R.
Firth, who declared that ‘the text is the main concern of the linguist’
(1968 [1952-59]: 24, 90, 173) . ‘All texts’ ‘in modern spoken
languages’ are considered to ‘carry the implication of utterance’ and
are ‘referred to typical participants in some generalised context of
situation’ (1957 [1951]: 220, 226) . So the ‘attested language text’
should be ‘duly recorded’ and ‘abstracted from the matrix of
experience’ (1968: 199f, 99) . Since it may not be ‘possible or desirable
to present the whole of the materials collected during the observation
period’, some ‘corpus’ is ‘essential’ (1968: 32) (cf. sections
E, F, and G) .
10. Still, Firth did not intend to countermand Hjelmslev’s
programme by situating the text on the side of ‘speech’ in opposition to
Saussure’s ‘language’, because Firth (1968: 28, 41, 127, 139f)
roundly rejected the whole dichotomy between ‘langue and parole’. By
‘referring’ the text to ‘typical participants’ and ‘generalised
contexts’ and by ‘abstracting it from the matrix of experience’, the
linguist would lift the text up from the merely ‘heterogeneous,
accessory, and accidental’ plane where we saw Saussure
situating ‘speech’ (§ 4) . Unfortunately, Firth’s own four published
volumes give only a few sketchy demonstrations, far short in practice of what
his writings on theory projected.
11. At all events, the ‘text’ was likely to remain on the
margins of linguistics as long as it was eclipsed by the sentence. Curiously, the ‘sentence’ did not start out as the
prototype of ‘language’ in the meaning of Saussure. He had argued that although
‘the sentence is the ideal type of syntagm’, ‘it belongs to speaking
[parole], not to language [langue]’ (1966 [1916]:
124) . However, his reservations distinctly placed the sentence on both sides: ‘in the
syntagm there is no clear-cut boundary between the language fact, which is a
sign of collective usage, and the fact that belongs to speaking and depends on
individual freedom; in a great number of instances it is hard to classify a
combination of units because both forces have combined in producing it, and
they have combined in indeterminate proportions’ (1966: 124f; see Beaugrande,
1999a for discussion) .
12.
These early reservations did not prevent the sentence from later occupying the
centre of modern linguistics, most famously when the ‘generative’ approach
defined a ‘language’ to be an ‘infinite of set sentences’ (Chomsky,
1957: 13) (cf. § 32) . Officially, the ‘sentence’ was a unit purely
restricted to ‘syntax’ or ‘grammar’, two terms now used as if they
were interchangeable, although they cannot be, as we shall see (§ 17f) . Yet
this restriction could not be sustained during attempts to actually formulate
a ‘generative grammar’, even for small samplings of invented English
sentences. The term ‘sentence’ was also being unofficially used (among
other things) for a semantic unit that should be called a
‘proposition’ and for a pragmatic unit that should be called a ‘speech
act’, as if to paper over the ‘indeterminate proportions’ in
Saussure’s reservation (Beaugrande, 1997a) . So just when ‘generative’
linguists were volubly announcing that the ‘study of competence abstracts
away from the whole question of performance’ and ‘why speakers say what
they say, how language is used in various social groups, how it is used in
communication, etc.’ (Dresher and Hornstein, 1976: 328) , the concept of the
‘sentence’ was being quietly stretched and bent in the direction of
‘performance’ (cf. § 50) .
13.
As long as the ‘sentence’ was getting stretched, the need to recognise the
‘text’ might not have seemed urgent. But the restrictions of the single
sentence eventually had to become onerous for linguistic investigations even
in the narrowed area of ‘syntax’ or ‘grammar’. And some linguists
would eventually respond by looking ‘beyond the sentence’ and at the
‘text’. Not surprisingly, much early work in ‘text linguistics’
emblematically aspired to build upon what now came to be called, for purposes
of contrast, ‘sentence linguistics’ — a term that would have seemed
oddly redundant to the ‘generative’ approach. By exploiting the
‘indeterminate proportions’ implicit in the sentence (§ 11) , such work
need not settle the question of whether the ‘text’ might be a unit of the
‘actual speech’ rejected by the linguists who had followed Saussure and
Chomsky (cf. § 3, 10, 23) .
14.
The most straightforward strategy for getting the text inside a linguistics
designed for the sentence would be to define the ‘text’ as a sequence
of sentences. As such, the ‘text’ could smoothly inherit the
established properties of the sentence, such as being ‘grammatical’,
‘well-formed’, and ‘rule-governed’. Yet disputes arose in the early
1970s over the question of whether those properties were sufficient, so that
established ‘sentence linguistics’ could account for whatever might be
found (Dascal and Margalit, 1974) ; or whether new properties would be found
that belong or apply only to texts (van Dijk, 1972) .
15. Text linguists naturally favoured the second option, which justified
their work as an accredited field. But in retrospect, I find the question
inverted. Following such leads as Hartmann (1968, 1971) and Schmidt
(1973) , we can accept the text as the essential linguistic unit and then
explore the status of the sentence as one of the potential segments within a
text, and thus one that could explicitly benefit from the previously implicit
bending in the direction of performance (§ 12, Beaugrande, 1999a) . Moreover,
the sentence could richly inherit the properties that have since been
established for the text, such as being ‘cohesive’, ‘coherent’,
‘intentional’, ‘acceptable’, ‘informative’, and ‘situational’
(Beaugrande and Dressler, 1981) (cf. § 59) .
16.
In the process, we might reach the unsettling conclusion that syntax
doesn’t exist in natural language insofar as the term means a system of
‘formal rules’ for arranging words together in sentences (cf. § 14)
(compare García, 1979; Givón. 1979; Beaugrande 2000) . As already implied by
Saussure’s reservation about the ‘sentence’ (§ 11) , speakers and
writers certainly select and combine words in response to important
‘non-syntactic’ factors, such as lexical preferences, communicative
situations, and personal motivations (§ 98-101) . To assert that these
factors are all ‘beyond the sentence’ or ‘outside the sentence’ is to
ignore their potent effects inside
the sentence and to block off significant resources for description and
analysis.
17.
The restrictions of syntax become most obtrusive when it gets directly equated
with ‘grammar’ (§ 12) . Despite the once fashionable notion of a ‘deep
structure underlying surface structure’ (e.g. Chomsky, 1965) , a
‘grammar’ which looks only at the order of words inside isolated sentences
and not at ‘why speakers say what they say, how language is used in various
social groups, how it is used in communication’ (§ 12) must remain a
shallow and superficial enterprise. In English — unlike many other languages
— word-order is sufficiently ‘frozen’ in some areas to sustain carefully
selected Aspects of the Theory of Syntax;
and these have indeed been the concerns of ‘generative linguistics’ until
it withdrew into ‘universals’ and ‘mental representations’, where the
‘sentence’ is no longer crucial (see Beaugrande, 1998a for discussion) .
18.
A realistic and empirically justified ‘grammar’ would rather be the front
end for all the relevant motivations that speakers or writers typically
apply or reflect when they put classes of words (e.g. Nouns) or of
word-parts (e.g. Suffixes) in one order rather than another (cf. § 101)
. This lesson might also be drawn from the recalcitrant obstacles encountered
by the early projects of text
linguistics to construct a text grammar
from the top down in the narrow and abstract ‘generative’ sense. The
‘text grammar’ for a fairly short text by Bertolt Brecht (‘Herrn K.s
Lieblingstier’) , which even shows a simple vocabulary and some parallelisms
in its phrasing, got tangled in an explosive complexity of ‘rules’1
(cf. van Dijk, Ihwe, Rieser, and Petöfi, 1972) , and the project was
eventually abandoned with no official conclusion (cf. § 38) . The same fate
can be predicted for any project to describe ‘texts’ on comparable levels
of abstraction and formality: what gets ‘abstracted away’ during the
‘formalisation’ would be vitally needed in order to account just for the order
of words, and far more for the choices
of words (cf. § 40) .
19. The converse approach for a ‘text linguistics’, and
the one that has gradually won out, is to work from the bottom up. We need to
examine a comprehensive range and variety of authentic texts and explore what
sorts of properties deserve to be accounted for, including, but not restricted
to, those of ‘grammar’ in the broad sense of § 18. We can apply whichever
categories and concepts of previous ‘linguistics’ seem productive, but we
can also apply ones from adjacent fields, such as literary studies, cognitive
science, artificial intelligence, ethnography, economics, and political
science (cf.
Beaugrande, 1980, 1997a, in preparation) —
whatever bases we can enlist in exploring how speakers do select and combine words inside
phrases, clauses, sentences, or any other relevant units, such as paragraphs,
essays, or science textbooks.
20.
This approach has a distinctly Firthian flavour, although we can exploit
fields, methods, and resources that were not available to Firth and his
pupils. Today, we are far better positioned to ‘observe’
and ‘collect’ a ‘corpus’ of ‘attested language texts’ and
to determine what is ‘typical’ and ‘generalisable’ (§ 9f) .
Admittedly, the sheer size of the task remains daunting enough to indicate why
Saussurian linguistics was so eager to rule out the ‘study of speech’ (§
3) . Yet the task deserves to be at the top of our agenda for the next
millennium.
B. Virtual system and actual system
21.
As a provisional strategy, some ‘text linguists’ (myself included)
have for a number of years been proposing to view the relation between a
language and a text as one between a virtual
system and an actual system. One pioneer
for this view was the eminent linguist and language philosopher Peter
Hartmann,2 who, together with his pupils (e.g. Siegfried J.
Schmidt, Roland Harweg, Walter A. Koch, Götz Wienold) , were the most
thoughtful originators of text linguistics. Against
any linguistics that might view texts being like Saussure’s ‘speech’,
i.e., ‘heterogeneous’, ‘accidental’, and devoid of ‘unity’ (§ 3)
, we maintain that the text is internally
systemic on its own terms and is externally
systemic in respect to other texts (§ 47, 99) . The text is thus an intersystemic
event during which multiple systems interact and converge (§ 89) .
22.
This viewpoint does not mean that ‘the interplay of langue and parole
somehow vanishes on the level of texts’ — a consequence inferred from my
work by Lindemann (1981: 126) . Much in the spirit of Firth (§ 10) , text
linguistics firmly rejects the dichotomy of ‘langue and parole’ for having
been deeply misconceived all along. The major flaw, not widely recognised, has
lain in attributing to ‘language’ an ideal
order, and to ‘speech’ an accidental
disorder (Beaugrande, 1998a, 1998b, 1999a) . The bizarre implication would
be that using a ‘language’ in ‘speech’ triggers an abrupt catastrophic
transition from stable and integrative order over to unstable and
disintegrative disorder. Conversely, the linguist whose ‘study abstracts
away from how language is used in communication’ (§ 12) miraculously
restores the pristine, ideal order. The practices of linguistic investigation
would consist chiefly of ‘idealising language’; yet we should be wary of
projecting an ideal that is fully disconnected from real language (Beaugrande,
1998a, 1998b) (§ 97) .
23.
Nor again does this same viewpoint mean that ‘texts seem to be exclusively
created by an actualisation of lower-level virtualities’, and that ‘texts
do not dispose of any virtual systemic aspects of their own’ — further
consequences inferred by Lindemann (1981: 126) . Of course texts hinge
crucially upon the ‘virtual systemic aspects’; our problem is that
‘virtuality’ is not readily isolated from ‘actuality’ when we work
with real texts. Lindemann himself proposed that ‘actually occurring texts
may be virtualised by exploring’ their ‘systemic aspects’, yet this
is precisely what text linguists do in practice though without describing our
practices by that term. However, we cannot be just putting ‘virtuality’
back into a space where it has been ‘actualised out’, because texts always retain some aspects of their virtuality as long as the
language is still known and used.3
So the ‘text’ is not just a unit of ‘actual speech’ (‘parole,
langage, performance’ etc.) in the senses of Saussure and Chomsky (cf.
§ 3, 10, 13) , but is rather a unit
which actually links language to speech.
24.
Some powerful evidence for the ‘virtuality’ would be that a single text
can be received and interpreted (‘actualised’) in more than one way
by different participants in a text-event or even by the same participant at
different times. Such is indeed a constitutive principle of literature; the literary text might, as Wellek and Warren (1956: 152)
have done, be compared to ‘langue’, and each ‘individual realisation’
to ‘parole’. Yet far from navigating between the order of ‘langue and
the disorder of ‘parole’ (§ 22) , the audience recreates a novel order for the ‘textual world’. Your motivation and reward
for reading or listening to a literary text is are thus to be a privileged
participant each time in constructing its ‘world’, whose order is in part
your own creative achievement (Beaugrande, 1988) . The same process would
apply, on a far less conscious plane of creative awareness, for the
actualisation and re-actualisation of any
text; literature merely accentuates and thematises the process to deepen and
broaden our understanding of the human situation.
25.
The implication would be that the ‘same’ text need not have the ‘same
order’ for everybody. At least in its fine details, each actualisation is
unique and unrepeatable. Moreover, each participant has a partially
individualised knowledge of the virtual system, with greater variation in the
lexicon and lesser variation in the grammar (§ 83ff) . So we must resolutely
address the questions of how and how far the respective actualisations of any
text can agree or coincide well enough for a text receiver to feel confident
of ‘understanding’ what the producer ‘meant’; or for several
participants to receive a text in what is thought to be the ‘same way’
Evidently, the degree of convergence among participants in a text-event is achieved on line
through the interaction of multiple systems whose design both anticipates and
adjusts to these achievements.
26.
The production and reception of a text would be complementary transitions between a more open mode and a more closed
mode of systemic order;
and these two modes would determine each other in a continual
dialectic. Contrary to the
assumptions of linguistics cited above, we would conclude that these two modes
of order must be quite proximate: the order of language is more closed and the
order of texts more open than has been widely acknowledged before (§ 56) .
27.
Text linguistics accordingly needs to develop models of how the one mode of
order sustains and tunes
the other. We might postulate a cycle whereby the language ‘actualises’ to
sustain and tune the texts, whilst the texts ‘virtualise’ to sustain and
tune the language. My intransitive usages of the two verbs may sound esoteric,
since the agents of these reciprocal activities are of course the participants
in the text-event; but the activities are normally just by-products of
communicative interaction and do not match what the participants are
consciously doing or intending to do (Hartmann, 1963) . The exceptions would
of course be the poets, whose enterprise consists of seeking and testing new
ways of organising language (Beaugrande, 1978, 1988) .
28.
Our own enterprise as text linguists consists of consciously
‘virtualising’ texts whenever we ‘actualise’ them for the purpose of
drawing inferences about the order of the virtual language system (§ 23) . A
key question, still to be adequately explored, is our own version of the
well-known problem of ‘participants’ versus ‘observers’ (cf. Harweg,
1968) . How can far our conscious
and attentional ‘actualising-for-virtualising’ correspond to, or
accurately describe, the unconscious
and automatic actualising and
virtualising of ordinary text producers and receivers; and what might occur
during our processes of making conscious and focusing attention? Quite
plausibly, the potential of the texts being investigated gets considerably
more elaborated precisely insofar as we prolong and intensify the cycle
postulated in § 27 (see also § 83ff) .
29.
In addition, the principle of each participant having a partially
individualised knowledge of the virtual system (§ 25) must apply to us
too. What might be our status as individuals and within the wider community?
Even if we could set aside our academic training and consider ourselves
reasonably typical, we could not yet
consider ourselves representative,
due to several constraints. The most obvious constraint is that the language
experience of any individual, even
one who has read or written extensively, is only a small part of the
experience of the community. Instead of conveniently taking the community to
be ‘homogeneous’ and purporting to have privileged access to the
‘perfect knowledge of the language’ (§ 4) , we need to lay open the
degrees of real uniformity and diversity among language users and among their
texts to large-scale adjudication with substantive evidence.
30.
A less obvious constraint on being representative could be inferred from the virtuality
I have suggested that texts always retain (§ 23) . This cannot be directly
measured by their manifested uniformity, because ‘virtuality’ is by definition open and
dynamic, and what is manifested is the actuality
that partly confirms it and partly specifies or modifies it to suit the
context. Instead of vowing that ‘knowledge of the
language’ is ‘never presented for direct observation nor extractable from
data’ (§ 3) , we can assume that ‘knowledge of the (virtual)
language’ never totally converges
with any set
of actualities, but does move steadily
closer toward convergence as the set gets larger and more diversified. In
that sense, we all — text linguists or not — remain ‘language
learners’ throughout our lives as we accumulate experience with texts. Text
linguists are just exceptionally self-conscious ‘learners’, ‘observing’ and ‘extracting’
whatever we can in the knowledge that there is always far more beyond it all.
31.
Still another constraint on being representative is the unresolved uncertainty
about intuition providing the source
for a ‘grammar’ to ‘describe the intrinsic competence of the idealised
native speaker’ (Chomsky, 1965: 24) . Contrary to such well-known claims,
unaided intuition is not broader and deeper than language experience but
narrower and shallower. It is best secured for the more stable and general
‘frozen’ areas of the virtual system whose virtuality seems static and
hence independent of ‘actual speech’, whence the preference for
restricting linguistics to a few Aspects
of the Theory of Syntax (cf. § 17) . But intuition is not well secured
for the dynamic cycles of actualising and virtualising precisely because of
the continual tuning. The interacting systems settle down in delicate detail
only at the respective stages of the interaction itself. So the native
speakers’ intuition may well not be reliable for telling you what they would
say until there arises a real-life occasion when they do say it. Intuition operates most smoothly after the fact in making
sense of what has already been said (§ 99) .
32.
This overall line of argument also indicates that the language system never
settles down in a ‘synchronic’ dimension; consequently, all attempts since
Saussure to construct a ‘synchronic description’ are doomed to be partial,
restricted, and provisional. However, these limits should not disband the
‘synchronic’ linguists so much as rather resituate their enterprise. Like
total convergence (§ 30) , ‘synchronicity’ is a factor we can move closer
to yet never attain. It is not set apart in some ideal ‘language’
disconnected from ‘speech’ but represents the totality of simultaneous
actualisings of the virtual system (cf. Harweg, 1968: 142) . So we cannot
remotely achieve any ‘synchronic description’, however partial, by ‘dispensing with texts’
(cf. § 6) ; we need bigger and better means for examining what large sets of
texts have in common.
33.
We thus return to a deep question: if language and text, or virtual and
actual, are closely interconnected yet never converge, how then are their
connections sustained? On a highly general plane, we might stipulate: the language is a set of texts; each text is one member of the set.
We might interpret this stipulation by viewing a ‘language’
as one vast ‘continuous text’, as ‘the totality of what has been written
and spoken (or perhaps even thought) in a language’ (Harweg, 1968:
142, my translation) .
34. We might feel reminded here of the definition
(already
cited in § 12) of a language being ‘an infinite of set sentences’ (Chomsky, 1957:
13) .4 The term ‘infinite’ merits closer examination, as I have
shown elsewhere (Beaugrande, 1998a) . The ‘infinity’ was hypothesised on
the simplistic mechanical basis of ‘recursive devices’ (Chomsky,
1957: 23f) whereby any sentence could, in theory, be made longer or more
complex. In practice, the set of infinitely long or complex sentences is an empty
set and thus an intractable object for constructing a ‘grammar’.
Nor can it plausibly be attributed even to the
‘perfect knowledge’ of ‘ideal speakers’, who also form an empty set of
humans (or superhumans) (cf. § 4) .
35. Still, for the sake of argument, we could infer that if
a text is defined to be a ‘sequence of sentences’ (§ 14) , then
‘generative’ theory would allow for an infinitely
long text.
That text would be theoretically equivalent to one superlong sentence with
‘sentence boundaries as sentential connectives’ (Fodor and Katz, 1964: 491)
. Yet such a text would also inescapably belong to an empty set. At most, our
theorising could plausibly postulate the concept of an infinitely long intertext,
whose practical correlate could be a conversation in which the ‘last word’
can never be said. Such a notion has a ‘post-modern’ or
‘post-structuralist’ flavour, though we are arguably still dealing with an
empty set. What is given is a real set of intertexts such as conversations,
each of which is at any one moment finite, though quite possibly still open,
such as the discourse of history, which could be definitively terminated only
if history came to an end.
36. Halliday (1997: 6) has for some time ‘preferred
to reverse the principle and characterise a language as an infinite system
generating a finite body of text’; but following a recent discussion where I
pointed out that, in terms of mathematical theory, the ‘infinite’ must
include combinations with infinitesimal probabilities, he now favours
‘replacing “infinite” with “indefinitely large”’. The finiteness
of the set of texts in existence at any given moment in time is hardly
disputable, but is a weak constraint for a living language, especially one
spoken as widely as English. Another weak constraint comes from the
‘indefinite largeness’ of the set of potential texts in English. The key
question, as pointed out elsewhere by Halliday (1993) , remains: how does the
set of existing texts constrain the set of potential texts such that, at any
given moment, some ways of adding to the existing set are substantially
more probable than others?
