Language by Edward Sapir

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[Footnote 21: This position, known as "faucal," is not common.]

The organic classification of speech sounds is a simple matter after
what we have learned of their production. Any such sound may be put into
its proper place by the appropriate answer to four main questions:--What
is the position of the glottal cords during its articulation? Does the
breath pass into the mouth alone or is it also allowed to stream into
the nose? Does the breath pass freely through the mouth or is it impeded
at some point and, if so, in what manner? What are the precise points of
articulation in the mouth?[22] This fourfold classification of sounds,
worked out in all its detailed ramifications,[23] is sufficient to
account for all, or practically all, the sounds of language.[24]

[Footnote 22: "Points of articulation" must be understood to include
tongue and lip positions of the vowels.]

[Footnote 23: Including, under the fourth category, a number of special
resonance adjustments that we have not been able to take up
specifically.]

[Footnote 24: In so far, it should be added, as these sounds are
expiratory, i.e., pronounced with the outgoing breath. Certain
languages, like the South African Hottentot and Bushman, have also a
number of inspiratory sounds, pronounced by sucking in the breath at
various points of oral contact. These are the so-called "clicks."]

The phonetic habits of a given language are not exhaustively defined by
stating that it makes use of such and such particular sounds out of the
all but endless gamut that we have briefly surveyed. There remains the
important question of the dynamics of these phonetic elements. Two
languages may, theoretically, be built up of precisely the same series
of consonants and vowels and yet produce utterly different acoustic
effects. One of them may not recognize striking variations in the
lengths or "quantities" of the phonetic elements, the other may note
such variations most punctiliously (in probably the majority of
languages long and short vowels are distinguished; in many, as in
Italian or Swedish or Ojibwa, long consonants are recognized as distinct
from short ones). Or the one, say English, may be very sensitive to
relative stresses, while in the other, say French, stress is a very
minor consideration. Or, again, the pitch differences which are
inseparable from the actual practice of language may not affect the word
as such, but, as in English, may be a more or less random or, at best,
but a rhetorical phenomenon, while in other languages, as in Swedish,
Lithuanian, Chinese, Siamese, and the majority of African languages,
they may be more finely graduated and felt as integral characteristics
of the words themselves. Varying methods of syllabifying are also
responsible for noteworthy acoustic differences. Most important of all,
perhaps, are the very different possibilities of combining the phonetic
elements. Each language has its peculiarities. The _ts_ combination, for
instance, is found in both English and German, but in English it can
only occur at the end of a word (as in _hats_), while it occurs freely
in German as the psychological equivalent of a single sound (as in
_Zeit_, _Katze_). Some languages allow of great heapings of consonants
or of vocalic groups (diphthongs), in others no two consonants or no two
vowels may ever come together. Frequently a sound occurs only in a
special position or under special phonetic circumstances. In English,
for instance, the _z_-sound of _azure_ cannot occur initially, while the
peculiar quality of the _t_ of _sting_ is dependent on its being
preceded by the _s_. These dynamic factors, in their totality, are as
important for the proper understanding of the phonetic genius of a
language as the sound system itself, often far more so.

We have already seen, in an incidental way, that phonetic elements or
such dynamic features as quantity and stress have varying psychological
"values." The English _ts_ of _fiats_ is merely a _t_ followed by a
functionally independent _s_, the _ts_ of the German word _Zeit_ has an
integral value equivalent, say, to the _t_ of the English word _tide_.
Again, the _t_ of _time_ is indeed noticeably distinct from that of
_sting_, but the difference, to the consciousness of an English-speaking
person, is quite irrelevant. It has no "value." If we compare the
_t_-sounds of Haida, the Indian language spoken in the Queen Charlotte
Islands, we find that precisely the same difference of articulation has
a real value. In such a word as _sting_ "two," the _t_ is pronounced
precisely as in English, but in _sta_ "from" the _t_ is clearly
"aspirated," like that of _time_. In other words, an objective
difference that is irrelevant in English is of functional value in
Haida; from its own psychological standpoint the _t_ of _sting_ is as
different from that of _sta_ as, from our standpoint, is the _t_ of
_time_ from the _d_ of _divine_. Further investigation would yield the
interesting result that the Haida ear finds the difference between the
English _t_ of _sting_ and the _d_ of _divine_ as irrelevant as the
naive English ear finds that of the _t_-sounds of _sting_ and _time_.
The objective comparison of sounds in two or more languages is, then, of
no psychological or historical significance unless these sounds are
first "weighted," unless their phonetic "values" are determined. These
values, in turn, flow from the general behavior and functioning of the
sounds in actual speech.