37. Problems with sets also arose when, influenced by the
high-level aspirations of ‘generative linguistics’, some text linguistics
essayed to formulate the constraints for distinguishing the set
of texts from the set of non-texts
(see Dressler, 1972 for discussion) . At the time, these constraints seemed
intuitively plausible in theory, but we can now see why they proved
intractable in practice. The attempt to create a non-text is always just one
step within an ongoing textual event, and thus still a sub-text, however
unconventional. Its ‘textuality’ is locally disrupted but globally
sustained. So in both theory and practice, the ‘set of non-texts’ is one
more empty set and therefore obeys no
constraints. Nor can it be
identified with the set of non-existent texts for which Hjelmslev would have
us postulate a ‘language’ (§ 7f) , since those would still be
‘texts’, although virtual — texts of a ‘language’ whose ‘textual
process’, i.e., its actualisation, is itself purely ‘virtual’ (cf.
Hjelmslev, 1969 [1943]: 40) .
38.
I shall cite just one more constraint on our being representative: the
practices of text linguistics who analyse and describe texts inevitably add to
the set of texts. We thus incur the additional challenge of probing the
relations between the set of texts we are analysing and the set of texts we
are producing as we go along (cf. § 83ff) . This challenge corresponds to
Firth’s (1968) distinction between ‘language under description’
and ‘language of description’, and to his epigram about linguistics being
‘language turned back on itself’. Evidently because science in general has
preferred to regard its own texts ‘as a purer code, eschewing rhetoric and simply
reporting natural fact’ (Bazerman, 1988: 6, 14) , this challenge is still
far from fulfilled. My own studies have consistently found that the relation
between scientific texts and their domain they purport to account for is
complex and unstable, especially when that domain is language itself, as in
modern linguistics. Far too little attention has been devoted to the
practical strategies of a linguist producing and receiving a text about
‘language’, even though they have significant effects upon the operations
and results of ‘theorising’ (Beaugrande, 1984, 1991) .
39.
For the present discussion, one effect I would highlight has been the
widespread textual strategy among linguists of inventing sets of artificial
pseudo-texts, usually isolated
sentences which are either trivial in their ‘grammaticalness’ (like ‘the
man hit the ball’) or else wildly bizarre in their
‘ungrammaticalness’ (like ‘*ball the hit ball man the’) . These are
intended to capture some constraints, optimistically called ‘rules’, of
the ideal system being called ‘language’; and their artificial status may
even be deemed to purge them from the
‘heterogeneous’
and ‘accidental’ qualities of ‘speech’ (cf. § 3) . But in the account
I have proposed here, the production of pseudo-data would ‘tune’ the
language system out of its natural ‘frequencies’, and thus lead to the
postulating of a pseudo-system which
does not deserve to be called a ‘language’.
40.
A second effect I would highlight has been the widespread textual strategy
among linguists of formalising texts,
apparently to render them more amenable to a scientific account (as in Koch,
1971; Ballmer, 1975) . The actual result is to create a set
of semi-texts that are artificial in a different way from pseudo-texts,
namely in having some features or aspects of texts whilst many other features
have been ‘abstracted away’ (§ 12, 18) . These semi-texts are not
trivial; in practice, they may be almost incomprehensible to everyone but
their creators. The production of semi-data would thus also tune the language
system out of its natural frequencies, and lead to the postulating of a semi-system which deserves to be called a ‘language’ no more
than does a pseudo-system. The practices of the linguists during this
production remain quite arbitrary and ad-hoc until we have a full and
creditable account of which features or aspects should or should be
‘abstracted away’ and how the remainder should be ‘formalised’.
41.
The practices of ‘formalising’ texts might correspond to a theory of the
‘text’ itself being a theoretical unit underlying a practical unit called
‘discourse’ (cf. van Dijk, 1972) . Here, we might recall Hjelmslev’s
aspiration to
get the ‘text’ inside the same abstract theoretical sphere as Saussure’s
‘language’, which Hjelmslev himself never attempted to demonstrate in
practice (§ 8) . And, as I have remarked (§ 18) , the demonstrations for
‘text grammars’ displayed an explosive complexity of rules and features,
precisely insofar as a text is not solely a theoretical or virtual unit
but also a practical and actual unit. If we disregard or ‘abstract away
from’ its ‘practicality’ and ‘actuality’, we lose a host of
significant constraints; trying to replace or reconstruct them all with rules
and features is a gratuitous, self-defeating exercise.
42.
Instead of complicating the relation between language and text with sets of
pseudo-data and semi-data, the preferable alternative strategy would be to let
the texts
represent themselves (§ 82) . The texts would retain the same
representation as recorded speech or writing within the experience of the
community of participants in text-events. Special annotations such as
representing the intonation of speech in a written format should be clearly
authorised by the purposes of the investigation and should not impede unduly
comprehension or access to the data.
43.
The practices of text linguists would then not entail transforming texts into
some other representation but rather transforming our own modes of accessing
and exploiting texts as data sources. We need to base our own authority not
upon holding higher academic degrees in ‘theoretical linguistics’ (cf.
§§ 4, 29) but upon examining large sets of authentic textual data
(section H) .
C. Theory and practice
44. These deliberations about the theories and practices of
text linguists counsel us to move onto a higher plane (doing what Peter
Hartmann used to call ‘Überhöhung’) .5 There, we
could define a ‘language’ to be
a general theory of human knowledge and experience evolving in a
dialectical relation to texts as a
set of practices for working out the theory (cf. Hartmann, 1963; Halliday,
1987) . By that definition, all the members of a language community are
implicated in the ‘theory and practice’ of language and text (cf.
Beaugrande, 1997b, 1998c) . More precisely, they sustain and share a dynamic
theory which evolves through a criss-crossing
interaction of many implicit and partial theories about how the practices
of everyday life and ordinary talk are organised. Whilst the diverse contexts
come and go, different partial sub-theories (rather than the whole theory)
are applied and specified in and through the practices.
45. To be sure, a language is a highly unique type of theory.
It cannot be effectively tested and verified or falsified in the familiar
manner of a ‘scientific theory’, because it partially constitutes
what it postulates. We cannot get outside
language in order to talk about it without implicating ourselves in it (cf. §
38) . Such would seem to be the aspiration of projects to ‘formalise’
language, but they merely end up replacing it a ‘semi-system’ whose
relation to real language presents even more knotty problems (§ 40) .
46. Nor again can we say that any one language is a ‘more
correct theory’ or a ‘more valid theory’ than any other. The potential
of any language for expressing human experience is infinite in theory, though
always finite at any one moment of practice. Some languages have, for
historical of political motives, had their potential more fully actualised in
specific domains, such as science and technology. Such is true of English but
by no means ‘validates’ the language to be the ‘superior’ one so often
extolled in the discourse of ‘International English’ (discussion in
Pennycook, 1994; Beaugrande, 1999b) .
47. Now, by the definitions proposed above, what has been
officially called a ‘theory of language’ or a ‘linguistic theory’ so
far would be a ‘meta-theory’, whereas the texts we produce to formulate and expound the
theory would display our ‘meta-practices’.
According to my line of argument here, these ‘meta-domains’ would be
fundamentally different depending on what their object of investigation is
declared to be. In the meanings of Saussurian and Chomskyan linguistics,
‘language studied in and for itself’ is a theory about itself, about pure
‘theoreticalness’
disconnected from the practices of ‘actual speech’. In consequence, their ‘linguistic
theory’ would be a ‘meta-meta-theory’,
as shown most programmatically in the English title of Hjelmslev’s Prolegomena
to a Theory of Language. This theory is doubly remote from practice, and
the practices of ‘doing linguistics’ in general and ‘building linguistic
theories’ in particular are radically under-constrained. Not surprisingly,
many books on ‘theoretical linguistics’ have been sharply critical of the
prior state of the field and have proposed to make a fresh start (Beaugrande,
1991: 334ff) . Over time, ‘linguistic theory appears to offer a stunning variety and
disparity of clashing doctrines’, and ‘striking divergences in terms,
slogans, and technical contrivances’ (Jakobson, 1970: 12) .
48.
But if our object is declared to be authentic texts, then
a ‘text-linguistic
theory’ stays proximate to the practices of real language-users, and our own
meta-practices would not be radically under-constrained. Indeed, we can
productively invest our own status as participants in analysing or
interpreting data produced for a community to which we rightly belong, such as
the readers of the Times, so that
our ‘text-linguistic practices’ are reconciled with the practices in our
object domain, though of course not simply converging with them. Against the
tendency of
‘scientific discourse’ ‘to hide itself’, as if it were somehow ‘not
writing at all’ (Bazerman, 1988: 14) (§ 38) , a ‘science of
texts’ would gain by displaying and even analysing its own discourse and the
latter’s implication in the constitutive and constructive practices of
text-events (see section H) .
49. Working back toward ourselves from the opposite side, we
should also devote far more attention to the ‘theoreticalness’ of
producing and receiving texts in and about everyday life. Most producers and
receivers would probably consider themselves ordinary practitioners or
practical users of a language, who have no interest or authority concerning
‘theoretical’ matters. They might be irritated or perplexed to be told
that knowing a language endows them with one among the most extensive and
powerful theories a human can achieve, far beyond the revered but restricted
‘theories’ of ‘science’. But until they can acknowledge this vast
endowment they will not be adequately empowered to use this resource for
gaining access to knowledge and society (cf. Beaugrande, 1997a, 1998c) .
50. In sum, a chief reciprocal task for a science of texts
would be to cultivate an active sense of the ‘practicalness’ of scientific
texts (ours in particular) and the ‘theoreticalness’ of ordinary
texts, within a programme for reconciling the two sides within a dialectical
interaction. Doing so would require reconstructing the ‘missing links’
between theory and practice, and between a language and the texts in that
language. I shall now consider some prospects as we look ahead to the new
millennium.
D.
Missing links
51. Perhaps the term ‘missing links’ sounds overly
dramatic. After all, the linkage between a language and a text — between
theory and practice — is achieved whenever human beings communicate,
although they don’t recognise their achievement in those terms. But in terms
of scientific investigation, our theories and models of this achievement
undeniably manifest some ‘missing links’. I have been suggesting here that
the toughest problems have stemmed from the assumption that a ‘language’
has a quite different mode of organisation than does ‘actual speech’ (or
texts) , and from the corresponding aspiration to describe language
independently of actual speech. So the urgent move now would be to develop a
more ‘text-like’ view of a language and a more ‘language-like’ view of
a text (§ 55) .
52. One promising approach would be the ‘systemic
functional linguistics’ prominently developed by Michael Halliday, who was
once a pupil of J.R. Firth. Halliday was among the first to realise that the
order of a language must be ‘systemic’ in modes that anticipate, reflect,
and support the ‘systemic’ uses of the language in texts (cf. § 21) .
Firth’s (1968: 192) vision of a text as a ‘longer piece’ to be
‘described as a relational network of structures and systems at clearly
distinguished but congruent levels, converging again in renewal of connection
with experience’ accorded with Halliday’s (1994: xiv) vision of ‘a
language’ ‘as networks of interlocking options’. Quite plausibly, the
networks constitute or contribute one type of ‘missing links’ whose
precise nature is now beginning to be explained.
53.
As Halliday (1997: 6) has recently acknowledged, his approach must
contend with the vast exponential size of the networks needed to represent
‘systemic potential’ as ‘alternative combinations of features’. The
network needs to ‘present’ not just ‘those sets of options that are
currently being instantiated’ but also the ‘open-ended’ ‘further
expansion of that potential’ (1997: 7) . Moreover, any such network
representation should reflect the cline between options which are highly
probable and options which are highly improbable (§ 36) (Halliday, 1993)
. Some options might be fully possible but rarely or never get used (§ 62) .
54.
So the networks for a language would be both too unwieldy and too
under-determined to serve directly as networks for a text. In exchange, the
networks for texts, such those I introduced for the pedestrian ‘rocket’
text (Beaugrande, 1980) , are too compact and specific to represent the
networks of the English language. Once more, we seem to detect some ‘missing
links’, this time between two types of systemic networks.
55.
The strategic place to look for ‘missing links’ would now be in a very
large corpus of authentic texts. Such a corpus can offer our best means for
promoting both a text-like view of language, and a language-like view of texts
(§ 51) . It can also display the competence of the language community bent
very far toward performance, as well as the community’s performance bent
very far toward its competence (cf. § 12) . We might undertake to complement
the systemic functional approach by exploring appropriately sorted corpus data
which may ‘provide evidence for our system networks, allowing them to extend
much further in delicacy while continuing to model language as potential’
(cf. Halliday, 1997: 24) .
56.
Corpus data are so eminently suited to informing us about ‘networks’
because they offer concrete displays of the constraints upon how sets of
choices can interact. In the ‘lexicon’ part of the ‘lexicogrammar’ of
English, these constraints constitute the collocability
in the virtual system, and the textual actualisations are the lexical
collocations. In the ‘grammar’ part of the ‘lexicogrammar’,
these constraints constitute the colligability
in the virtual system, and the textual actualisations are the grammatical
colligations. Following Halliday (1961) and Hasan (1986) , we
can say that the lexical choices are more
delicate, and the grammatical choices are less delicate; ultimately, the lexicon would be the ‘most delicate
grammar’, whilst the grammar would be the ‘least delicate lexicon’.
These paired terms can be situated within an array of multiple dialectic, as
suggested in Figure 1.
Figure 1. The
dialectics among language and text
The
arrows in Fig. 1 indicate that every point can access every other. Thus, what
is ‘collocable’ can constrain not just the collocations but the
colligations; what is ‘colligable’ can constrain not just the colligations
but the collocations; and so on (cf. § 63) . Such constraints ensure that the
order of language is reasonably closed, whilst the order of texts is
reasonably open (§ 26) .
57.
These prospects counsel us to adopt a synthetic
approach of exploring how choices converge in texts, rather than the analytic
approach of subdividing the text into steadily smaller pieces,
as counselled by Hjelmslev (who never showed us how) (§ 8) . We would
then highlight the systemic continuity of the text event: not just the mere
‘co-presence’ of smallest meaningful units (e.g. ‘morphemes’) , but
the interaction of meanings within a coherence that is not just the sum of the
meanings of the parts (Beaugrande, 1984) .
58.
Perhaps an analogy from particle physics might be helpful. There, the four
‘forces’ have recently been reinterpreted not as brute pushes
and pulls, but as information exchanges of ‘messenger
particles’: photons for the electromagnetic force, ‘gluons’ for the
strong force holding the nucleus of the atom together, ‘bosons’ for the
weak force regulating radioactive decay, and — presumed on grounds of
consistency but not yet observed — ‘gravitons’ for gravity. By analogy,
we could envision semantons as
sub-symbolic messenger particles of meaning being interchanged among the
virtual meanings of morphemes or whole words (cf. Smolensky, 1989; Beaugrande, 1997a) .
Through these ‘information interchanges’, some word-choices appear to
‘attract’ each other at varying degrees of strength, in analogy to
magnetism or gravity, and thus to determine which areas of virtual meaning are
being actualised to constitute the context (cf. § 63) .
59.
The interactive constraints and ‘attractions’ indicated in Fig. 1 would
continually supply and sustain the links — ‘missing links’ insofar as
they have eluded our investigations to date — between the language and the
text. Part of the actualised output would be the cohesion
and coherence of the text as
‘standards of textuality’, but also the other ‘standards’ identified
in text linguistics: intentionality,
acceptability, informativity, and situationality
(Beaugrande and Dressler, 1981) (§ 15) . The ‘most missing links’
of all begin to emerge, perhaps like the ‘cold dark matter’ astronomers
believe to be holding galaxies together, namely the links of intertextuality. For the first time ever, we can assemble and
compare the evidence for detailed and delicate intertextual constraints shared
among hundreds or even thousands of related collocations or colligations.
Instead of seeing the text as a set or sequence of
sentences, we can finally see it as a contribution to intertext
(§ 35, 87) .
E. ‘If I were you...’
60.
For a programmatic illustration, I shall survey some corpus data kindly
provided to me by Stephen Bullon, Publishing Manager at COBUILD (Collins
Birmingham University International Language Database) in late 1998 and
early 1999 from the ‘Bank of English’ at Birmingham University, the
world’s largest computerised data corpus, then containing over 329 million
words of running text (cf. § 2)
61.
I wanted to explore the Conditional colligations ‘if I were’ and ‘if I
was’ for a highly practical reason, because they have been items of dispute
among teachers of English grammar. My sampling consisted OF some 800
occurrences out of the total of over 4000 — a partial sample of course, but
a week of hard work to sort out all the same. In respect to colligability, I
found a strong attraction for the Second Person Pronoun6 ‘you’,
and the data indicated why. The coherence of the data was centred on
delivering advice (9) , a warning (10) , or a threat (11) , whilst the
cohesion was centred on the two exophoric Actors ‘I’ and ‘you’:
(9) I’d
get some sleep if I were you. You’ll need to be up at six to catch the early
morning flight from Heathrow.
(10) The builder looked at it and said, ‘I hope
you’re not thinking of filling that thing with water. I wouldn’t if I were
you — it’ll go through the floor.’
(11)
The blood of the mob is up! If I were you, I’d clear out of town now with as
much as you can carry
The
speaker’s intentionality was to imply: ‘I’m not telling you what to do,
I’m just telling you what I would do from my own standpoint if I happened to
be in your place’. Some leeway is reserved for the acceptability of the
hearer who can decline without either side losing face. The informativity is
low when the situationality alerts the hearer about what might or should be
done. But in some contexts, the advice was clearly improbable and informative,
e.g.:
(12) a
girl asked what she could do to stop her boyfriend ejaculating prematurely.
‘If I were you, I would drop him straight away’, came the answer
(13)
‘I’m thinking of sending my paper to the Journal.
Is there room in the next issue?’ Benedict turned to him. ‘If I were
you’, he said carefully, but with thickened accent, ‘I would shred it’.
Huntley bridled. ‘I beg your pardon?’
When
estimating the probabilities of data, we apply our own knowledge of
intertextuality being actualised on demand. Someone leaving from harrowing
Heathrow Airport had better get plenty of ‘sleep’ (9) in order to
survive the ordeal; and someone who has stirred the ‘blood of the mob’ had
better ‘clear out of town’ (11) . But some ‘girl’ who seeks advice
from an agony aunt about her ‘boyfriend’ does not expect to be ordered to
‘drop him straight away’ (12) ; and someone who has written a ‘paper’
would ‘bridle’ at being told to ‘shred it’ (13) .
62.
Other pronouns allowed by the cohesion of English were found to be disfavoured
by colligability. Whereas ‘if I were you’ appeared in 282 data samples and
‘if I was you’ in 37, others colligations were at best marginal, some
hovering between 10 and 20 and some close to or equal to zero. The totals
were:
if I was he 0 if I was she 2 if I was they 0
if
I was him 17 if I was her 5
if I was them 11
if I were he 3
if I were she 0
if I were they 1
if I were him 18
if I were her 6
if I were them 10
These
data indicate which of the virtual colligations of English cohesion are or are
not probable in their colligability for actualisation (§ 53) . Interestingly,
the probabilities were about even for whether the Verb was in the Indicative
‘was’ or in the (presumably) Subjunctive ‘were’, even though
both colligated with the Object Pronoun much more readily than with the
Subject Pronoun. Yet when the Pronoun was ‘you’, which does not
differentiate between Object and Subject, the old Subjunctive still proved by
far the more probable choice. Perhaps this choice is felt to signal a
Contrafactual Modality and thus to be more tentative and polite for purposes
of face-saving; or perhaps the whole colligation is simply chosen and produced
as one frozen unit (compare ‘theory and practice’ in § 98) .
63.
Several constraints on colligability and collocability appeared when the
Conjunction ‘if’ had a meaning like ‘whether’. This meaning colligated
with the Indicative ‘was’ — possibly to leave open the question of
whether something is Contrafactual — and resisted colligating to the right
with a Pronoun. A common collocation to the left was a Verb expressing
uncertainty, like ‘ask’, ‘wonder’, or ‘not know’, as in (14-16) .
(14)
One day Mrs Luppin remarked that I was looking a little off-colour and asked
if I was feeling all right. I told her about my sickness.
(15) then I got pregnant and I started wondering
if I was going to be able to do things right
(16)
I didn’t know if I was going to do
this assignment […] But late last night, I decided to.
In
such contexts, the Verb ‘see’ never meant ‘perceive with the eye’, nor
did ‘tell’ ever mean ‘inform’, although these are the definitions
listed as the most probable by conventional dictionaries. Instead, the meaning
was ‘find out’ or ‘determine’ as in:
(17) I wrote seven poems to enter, very much borrowed
from the Philip Larkin style. I borrowed his sense of depression, too, so all
my friends were phoning to see if I was having a nervous breakdown.
(18)
No one with a gun had shown himself above the roofline but how could I tell if
I was being watched?
Such
data show how the ‘attractions’ among meanings can influence not just the
actualisation of one potential option, but also the actualisation of one
potential meaning for the superficially ‘same’ option (cf. § 58) .
F. Intertextual actualisations of ‘theory’ and
‘practice’
64.
I shall now attempt a less usual demonstration with corpus data, examining how
the pair of terms ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ are actualised in
contemporary English texts, and what the implications might be for situating
these pairs within a genuine dialectic. My data were again kindly provided
from the ‘Bank of English’ by Stephen Bullon at COBUILD, this time in
January 1999.
65.
First, we can look at text samples wherein both ‘theory’ and
‘practice’ appeared. The data indicated a cline between the pole of easy
connection and the pole of uneasy disconnection (Fig. 2) .
Figure 2. Connection
or disconnection between theory and practice
One
data source for easy connection were book titles on a motley variety of
topics, such as: Warfare in the
Twentieth Century: Theory and Practice; Life
Insurance: Theory and Practice;
Islam in Theory and Practice; and The
Family Interpreted: Feminist Theory in Clinical Practice. Intriguingly,
the idea of ‘warfare’ or ‘life insurance’ having their own
‘theory’ intuitively seems informative enough to suggest that the author
intended to upgrade and dignify a heavily practical activity (cf. § 93) . In
return, we might intuitively grant the status of a religion like ‘Islam’
or a philosophy like ‘feminism’ being a ‘theory’, and see the
informativity focused upon how they get carried over into ‘practice’
against the contrary trends toward a secular or patriarchal global society.
66.
The other main data source for easy connection was found among services
offering both ‘theory and practice’ in a package deal. Some were merely
trendy, like ‘herbal medicine’ (19) , while most were concerned with
education, sometimes in specialised fields like ‘accounting’ (20) , but
often in general education (21-23) , which we shall be seeing again (§ 68, 95)
.
(19) a course designed to give students instruction
in the theory and practice of the use of herbs for medicinal purposes and
herbal preparations to maintain healthy skin and hair.
(20) Financial Reporting explores accounting theory
and practice, including such topics as the development and objectives of
financial reporting
(21) The practicum is concerned with relating
theory and practice, helping prospective teachers to understand and practise a
wide range of teaching skills
(22) the adult education course contained five nights
of theory and practice, for three hours each night
(23)
The course of study ensures that theory and practice are closely related,
providing an opportunity for students to continue with work
These
trends can be easily by verified by surfing the Internet. On 14 February 1999,
the Alta Vista search engine returned 105,469 home pages for the verbatim
collocation ‘theory and practice’. Alongside such frankly pedestrian
topics as ‘Good Cooking’, ‘Horse Racing’, ‘Belly Dancing’, and
‘Late Victorian Wallpaper’, I found courses or surveys in ‘Health
Activism’, Grading for the Fashion Industry’, ‘Radiometric
Calibration’, ‘Rubber Injection Moulding’ ‘Common Object Request
Broker Architecture’, and far more others than I have room to list here.
This rampant proliferation indicates how empty the terms have become,
conveying a vague promise of being comprehensive and thorough (§ 75) . At
times, the promise sounded distinctly breezy:
(24)
it also helps the student to make the vital connection between esoteric theory
and mundane practice, between the future of the planet and the recycled Pepsi
can
67.
In still other data, the disconnection between of theory and practice was
openly acknowledged, though still in confident hopes of a reconnection. One
topic was the economic organisation of a society:
(25) As business starts to bloom in Central and
Eastern Europe, theory will increasingly turn into practice.
(26)
The Marxist argument against the separation of theory and practice is well
known
Marx
himself would have vehemently denied that the ‘separation of theory and
practice’ which he strove to overcome could disappear when free-market
‘business starts to bloom’ in formerly ‘socialist’ countries. But then
he would have undoubtedly affirmed that the collapse of the polity in those
same countries resulted from authoritarian refusals to put the theory of
socialism into real practice (Beaugrande, 1997a: 397) (cf. § 80) .
68. Toward the middle of the cline shown in Fig. 2 we could put the data
indicating that the connection between theory and practice is ‘not clear’
(27) or is open to ‘disagreement’ (28) :
(27) each group allowed to exercise its rights to
freedom and self-determination, but it is not clear what this policy will mean
in terms of practical politics
(28)
Sometimes members of the community disagree over the practical definitions
given to values everybody professes in the abstract, such as liberty or
equality
Further
along toward the pole of uneasy disconnection was the prospect of
‘fundamental cracks in society’ that are actually ‘widening’:
(29)
the fundamental cracks in both society and theory which were laid bare in the
1960s continue to widen; theory becomes increasingly separated from practice
and, thus, incapable of addressing those cracks
Predictably,
the social domain suffering the most conspicuously was education, which I
often noticed urgently searching for a reconnection, as in:
(30) addressing the challenge of how we can make
comprehensive education work for those for whom theory and practice have
remained far apart. That is a debate to relish
(31) Perhaps the primary benefit of this block was
its attempt to link theory with practice. Most teacher preparation programs
have a separation
(32) a cross section of teachers from within school
who can apply their learning in situ, bridging the gap between theory and
practice by generating theory from practice and practice from theory
(33)
the actors within the school’s unique culture, provided ‘theory for
action’ fostering a very different attitude towards theory than the usual
presentation of disembodied theory which many teachers experience on external
in-service courses
69. A ‘cracked’ society might offer hidden motivations for
‘supporting’ democratic institutions like ‘trade unions’ ‘in
theory’ whilst ‘destroying’ them ‘in practice’ (34) ; or for
‘manipulating the theory’ of an institution like the law in order to
‘justify’ one’s ‘perversions’ in ‘practice’ (35) .
(34) In theory, he is a great supporter of trade
unions, because, in theory, he’s a socialist, but in practice, he has been
the most successful destroyer of trade union power in the British print
(35)
The problem, Mr Olson thinks, is not legal theory but legal practice although
lawyers clearly manipulate the former to justify their perversions of the
latter.
70.
Against my own intuition to approve of connections between theory and
practice, some data indicated disapproval:
(36) The scope of coercive violence was extended:
‘Pornography is the theory, rape is the practice’. ‘Pornography is
violence against women’. These made pithy slogans
(37) Up until that point the proud theory — and the
practice of the majority — was that you lived with your family until you met
the man you would marry
(38)
It was a symbolic and deferential democracy, but the symbols were rooted in
substance: myth became the mortar binding theory and practice
The
connection was designedly tendentious for ‘pornography’ and ‘rape’ (36)
, but merely patriarchal for ‘marriage’ (37) and ‘mythical’ for
‘democracy’ (38) . Still, to assert that a ‘myth’ brings
‘substance’ to ‘symbols’ does seem audaciously informative, as does
the metaphoric ‘mortar’ suggesting a solidity and strength that are only
imaginary.
71.
My personal attention was attracted by the topic of ‘war’ or
‘warfare’, whose ‘theory and practice’ we saw being invoked in a book
title (§ 65) . Some data implied that ‘war’ is essentially a set of
‘practices’ that can be pursued without much interest in ‘theory’ (39)
; or that the ‘theory’ can be invented after the fact (40) .
(39) he was an independent, practical soldier with a
distaste for theory; a fighter who believed that war provided the only lessons
of real value to a soldier.
(40)
He did not ‘convert theory into practice’ but exemplified instinctive
practice and later derived theory from it. Few soldiers have so impressively
But
most of the data concerned an official ‘theory’ expressly devised to
justify the practices of warfare such that they will not be recognised to
grossly contradict all the humane ideals of the society. Ironically, the
author of the most celebrated result, the ‘just war theory’ was a godly
philosopher whose sources were eminently theoretical, such as Plantonism (41)
. Incorporating the ‘Christian position’ on an ‘intellectual’ basis
can harmonise this theory with the theory of a ‘holy war’, ‘God’ being
squarely on your side (42-43) . By emphasising ‘intention’ over reality, a
‘just war’ can be glibly ‘translated’ into a ‘just peace’, (44) ;
and can project a resounding triumph of ‘good’ over ‘harm’ (45) . Yet
if the ‘theory’ really requires that ‘every less-violent means be
exhausted’ (46) and that ‘provisions be made for innocent
civilians’ (47) , then no war I can think of has fit its practices to the
theory — certainly none in this century.
(41) Augustine expressed a new attitude toward
conflict by formulating the just war theory. He adapted rules of warfare
developed by classical thinkers such as Plato and Cicero to the Christian
position.
(42) They forgot how intellectually respectable the
Christian theory of holy war once was
(43) there’s something called a just war theory
which has justified an awful lot of wars in the world’s history, where both
sides feel they call on God
(44) one of the seven points of the just war theory
is ‘right intention’, and that is sometimes translated as the intention to
have a just peace
(45) the just-war theory clearly requires that the
good to be achieved outweighs the harm that is to be done
(46) Essentially, the just-war theory requires, above
all, that every less-violent means be exhausted before war can be justified
(47)
Likewise, the just-war theory requires that there be provisions made for
innocent civilians
The
real but unofficial theory of modern warfare has been described by Tony Wilden
(1987: 27) , following Brownmiller (1975) , in terms where ‘the power of
God’ is equated with limitless violence:
The object is to destroy the will to resist;
the target is the entire population; the strategy is terror; the means is
torture; the usual end is death; most of the victims are women and children:
the worst instrument is rape. To do this you simply let your men loose [with]
the power of God over anyone and everyone without a weapon or the strength to
fight back.
According
to the ‘just war theory’, in contrast, the object would be to ‘secure a
just peace and the sovereignty and honour of the nation’; the targets are
exclusively ‘military installations’; the strategy is ‘tactical
manoeuvring’; the means is ‘manly valour’; and the end is the ‘victory
of the good side’ (ours) . Obviously, the ‘just war theory’ can do
wonders for upholding morale and for deflecting world-wide outrage over real
atrocities, which can be officially deplored as unfortunate lapses during an
otherwise ‘just’ enterprise.
72.
This contrast between theories indicates that the official position of
governments conducting a war or preparing to do so — of course as a means to
‘keep the peace’ (M. Thatcher) — will embrace the ‘just war
theory’ whilst conceding that it is not, or not always, put into
‘practice’ (48-50) , due to unforeseen ‘problems’ (50) . Improvements
in technology are cheerfully expected to establish the connection, e.g., to
improve the practices of bombs landing two-thirds of a mile off their targets
(51) .
(48) One theme runs throughout, however — the
dichotomy between the theory of war and its practice
(49) As this chapter will endeavour to show, the gap
between theory and practice in strategic bombing is wide.
(50) after only 30 months of war, the original theory
of strategic bombing had been stood on its head because of practical problems
in carrying out missions
(51)
Warden believed, however, that modem munitions offered a precision that would
marry theory and practice. A B-17 bomber in World War II had a ‘circular
error probable’ of 3300 feet, meaning that half of the bombs dropped far
from their targets
73. Governments have invoked supportive theories to explain why warfare
could not be avoided. My data turned up the ‘domino theory’ (war must be
fought here lest neighbouring countries ‘fall’ to the enemy) (52-53)
, and the ‘deterrence theory’ (54) (continual threat of war is
needed to deter your enemies from war) . Both theories were heavily exploited
during the Cold War, especially in Southeast Asia (53) , yet the armaments for
war were illogically retained after Cold War had ended (54) .
(52) ‘We were faced with the Cold War and the
domino theory," the 60-year-old former national serviceman said
(53) He [Nixon] mined harbors, talked about
‘decisive military action to end the war’, and used the domino theory to
justify the need to stop communism in Vietnam.
(54)
Ordinary people, including those who subscribed to the deterrence theory
during the cold war, are angry that politicians have not taken the opportunity
to move towards a nuclear-free world
The
all-time prize for public mystification was surely earned by the ‘limited
war theory’ (55-58) concocted to justify the lavish preparations for
war after nuclear weapons had foreclosed the chances of surviving, let alone
winning. This theory was obliged either to ignore ‘the enemy’s response’
(57) or to naively imagine the sort of enemy whose thinking is entirely
guided by game theory (58) .
(55) How can conflict be waged between nuclear-armed
adversaries without leading to mutual destruction? Limited war theory attempts
to provide a framework
(56) We had to invent a theory that would allow us to
fight on the edges without nuclear technology. This theory is called
‘limited war’. Its premise is that we and the Soviets can wage little
wars, and that each side will refrain from going nuclear
(57) And in the event of a conventional attack the
scenario was for the first use of battlefield weapons to keep the nuclear war
limited and contained. That was the theory. But there was no account taken of
the enemy’s response
(58)
Limited war theory had been built on the assumption that the opponent was
cautious and value-maximizing, not fanatically determined
The
basic premise of this theory — which I have never once heard anyone
seriously defend — is vastly more remote from real practices than anything
imagined by Plato or St. Augustine: a ‘superpower’ with an staggering
stockpile of nuclear armaments would refrain from using these even in times of
utmost desperation, and tamely accept defeat, humiliation, and dispossession
by the rival ‘superpower’ who, the propaganda machines have insisted, is
the very incarnation of evil. If the ‘Soviets rejected’ such an absurd
theory (59) , then they were ‘motivated’ as much by common sense as by
‘escalation theory’.
(59)
bringing in escalation theory from political context is the fundamental
motivation behind Soviet rejection of many aspects of limited war theory. This
is crucial, because if a war is to be limited in scope through deliberate
restraint
A
far more accurate label would have been ‘substituted
war theory’, where the ‘little wars’ (56) between two or more
clients of the ‘superpowers’ allow the latter to stop short of the logical
end-game of ‘mutual destruction’ (55) . Vietnam was supposed to be one
such substituted war, but it didn’t go according to the ‘theory’ of the
superpowers for ‘limited war’ (60) , precisely because the ‘enemy’s
response’ was ‘fanatically determined’.
(60)
Vietnam saw the application of many of these ideas. Whether or not the
Americans were consciously applying limited war theory, many of the concepts
underlying and shaping their policy were the same as those shaping limited war
theory
74.
I have focused on the topic of ‘warfare’ as a conspicuous demonstration of
how an official ‘theory’ can get ‘theorised’ not to account for the
real practices, but to provide a camouflage for the real theory. I suspect
many far less conspicuous parallels could be found wherever the real theory
that would actually account for the real practices would be inadmissible in a
modern democratic society. If so, the apparent global trends toward
‘democracy’ from the 1960s onward might be grasped as a
‘re-theorising’ of post-war societies that transformed official theories
whilst leaving the real practices largely unchanged (see Beaugrande, 1997a for
extensive discussion and references) .
G. Intertextual actualisations of ‘theoretical’
and ‘practical’
75.
The corpus data for samples wherein both ‘theoretical’ and ‘practical’
appeared did not reflect the same trends as those with ‘theory and
practice’ in any straightforward way, but parallels could be detected. The
collocation ‘theoretical and practical’ was often enlisted to enhance the
commercial or professional value of some essentially practical activity or
training by implying that it is comprehensive or thorough (cf. § 66) :
(61) The program will incorporate theoretical and
practical training within the school’s own commercially-operated hotel, just
outside Canberra.
(62) the weekend is designed to give Queensland’s
food and wine professionals and serious amateurs access to the latest
information, practical and theoretical.
(63) Media Studies, National Certificate. This course
gives a basic introduction, both theoretical and practical, in media studies
as a starting point for a career in this area
(64)
The course is both theoretical and practical with the emphasis once again on
gaining real experience under the guidance of a senior BBC Radio Trainer.
The
collocation was also enlisted to suggest the serious nature of one’s
deliberations:
(65) This chapter is concerned with the practical and
theoretical implications of seeing ‘child abuse’ as a matter of men’s
violence to babies, children, and young people
(66)
More recently there has been a renewed interest in fundamental social problems
such as poverty, and a search, both on the practical and on the theoretical
level, for explanations of the persistence of problems despite the rise of
institutional welfare.
Criminology
presented an interesting exception: either remaining ‘reticent’ about
awkward matters that were both ‘theoretical and practical’ (67) or
else shunting them off into ‘ethical’ matters in order to profess
‘neutrality’ in both ‘theory and practice’ (68) .
(67) has often been ignored or avoided by critical
criminologists. Carlen has observed that there is a ‘radical reticence about
theoretical and practical questions concerning the desirability, recognition,
denial and concomitant control of the power to punish’.
(68)
Most criminologists are engaged in theoretical and practical projects without
considering their ethical implications. They believe that they can be
ethically neutral
This
aspiration is quite natural in view of the questionable ethics of
‘punishment’ (not to mention the endemic beatings, rape, and torture in
our prisons) in a society whose official theory is to ‘rehabilitate
criminals’.
76.
Where the data indicated some uneasy disconnection, the ‘theoretical’ was
typically disapproved and the ‘practical’ was approved:
(69) Those experiences were of crucial importance to
me, for they removed my evolving approach from a purely theoretical context
and re-rooted it in a practical theatrical foundation
(70) These are not theoretical niceties, they
are fundamental practical moves forward in market-led strategic change
(71) Perhaps most distressing is the continued
emphasis on theoretical academic work, not practical or technical skills
needed for the marketplace.
(72)
most of the courses echo a ‘cut-the-crap’ utilitarianism. Background
details, historical origins and theoretical models give way to practical
understanding-and-doing-skills.
Compare
this glowing vision of a ‘practical man’ being nearly superhuman:
(73)
He was a talented, capable, practical man, articulate, imaginative and
resourceful, the sort of person who could be relied upon to cope with any
situation
Some
of the data were less obvious, but a bias toward the practical might still be
inferred:
(74) But it is fair to say that today, in general,
the environment’s own standing has become more of a matter of theoretical
and spiritual interest than a real practical constraint on the bringing of
environmental litigation
(75) he also spoke of freedom in terms which party
critics like Roy Hattersley might endorse as being dependent not just on
theoretical choice ‘but on the practical ability to exercise it, the freedom
to work and develop talent’
(76)
These medical schools, often controlled by a church hostile to any birth
control, enrolled almost no women, and stressed theoretical expertise rather
than the practical knowledge embodied in folk medicine.
‘Theoretical
interest’ by itself won’t accomplish much to save the ‘environment’
(74) , ensure ‘freedom’ (75) , or improve the ‘control’ of 'women’
over their own lives (76) .
77.
Occasional data recommended a clear decision for the one side or the other:
(77) there was nothing for it but to distinguish
sharply between the theoretical man, who seeks understanding, and the
practical man, who feels compelled to take political action
(78)
In an age of specialists, the organizational aspects of mathematics function
more tidily if people specialize either in the theoretical areas of the
subject or its practical ones. Because most people feel happier working in one
or the other of these two styles
In
still other data, connecting theoretical to the practical was advocated,
though the prospects might seem dubious:
(79) if the lesson of history is that strong links
between theoretical research and practical applications are a key factor in
scientific progress, the effort to bring the two together is crucial
(80) though not led directly by Marxist theory, they
partially demonstrated the correctness of that theory, showed that socialism
was a practical possibility and not just the theoretical result of idle
speculation by intellectuals who had no firm grasp of the realities
(81)
the method of ‘sociological intervention’ aims to open social movement
participants’ eyes to the wider theoretical significance of their practical
activity and thereby to catalyse the movements’ potential for creating a new
type of society
So far, we are left to assume, science has failed to ‘bring together
research and applications’ (79) ; ‘socialism’ has been mainly
‘speculation’ divorced from ‘realities’ (80) ; and ‘sociological
intervention’ has brought us no nearer to ‘a new type of society’ (81) .
If, as I would surmise, such failures are related to the endemic
disconnections of modern democratic society (§ 74) , expecting a total change
seems, well, impractical.
78.
When either ‘theoretical’ or ‘practical’ occurred without the other
term, some differences in collocability could be readily noticed. The term
‘theoretical’ collocated in titles or descriptions with distinctly
academic topics, such as ‘mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry,
biology genetics, physiology, anatomy, physiology, economics,
psychotherapy’. In contrast, ‘practical’ collocated with distinctly
non-academic topics such as ‘photography, seamanship, suturing, cooking,
dining, woodworking, gardening, summer pruning of tree fruit’. Equally
remote from academic concerns were books offering ‘practical’ advice like
these:
(82) this extremely practical book which mixes
common-sense advice with many trade secrets gleaned from extensive experience
(83)
Courtship: Wisdom For Wooers And The Wooed offers practical guidance
on condom etiquette, cheating, children, and, toughest of all, how to
introduce your other half
If,
like me, you are puzzled about why ‘introducing your other half’ should be
‘tougher’ than rearing ‘children’, you’ll have to buy the book to
find out.
79.
The uses of ‘theoretical’ for academic topics were most pronounced when
collocated with ostentatious technical terms, e.g.:
(84) In technical-theoretical parlance, countries are
required to have factor endowments in the same cone of diversification
(85)
Bio-inorganic chemistry: experimental and theoretical studies of speciation
involved in trace element bio-availability, and pharmaceutical trace metal
interaction
The
link between ‘theoretical’ and authority was intensely emblematic when
opposed to ‘rampant empiricism’ (86) or when traced back to the
‘features of language’ suitable for ‘sounding expert’ (87) .
(86)
Rampant empiricism without a firm grounding in theoretical structures
will result in multiple research projects with fragmented yield and low
efficiency
(87)
how they are perceived on some ‘authority scale’ might influence how the
audience receives their experimental report or theoretical argument. They know
they have to sound ‘expert’. However, they haven’t really figured out
which features of language
The
term ‘theoretical’ itself was evidently thought to be one such ‘feature
of language’, witness its actualisations to lend some intellectual
respectability to dubious topics:
(88) ‘Psychoenergetics in Theoretical and Practical
Aspects’, in Proceedings of the Third
International Congress on Psychotronic Research.