These considerations as to phonetic value lead to an important
conception. Back of the purely objective system of sounds that is
peculiar to a language and which can be arrived at only by a painstaking
phonetic analysis, there is a more restricted "inner" or "ideal" system
which, while perhaps equally unconscious as a system to the naive
speaker, can far more readily than the other be brought to his
consciousness as a finished pattern, a psychological mechanism. The
inner sound-system, overlaid though it may be by the mechanical or the
irrelevant, is a real and an immensely important principle in the life
of a language. It may persist as a pattern, involving number, relation,
and functioning of phonetic elements, long after its phonetic content is
changed. Two historically related languages or dialects may not have a
sound in common, but their ideal sound-systems may be identical
patterns. I would not for a moment wish to imply that this pattern may
not change. It may shrink or expand or change its functional
complexion, but its rate of change is infinitely less rapid than that of
the sounds as such. Every language, then, is characterized as much by
its ideal system of sounds and by the underlying phonetic pattern
(system, one might term it, of symbolic atoms) as by a definite
grammatical structure. Both the phonetic and conceptual structures show
the instinctive feeling of language for form.[25]

[Footnote 25: The conception of the ideal phonetic system, the phonetic
pattern, of a language is not as well understood by linguistic students
as it should be. In this respect the unschooled recorder of language,
provided he has a good ear and a genuine instinct for language, is often
at a great advantage as compared with the minute phonetician, who is apt
to be swamped by his mass of observations. I have already employed my
experience in teaching Indians to write their own language for its
testing value in another connection. It yields equally valuable evidence
here. I found that it was difficult or impossible to teach an Indian to
make phonetic distinctions that did not correspond to "points in the
pattern of his language," however these differences might strike our
objective ear, but that subtle, barely audible, phonetic differences, if
only they hit the "points in the pattern," were easily and voluntarily
expressed in writing. In watching my Nootka interpreter write his
language, I often had the curious feeling that he was transcribing an
ideal flow of phonetic elements which he heard, inadequately from a
purely objective standpoint, as the intention of the actual rumble of
speech.]

IV

FORM IN LANGUAGE: GRAMMATICAL PROCESSES

The question of form in language presents itself under two aspects. We
may either consider the formal methods employed by a language, its
"grammatical processes," or we may ascertain the distribution of
concepts with reference to formal expression. What are the formal
patterns of the language? And what types of concepts make up the content
of these formal patterns? The two points of view are quite distinct. The
English word _unthinkingly_ is, broadly speaking, formally parallel to
the word _reformers_, each being built up on a radical element which may
occur as an independent verb (_think_, _form_), this radical element
being preceded by an element (_un-_, _re-_) that conveys a definite and
fairly concrete significance but that cannot be used independently, and
followed by two elements (_-ing_, _-ly_; _-er_, _-s_) that limit the
application of the radical concept in a relational sense. This formal
pattern--(b) + A + (c) + (d)[26]--is a characteristic feature of the
language. A countless number of functions may be expressed by it; in
other words, all the possible ideas conveyed by such prefixed and
suffixed elements, while tending to fall into minor groups, do not
necessarily form natural, functional systems. There is no logical
reason, for instance, why the numeral function of _-s_ should be
formally expressed in a manner that is analogous to the expression of
the idea conveyed by _-ly_. It is perfectly conceivable that in another
language the concept of manner (_-ly_) may be treated according to an
entirely different pattern from that of plurality. The former might have
to be expressed by an independent word (say, _thus unthinking_), the
latter by a prefixed element (say, _plural[27]-reform-er_). There are,
of course, an unlimited number of other possibilities. Even within the
confines of English alone the relative independence of form and function
can be made obvious. Thus, the negative idea conveyed by _un-_ can be
just as adequately expressed by a suffixed element (_-less_) in such a
word as _thoughtlessly_. Such a twofold formal expression of the
negative function would be inconceivable in certain languages, say
Eskimo, where a suffixed element would alone be possible. Again, the
plural notion conveyed by the _-s_ of _reformers_ is just as definitely
expressed in the word _geese_, where an utterly distinct method
is employed. Furthermore, the principle of vocalic change
(_goose_--_geese_) is by no means confined to the expression of the idea
of plurality; it may also function as an indicator of difference of time
(e.g., _sing_--_sang_, _throw_--_threw_). But the expression in English
of past time is not by any means always bound up with a change of vowel.
In the great majority of cases the same idea is expressed by means of a
distinct suffix (_die-d_, _work-ed_). Functionally, _died_ and _sang_
are analogous; so are _reformers_ and _geese_. Formally, we must arrange
these words quite otherwise. Both _die-d_ and _re-form-er-s_ employ the
method of suffixing grammatical elements; both _sang_ and _geese_ have
grammatical form by virtue of the fact that their vowels differ from the
vowels of other words with which they are closely related in form and
meaning (_goose_; _sing_, _sung_).