(89) ‘Reincarnation Field Studies and
Theoretical Issues’, in B. Wolman, ed., Handbook
of Parapsychology
(90)
To escape from this state Machen put his theoretical knowledge of occultism to
practical use, and after using a ‘process’ that seems to have been some
sort of magic
The
term was also actualised to make unpleasant realities seem more abstract, such
as tolerance of immigrants (91) , profiteering by means of non-existent
‘capital’ (92) , and ‘death’ by ‘cancer’ (93) . Warfare popped up
again for a ‘theoretical’ intervention in Africa (94) , where the
‘relief’ did not include food, water, or medical supplies, but manpower
and technology, presumably to ‘relieve’ the endangered power-holders who
safeguard European interests.
(91) However, until immigrants began arriving in the
mid-1980s, this tolerance was a largely theoretical exercise.
(92) the stockmarket boom inflated their theoretical
capital to phenomenal levels
(93) However, the same assumptions that
underpin calculations of ‘theoretical deaths’ also predict an increased
risk of fatal cancer in direct proportion to the increase in body weight.
(94)
A theoretical taskforce of soldiers, warships, and military aircraft was sent
to carry out a relief mission in an imaginary African country
80.
The corpus data prominently represented two ‘theoretical’ fields.
Astronomy was a favoured topic because so much of it remains hypothetical, due
to the vast distances, masses, energies, and time lapses involved in stars or
galaxies:
(95) Crawford admits that these ideas are theoretical
and highly speculative. ‘I haven’t a clue how faster-than-light travel or
communication might be achieved’.
(96)
This provides a picture of the ‘Multi-verse’, as some call this
theoretical froth of universes. Because conditions in the black holes are so
extreme, even the laws of physics might change
On
the other hand, socialism was a ‘theoretical’ topic because humans can put
it into practice only if the society equitably redistributed its resources,
and the holders of power are grimly determined to achieve just the opposite.
The data showed people preferring to view ‘socialism’ as a ‘very distant
objective’ (97) , far ‘withdrawn from the common-sense world’ (98) . In
response, the advocates of socialism were found mistrusting the purely
‘theoretical’ and striving to gain a firm foundation upon the ‘social
experiences of the community’ (99) and to reconcile the ‘theoretical
work of intellectuals’ with the ‘manual labour of proletarians’ by
sharing a ‘practical’ stance (100) . The irony seems consummate if the
‘working class’ attained a ‘theoretical position’ that
‘disconcerted’ the academic ‘labour theorists’ (101) .
(97) Despite Ramsay MacDonald’s commitment to a
Labour Party whose theoretical aim was to transform capitalism into socialism,
as leader of the party he saw this as some very distant objective
(98) Her [Hannah Arendt’s] thought is a kind of
reflection that deals with essences, with what is most abstract, general, and
theoretical — and it involves ‘withdrawal from the common-sense world of
appearances.’
(99) political wisdom is not to be found in the
theoretical speculations of isolated thinkers but in the historically
accumulated social experiences of the community
(100) By the same token, the theoretical work
of intellectuals was thought to be no less practical than the manual labour of
proletarians
(101)
labour theorists of the period were aware of and disconcerted by the fact that
the working class was developing its own theoretical position on the nature of
society — a position that was antagonistic to the interests of established
society
81.
As with so many terms, my two here have been appropriated for consumerism,
witness the breezily offered ‘theory and practice’ of ‘wine’ and
‘hotels’ (61-62) . Collocated directly with a commodity, ‘theoretical’
appeared just once and in a weird context (102) , the intended meaning being
‘intellectual’, I would assume. But ‘practical’ collocated with all
sorts of commodities, including ‘shoes’, ‘cameras’, and
‘tableware’ along with some whose ‘practicality’ might well be doubted
(103-04) .
(102) these theoretical disco records blended morbid introspection and
exotic rhythms
(103) from our brochures showing a wide range of colourful and practical
items, the upholstery with practical zip-on covers for the flame-retardant
foam cushions
(104)
Another tip is to look through the peculiar catalogues that drop through the
letter box and out of magazines. Practical ideas abound. A portable plastic
bidet, for example. Once they are the proud possessors of this ingenious
receptacle
I
would rather not picture the ‘practices’ of the ‘proud possessors’ in
(104)!
H. Into the millennium
82. The corpus data adduced above of course do not cover the
entire range of ways in which two pairs of terms ‘theory and practice’ and
‘theoretical and practical’ are being actualised in contemporary English
texts, but do suggest some significant tendencies worthy of further research.
Such data undeniably let us observe what language looks like when it is being used (cf. § 1) , and to exploit texts by letting them
represent themselves (§ 42) . We confront neither Saussure’s ‘mass’ of
merely ‘accessory and accidental facts’ plus Chomsky’s ‘fragments and
deviant expressions’, nor again the latter’s ‘completely homogeneous
speech-community’ (§ 3f) . The data reflect an ongoing dialectic between
the ‘heterogeneity’ within the ‘speech-community’ and the
‘homogeneity’ encouraged by shared participation in text-events.
83.
This dialectic embraces us text linguists as well, since we belong, in our
private lives, to the community of English speakers being enticed with ‘foam
cushions’ and ‘plastic bidets’ (103-04) along with books of advice
on how to ‘cheat’ on our spouses (using a ‘portable bidet’ to purge
the evidence?) and how to give ‘introductions’ (81) so that
likely candidates to ‘cheat’ with might think we’re single. In our
professional lives, we can productively
invest our own status as participants in analysing or interpreting textual
data produced for the community (§ 48) . Doing so should help to keep our own
texts free of the complacent or obscure abstractions that imply having some
privileged access to the ‘perfect knowledge’ of the ‘ideal speaker’ (§
4, 29, 34, 38) , or purporting to miraculously restore the pristine, ideal
order which ‘actual speech’ had converted into disorder (§ 22) .
84. Yet our efforts to achieve the viewpoint of Firth’s
‘typical participants in some generalised context of situation’ (§ 9)
must remain continual work in progress. Exploring corpus data is the most
effective means I have found for checking and enhancing the ‘typicality’
of my own English, though I shall never get finished. I have repeatedly
noticed areas where my own usage was at best incomplete and at worst plain
wrong, but most often just too vague. This finding is quite natural even for a
‘Professor of English’, because, like everyone else, I have had only a
limited range of real-life
occasions for saying things (cf. § 31) . I can discuss the ‘theory and
practice of education’ and frequently have, but I would be hopelessly lost
in discussing the ‘theory and practice’ of ‘belly dancing’ or
‘rubber injection moulding’ (§ 66) .
85.
Throughout my career, I have suspected that most disagreements among linguists
stemmed not from their official disputes about theory-building, e.g., whether
the ‘semantics’ should be ‘interpretive’ or ‘generative’, but from
their uneven capacities or dispositions for interpreting language data. The
unevenness might reflect the conscious or unconscious striving of some
linguists to isolate a Saussurian ‘langue’ or a Chomskyan ‘competence’
whilst seeming to disappear behind data deliberately invented to be so trivial
— like ‘the man hit the ball’ — that they seem to interpret
themselves. Such linguists look like they’re struggling to forget or cancel
the fact that they themselves are speakers and listeners who continually
navigate between ‘langue and parole’, or between ‘competence and
performance’ and who are therefore not positioned to isolate the one side
from the other. Moreover, since ordinary language experience is not mainly the
interpretation of trivial isolated sentences, their results are hardly likely
to be representative of anyone’s ‘competence’, let alone the whole community’s.
86.
My professional situation has been decisively coloured by my own academic
history. My work in linguistics began with the translation of poetry (Beaugrande,
1971, 1978) , which has trained me to squeeze a great deal of interpretation
out of the data put before me, because as a translator I must base my concrete
practices upon my own interpretation of the original text. So I was never
deeply impressed with the kinds of ‘theoretical linguistics’ that shied
away from practices and retreated either into invented sentences or arid
formalisms, though I only gradually came to appreciate why the whole
enterprise is fundamentally misconceived, as I have explained here.
87.
My later work has been concentrated in language education in a broad sense. I
have thus become extremely sensitive to variations and uncertainties in and
about the usage of English, which I can see creating serious obstacles for
prospective learners or teachers of English. Indeed, the inequalities in
access to English world-wide are currently a major engine of those social and
economic inequalities that our ‘modern democracies’ officially claim to
have overcome (Beaugrande, 1997a, 1999b) . So my own interest in corpus data
is firmly situated in a larger search for new directions and initiatives in a
millennium which will undoubtedly decide who may or may not speak or be heard.
88.
Again, I have good reason to mistrust a ‘linguistics’ proclaiming that
speech cannot be studied’ (§ 3) . If, as Saussure acknowledged, ‘the
viewpoint creates the object’, then we have no use for the Chomskyan ‘ideal
speaker’, who has no viewpoint at all. What text linguists must do
is search our data for signs of convergence of viewpoints among the community
instead of glibly making our own personal viewpoint supply all the norms and
standards. Hjelmslev was misled: ‘the linguistic investigator is not
given’ ‘the as yet unanalysed text (§ 7) but the actualised
text; and until I re-actualise it, I am given nothing at all. And if (as he vowed)
‘linguistic theory must also cover texts as yet unrealised’ (§ 7) , then
the theory must equip us for engaging with the texts that are realised.
89. So my enterprise hinges vitally upon gathering extensive
data about the ways in which
different people’s actualisations may converge or diverge.
We thus return to the critical dependence of text upon intertext which, I have
argued, turns our attention in the opposite direction from seeing the text
as a set or sequence of sentences (cf. § 14, 35, 59) . By examining sets of
related choices across large numbers of texts, we can finally rescue
‘intertextuality’ from the theoretical and practical limbo where the
arcane adumbrations of post-structuralism had located it, and can make
tractable estimates of what is more or less probable about specified
combinations. Similarly, we can finally grasp the text as a genuine intersystemic event
— internally
systemic in the mutual ‘attractions’ among options, and also externally
systemic in the tuning of those probabilities through other texts within the
intertext (§ 21) . These options form the ‘networks’ that are more open
than any one actual text yet more closed than any virtual system of a language
(§ 27) .
90. How far an intertext might extend is, at this stage,
totally unclear in theory. In practice, you come to a trade-off between
increasing the delicacy of your survey by increasing the quantity of data
versus keeping the presentation of your findings from becoming too bulky to be
manageable or indeed publishable (cf. Sinclair, 1998: 82) . I tend to level
out with around one hundred samples culled out of larger data set; for the
data cited the present study, I scrutinised some 1600 samples. But we need to
form very large teams to examine correspondingly large samplings whose size
and range can be decided by practical goals, such as providing a browsers’
corpus for self-paced learners of English as a Foreign Language (Beaugrande,
1997b, 1998c) ,
91. A comparable trade-off between delicacy and quantity
applies to the length of your individual samples. The default length in the
Bank of English search programme when I used it in July 1994 was 80
characters, with the key word or words roughly in the centre, but I rapidly
found this inadequate. The context rarely settles down in any informative
delicacy at less than twice that many, and my samplings for this study,
provided by the patient Mr Bullon, were roughly 200 characters, rounded up to
begin and end with complete words. Even that much is far from ideal, and my
selection of data to present was partly steered by the reliable delicacy of
contexts at the specified length. This too is a merely practical and somewhat
adventitious artefact, to be overcome when our resources allow.
92. All these factors set the context for composing the
present text about ‘theory and practice’: in society, in education, in
science, in linguistics, and finally in a modest sampling of contemporary
texts. I have sought to build a case to support my assertion that human
practices, including ones with texts, are necessarily ‘theoretical’, but
the underlying theories are largely implicit and unrecognised. In return,
official theories are constantly being constructed and promulgated to satisfy
the aspirations of a society of social group to regard itself as human, fair,
equitable, rational, and so on. Evidence to the contrary can be expediently
‘theorised out’, especially by classifying it all as individual accidents
or mishaps which are (of course) deplorable but which do not discredit
an official theory.
93. I have proposed to describe the textual data along a
cline ranging from easy connection to uneasy disconnection between
‘theory’ and ‘practice’ (§ 65) . Some data confirmed my
intuition of disconnections whose purport would be: ‘in theory it should be
like this but in practice it’s not’. Yet some other data implied either
that a connection can be taken for granted (‘just buy this book and you’ll
see’) , or else that it has not yet been achieved but can be and should be
(‘just enrol in our all-new training course’) . Often, ‘theory and
practice’ or ‘theoretical and practical’ seemed to convey little more
than a vague and mystified promise to be comprehensive or thorough in dealing
with matters as diverse as ‘Horse Racing’, ‘Late Victorian Wallpaper’,
‘Health Activism’, or ‘Grading for the Fashion Industry’ (§ 66) . The
mystification could be more easily noticed if ‘practice’ were taken out,
e.g., if you proposed to enlighten the world on the ‘theory of belly
dancing’ or on ‘theoretical wine’.
94.
In general, ‘theory’ or ‘theoretical’ collocated with the lexical
items for academic topics, whereas ‘practice’ or ‘practical’
collocated with those for non-academic topics, especially commodities (§ 78f)
. In respect to attitudes, ‘theoretical’ was approved for academic
contexts of ‘sounding expert’ and authoritative (§ 79) , but disapproved
in contexts of being abstruse or unrealistic (§ 76) . In contrast,
‘practical’ was nearly always was approved, e.g. for a ‘man’ who was
‘talented, capable’, and ‘resourceful’ (73) .
95.
The most consistent preoccupations — and those with which, for the reasons
given here, I felt the greatest resonance — were found for the topic of
education (§ 66, 68) . There, a ‘separation’ (31) or a ‘gap’
(32) was admitted along with cheerful projects to reconnect: to banish
‘disembodied theory’ (33) and (more bluntly) to ‘cut the
crap’ (72) . The sheer convergence among these data indicate that the
prospects are dim: if centuries of efforts have not failed to connect up the
theory and practice of education, what can you hope to achieve, say, in
‘five nights’ (22) ? The failures of education cannot even be understood
as long as they ‘theorised out’ as individual mishaps of pupils
being ‘lazy’, ‘undisciplined’, ‘disobedient’, and so on.
96. The real (but unofficial) theory of ‘modern
education’ derives from the persistent assumptions that the
main objective must be the passive absorption of theoretical knowledge about
topics like ‘algebra’; and that the proportions of ‘right and wrong
answers’ in ‘test’ situations are the most valid measures of individual
‘achievement’. Such assumptions could explain why conventional education,
both in its theories and in its practices, has remained so insulated from the
theories and practices of social and professional life in rapidly changing
societies. This insulation is usually accepted as a self-explanatory
precondition for education even though it instils pervasive doubts about
relevance which severely alienate many teachers and learners. No significant
improvements can occur whilst education is enlisted in the crucial
disconnection of ‘modern democracy’ to sustain equality in theory and
inequality in practice (Apple, 1984; Aronowitz and Giroux, 1986; Beaugrande,
1997a) . We will need a full-scale ‘curriculum transformation’ for a
‘better linking of theory and practice to improve everyone’s learning, by
combining study with work, by a more democratic restructuring of schools, and
closer links with their communities’ (van Rensburg, 1994: 130) .
97. The double-tracking of our societies and their
institutions has been faithfully reflected in a ‘modern linguistics’ that
‘theorises out’ of ‘language’ the practical realities of human
interaction. The resulting idealisations, misleadingly still called
‘language’, are not just empirically vacuous and scientifically invalid,
but also socially irresponsible insofar as they have denied to society the
insights needed to promote equality and democracy in and through language.
Here too, a sweeping transformation is urgently needed to bring real language
back into the centre; and, for the reasons I have sought to expound, we can
reliably do so only by surveying very large corpora of actualised texts.
98. The analytic or descriptive tools of linguistics can be
productively enlisted as theoretical guidelines for practical goals. I can
only pick out some salient points to illustrate here. The word-order ‘theory
and practice’ is quite frozen. The reversed order ‘practice and theory’
appeared on a mere 8 home-pages of the Internet (compared to the 105,469
noted in § 66) ,
and all but one of these came from a single source, namely the ‘1st
International Conference on the Practice and Theory of Automated
Timetabling’ in Edinburgh in 1995. Either the normal word-order is simply
treated as one invariable unit; or the first item is also the one ranked
higher than the second (compare Cooper and Ross, 1975, on ‘world order’) .
The second explanation does not fit the attitudes I have noted above. Nor is
it plausible in view of the far more comparable home-page proportions of
28,743 for ‘theoretical and practical’ and 8361 for ‘practical and
theoretical’. Either way, these two sets of home-pages were almost all
academic or educational, often on austere topics, such as ‘optimal input
filter design’ or ‘uncertainty and complexity in automated knowledge
acquisition’. Nothing so mundane as
‘horse racing’ or ‘belly dancing’.
99.
The probabilities of local colligations and collocations were better defined
in the corpus data, which are propagated under different conditions from
Internet home-pages. At one end, the probability proved high for the fixed
collocation ‘theory and practice’ to collocate with lexical options from
the topic of education, such as ‘course’ (21-22, 33, 63-64, 71) ,
‘teacher’ (21, 31-33) , and ‘student’ (19, 23-24) . At the other end
were the extremely improbable combinations like ‘theoretical disco records’ (102) and
‘theoretical froth of universes’ (96) , or ‘practical guidance on condom
etiquette’ (83) and ‘practical portable plastic bidet’ (104) .
Still, neither end of the probability scale could be captured in term of
‘rules’ for the ‘grammaticalness’ or ‘well-formedness’ of
‘sentences’, all of which would be at inappropriate degrees of abstraction
(cf. § 18, 41) ; yet our competence is not overly taxed by interpreting the
data in context, thanks to the ‘systemic’ nature of texts (§21) . Here
too, I would conclude that intuition operates most smoothly after the fact (§
31) .
100.
John Sinclair (1991: 495) , a grand pioneer of corpus linguistics, has
remarked that ‘the variations are much more interesting than the
regularities’. My own interest has been most piqued by the active dialectic
between variation and regularity, or in Saussurian terms, between
‘collective usage’ and ‘individual freedom’ (§ 11) . The influence of
collocability and colligability often applies not to some specific choice
(such as ‘course’) but to some category of choices, such as the set
of commodities that are advertised to be ‘practical’ because, like
‘shoes’ or ‘cameras’ (§ 81) , the practicality of some brands might
be doubted. Even ostentatiously arcane combinations like ‘trace element
bio-availability’ would fall under the terms of ‘bio-inorganic
chemistry’ (85) , and the intentionality may well may be to convey more
scientific authority than, say, ‘how new species are formed when trace
elements are available’. The acceptability of readers is compelled, though
they might well prefer, say, to read not (86) but (86a) :
(86) Rampant empiricism without a firm
grounding in theoretical structures will result in multiple research projects
with fragmented yield and low efficiency
(86a)
Empiricism lacking a theoretical basis will lead to fragmented and inefficient
research projects
The
high degrees of informativity in science texts are often merely apparent and
masked behind obscure modes of expression (cf. Bazerman, 1988) .
101.
Word-order might be iconic for the packaging of commodities like the
‘flame-retardant foam cushions’ (103) which do burn but not so fast
as others and are displayed here like rubbery fire-wardens; or like
‘Reincarnation Field Studies’ (89) which slyly packages imagination
with observation. Or, parallelism in word-order can mark a contrast, e.g.,
‘between the theoretical man, who seeks understanding, and the practical
man, who feels compelled to take political action’ (77) ; or a contrast that
one aspires to resolve, e.g., between ‘the theoretical work of
intellectuals’ versus ‘the manual labour of proletarians’ (100) . Or
again, word order can regulate informativity by guiding focus and intonational
stress, e.g., toward ‘a key factor
in scientific progress’ for
which our ‘effort’ is ‘crucial’
(79) ; or by evading the problems of Agency through a Passive when
‘political wisdom’ is ‘found’ (by whom?) ‘in the historically
accumulated social experiences of the community’ (99) . Such data show some
of the many ways whereby grammar can ACT as the ‘front end’ for textual
and intertextual motives in choosing and arranging words and word-classes (§
18) .
102.
Such then are some prospects I see for text linguistics as we head into for
the next millennium, ready or not. Now that we have access to very large
corpora of authentic texts, the ‘linguistic’ issues I have aired and
numerous related ones can be reassessed from the bottom-up. Some major
problems, though far from solved, are finally being recognised and placed on
the agenda, pending the solutions that will require extensive explorations of
data. Moreover, the textual aspects of social and cultural issues can be
expansively explored, such as education and science. The delicate links
between ‘language’ and ‘text’ — many of them still ‘missing’
from our established theory and models — are also the most precise
regulators of nearly all significant human theories and practices. And,
because language partially constitutes what it
postulates (§ 45) , and because the actualisation of a text participates in
constructing a ‘world’ (§ 25) , the linkage will do much to decide the
future evolution of societies already caught up in swift and epochal
transformations.
Notes
1. This problem
of ‘complexity’ was also aired in Dascal and Margalit’s (1974: 85)
‘critical view of text grammars’, but their solution was simply to stay
with ‘sentence grammar’.
2. Hartmann’s (1963: 91)
own term for the virtual was ‘potential’. In another volume, Hartmann
(1964: 51, my translation) expressed concern lest the pair of terms
render the ‘main term “system”’ unduly ‘vague’, and he proposed
instead the pair ‘system’ for the ‘potential’ and ‘complex’ for
the ‘actual’. But for us the term ‘complex’ must seem too overloaded
with other associations, especially due to the recent prominence of
‘complexity theory’.
3. Harweg’s proposal (following
K.L. Pike’s ‘unified theory’) to recognise the ‘emic text’
alongside the ‘etic text’ points in a similar direction, except that
‘emic’ was defined to be ‘language-internal’ and ‘etic’ to be
‘language-external’ (1968: 152, my translation) . I doubt whether this
distinction can be sustained in a comprehensive description of authentic
texts.
4. In this early passage, the
wording was ‘finite or infinite’ but in Chomsky’s subsequent
formulations we consistently find ‘infinite’.
5. I recall Hartmann
using the term in our discussions, though I could not find it in his landmark
volume Theorie der Sprachwissenschaft
(1963) .
6. Grammatical
terms are written in upper case throughout for easy recognition.
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Robert
de Beaugrande is Professor of English at the United Arab Emirates University
in Al Ain, Abu Dhabi. His work is currently focused upon incorporating access
to large set of authentic English data into the teaching and learning of
English as a Foreign Language. New developments can be monitored on his
website at www.beaugrande.com.
System
and Text: Making Links
M A
K Halliday
Ruqaiya Hasan
Sydney
University
Macquarie University
It
is always refreshing to read Robert de Beaugrande: not just because he writes
breezily (though that helps) but because he clears the air of stale and
suffocating ideas. The picture he
presents here of twentieth century linguistics, and its twenty-first century
prospects, is one we can largely endorse.
The prevailing feature of linguistics as a discipline has always been
its shortage of data; linguists have never been able to establish the real
nature of a linguistic fact -- to theorize the relationship between instance
and system, between events that can be observed and the principles that lie
behind these events. Granted that this relationship is considerably more complex
with semiotic processes than it is with physical ones (Halliday 1996) , it
still seems as if linguistics has all this time been at about that point in
its development where physics was in the sixteenth century, before technology
made it possible to carry out systematic experiments. The arcane theoretical constructions that we have been
familiar with in linguistics --
the separation of language and speech, the determinate conception of
grammaticality, the idealised sentences, all de Beaugrande's
pseudos
and semi
--
can be seen as attempts to make up for this lack of empirical foundation, by
inventing data in the way that physical scientists had sometimes had to do
before they were able, or else allowed, to observe.
What
has transformed the scene, or at least is now transforming it, is the corpus:
an expanding repository of authentic linguistic data, spoken as well as
written, which is accessible for systematic observation and research.
As is so often the case, it was a particular advance in technology that
made this transformation possible: in this case, the development of the
computer. It is about twenty
years now since computers evolved to the stage where they became available as
tools for serious linguistic research; in that time the corpus has emerged as
the primary resource for extending our knowledge of lexicogrammar and
semantics, especially in conjunction with complementary achievements in
natural language processing. We
now at last have data to balance, and constrain, the proliferation of theories
that de Beaugrande alludes to.
Where
we have to demur, however, is in coupling together Saussure and Chomsky in the
way that de Beaugrande seems to be doing (&&
3, 10, 13, 23) . Saussure's
reason for excluding a science of parole is that such an enterprise
would be unfeasible because parole is in a constant state of flux,
whereas Chomsky excludes performance because he sees it as defective and
therefore of no possible interest. Where
Saussure is multivocal and always leaves room for doubt (Thibault 1997
passim, Hasan 1999) , Chomsky is self-assured: he deals in univocal
certainties. There is no place in
Chomsky's
scheme of things for the dialectic of langue and parole that Saussure allows
for in considering language evolution and change.
Thus while Chomsky would not see the absence of a body of authentic
data as imposing any kind of limitation on the scope and power of linguistics,
Saussure by contrast would almost certainly have recognized the vast potential
that would be opened up once linguists had the ability to observe their object
of study, captured as it is in motion by the scale of the corpus C
something that practitioners in the natural sciences had long taken for
granted.
de
Beaugrande gives a lively account of the early Chomskyan agenda and its
baleful relegation of a language to a set of (by definition 'grammatical')
sentences; and he traces the emergence of a 'text
linguistics' as an
alternative mode of understanding. The
conception of a 'text
linguistics'
is itself a hangover from that time, when the dogma of sentence syntax was
breaking down; text was coming on to the agenda-- but it proved impossible to
theorize Atext'
taking sentence syntax as the point of departure, whether by treating a text
as a string of sentences, or by writing a special text syntax. de Beaugrande deplores this segregation of text from
language; yet he seems at times to accept it: he retains the term Atext
linguistics' as in his
title, and also the terminological contrast of Atext'
with Alanguage'
(e.g. in &
21) . If you oppose language to
text in this way, it suggests that text is somehow a distinct phenomenon from
language; we would prefer to contrast text with system, treating
language as a unitary phenomenon encompassing both.
What
is most problematic, perhaps, is de Beaugrande's
implied equation of text with language in use. This is problematic on three counts. One is the question whether all language in use is going to
qualify as text; consider as an extreme example the language use of certain
categories of aphasics. Secondly,
and more seriously, de Beaugrande seems to leave out of consideration the
properties which make a text a text. For
some time now it has been generally agreed that a text is characterised by
texture and structure, whatever the terms by which these properties may be
referred to. Such concepts no
doubt need to be further refined and elaborated; but it seems desirable not to
abandon the notion that there are certain characteristics that are criterial
to recognizing any given instance of language in use as a text.
It
might be that de Beaugrande is talking about Atext'
in the general sense of any instance of spoken or written language, rather
than about Aa
text' as a linguistic
unit. But he does refer to Aa
text', suggesting that
it is Aa unit which links language to speech'
(&
23) ; and that it functions in this way because, while it is an Aactual'
system, it retains some of the Avirtuality'
that is characteristic of language. We
may interpret this in our terms as saying that a text is an environment within
which an instantial system may emerge and grow; we would agree, noting however
that this can only happen because of the systemic property of language itself.
This is why instantiantion in the form of text brings about change in
language-- a point which appears as a sub-motif in de Beaugrande's
own paper. But this property of
texts makes it all the more important to clarify the nature of textness in
relation to the corpus.
Certainly,
a corpus is (or can be) a repository of texts.
But this does not mean that every chunk of discourse we extract from a
corpus ipso facto constitutes a text, or (and this is our third point)
that attending to particular features of corpus-derived instances is the same
thing as text analysis. Analysing
a text is not the same thing as analysing instances of language in use.
We need a richer, more constrained view of what constitutes a text--
especially if we want to relate texts (as linguistic entities) to other
semiotic modalities, as de Beaugrande is keen to do.
We are now technologically in a good position to explore some of these
modalities, and to show how the various modalities co-operate in creating
structures of meaning. This type
of semiological enquiry can enrich our idea of performance and throw light on
how language is a resource for other modes of semiosis while it itself is also
resourced by them. This is yet
another respect in which the computer makes possible a qualitative
transformation in our understanding of linguistic processes.
In
celebrating the computer, though, we should not forget its precursor: the
thing that first opened our eyes (and ears) to the realities of
language, namely the tape recorder. It
was the tape recorder that began the transformation, because it opened up the
world of spoken language, especially informal, spontaneous, conversational
speech. This had two quite
separate consequences. One was to
reveal what writing left out, the rich variety of meaning potential that is
built up by intonation and rhythm. We
could now observe these resources at work, and investigate how they
functioned, in integration with the rest of the grammar, to create meaning in
text, particularly the information flow and the negotiation of interpersonal
space. The other effect of the
tape recorder was to reveal the intricacy and highly structured nature of the
spoken language. Back in 1964
Halliday, McIntosh & Strevens (1964: 284) pointed up Athe
... false notion ... that speech is 'less
grammatical' than
writing'; the myth
that spoken language was Anothing
more than an untidy procession of featureless fragments, incapable of analysis'
could no longer be seriously upheld. But
the tape recorder showed up more than that: it showed the enormous semogenic
potential of informal speech-- that here were the semantic frontiers of
language, where new meanings were constantly being created and semantic
systems extended and enriched. In
other words, it showed us the order of speech, its choreographic
complexity as each moment becomes the point of departure for a further
discursive move. It might be
helpful to present an example of what we mean by this characterisation.
Consider the following conversation which took place at an exhibition
of paintings:
A:Yes; that's
very good. ... I wouldn't be able to have that one for some reason you see: this checker board
effect-- I recoil badly
from this. I find I hadn't
looked at it, and I think it's
probably because it probably reminds me you know of nursing Walter through his
throat, when you play checker boards or something. I think it's-- it reminds me of
the ludo board that we had, and I just recoiled straight away and thought [mm]
not-- not that one, and I didn't
look inside; but that's
very fine, [mm mm] isn't
it?-- very fine, yes.
B:It's
very interesting to try and analyse why one likes abstract paintings, 'cause I like those checks; just the very fact that they're
not all at right angles means that my eyes don't
go out of focus chasing the lines [yes]-- they can actually follow the lines
without sort of getting out of focus.
A:Yes I've
got it now: it's those
exact two colours you see, together. He had-- he had a blue and orange crane,
I remember it very well, and you know one of those things that wind up, and-- that's
it.
B:It does
remind me of meccano boxes [yes well]-- the box that contains meccano,
actually.
A:Yes. Well,
we had a bad do you know; we had-- oh we had six or eight weeks when he had a
throat which was-- [mhm] well at the beginning it was lethal if anyone else
caught it. [yeah] It was lethal to expectant mothers with small children, and
I had to do barrier nursing; it was pretty horrible, and the whole corridor
was full of pails of disinfectant you know [mm], and you went in, and of
course with barrier nursing I didn't
go in in a mask-- I couldn't
with a child that small, and I didn't
care if I caught it, but I mean it was-- ours emptied outside you see [mm] and
you had to come out and you brought all these things on to a prepared surgical
board [mm mm] and you stripped your gloves off before you touched anything
[mm] and you disinfected-- oh it was really appalling [mm]. I don't
think the doctor had expected that I would do barrier nursing you see [mm]-- I think she said something about she wished that everybody would take
the thing seriously you know, when they were told, as I did, 'cause
she came in and the whole corridor was lined [mm] with various forms of
washing and so on, but after all I mean you can't
go down and shop if you know that you're
going to knock out an expectant mother. It was some violent streptococcus that
he'd got and he could
have gone to an isolation hospital but I think she just deemed that he was too
small [yes mm mm] for the experience, and then after we'd
had him, you know, had him for a few days at home this couldn't
be done. [mhm] She made the decision for me really, which at the time I
thought was very impressive, but she didn't know me very well: I think she thought I was a career woman who would
be only too glad and would say Aoh well he's
got to go into a hospital', you know, so she made the decision for me and then said Ait's
too late now to put him into an isolation hospital; I would have had to do
that a few days ago'--
which, I thought, I didn't
want her to do!
B:Do nurses
tend to be aggressive, or does one just think that nurses are aggressive?
A:Well, that
was my doctor [oh], and she didn't
at that time understand me very well. I think she does now.
[Svartvik
& Quirk 1980: 215-8]
It
is interesting to speculate whether there is any other technical advance in
the offing, which would complement the tape recorder and the computer in
giving access to the processes of language.
Is it likely that magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) , or some other form
of brain scanning, will develop to the point where, in observing the neuronal
activities associated with speech, we can not simply note that such activity
is taking place, in various different regions of the brain, but measure it and
match it up with particular instances of speech?
Sydney Lamb (1999) has consistently represented linguistic
processes in connectionist networks that could be interpreted in analogous
terms.
But
let us come back to de Beaugrande's
concern with the effect of the computerized corpus.
The scale of the data available in a corpus like the Bank of English
makes two kinds of enquiry possible: one quantitative and the other
qualitative. On the one hand, we
can conduct quantitative studies of grammatical systems, like polarity and
tense, which bring out (a) general frequencies for the language as a
whole (i.e. putting all varieties together) , and (b) frequencies for
particular functional varieties, or registers.
We can then test hypotheses about single systems (e.g. that positive
will be more frequent than negative, by about one order of magnitude) , about
register variation as the resetting of systemic probabilities, and about the probability
profile of grammatical systems as a whole. [See Halliday & James (1993)
, Halliday (1993) .]
On
the other hand, we can use the corpus data to explore and establish what de
Beaugrande here refers to as the'missing
links':
lexicogrammatical patterns, involving colligation and collocation, which lie
somewhere in between the systemic patterns recognized by grammarians of the
language and the instantial patterns emerging from a single text.
de Beaugrande provides illustrative examples of these; see especially
his section F,'intertextual
actualizations of 'theory'
and 'practice'.'
In what sense does de Beaugrande want us to understand'missing
links'?
They are links between two modes of systemic order, the virtual
systemic order of the language, and the actual systemic order of the text.
We would interpret the virtual and the actual as the two poles of the
instantiation cline, which we refer to as system and instance;
but we would see them as being different perspectives, different standpoints
of the observer, not as phenomena of two different kinds.
Of course, all linguistic patterns, even the most general systems of
the grammar, are manifested in text, and have to be examined in their'actual'
mode of being; but whereas some are very readily systemicized (networked, in
the terms of a systemic grammar) , others-- such as these Amissing
links'--
are
more intractable, and as such they are subject to diminishing returns.
So, in investigating how the words theory and practice,
and their various derivations, function in construing specific domains of
experience, de Beaugrande naturally locates himself at the instance end,
generalizing from particular texts that share certain features in common.
It would not be impossible to approach these phenomena from the system
end, and eventually we shall have to do just that; but at the present moment
in history to do so would consume a massive amount of theoretical (and
practical) energy which we cannot expect to afford.
On the other hand, the collocation of theory with practice
clearly is a systemic feature of the language; we could readily determine, for
example, what proportion of the occurrences of theory were within some
defined collocational range of instances of practice, and we could
establish the colligation of these terms, together and separately, with
particular process types in the transitivity systems.
Francis
& Hunston (1999) also locate such colligational patterns in some
middle ground between language and text, or in our terms between the system
and the instance. Francis &
Hunston show that, while their patterns are clearly revealed by the corpus
data, such patterns are simply not brought into conscious awareness either by
introsepection or by the inspection of occasional samples.
They then make the stronger assertion that such patterns cannot be
accommodated within any general theoretical grammar.
We would reject this assertion; neither the fact that they have only
been retrieved from corpus analysis nor the fact that they are, or involve,
regularities of a lexical kind, is sufficient reason for excluding them from
the reach of a grammatical theory. Note
in this connection de Beaugrande's
reference to Hasan's
work in'lexis as most delicate grammar'
(Hasan 1985; 1987) where Hasan sets out, and illustrates, the location
of lexis within a unified lexicogrammar.
de
Beaugrande does not suggest that his'missing
links' cannot be
incorporated within a general linguistic theory. His'intertext'
(cf our macrotext; also text type as a set of semantically
related texts seen from the instance end) is a theoretical construct;
its regularities'could
not be captured in terms of 'rules'
for the 'grammaticalness'
or 'well-formedness'
of 'sentences'',
but they can be understood in terms of the'tuning
of [...] probabilities'
among the texts that go to make it up (cf Halliday's
(1991) account of register variation as a resetting of probabilities) .
Then moving to a higher level of abstraction whence to theorize the
relationship between text (or intertext) and language, he proposes to
define a language as'a
general theory of human knowledge and experience evolving in a dialectical
relation to texts as a set of practices for working out the theory'.
de Beaugrande makes it clear that these considerations are compatible
with, and ultimately take off from, the theoretical ideas of Peter Hartmann
and his colleagues.
We
also find them compatible, and agree that a language is a general theory of
human knowledge-- or rather, that it includes such a theory (the'ideation
base'; cf Halliday
& Matthiessen 1999) ; but we would want to add that it is also an
enactment of human social processes, and that these two metafunctions
cannot exist independently. Any
text must be the product of the interaction between these two, mediated by the
texturing of the whole into coherent discourse.
But two questions seem to arise, in relation to de Beaugrande's
recommendations, and both have to do in some sense with the overall
dimensionality of language.
One
is the question of the distance from one end to the other of the
instantiation cline. We have
always been struck by the impoverished conception of natural language that is
implicit in sentence-based theories; Halliday once gave a paper entitled How
big is a language? (summarized in Halliday 1996) , in which he wondered
why this question was so seldom asked, and suggested that it was because when
linguists moved from words to sentences they gave up thinking about language
in paradigmatic terms. He gave as
one example the English verb (verbal group in terms of systemic grammar)
, where even a network that was far from fully extended in delicacy specified
a set of over 70,000 selection expressions.
This output required only a partially ordered set of less than thirty
grammatical systems; when clause types are networked to any significant degree
of delicacy the number soon runs into the hundreds of millions. Unless one is aware of how big a language is, in paradigmatic
terms, the amount of variety that is found in a corpus of texts will always
seem mysterious and even threatening; it is tempting to give up at that point
and invent a notion of'text'
that exists on a different plane of reality from'language'.
A language is not a set of texts; but nor is it a phenomenon of
a different order from text. We
could call it a theory of text, in the sense in which a climate is a
theory of weather; but if so it is a commonsense theory, and (as de Beaugrande
has often pointed out) linguists have had a hard time coming up with a
metatheory that can explain the relationship between a language, as a virtual
entity (the text potential) , and the observable corpus of text (whether a
remnant corpus inscriptionum or an apparently bottomless Bank of
English) in which this potential is actualized.
In
passing: let us certainly let the texts represent themselves-- it is a way of
showing that we trust them (recalling Sinclair's
injunction (1992) to'trust
the text')
.
Of course, once any linguistic event becomes a text for the
linguist, it thereby becomes a re-presentation: it is a record of a
performance, even if we are attending to it in spoken form on tape, and if it
is in writing it has undergone further re-presentation-- a writing system is a
commonsense distillation of what aspects of a text can be left out when it is
preserved. Moreover as de
Beaugrande points out what we call text is in fact a spectrum of possible
readings. Martin (199 )
prefers to take the reading rather than the text as the endpoint of the
instantiation cline.
The
other aspect of the dimensionality of a language is its thickness: its
stratal pattern of organisation. What
we are calling'the
text' is a stratified
entity, its strata being linked by a relationship, called metaredundancy
by Lemke (1993) , which also links the text to its ecosocial environment, or context
of situation. What we observe
as being actualized is text in context, or'reading
in context' if that is to be preferred.
Hasan (1995, 1999) shows what is involved in representing context
as part of a thicker, dimensional concept of text itself.
We assume that de Beaugrande would be in sympathy with this enterprise--
he
has written about it himself in various places elsewhere; but it is perhaps
important to make the theoretical status of context explicit, because if we
want, as he suggests, to'invest
our own status as participants, in analysing or interpreting data'
(in whatever guise, including Firth's
dictum'the
text means what you (sc. the linguist) say it means')
,
we cannot do this without taking as primary data the unitary phenomenon of text-in-context.
Putting
these two dimensions together, instantiation and stratification, we arrive at
an interpretation whereby a text, in its context of situation, is an instance
of the linguistic system, in its context of culture. If we are to theorize the interpretation of the social and
the semiotic (as is essential if de Beaugrande's
project for education is to have any hope of succeeding) , then in order to'bring
real language back into the centre'
we will need to be Asurveying very large corpora of actualized
texts' (&
97) in relation to their social contexts: not only the instantial
(situational) contexts of the texts themselves but also the context of
the corpus as a social activity-- its relation to the differential
distribution of textual practices across society and to the way the reading of
a text is inalienably linked to the social positioning of the reader.
de Beaugrande is outstanding for his insistence on the social
accountability of the linguist. What
we are emphasizing here is the importance of embodying this commitment into
the theorizing of language itself: assuming a'text
linguistics' at, and
beyond, the millennium, the new freedom that comes with access to large
quantities of authentic data will become a truly democratic force only to the
extent that the data are matched by a socially accountable theory of semiotic
systems and processes.
References:
Francis,
Gillian and Hunston, Susan. 1999.
Halliday,
M A K. 1991. Towards probabilistic
interpretations. In Eija Ventola (ed) Functional and Systemic
Linguistics: Approaches and Uses. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.
Halliday,
M A K. 1993. Quantitative studies and probabilities in grammar. In Michael Hoey
(ed) Data, Description, Discourse: Papers on the English Language in
honour of John McH Sinclair. London: Harper Collins.
Halliday,
M A K. 1996. On grammar and grammatics. In Ruqaiya Hasan, Carmel Cloran &
David Butt (eds) Functional Descriptions: Theory in Practice.
Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Halliday,
M A K, McIntosh, Angus & Strevens, Peter. 1964. The Linguistic Sciences
and Language Teaching. London: Longman.
Halliday,
M A K, & James, Z L. 1993. 'A
quantitative study of polarity and primary tense in the English finite clause'.
In John M Sinclair, Michael Hoey
& Gwyneth Fox (eds) Techniques of Description: Spoken and Written
Discourse. London: Routledge.