[Footnote 26: For the symbolism, see chapter II.]

[Footnote 27: "_Plural_" is here a symbol for any prefix indicating
plurality.]

Every language possesses one or more formal methods or indicating the
relation of a secondary concept to the main concept of the radical
element. Some of these grammatical processes, like suffixing, are
exceedingly wide-spread; others, like vocalic change, are less common
but far from rare; still others, like accent and consonantal change, are
somewhat exceptional as functional processes. Not all languages are as
irregular as English in the assignment of functions to its stock of
grammatical processes. As a rule, such basic concepts as those of
plurality and time are rendered by means of one or other method alone,
but the rule has so many exceptions that we cannot safely lay it down as
a principle. Wherever we go we are impressed by the fact that pattern is
one thing, the utilization of pattern quite another. A few further
examples of the multiple expression of identical functions in other
languages than English may help to make still more vivid this idea of
the relative independence of form and function.

In Hebrew, as in other Semitic languages, the verbal idea as such is
expressed by three, less often by two or four, characteristic
consonants. Thus, the group _sh-m-r_ expresses the idea of "guarding,"
the group _g-n-b_ that of "stealing," _n-t-n_ that of "giving."
Naturally these consonantal sequences are merely abstracted from the
actual forms. The consonants are held together in different forms by
characteristic vowels that vary according to the idea that it is desired
to express. Prefixed and suffixed elements are also frequently used. The
method of internal vocalic change is exemplified in _shamar_ "he has
guarded," _shomer_ "guarding," _shamur_ "being guarded," _shmor_ "(to)
guard." Analogously, _ganab_ "he has stolen," _goneb_ "stealing,"
_ganub_ "being stolen," _gnob_ "(to) steal." But not all infinitives are
formed according to the type of _shmor_ and _gnob_ or of other types of
internal vowel change. Certain verbs suffix a _t_-element for the
infinitive, e.g., _ten-eth_ "to give," _heyo-th_ "to be." Again, the
pronominal ideas may be expressed by independent words (e.g., _anoki_
"I"), by prefixed elements (e.g., _e-shmor_ "I shall guard"), or by
suffixed elements (e.g., _shamar-ti_ "I have guarded"). In Nass, an
Indian language of British Columbia, plurals are formed by four distinct
methods. Most nouns (and verbs) are reduplicated in the plural, that is,
part of the radical element is repeated, e.g., _gyat_ "person,"
_gyigyat_ "people." A second method is the use of certain characteristic
prefixes, e.g., _an'on_ "hand," _ka-an'on_ "hands"; _wai_ "one paddles,"
_lu-wai_ "several paddle." Still other plurals are formed by means of
internal vowel change, e.g., _gwula_ "cloak," _gwila_ "cloaks." Finally,
a fourth class of plurals is constituted by such nouns as suffix a
grammatical element, e.g., _waky_ "brother," _wakykw_ "brothers."