Halliday,
M A K, & Matthiessen, Christian. 1999. Construing Experience through
Meaning: A Language Based Approach to Cognition. London: Cassell.
Hasan,
Ruqaiya. 1985. Lending and borrowing: From grammar to lexis. In John E Clark (ed)
The Cultivated Australian. Amsterdam: Helmut Buske.
Hasan,
Ruqaiya. 1987. The grammarian's
dream: lexis as most delicate grammar. In Robin P Fawcett & M A K Halliday (eds)
New Developments in Systemic Linguistics, Vol 1: Theory and Description.
London: Francis Pinter.
Hasan,
Ruqaiya. 1995. The conception of context in text. In Peter H Fries & Michael
Gregory (eds) Discourse in Society: Functional Perspectives.
Norwood, NJ: Ablex.
Hasan,
Ruqaiya. 1999a. The disempowerment game: Bourdieu and language in literacy. Linguistics
and Education 10(1) : 25-87.
Hasan,
Ruqaiya. 1999b. Speaking with reference to context. In Mohsen Ghadessy (ed)
Text and Context in Functional Linguistics. Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Lamb,
Sydney. 1999. The Pathways of the Brain: The Neurocognitive Basis of Language.
Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Lemke,
Jay. 1993. Discourse, dynamics and social change.
Language as Cultural Dynamic, Special Issue of Cultural Dynamics
6.1-2: 243-275.
Sinclair,
John McH. 1992. Trust the text: the implications are daunting. In Martin Davies
& Louise Ravelli (eds) Advances in Systemic Linguistics.
London: Pinter.
Svartvik,
Jan & Quirk, Randolph (eds) . 1980. A Corpus of English Conversation.
Lund:-- W K Gleerup.
Thibault,
Paul J. 1997. Re-reading Saussure: The Dynamics of Signs in Social Life.
London: Routledge.
Sin and grace: naught for noughts?
J
R Martin,
University
of Sydney
Embarking
on the noughts (2000-09) , Robert and I are fellow-travellers.
I agree the key to progress is reworking langue and parole as a dialectic
of system and process, and finding ways of exploring process that illuminate
metastability (systemic inertia and dynamism - the problem of social semiotic
change) . In relation to this
project I find it useful to draw on two key dimensions of systemic functional
linguistics (hereafter SFL) , the clines of instantiation
and realisation (Halliday & Matthiessen 1999) .
Instantiation involves the way we observe metastability - as apparent
flux or inertia or something in between. Halliday’s
analogy here is weather and climate; weather the capricious flux we experience
day to day, climate the comforting inertia we try to use to plan.
Critically, weather and climate are the same thing, looked at in
different ways. And we can argue
that weather changes climate, in ways that matter (global warming) and
ways that don’t (like when we hear that today’s temperature is 26°, 2°
degrees above average, which in fact changes that average, and we don’t fuss
about the contradiction) - or that climate determines weather (since It
always rains in Melbourne, and that kind of Sydney-siders’ overclaim) .
Thus
text interacts with system, along a cline of instantiation, including system
(the generalised meaning potential of a language) , register (sub-potentials
characterised as registers and genres) , text type (generalised instances - a
set of texts if you will) , text (the meanings afforded by an instance) -
to which we should perhaps add at the end of the cline, following Robert,
reading (the meaning taken from a text according to the subjectivity of the
reader) :
system(generalised
meaning potential)
register(semantic
sub-potential)
text
type (generalised actual)
text(affording
instance)
reading(subjectified
meaning)
Robert’s
point is that we can’t understand the climate unless we study local weather.
Amplifying this, I’d suggest that we be clearer about how we position
data and generalisations along this cline, and work harder at finding ways of
modelling inertia and flux right along the cline - since we need to show both
where the system end is leaning and how the reading end is constrained - in
order to understand how the dialectic of instantiation changes things fast
enough to matter and slowly enough to keep us sane.
Realisation,
on the other hand, involves the way we model metastable systems - as abstract or
concrete, or something in between. Linguists,
qua linguists, typically get real by taking phonic substance as point of
departure, and treating the rest of language and culture as layers of
abstraction. In SFL, depth of
abstraction is treated as metaredundancy - as patterns of patterns of patterns
of... (see Lemke 1995) . Within
language the strata focus on the syllable (phonology) , clause (lexicogrammar)
and text (discourse semantics) ; social context is modelled as field
(institution) , tenor (interaction) and mode (information flow) , and
sometimes in addition as genre (the system of social processes constraining
immanent associations of field, mode and tenor relations; Martin 1992, 1997) :
genre
(immanent social processes)
register(institution/interaction/information)
discourse semantics (text forming
resources)
lexicogrammar(clause
forming resources)
phonology
(syllable forming resources/prosody)
Instantiation
and realisation are complementary dimensions in the model, so we can consider
the relation of system to process at any level of abstraction.
Robert didn’t deal in detail with realisation and what I want to do
here is make some complementary suggestions about exploring language in use with
this dimension in mind.
By
way of pointing us forward in our exploration of system and process, Robert
draws on corpus linguistics, particularly its well automated dealings with
collocation and colligation. I have
no doubt that the collocational lexical perspective complements work on grammar
as system in important ways, and that Halliday’s notion of lexis as delicate
grammar still has to be reconciled with this tradition.
As for colligation, I expect we need to move from tagging syntagms to
tagging structures (from class sequences like noun^noun or nominal^verbal to
function frames like Actor^Process or Classifier^Thing) for significant
progress to be made. The problem is
of course that tagging functional frames is far harder to automate than tagging
syntagms; we just don’t have the parsers, and hand tagging is so slow.
We have a soft-ware problem here, and we have to face it to make it go
away. In the meantime,
semi-automated workbenches will have to serve, as we move beyond classes to
functions and thus bring meaning into the scope of grammatical inquiry, just as
collocation research has brought lexical meaning to bear.
So
much for grammar; what about discourse? One
thing that concerned me about Robert’s exemplifications was that they didn’t
take us beyond the clause to deal with discourse semantic dependencies.
In a journal like Text, this should perhaps be a central concern.
Time to get our hands dirty. Consider
text 1:
[1]
There is a sense, then, in which the demand for a total recollection of sins
results in the unlimited extensions of discourse purporting to extract and
convey one’s successes and failures in accounting for past acts and desires.
Accounting thus allows confession to become a self-sustaining machine for
the reproduction not only of God’s gifts of mercy but of “sin” as well.
For God’s continued patronage -- the signs of His mercy -- requires a
narrative of sins to act upon. The
confessor who sits in lieu of an absent Father needs the penitent’s stories,
without which there can be no possibility of asserting and reasserting the
economy of divine mercy. Without
the lure of sin, the structure of authority implicit in this economy would never
emerge. Confession was crucial
because it produced a divided subject who was then made to internalise the
Law’s language. The penitent
became “the speaking subject who is also the subject of the statement”
(Foucault 1980: 1:61) . But
confession was also important because it made for the ceaseless multiplication
of narratives of sin through their ever-faulty accounting.
In introducing the category of “sin”, confession converted the past
into a discourse that was bound to the Law and its agents.
In this way the accounting and recounting of the past generated the
complicitous movement between sin and grace. [Rafael 1988]
I’m
sure collocation and colligation would have a lot to say about data of this
kind, whether working with a span of 80 or 200 characters or more.
The lexis and grammar of post-colonial discourse feels distinctive; and
we could begin to systematise our feelings.
But there is more going on. Rhetorical
dependencies between sentences and ranking clauses for one thing, as the
argument unfolds:
[i]There
is a sense, then ...
[ii]
Accounting thus ...
[iii]
For ...
[iv]
[v]
[vi]
Confession was crucial because it produced a divided subject who
was then ...
[vii]
[viii]
But confession was also important because ...
[ix]
In introducing the category of “sin”...
[x]In
this way ...
And
identity dependencies as participants are tracked:
God’s-God’s-His
Confession-it
confession-it
narratives-their
the
Law-its
And
these two types of semantic interdependency interact at both the beginning and
end of the text. At it’s
beginning, resolving the identity of the
demand for a total recollection of sins specifies the scope of the linker then, which on its own simply tells us that what preceded is
causally connected to what follows (taking us back to The Spanish demand is that nothing be held back in confession; see
text [1’] below) .
[The
Spanish demand is that nothing be held back in confession] -
There
is a sense, then, in which the demand for a total recollection of
sins
Similarly
at the end of the text, resolving the identity of the
accounting the recounting of the past specifies the scope of this
in the linker in this way. Exploring
further, for example through the taxonomy oriented ideational dependencies
(noting in particular the balance of semiotic and religious lexis) ...
narrative-stories-narratives-accounting-accounting-recounting
demand-asserting-reasserting-speaking
sins-successes-failures-mercy-sin-mercy-sins-mercy-sin-sin-sin-sin-grace
God-God-confessor-Father-penitent-penitent
etc.
...
we should arrive at a schema naturalised by the text in which [i-iii] are
elaborated by [iv-ix] which are in turn elaborated by [x]; the function of
confession is previewed, expanded upon, then distilled as the
complicitous movement between sin and grace:
[i]
There is a sense, then, in which the demand for a total recollection of
sins results in the unlimited extensions of discourse purporting to extract and
convey one’s successes and failures in accounting for past acts and desires.
[ii] Accounting thus allows confession to become a self-sustaining
machine for the reproduction not only of God’s gifts of mercy but of “sin”
as well. [iii] For God’s continued patronage -- the signs of
His mercy -- requires a narrative of sins to act upon.
[iv]
The confessor who sits in lieu of an absent Father needs the penitent’s
stories, without which there can be no possibility of asserting and reasserting
the economy of divine mercy. [v]
Without the lure of sin, the structure of authority implicit in this economy
would never emerge. [vi] Confession
was crucial because it produced a divided subject who was then
made to internalise the Law’s language. [vii]
The penitent became “the speaking subject who is also the subject of the
statement” (Foucault 1980: 1:61) . [viii]
But confession was also important because it made for the
ceaseless multiplication of narratives of sin through their ever-faulty
accounting. [ix] In
introducing the category of “sin”, confession converted the past into a
discourse that was bound to the Law and its agents.
[x]
In this way the accounting and recounting of the past generated the
complicitous movement between sin and grace.
And
this is just one small piece of texture in a longer phase the third part of
Chapter 3 of Rafael’s Contracting
Colonialism, a treatise on translation and Christian conversion in the
Philippines:
3.
Conversion and the Demands of Confession 84
The
“inadequacies” of Tagalog Conversion 84
Reducing
Native Bodies 87
Confession
and the Logic of Conversion 91
This
longer phase opens with a transition from what preceded (this
internalisation...)
to what ensues (two interrelated
procedures) ;
these ‘procedures’ are scaffolded as they appear by the linker first,
and the phoric Numerative second - and
resolved through the identity of the
process of accounting and the
discourse of interrogation.
...This
internalisation of an exterior hierarchy consists of two interrelated procedures: the
accounting of past events and the
reproduction of the discourse of interrogation contained in the confession
manuals.
First,
the process of accounting. All
confession manuals contain the unconditional demand that all sins be revealed...
These
considerations bring us to the second
moment in the interiorisation of hierarchy prescribed by confession: the
reproduction of the discourse of interrogation...
Many
people find post-structuralist discourse hard to read.
And it is one of the most abstract discourses the technology of writing
has enabled writers to evolve. But
its rhetoric and the way it is textured through semantic dependencies of the
kinds just reviewed subsumes the more familiar rhetoric of modernist discourse (Halliday
1998, Wignell 1998) . The challenge
for text analysts is to unveil this rhetoric, and explain just how the
post-colonial discourse has superseded it.
We didn’t get far down that road here.
Here’s the text again, with some co-text; if knowledge about language
and social context has a role to play in language learning, it should be easier
going this time round.
[1’]
...This internalisation of an exterior hierarchy consists of two interrelated
procedures: the accounting of past events and the reproduction of the discourse
of interrogation contained in the confession manuals.
First,
the process of accounting. All
confession manuals contain the unconditional demand that all sins be revealed...
The
Spanish demand is that nothing be held back in confession. One is to expend all that memory can hold in a discourse that
will bring together both the self that recalls and that which is recalled.
The present self that confronts the priest in confession is thus expected
to have managed to control his or her past - to reduce it, as it were, to
discursive submission. Whereas the examination of conscience requires the division
of the self into one that knows the Law and seeks out the other self that
deviates from it, a “good confession” insists on the presentation of a self
in total control of its past. It is
in this sense that confessional discourse imposes on the individual penitent
what Roland Barthes called a “totalitarian economy” involving the complete
recuperation and submission of the past to the present, and by extension of the
penitent to the priest (Barthes 1976: 39-75) .
Yet
insofar as the ideal of a perfect accounting of sins also necessitated their
recounting in a narrative, it was condemned to become a potentially infinite
task. Given the limitations of
memory, accounting “engenders its own errors.”
And the errors created by faulty accounting become further sins that have
to be added to the original list. The
very possibility of a correct accounting engenders an erroneous accounting, just
as remembering one’s sins would make no sense unless there existed the
possibility of forgetting them. It
is thus the guarantee of a faulty accounting of sins that makes conceivable the
imperative for total recall. Barthes
puts it more succinctly: “Accountancy has a mechanical advantage: for being
the language of a language, it is able to support an infinite circularity of
errors and of their accounting” (Barthes 1976: 70) .
There
is a sense, then, in which the demand for a total recollection of sins results
in the unlimited extensions of discourse purporting to extract and convey
one’s successes and failures in accounting for past acts and desires.
Accounting thus allows confession to become a self-sustaining machine for
the reproduction not only of God’s gifts of mercy but of “sin” as well.
For God’s continued patronage -- the signs of His mercy -- requires a
narrative of sins to act upon. The
confessor who sits in lieu of an absent Father needs the penitent’s stories,
without which there can be no possibility of asserting and reasserting the
economy of divine mercy. Without
the lure of sin, the structure of authority implicit in this economy would never
emerge. Confession was crucial
because it produced a divided subject who was then made to internalise the
Law’s language. The penitent
became “the speaking subject who is also the subject of the statement”
(Foucault 1980: 1:61) . But
confession was also important because it made for the ceaseless multiplication
of narratives of sin through their ever-faulty accounting.
In introducing the category of “sin”, confession converted the past
into a discourse that was bound to the Law and its agents.
In this way the accounting and recounting of the past generated the
complicitous movement between sin and grace. [Rafael 1988: 101-103]
These
considerations bring us to the second moment in the interiorisation of hierarchy
prescribed by confession: the reproduction of the discourse of interrogation...
My
word count says wind down. My point
here is that we need discourse semantic tagging, alongside lexicogrammatical
analysis, in order to unpack the rhetorical contingencies whereby texts make
meaning - including the meanings that make and re-make system. There is more to system than grammar[i];
it involves phonology/graphology and discourse semantics as well.
Collocation and colligation, however richly conceived, will never tell us
all we need to know. However much harder the tagging of discourse semantic
dependencies may be to automate, I think we are in desperate need of more,
systematic text analysis that goes beyond the clause without lapsing into
informal explication de texte.
Martin
1992 suggests four major regions of discourse semantic analysis - identification
(participant tracking) , conjunction (logical connections of time, cause etc.) ,
negotiation (speech function and dialogue structure) and ideation (realisation
of taxonomies and activity sequences) . It
strikes me that research in SFL and west-coast functionalist tradition[ii]
has been converging around these regions for some years and that productive
dialogue is now possible. I’m thinking here for example of Dubois 1980, Mann
& Thompson 1992 in relation to Halliday & Hasan 1976, Martin 1992; of
Ochs et al 1996 in relation to Coulthard 1992; of Halliday & Matthiessen
1999 in relation to Langacker 1987:
[Martin
1992]West Coast Functionalism SFL
‘identification’
identity (Dubois 1980) reference
‘conjunction’
RST (Mann & Thompson 1992) conjunction
‘negotiation’
CA (Ochs et al. 1996) exchange[iii]
‘ideation’
cognitive linguistics (Langacker)
ideational semantics
No
doubt readers can make additional connections of their own.
The critical thing is that discourse analysis include text analysis, not
as a matter of form, but as the semantic foundation for discourse on discourse -
the meta-readings we’re trained to make.
The
cline of abstraction I introduced above includes the social - as a pattern of
meanings. As such it makes room for
a language-based theory of social context, which enables linguists to
participate in transdisciplinary projects as social semiotic practitioners.
I think the time for productive inter-disciplinary work is over - by
which I mean projects in which linguists hand over to sociologists,
anthropologists, critical theorists or whatever once they’ve worked through
phonology, lexicogrammar and discourse semantics (or even before!) .
This doesn’t encourage dialogue, since it means the linguists aren’t
taking responsibility for the social just as the social theorists aren’t
taking responsibility for language (cf. Schegloff 1996) .
We need overlapping intrusive expertise[iv]
to move on, and this means pushing the cline of realisation right through as
many levels of abstraction as we can.
Martin
1992 interprets field, tenor and mode (named register) as configurations
of ideational, interpersonal and textual meaning respectively; and interprets
genre as co-patterning of register choices recurrently phased together in
unfolding text. Genre in such
terms, as a pattern (of a pattern of) linguistic choices corresponds to
Biber’s use of the term text type (cf. Biber & Finnegan 1995: 7-10) .
Biber’s reserves the term genre (later register) for ‘folk’
categorisations of discourse glossed in terms of social purpose, and packages
his corpora for both analysis and interpretation in relation to such criteria,
which he sees as language external.As dialogue between SFL and this great
Northern Arizona tradition of corpus based research unfolds I would like to see
a richer tagging system, including function structures and discourse semantic
dependencies, developing in tandem with an ongoing re-packaging of corpora based
on genre and register as configurations of meaning.
Initially, of course, the theory behind such packaging will depend on
register and genre theory evolving out of intensive manual analysis of exemplary
texts (Christie & Martin 1997) ; as automation facilitates analysis, this
can be extended along the cline of instantiation through text types to
registers. In the foreseeable
future the need for Biber’s distinction between text type and register/genre
would hopefully disappear, as we arrive at a linguistically responsible
characterisation of language use as recurrent configurations of meaning.
At this point linguistics will have arrived as a real player in the
humanities and social sciences, with a linguistically materialised theory of
social action - and the transdisciplinary dialogues we need can take off.
But without richer tagging, and corpora packaged with respect to current
best guesses about immanent genres, this isn’t going to happen in the noughts.[v]
Word
count says stop. In short, I’m
agreeing with Robert about instantiation - system and process in relation to
genesis is what we’re after; and I’m expanding Robert in relation to
realisation - we need to get beyond the clause, getting bigger and digging
deeper[vi]
towards a fuller spectrum of social linguistic analysis.
Pursuing this, we have to be cautious of two things:
(i)
getting trapped by automation, so that we only do what machines let us (e.g.
collocation, colligation, text types based on words classes and syntagms etc.) ;
(ii)
getting mesmerised by scintillating grammarians proffering super-grammars, so
that we put off discourse analysis because the super-grammars[vii]
do so much more than we could ever have reasonably expected them to.
Believe
me when I say that I’m not slighting Biber, Sinclair, Halliday and Matthiessen
here; their work founds our future, and grammars like Halliday’s, however rich
from a grammarians’ point of view, are barely enough when it comes to serving
as one key meta-semiotic ratchet in the discourse analyst’s tool-kit.
But as discourse analysts we have to put ourselves in position to bargain
strongly with both grammarians and soft-ware.
To grammarians we’re saying, “Fine; give us all you got; now, give us
more; and by the way, when you run out of grammar, let us take over.”
To programmers we’re saying, “OK; give us an interactive workbench
for rich text analysis; automate what you can, and we’ll do the rest by hand;
and by the way, please build a program than can learn from our manual analysis
and from our manual editing of your automations how to automate better and
automate more!”
If
we bargain well, we can move forward gracefully, wary of sins of omission
(however technologically induced) . Bargain
badly and it will be naught for noughts. Robert
to umpire. Us to choose.
Notes
[i] Even where discourse semantics and phonology are given a place in analysis, promotion of grammar as the semogenic powerhouse of the system gives me pause (cf. Halliday & Matthiessen 1999) - discourse analysts might not agree.
[ii] I take Fox 1987 as the exemplary west-coast functionalist study, since it brings several discourse semantic regions (CA, RST and participant identification) to bear on the ‘grammar’ of text development; more generally, dialogue with SFL has been impeded by west-coast aversion to theory building and their concern with discourse as an explanation for grammar, at the expense of developing grammars as (part of) an explanation for discourse (cf. Cumming & Ono 1997) .
[iii] Our traditional focus on turn-taking needs to be enriched by work on evaluation - for example Biber’s stance in relation to SFL appraisal (Hunston & Thompson 1999) .
[iv] In Australia, for example it’s the teacher/linguists who have pushed our literacy work ahead on a transdisciplinary footing, not linguists working with teachers; Cope & Kalantzis 1993, Hasan & Williams 1996, Christie 1999.
[v] What WILL happen is that we’ll continue to be bogged down in common sense chat about social context - at times referred to as ethnography (but not informed that I can see by social theory of any kind) , at times reglossed as cognition (but not reconciled that I can see with Edelman’s neo-Darwinian neuro-biology; cf. Halliday 1995, Halliday & Matthiessen 1999, Matthiessen 1998 for discussion) .
[vi] It’s no use getting deeper without getting bigger, along the dated syntax, semantics and pragmatics cline, since in this tradition we never really escape the clause; text analysis gets pushed to the margins, as performance really, as Robert implies.
[vii] We have to be even more careful when the super-grammars as reglossed and presented as semantics, as in Halliday & Matthiessen 1999, without really being recontextualised by either co-text or context (field) ; while their project may help to convince cognitivists that concepts can be alternatively mapped as meanings, it may not be promoting the discourse semantics we need to model language in social life.
References:
Biber,
D & E Finnegan 1994 Sociolinguistic
Perspectives on Register. Oxford: Oxford University press.
Coulthard,
M [Ed.] 1992 Advances in Spoken Discourse
Analysis. London: Routledge.
Christie,
F [Ed.] 1999 Pedagogy and the Shaping of
Consciousness: linguistic and social processes. London: Cassell (Open Linguistics Series) .
Christie,
F & J R Martin 1997 Genre and
institutions: social processes in the workplace and school. London: Cassell
(Open Linguistics Series) .
Cope,
W & M Kalantzis [Eds.] 1993The Powers
of Literacy: a genre approach to teaching literacy. London:
Falmer (Critical Perspectives on Literacy and Education) & Pittsburg:
University of Pittsburg Press (Pittsburg Series in Composition, Literacy, and
Culture) .
Cumming,
S & T Ono 1997 Discourse and grammar. T
A van Dijk [Ed.] Discourse as Structure
and Process. London: Sage (Discourse Studies: a multidisciplinary
introduction. Volume 1) .112-137.
Du
Bois, J W 1980
Beyond definiteness: the trace of identity in discourse. W L Chafe [Ed.] The
Pear Stories: cognitive, cultural and linguistic aspects of narrative
production. Norwood, N.J.:
Ablex. 203-274.
Fox,
B 1987 Discourse Structure and Anaphora: written and conversational English.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Halliday,
M A K 1995 On language in relation
to the evolution of human consciousness. S Allen [Ed.] Of Thoughts and Words: proceedings of Nobel Symposium 92, “The
relation between language and the mind”, Stockholm 8-12 August 1994.
London: Imperial College Press.
Halliday,
M A K 1998 Things and relations: regrammaticising experience as technical
knowledge. in Martin & Veel 185-235.
Halliday
M A K & R Hasan 1976
Cohesion in English. London:
Longman (English Language Series 9) .
Halliday,
M A K & C M I M Matthiessen 1999 Construing
Experience through meaning: a language-based approach to cognition. London:
Cassell (Open Linguistics Series) .
Hasan,
R & G Williams [Eds.] 1996 Literacy in
Society. London: Longman
(Language and Social Life) .
Hunston,
S & G Thompson [Eds.] 1999 Evaluation
in Text: authorial stance and the construction of discourse.Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Langacker,
R 1987 Foundations of Cognitive Grammar.
Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Lemke, J 1995 Textual Politics:
discourse and social dynamics. London: Taylor & Francis (Culture &
Society/Critical Perspectives on Literacy and Education) .
Mann,
W C & S Thompson [Eds.]1992 Discourse
Description: diverse analyses of a fund raising text.
Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Martin,
J R 1992 English Text: system and
structure. Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Martin,
J R & R Veel 1998 Reading Science:
critical and functional perspectives on discourses of science. London:
Routledge.
Matthiessen,
C M I M 1995 Lexicogrammatical
cartography: English systems. Tokyo: International Language Sciences
Publishers.
Matthiessen,
C M I M 1998 Construing processes of consciousness: from the common sense model
to the uncommon sense model of cognitive science. Martin & Veel. 327-356.
Ochs,
E, E A Schegloff & S A Thompson
[Eds.] Interaction and Grammar.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press (Studies in Interactional Sociolinguistics
13) .
Rafael,
V 1988 Contracting Colonialism:
translation and Christian conversion in Tagalog society under early Spanish rule.
Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press. 101-103.
Schegloff,
E A 1996 Turn organisation: one intersection of grammar and interaction.
Ochs et al. 52-133.
Wignell,
P 1998 Technicality and abstraction in social science. Martin & Veel.
297-326.
Intertextuality and the Project
of Text Linguistics:
A Response to de Beaugrande
Jay Lemke
City University of New York
In
his stimulating contribution on 'Text Linguistics at the Millennium' Robert de
Beaugrande (this issue) urges us to seek out the 'missing links' between
language as a system of possibilities and text as a unique instance of the
social act of speaking or writing. He seeks a rededication of the project of
modern linguistics to understanding the meaning of texts in terms of a language
system used for social ends in social contexts. And he re-establishes our
optimism for such a project in the potential of large, computer-accessible
corpora of text data to inform our investigations of what and how texts mean.
My
own studies of text-in-context over many years (e.g. Lemke 1983, 1985, 1990,
1991, 1994, in press) lead me to broad agreement with de Beaugrande's
aims, and with the theoretical view of the text-language relationship that he
presents. Coming to similar conclusions by a different path, my angle of view
may help some readers of TEXT to grasp more of the multi-dimensional
whole that de Beaugrande's conception of text linguistics seeks to define. I
wish here to highlight several important points , de Beaugrande has made, and
amplify them with brief arguments and examples from my own work. At various
points I will raise some of the questions within this broad view of text
linguistics that continue to perplex me.
Perhaps
no question in text linguistics is more important, or more vexed, than how best
to conceptualize the relationship between system potential and textual instance,
whether as langue vs. parole, competence vs. performance,--or virtuality vs.
actuality. Like most of us who seek to understand how texts mean, I have had to
grapple with this issue again and again in the evolution of my own work
(particularly Lemke 1985, 1991, 1994, in press) . By and large I have followed
the general view of Michael Halliday (1977, 1978) , adopted in part by
Beaugrande as well, that system potential -- language as patterns of formal
order inferred from some of the many regularities construable across texts --
tells us what can or perhaps cannot be said or written in a community while the
instantial text tells us what has been said orwritten on some unique situated
occasion of human social activity. This is a bare beginning. As de Beaugrande
notes, texts do not entirely give up their power for meaning-making, they are
not entirely meanings made. There is still something language-like, a resource
potential for making further meaning, using features of a given text or of many
similar texts as a tool to create new meanings in new texts. Texts are in some
sense made from other texts (intertextuality) as well as from language as
code.
Likewise,
the meaning-making potential of language as a cultural system in its broadest
sense is not exhaustively described either by the purely paradigmatic systems of
Halliday's lexicogrammar, nor by the purely syntagmatic syntax of the MIT
school. Language as systematic resource for the making of textual meanings
retains the key feature of what it makes: a inner dialectic between choice and
sequence. The choices are not the same once the sequence has progressed to some
particular point in the making of a text; the choices made up to now influence
the possible sequences that can follow, and -- do so on multiple scales. Neither
language nor text is ever a truly synchronic phenomenon; both are dynamic in
nature. Whether we imagine the act of writing or speaking as an on-going
production, contingent at each next moment, or the effort of interpretation;
similarly, the meaning of text is, made through time, and never wholly
predictably: the aggregate probabilities for each choice that are the system are
not only re-weighted for each situation and each text, but dynamically shift
during the process of text-production itself. The overall meaning potential of
the language, whether as grammar alone or as the totality of its semantic
resources, is also constantly changing, on many timescales.
I
consider myself, when necessary, a semiotic materialist; that is, I take the
basic reality of language to be the sounds and marks by which we invoke its
power to mean, but their semiotic power I take to reside not in the sounds and
marks themselves, but in the particular conventional systems of meaning
relationships among them that are repeatedly construed by the members of some
community. Thus the material reality of language for me is in the texts
themselves as material objects (or material dynamical processes) , and their
full semiotic force appears when they are interpreted into unique, wholly
definite meanings, however unstably. What we call grammar or syntax, semantic
systems, language rules, etc. are all the products of our analysis, mere
theoretical conveniences, whose only real existence is in the texts we ourselves
produce as linguists and in which they are embedded. I am perhaps at the
philosophical margins in believing that no such relationship we construe is an
absolutely necessary one; we could imagine and speak of the world, and survive,
in indefinitely many ways. Our being-in-the-world constrains something about how
we talk and behave survivably, but it does not determine any particular meaning
relationship absolutely. I say this because such issues do matter to the classic
top-down vs. bottom-up debate over the text-language relationship. Platonists
and neo-Cartesians grant a causal reality to formal abstractions; I do not, and
neither as I read him does de Beaugrande. All that we say of language is an
abstraction from our experience with particular texts, and is itself just one
more text.
So
the problem of the 'missing links' then becomes a question of appropriate units
of analysis and useful levels of abstraction as we move from the unique
meaning-interpreted-text-in-context, to features of texts that are typical or
frequently repeated under some conditions, to features that seem ever-present
and only very slowly changing over historical time. Perhaps it is not surprising
that modern scientific linguistics looked first to identify the most invariant
features across all texts, and construed first phonological and then
morphosyntactic patterns. Nor is it really surprising, in the model I would
share with de Beaugrande, Halliday and many others, that these patterns enable
us to make textual meaning, but do not very much constrain the particular
meanings we make, and so they serve to tell us relatively little about what
particular texts mean.
I
am an applied linguist; I am more interested in the texts I study, and what they
tell me about the society I live in, than I am in the details of linguistic
abstractions for their own sake. I turn to those details only to help me
understand better the possible meanings of various texts in their social
contexts. When I first studied the spoken texts made by teachers and students in
science classrooms (Lemke 1990) , I was struck by their affinities to and
differences from the written-texts of professional science which I had studied
as a physicist. I was also impressed by the verymany ways in which what counts
for the scientific community as the same scientific explanation can be presented
in words. The critical meanings in these classrooms were matters of
intertextuality: How could students synthesize from ten partial explanations one
coherent understanding? How can we learn to judge which differences of wording
matter to the scientific content of a text and which do not? My answer to these
puzzles was a 'missing link', which I called an intertextual thematic formation
(Lemke 1983, 1994) . It abstracted from a set of thematically related texts
their common semantic patterns insofar as these mattered to a particular
community for a particular set of social purposes. It recognized the role of
grammar and textual cohesion, but it was far more 'local', more
register-specific. When I attempted to understand the reverse process, going
from such a common textual pattern to any actual wording that conformed to it, I
immediately saw how much else texts are about besides their topical content
(social relationships, evaluative orientations, rhetorical organization, etc.) .
As
I investigated these other meaning functions of texts, I began to appreciate why
we make texts at all. Why should we not be content with sentences of a few
clauses? What kinds of meanings can be made with longer texts that cannot be
made with shorter ones? How do the short-scale meanings of texts 'add up' to
their longer-scale meanings? De Beaugrande notes in his discussion of the
practicalities of corpus-based analyses that in many registers and genres of
text we cannot have much confidence in the specificity of the meaning of even a
short phrase like 'theory and practice', unless we look across some minimal
scale of co-text. In my own analyses of how texts present an evaluation of the
warrantability, desirability, importance, expectedness, etc. of a semantic item
(word, more often phrase or clause) , I found that in many cases both the
polarity and the degree of the evaluation had 'propagated' grammatically and
rhetorically from a distance of several clauses or even paragraphs in the text
(Lemke 1998) . Texts are organized on many formal and functional scales, and
these matter very much to how they make their meanings. Our intermediate units
of analysis, our 'missing links' must take them into account to be useful for
our purposes. it is a basic feature of text that it is semantically
heterogeneous; it makes different, if related, meanings at different points.
This is the visible or audible trace of the dynamical processes of its
production and interpretation, processes which generate new and different next
meanings from whatever meanings have already been made up to some point.
As
we abstract 'upwards' from a set of texts toward common patterns, we must be
guided by some social purposes of our own community. And we always are,
knowingly or not. There are just too many possible patterns, especially close to
the level of texts themselves; only interest or need enables us to selectively
foreground some rather than others. In both his general arguments and his
textual examples, de Beaugrande insistently reminds us of the politics of
linguistics as an intellectual endeavor. We must indeed subject our own
professional texts to the same scrutiny we direct at others'. The register of
linguistics, the common genres and rhetorical commonplaces of linguistics, the
covert heroic stories into which we write ourselves as
protagonists: all of these have social and political histories that
matter. We cannot adopt a viewpoint of ‘no viewpoint', or pretend to a
universality of view when our own view must necessarily always be only a partial
one.
The
partiality of our analyses can be investigated not just in the terms of global
politics and alternative human futures, but most simply in terms of the fact,
stressed by de Beaugrande, that each of us. has only grasped a very limited
subset of all the kinds of texts made on this planet in our lifetime. Indeed, as
our societies grow more complex and internally differentiated, each of us
arguably encounters an ever smaller fraction of the texts and the text-types of
even one language. Here indeed there is special value in very large text
corpora, where every sort of text made in the world is proportionally
represented (an ideal not yet achieved of course in any real corpus) . But even
if we find such texts on the computer screen before us, what are we to make of
them? We are not members of all these speech communities; we do not have
available to us the intertexts considered by members to be relevant to their
interpretation.
I
believe that text linguistics must acknowledge the severe limitations of the
heroic story of One Great Linguist who overcomes many obstacles to find the
salvation of a Universal Truth about language. Those of us who seek to begin
from diverse textual data and find genuinely useful typical patterns across
large sets of texts may need to restrict our work, and our claims, to
well-defined corpora with which we have adequate intertextual competence to
work. If we seek generalizations beyond this limit, then we will need to work in
teams or consortia, to pool our collective knowledge of texts in order to
further our common knowledge of text.
References
Halliday,
M.A.K. (1977) . Text as semantic choice in social context. In T.A. van Dijk and
J. Petöfi, Eds., Grammars and Descriptions. Berlin: de Gruyter. ---
Halliday,
M.A.K. (1978) . Language as social semiotic. London: Arnold.
Lemke,
J.L. (1983) . Thematic analysis. Semiotic Inquiry 3(2) :159-187.
Lemke,
J.L. (1985) . Ideology, intertextuality, and the notion of register. In J.D.
Benson and W. S. Greaves, Eds., Systemic Perspectives on Discourse. Norwood, NJ:
Ablex Publishing, 275-294.
Lemke,
J.L. (1990) . Talking Science: Language, Learning, and Values. Norwood, NJ:
Ablex Publishing.
Lemke,
J.L. (1991) . Text production and dynamic text semantics. In E. Ventola, Ed.
Functional and Systemic Linguistics: Approaches and Uses. Berlin: Mouton/deGruyter,
23-38.
Lemke,
J.L. (1994) . Intertextuality and text semantics. In M. Gregory and P. Fries,
Eds. Discourse in Society: Functional Perspectives. Norwood, NJ: Ablex
Lemke,
J.L. (1998) . Resources for attitudinal meaning: Evaluative orientations in text
semantics. Functions of language 5(l) : 33-56, 1998.
Lemke,
J.L. (in press) . Semantic topography and textual meaning. To appear in J. de Villiers and R. Stainton, Eds. Communication in
Linguistics. Toronto: Editions du GREF, 1-23
Grammar versus Text
Wolfgang Dressler
University of Vienna
Since
texts are among the most complex linguistic signs (or even units) which
are objects of linguistic research, the number of promising approaches to their
investigation is much higher than with less complex signs (e.g. word or sentence)
. As a consequence, even Beaugrande's very rich contribution cannot do justice
to the wealth of competing promising approaches to "text", be it in
the ending or (even more) in the upcoming millennium. In accordance with
the available space, I will focus my response just on one avenue towards
studying the interconnected relations between grammar and text, and between
virtual and actual systems, and in doing so I must refer to some of my previous
work for further information.
I
quite agree with Beaugrande's (section 23) vision of text as "a unit
which actually links language to speech", but I disagree with his equation
or near-equation of language and speech with Noam Chomsky's competence vs.
performance" or Ferdinand de Saussure's "langue" vs.
"parole". Already Louis Hjelmslev and Eugenio Coseriu have argued that
this dichotomy must been enlarged to trichotomy which includes "language as
a social institution ' linguistic norms" as mediating between language as a
virtual system"' and actualisation in performance/parole.
That
this trichotomy works well for those systems of grammar, also within my own
naturalness approach (cf. Dressler 1999a) , I have in many places, e.g. for
phonology in Dressler (1984) , for morphology in Dressler (ed. 1987) . It works
well also for the lexicon, e.g. when differentiating between 1) potential
meanings of a word within (usually open) system, 2) the
institutionalised meanings of this word, as they should be found in a good
dictionary, and 3) the actual meanings in a running text. Clearly, such a
conceptualisation renders the application of the empirically very important
dichotomy between type and token more difficult than practitioners would like,
i.e. much (explicit or implicit) theoretical groundwork is needed for
operationalising the type-token relation. This is most obvious on the text
level, e.g., if we want to compare tokens of the type "love letter"
(or "obituary", etc.) and count the occurrences of definitional
or of prototypical properties as against accidental properties of such a type.
These types, which represent genres (German ‘Textsorten’) are clearly
to be assigned to the level of language as institution (norm) Now can we
construct for these genres also correspondences on a level of the virtual system
of language? Of course we can talk about virtual love letter (or obituary)
and its distinctive Saussurian value in opposition to other genres of the same
language. But clearly such virtual concepts are much vaguer and more fluid than
any phonological, morphological, syntactic, and lexical unit of the virtual
system of the same language. This is the immediate main reason why attempts at
characterizing non-texts and constructing text grammars have been futile (see
Beaugrande 18, 37) . Thus also stars (asterisks, a very tool introduced by
generative grammar) are much dimmer in text than in grammar.
As
further consequences, there have been modular approaches to grammar, whereas
nobody has ventured to postulate a specific text module. Accordingly, the
complexity of a (virtual) grammatical system can be described in terms of
a building-block model or of a part-whole model of complexity theory, whereas,
as shown by Beaugrande himself, the complexity of text has to be accounted for
in quite different terms. Therefore it has been a scientific progress, even a
must (pace Beaugrande) that grammar, which had been firmly connected with
logics and rhetorics in the classical trivium since medieval times, has been
isolated from text and posited as a separate object of study (cf. Dressler 1999b)
. This view, however, entails that grammar cannot be the core of linguistic
phenomena with texts as superficial epiphenomena; rather, text linguistics,
discourse analysis and pragmatics deal with the essential language phenomena,
whereas virtual linguistics systems — of which virtual grammar is the most
systematic and structured part — represent secondary idealization,
These
idealizations should not be seen only as models. Rather they correspond in a way
which linguists interested in the psychological reality of their models must
elaborate and refine, to what speakers construct themselves. Similar to
constructivist frameworks which describe the self-organizing emergence of
complexity in physical, chemical and biological systems, constructivist and
emergentist models of language acquisition must describe how children construct
and reconstruct, step by step, correspondences to the complexity of their
target/input language. This happens first on the levels of phonetics on the one
hand, of text and pragmatics on the other (cf. Dressler 1996) . Later on
children also construct fragments of grammar (Dressler
ed. 1997) . All these constructions are patterns which appertain to the
level of norms — which of course differ from institutionalised adult norms.
But when children become aware of the productivity of grammatical rules, then
they (re) construct a further level of reader mechanisms of a virtual system,
which represent the core of virtual grammar. Properly textual phenomena lack
such a core and thus, what children, adolescents and adults can construct in
this area, is a rather loose system of potentialities. For this system
Beaugrande (30) is correct when concluding that ‘virtuality is by
definition open and dynamic".
As
a result of these views, I cannot agree with Beaugrande's (17, 31)
characterizations of grammar as frozen (which recalls Leo Spitzer’s famous
identification of grammar with "frozen style") nor with his
rejection (32) of real synchronic system: of course, performance is always
dynamic (even in the severest syndromes of global aphasia) , and the level of
language as institution includes many norms which are elastic and full of social
transitions. Beaugrande is also correct when thinking of the open virtual
systems of text. But the constructions of virtual grammar are much steadier.
This
view on the difference between text and grammar (especially qua virtual systems)
engenders differential predictions for language impairments, e.g. in aphasia
(cf. Dressier & Stark eds. 1988) . It correctly predicts impairments of both
performance and norms of both grammar and text. Aphasics may even construct new
textual norms during therapy, as Dressler et al. (1990) have shown for
gender-specific discourse. But whereas there is some evidence for the impairment
of entities or properties of virtual grammar, there is none so far for
impairment of virtual text.
Quite
predictably, the steadiest part of virtual text systems occurs at the interface
of text and grammar, where rules of e.g. co-reference are constructed, whose
status comes close to, but is not identical with, that, of syntactic rules of
sentence co-reference. Not surprisingly, this subfield of text linguistics has
been called text syntax of transphrastic syntax in the seventies. Text linguistics in the coming millennium
would do well to distinguish this (rather marginal) subfield from the main
objects of textual investigations.
References
Dressier,
Wolfgang U. 1984. Explaining Natural Phonology. Phonology Yearbook 1. 29-52.