From such groups of examples as these--and they might be multiplied _ad
nauseam_--we cannot but conclude that linguistic form may and should be
studied as types of patterning, apart from the associated functions. We
are the more justified in this procedure as all languages evince a
curious instinct for the development of one or more particular
grammatical processes at the expense of others, tending always to lose
sight of any explicit functional value that the process may have had in
the first instance, delighting, it would seem, in the sheer play of its
means of expression. It does not matter that in such a case as the
English _goose_--_geese_, _foul_--_defile_, _sing_--_sang_--_sung_ we
can prove that we are dealing with historically distinct processes,
that the vocalic alternation of _sing_ and _sang_, for instance, is
centuries older as a specific type of grammatical process than the
outwardly parallel one of _goose_ and _geese_. It remains true that
there is (or was) an inherent tendency in English, at the time such
forms as _geese_ came into being, for the utilization of vocalic change
as a significant linguistic method. Failing the precedent set by such
already existing types of vocalic alternation as _sing_--_sang_--_sung_,
it is highly doubtful if the detailed conditions that brought about the
evolution of forms like _teeth_ and _geese_ from _tooth_ and _goose_
would have been potent enough to allow the native linguistic feeling to
win through to an acceptance of these new types of plural formation as
psychologically possible. This feeling for form as such, freely
expanding along predetermined lines and greatly inhibited in certain
directions by the lack of controlling types of patterning, should be
more clearly understood than it seems to be. A general survey of many
diverse types of languages is needed to give us the proper perspective
on this point. We saw in the preceding chapter that every language has
an inner phonetic system of definite pattern. We now learn that it has
also a definite feeling for patterning on the level of grammatical
formation. Both of these submerged and powerfully controlling impulses
to definite form operate as such, regardless of the need for expressing
particular concepts or of giving consistent external shape to particular
groups of concepts. It goes without saying that these impulses can find
realization only in concrete functional expression. We must say
something to be able to say it in a certain manner.

Let us now take up a little more systematically, however briefly, the
various grammatical processes that linguistic research has established.
They may be grouped into six main types: word order; composition;
affixation, including the use of prefixes, suffixes, and infixes;
internal modification of the radical or grammatical element, whether
this affects a vowel or a consonant; reduplication; and accentual
differences, whether dynamic (stress) or tonal (pitch). There are also
special quantitative processes, like vocalic lengthening or shortening
and consonantal doubling, but these may be looked upon as particular
sub-types of the process of internal modification. Possibly still other
formal types exist, but they are not likely to be of importance in a
general survey. It is important to bear in mind that a linguistic
phenomenon cannot be looked upon as illustrating a definite "process"
unless it has an inherent functional value. The consonantal change in
English, for instance, of _book-s_ and _bag-s_ (_s_ in the former, _z_
in the latter) is of no functional significance. It is a purely
external, mechanical change induced by the presence of a preceding
voiceless consonant, _k_, in the former case, of a voiced consonant,
_g_, in the latter. This mechanical alternation is objectively the same
as that between the noun _house_ and the verb _to house_. In the latter
case, however, it has an important grammatical function, that of
transforming a noun into a verb. The two alternations belong, then, to
entirely different psychological categories. Only the latter is a true
illustration of consonantal modification as a grammatical process.

The simplest, at least the most economical, method of conveying some
sort of grammatical notion is to juxtapose two or more words in a
definite sequence without making any attempt by inherent modification of
these words to establish a connection between them. Let us put down two
simple English words at random, say _sing praise_. This conveys no
finished thought in English, nor does it clearly establish a relation
between the idea of singing and that of praising. Nevertheless, it is
psychologically impossible to hear or see the two words juxtaposed
without straining to give them some measure of coherent significance.
The attempt is not likely to yield an entirely satisfactory result, but
what is significant is that as soon as two or more radical concepts are
put before the human mind in immediate sequence it strives to bind them
together with connecting values of some sort. In the case of _sing
praise_ different individuals are likely to arrive at different
provisional results. Some of the latent possibilities of the
juxtaposition, expressed in currently satisfying form, are: _sing praise
(to him)!_ or _singing praise, praise expressed in a song_ or _to sing
and praise_ or _one who sings a song of praise_ (compare such English
compounds as _killjoy_, i.e., _one who kills joy_) or _he sings a song
of praise (to him)_. The theoretical possibilities in the way of
rounding out these two concepts into a significant group of concepts or
even into a finished thought are indefinitely numerous. None of them
will quite work in English, but there are numerous languages where one
or other of these amplifying processes is habitual. It depends entirely
on the genius of the particular language what function is inherently
involved in a given sequence of words.