____.
1987. Leitmotifs in Natural Phonology. 1996. A note on rhematic disagreements in
early child language. In B. Partee & P. Sgall eds. Discourse and Meaning.
Amsterdam: Benjamins, 205-219.
____.
1997. ed. Studies in Pre- and Protomorphology. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen
Akademie der Wissenschaften.
____.
1999a. On a Semiotic Theory of Preferences in Language. The Peirce Seminar
Papers 4, 389-415.
____.
1999b. Textlinguistik und die Isolierung der Grammatik von Pragmatik und Diskurs.
In F. Fuerbeth et al. eds. Zur Geschichte und Problematik der
Nationalphilologien in Europa. Tübingen: Niemeyer. 823-832.
Dressier,
W.U. & Jacqueline A. Stark. 1988. eds. Linguistic Analyses of Aphasic
Language. New York: Springer.
Dressier,
W.U., Ruth Wodak and Csaba Pleh. 1990. Gender-specific discourse in aphasia. In
Y. Joanette & H. Brownell eds. Discourse Ability and Brain Damage. New York:
Springer, 236-245.
Corpus
and text:
Moving
toward Synthesis
robert
de beaugrande
Just
as I had hoped, my respondents have raised some significant points; one might
earnestly wish that such careful, considered critiques would be more customary
in the field of linguistics instead of the impetuous polemics we have witnessed
so often. I see here much matter for future discussions, but I shall be content
with some brief clarifications.
1.
The linguist as a human phoneme?
If
you survey the discourse of modern linguistics in some detail, you might well be
impressed by the ambition of some influential linguists to set aside our notions
of ‘language’ in everyday life and talk, and to reconstruct ‘language’
from the ground up by means of strenuous theoretical bootstrapping (Beaugrande
1991, 1998a) . Now, the most cautious and logical statement about a language
would be that its constituent entities — sounds, forms, meanings, or whatever
—must differ among themselves. One further next step in this logic,
however, would be radical if not audacious: this ‘differing’ is precisely
what defines and determines
those same entities within a system. This step effectively closes and freezes
the system insofar as this ‘differing’ is the most stable, relentless, and
skeptical means of constituting a system.
Such
was the logic instated by the triumph of the ‘phoneme’: There we
discovered a theoretical unit of mentally represented sound precisely defined in
phonology by its opposition to all other units, and also corresponding neatly to
the practical unit of physically articulated sound
precisely defined in phonetics. So profoundly did these properties
inspire linguistics that much of our
field’s history has been concerned with attempting to generalize phonology to
the other ‘levels’ of language.
This heritage of this logic has been lengthy and prolific. We
became habituated to treat ‘language’ (under various labels, such as
‘langue’ or ‘competence’) as an ideal
theoretical system which corresponds to text or discourse (also under
various labels, such as ‘parole’ or ‘performance’) as real
practical phenomena, even though the correspondence is nowhere so clear as
with sound-units. And we approach ‘language’ by dismantling it through oppositions
and dichotomies into ‘levels’ or ‘components’ in the hope that
‘scientific
progress’ will occur when each of these ‘has been isolated from text and
posited as a separate object of study’ (Dressler, this issue) .
Opposition spills over into our institutional decorum as
well. A new approach (‘theory’, ‘school’, or whatever) typically
takes a programmatic stand against some currently prevailing one:
‘synchronic’ against historical (‘diachronic’) , ‘generative’
against ‘structural’, and so forth (cf. Beaugrande 1991) . Regrettably,
these oppositions have mainly been non-dialectical in the Hegelian sense: a
thesis attacked by an antithesis which becomes a new thesis and is assailed by
the next antithesis. Synthesis is continually neglected and postponed, as if
each linguist were a human phoneme defined by opposition to other linguists. And
this divisive rhetorical
ambience
endanger any linguist who does strive for synthesis, since such work can be made
into an antithesis by the ‘oppositionalists’ on all sides.
In view of this same ambience, I would answer Halliday and
Hasan and Dressler that I did not mean to claim the opposition between ‘langue
and parole’ is identical to the opposition between ‘competence and
performance’. Saussure (or perhaps one should write ‘Saussure’, since his Cours
speaks with a sythesised composite voice) wished to establish a
‘static’ or ‘synchronic’ non-historical
linguistics in opposition to historical philology. He created his famous
dichotomy on the supposition that ‘speech’
is, as Halliday and Hasan (this issue) put it, ‘in a constant
state of flux’. But
his ensuing dictum that ‘speech
cannot be studied’ was already disregarded by the Cours itself,
e.g., in the sections on ‘the vocal apparatus and its functioning’ and on
‘phonemes in the spoken chain’’ (1966: 9 27-32, 41-64) .
Chomsky,
in contrast, wished to establish a non-descriptive
linguistics in opposition to structuralism and its fieldwork methods. So
‘actual speech’ was now excluded from study because it is ‘fragmentary and
deviant’ ‘from the standpoint of the theory’ (Chomsky 1965: 201) This
argument would deny that ‘coverage of a large mass of data’ could be ‘an
achievement of any theoretical interest or importance’ (1965: 26) .
All
the same, the respective oppositions of Saussure and Chomsky, and many similar
ones — notably Hjelmslev’s ‘system’ versus ‘process’,
which he aligned ‘language’ versus ‘text’ (cf. Hjelmslev 1969 [1943]: 32
39, 85, 109, 135)
— have shared the effects of promoting non-dialectical, divisive modes
theorizing within modern linguistics, and of discouraging the active study of
texts.
I would have some reservations about
patching in an intermediary third construction, whereby the ‘dichotomy is enlarged to a trichotomy’, a move Dressler
(this issue) attributes to Hjelmslev’s and Coseriu’s ‘argument’
for ‘including “language as a social institution”’. I already have reservations
about the
attribution itself. Hjelmslev’s Prolegomena
argue nothing of the sort but warn us that making ‘social
conditions’ into the ‘content of linguistics’ would prevent us from
‘grasping the totality of language’ and could even lead us to ‘overlook
language itself’ (Hjelmslev 1969: [1943]: 4f) . And Coseriu’s own German Introduction
to Text Linguistics firmly rejected any proposal that the Chomskyan notion
of ‘competence’ can be equated both with ‘grammar’ and with ‘the
ability to produce texts’ (1981: 28f, my translation) . He pointedly noted
that ‘we always start out from texts, even when we have the impression of
interrogating our own competence’ and merely ‘making our own knowledge
explicit’ (ibid.) .
But more serious reservations
arise from the prospect that creating such a third theoretical construct could
serve to justify treating ‘language’ (or ‘langue’) as if were not a ‘social
institution’, a tactic is actually adopted in glossematics, generative
grammar, government and binding, minimalism, and so forth. Even sociolinguistics
has often tried to adopt and adapt conceptions of ‘language’ taken from
‘non-social’ linguistics (Beaugrande 1998b) .
My own advocacy is not for inserting an independent patch in
between the poles of some opposition or dichotomy, but for transcending these
with a dialectical view wherein the text is not just on one side but represents
the dynamic reconciliation of virtual with actual, or system with process. Like
Coseriu, I find the whole conception of ‘competence’ profoundly
unsatisfactory for being undefinable in theory and undiscoverable in practice.
As he remarks, ‘people possess a competence for producing texts’, but such
is precisely not what the term ‘competence’ was introduce to
designate, witness the defensive move of Dresher and Hornstein quoted in § 12
of my paper. So to retain the term is to invite misunderstandings.
2.
‘Text linguistics’ and ‘sentence linguistics’
To
suit the divisive ambience sketched in section 1, ‘text linguistics’ might
have appeared on the scene as a programmatic antithesis to ‘sentence
linguistics’. But despite some contentious rhetoric in both camps, the
aspiration during the early stages (late 1960s and early 1970s) was
atypically conservative: to sustain the dominant approaches, whether descriptive
or generative, by theorising the text on top of the sentence — as ‘rank or
level above’ the sentence, or a sequence of sentences, or an equivalent of one
superlong sentence, and so forth. This aspiration tended to limit the field to
projects for studying issues which had already been identified and defined for
the sentence but which also extended ‘beyond the sentence’, such as ‘pronominalisation’.
Harweg (1968) ingeniously subverted these limits by expanding the concept
of ‘pronominalisation’ to cover a wide range of concerns far beyond the
confines of ‘sentence linguistics’.
When
I arrived on the scene in the later 1970s, these conservative projects were
noticeably stagnated. In return, I recognised in text linguistics a grand
potential for synthesis. Saussure’s Cours
was dead wrong to assert that ‘we cannot put’ ‘speech’
‘in any category of human facts, for we cannot discover its unity’; and that
‘speaking is not a
collective instrument’ because ‘its manifestations are individual’ (1966:
9, 13ff) . Texts are most assuredly ‘human facts’ and at least as ‘collective’
as they are ‘individual’. But ‘discovering their unity’ is just as
assuredly an immense task, and hardly feasible except through large corpora.
The
rapid growth of text linguistics in 1980 might attest that many linguists and
language professionals also saw the value of texts for a synthesis of human
concerns. Once the ‘text’ had emerged from theoretical limbo, all sorts of
projects were abruptly accredited on issues such as text types, genres, styles,
registers, terminology, and language education.
To
support this transition, I have consistently worked to down-scale the previously
inflated role of the ‘sentence’
(cf. § 11f ) . Above all, I have argue against taking the sentence boundary to
be eternally and universal given in advance as the stopping point of linguistic
inquiry (as in Bloomfield 1933) . Like Halliday (1985:193) , I defined the
‘sentence’ as the most common orthographic format for representing stretches
of text in writing. As such, it is not natural, not innate, not universal; it
must be expressly learned and cultivated with sustained effort from language
teachers.
The
more authentic challenge for most people who work with language is to look ‘beyond
the clause’, as Martin (this issue) emphasizes. Stranded in the long
shadow of the sentence, the clause has usually held a marginal status; it
doesn’t even appear in the seminal books of Saussure, Sapir, and Bloomfield.
Yet it is assuredly far more significant and general than the sentence and is
the real source of many qualities attributed to the sentence. For example, the
ancestral classification of ‘declarative’, ‘interrogative’,
‘imperative’ and ‘exclamatory’ does not (despite what textbooks say) apply to
sentences but to independent clauses; the content of dependent clauses is not
declared, asked, commanded, or exclaimed, but taken as background and context.
To
meet this challenge, we should start from the text as communicative event and
from there try to make some empirical sense of both the sentence and the clause.
We must explore large sets of data for those factors which influence
decisions about what should have the format of a sentence or clause, such as
length, emphasis, prosody, intonation, topic development, and so on (Beaugrande
1999) .
You
should be able to see by now why I would not accept the moves by Harweg (this
issue) to define my ‘notion and idea of text’
by an ‘opposite notion’. Text is not the opposite of ‘langue’,
i.e. ‘parole’, because it is a communicative event arising within the
dialectic of langue and parole. And text is assuredly not the opposite of
sentence, any more than ‘architecture’ is the opposite of ‘measuring
tape’, or ‘symphony’ the opposite of ‘violin bow’. The integrative
whole cannot be the opposite of one of the formative implements.
For
similar motives, I would resolutely oppose any moves to create an opposition
between ‘text’ and ‘discourse’. When
Brown and Yule (1983: 6, 190, 1, 24) see ‘text’ as a ‘verbal
record of a communicative act’, and ‘discourse’ as ‘language in use’,
they are evidently inspired by their own opposition between
‘text-as-product’ versus ‘discourse-as-process’. Nunan makes matters
more expedient for analysis by limiting ‘text’ to the ‘written record’
(1993: 6) and making ‘discourse’ ‘refer to the interpretation of the
communicative event in context’. Admittedly, much of our work on both text and
discourse, including Brown and Yule’s own book, is compelled by practical
motives to focus on written products; yet we should not build our own
compulsions into the concept of ‘text’. At most, we can tap various sources
of evidence, such as psychology, sociology, ethnography, and artificial
intelligence, to create plausible representations or reconstructions of
processes, e.g., about how the coherence of a text could be sustained by making
inferences.
I
would most emphatically caution against the move to define ‘text’ as the
‘theoretical construct underlying the discourse’, the latter being
‘systematically related to communicative action’ (van Dijk 1976: 3) . Though
long abandoned by van Dijk himself, the move has persisted, as when Cook (1989:
156ff) defined ‘text’ as ‘a stretch of language interpreted
formally, without context’, and ‘discourse’ as ‘stretches of language
perceived to be meaningful and purposive’. The move reifies the historical
accidents whereby text was accredited as a ‘linguistic’ entity when
formalism was dominant, and ‘discourse’ when functionalism was on the rise.
I have yet to see a convincing representation of any such ‘theoretical
construct’; and if a text could be ‘interpreted formally without context’,
it would no longer be a text. What has in fact routinely been done is to imagine
an evasive, reduced context while replacing the text with a brittle
formalisation which does not ‘interpret’ it so much as ‘de-textualise’
it.
3.
Text, intertext, hypertext
My
respondents were, quite naturally, rather uncertain about whether and how corpus
data such as those I examined might constitute ‘text’ or ‘texts’. Much
against the aspiration of linguistics to define its entities by inherent
‘structures’ or ‘features’, I would suggest that the ‘textuality’ of
language data depends crucially on whether and how we seek to acknowledge or
discount it when we approach the data as potential text receivers. The data I
cited undeniably originated in authentic texts; but processing them into corpus
data does have implications for their textuality and authenticity.
Most
obviously perhaps, the standards of textuality get localized. The
individual data line is most often just a partial
text and thus deprived of cohesive
links to the rest, such as co-reference, lexical associations, and thematic
ordering. Similarly, the coherence of meanings, the intention of
text producers, and the acceptance of
text receivers are all framed down like a camera-zoom onto a small region within
a visual image. Informativity becomes vague when we can’t follow the
overall elaboration of content; and situationality has to be inferred
from the data themselves.
All
this might be profoundly disturbing but for the prospect that real-life
communication in general includes many encounters with partial texts. Despite
the programmatic imperative for text linguistics to defend the integrity of the
text against the habit of adducing isolated sentences, completeness is clearly
not a prerequisite for textuality. In a newsstand or a bookshop, you often see
readers skimming across bits of text in order to decide what is or is not worth
buying for more inclusive reception.
In
return, corpus data project a novel and expanded mode of intertextuality.
Indeed, we might well call our data ‘intertexts’ rather than
‘texts’ though in the specialised sense that they typically did not occur as
such within the participants’ intentionality, as would be true in a
conversation (compare Harweg, this issue) . But then this too is more generally
true, since intertextuality is one basis whereupon participants routinely
actualise texts by referring to personal experience with otherwise unrelated
texts.
When
we widen our scope to include the text linguist (or corpus linguist) , then we
could recognise one prominent shift in situationality. Our profession sets us
apart as ‘meta-participants’ whose discourse seeks to raise our own
consciousness of discourse. Yet the more we work with authentic data from real
life, the harder it becomes to lay claim to disinterested, impersonal
objectivity. But once more, the reservation is a general one. Aside from
phonetics and phonology, such claims should be treated with caution in all
studies of language. Our vigilance should be aroused at once when abstractions
like Saussure’s ‘syntagmatic’ and ‘paradigmatic’ are explained with
data like these:
In
the sentence ‘the boy kicked the girl’, […] part of the meaning of
‘kicked’ derives from the fact that it turns out not to be ‘kissed’ or
‘killed’ (Hawks 1977: 26f)
Here,
we can see even the fundamental concept of ‘opposition’ among ‘phonemes’
in minimal pairs being enlisted in the ideology of sexism.
Another
shift occurs in our acceptability. Text linguists in our professional identity
are not the intended receivers, although in our private identity we might well
belong to the intended audience (cf. § 83) , as is well illustrated by news
reports. So instead of just accepting these intertexts, we go on to explore the
strategies whereby text producers may seek to encourage and guide acceptance,
e.g. by deploying terms like ‘theoretical’ and ‘practical’ to approve or
disapprove, as I have shown.
These
explorations in turn shift our outlook on informativity. Close attention tends
to uncover higher degrees of information than are either typical or intended. I
myself find the collocation ‘just war’ flagrantly contradictory, like
‘honest robbery’ or ‘humane genocide’, though I can see why it is a
face-saving mantra in the official theories of war-mongers and war-makers. The
uneasy surmise that many other glib collocations paper over our failure to put
our theories into practice is central to ‘critical discourse analysis’.
A
final shift I would acknowledge here could be described as moving from text toward intertext toward hypertext (cf. Beaugrande
2000) . In a given set of corpus data, the data lines are partial texts
construed as intertexts, so that some lines delimit the interpretation of other
lines. Also, the key lexical or grammatical items we have ‘searched’ act as
‘hyperlinks’ pointing from uses in one text to those in another. Much as in
the ‘hypertexts’ on the Internet, each partial text is opened outward. Yet
instead of ‘clicking’ ourselves out of the text and perhaps losing it from
consciousness, our movement should be to recover more of the surrounding partial
text wherever we wish to analyse a particular occurrence in more delicacy —
the dialectical counter-move from hypertext to intertext to text.
Here
again, I would suggest that our activities are may be general among ordinary
text users, though hopefully more explicit and systematic. Particularly when
encountering a strange expression or pattern, such users may unconsciously make
a mental note and use it to compare and interpret later encounters. I do this
quite consciously when learning a new language, since I may have no opportunity
to ask people what they mean; besides, I find such questions can make people
uncomfortable.
All
data activate our status as ordinary discourse participants but authentic
data do so in more reliable and productive ways that do invented data about boys killing girls. As a practicing language
teacher, I am not too worried about ‘lapsing into informal explication de
texte’ or getting ‘bogged down in common sense chat about social context’
(Martin, this issue) . Much of my work in presenting text linguistics or
discourse analysis to students or teachers genuinely requires ‘informal
explication’ and ‘common sense chat’. And I am in no way embarrassed,
after seeing how often ‘formal analysis’ has yielded a diet of ‘common
sense chat’ in pretentiously technical disguises (trees, matrices, formulas,
etc.) , which usually lead to uncommon nonsense.
At
all events, how the ‘missing links’ I have envisioned should be discovered
and described cannot be determined in advance or a priori by some knock-down
‘grand universalist theory’, but only during the actual work of large
‘teams or consortia to pool our collective knowledge of
texts’ (Lemke, this issue) . A communal enterprise is the most solid
prerequisite for any individual text linguist to claim authority. We
are just beginning now to grasp and establish our own position as observers and
investigators language. As emphasized here by Lemke and by Halliday and Hasan,
this task is long overdue; and access to large-corpus data will undeniably alter
its conditions. Now we can no longer quietly occupy the roles of speaker,
hearer, or language community by incorporating our own viewpoint into the
analysis, e.g., our belief that ‘girls’ are objects for ‘boys’ to
alternatingly ‘kick, kill, and kiss’; nor can we purport to provide a ‘description
of internalised language’ by ‘prising knowledge out from the recesses of the
mind’ (Widdowson 1991: 15) , which sounds to me like shelling a stubborn
walnut. Instead,
we must place our own ‘theories’ — viewpoints, ideologies, interests, and
so on — out on the table so that whole teams and communities of linguists can
assess them and can compare them to our practices.
References
Beaugrande, R. de (1998a) . Performative
speech acts in linguistic theory: The rationality of Noam Chomsky.
Journal of Pragmatics 29: 1-39.
— (1998b) . Linguistics, sociolinguistics, and corpus
linguistics: Ideal language versus real language. Journal
of Sociolinguistics 3: 128-139.
— (1998c) . Society, education, linguistics, and language:
Inclusion and exclusion in theory and practice. Linguistics and Education 9: 99-158.
— (1999) .
Sentence
first, verdict afterwards: On the long career of the sentence. Word
50: 1-31.
— (2000) .
From Text toward Intertext toward Hypertext: Prospects for Technology in
Education. Abu Dhabi: United Arab Emirates University Technical Report.
Bloomfield, L. (1933) . Language. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press.
Halliday,
M.A.K. (1985) . Introduction to Functional Grammar. Second Revised Edition. London:
Arnold.
Chomsky, N. (1965) . Aspects of the Theory of Syntax. Cambridge: M.I.T. Press.
Cook, G, (1989) . Discourse.
Oxford: Oxford University Press
Coseriu, E. (1981) .
Textlinguistik: Eine Einführung. Tübingen: Narr.
Dijk, T. van (1976) . Text and Context.
London: Longman.
Harweg,
R. (1968) . Pronomina und
Textkonstitution. Munich: Fink.
Hawks,
T. (1977) . Semiotics and Structuralism.
Berkeley: University of California
Press.
Hjelmslev,
L. (1969 [1943]) . Prolegomena to a Theory
of Language. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Nunan,
D. (1993) . Introducing Discourse Analysis. Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Saussure, Ferdinand de. (1969 [orig. 1916].) Course
in General Linguistics (transl. Wade Baskin) . New York: McGraw-Hill.
Widdowson, H.G. (1991) . ‘The description and prescription
of language’ in J. Alatis (ed.) Georgetown
University Round Table on Languages and Linguistics 1991. Washington, D.C.:
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