Some languages, like Latin, express practically all relations by means
of modifications within the body of the word itself. In these, sequence
is apt to be a rhetorical rather than a strictly grammatical principle.
Whether I say in Latin _hominem femina videt_ or _femina hominem videt_
or _hominem videt femina_ or _videt femina hominem_ makes little or no
difference beyond, possibly, a rhetorical or stylistic one. _The woman
sees the man_ is the identical significance of each of these sentences.
In Chinook, an Indian language of the Columbia River, one can be equally
free, for the relation between the verb and the two nouns is as
inherently fixed as in Latin. The difference between the two languages
is that, while Latin allows the nouns to establish their relation to
each other and to the verb, Chinook lays the formal burden entirely on
the verb, the full content of which is more or less adequately rendered
by _she-him-sees_. Eliminate the Latin case suffixes (_-a_ and _-em_)
and the Chinook pronominal prefixes (_she-him-_) and we cannot afford to
be so indifferent to our word order. We need to husband our resources.
In other words, word order takes on a real functional value. Latin and
Chinook are at one extreme. Such languages as Chinese, Siamese, and
Annamite, in which each and every word, if it is to function properly,
falls into its assigned place, are at the other extreme. But the
majority of languages fall between these two extremes. In English, for
instance, it may make little grammatical difference whether I say
_yesterday the man saw the dog_ or _the man saw the dog yesterday_, but
it is not a matter of indifference whether I say _yesterday the man saw
the dog_ or _yesterday the dog saw the man_ or whether I say _he is
here_ or _is he here?_ In the one case, of the latter group of examples,
the vital distinction of subject and object depends entirely on the
placing of certain words of the sentence, in the latter a slight
difference of sequence makes all the difference between statement and
question. It goes without saying that in these cases the English
principle of word order is as potent a means of expression as is the
Latin use of case suffixes or of an interrogative particle. There is
here no question of functional poverty, but of formal economy.

We have already seen something of the process of composition, the
uniting into a single word of two or more radical elements.
Psychologically this process is closely allied to that of word order in
so far as the relation between the elements is implied, not explicitly
stated. It differs from the mere juxtaposition of words in the sentence
in that the compounded elements are felt as constituting but parts of a
single word-organism. Such languages as Chinese and English, in which
the principle of rigid sequence is well developed, tend not infrequently
also to the development of compound words. It is but a step from such a
Chinese word sequence as _jin tak_ "man virtue," i.e., "the virtue of
men," to such more conventionalized and psychologically unified
juxtapositions as _t'ien tsz_ "heaven son," i.e., "emperor," or _shui
fu_ "water man," i.e., "water carrier." In the latter case we may as
well frankly write _shui-fu_ as a single word, the meaning of the
compound as a whole being as divergent from the precise etymological
values of its component elements as is that of our English word
_typewriter_ from the merely combined values of _type_ and _writer_. In
English the unity of the word _typewriter_ is further safeguarded by a
predominant accent on the first syllable and by the possibility of
adding such a suffixed element as the plural _-s_ to the whole word.
Chinese also unifies its compounds by means of stress. However, then, in
its ultimate origins the process of composition may go back to typical
sequences of words in the sentence, it is now, for the most part, a
specialized method of expressing relations. French has as rigid a word
order as English but does not possess anything like its power of
compounding words into more complex units. On the other hand, classical
Greek, in spite of its relative freedom in the placing of words, has a
very considerable bent for the formation of compound terms.

It is curious to observe how greatly languages differ in their ability
to make use of the process of composition. One would have thought on
general principles that so simple a device as gives us our _typewriter_
and _blackbird_ and hosts of other words would be an all but universal
grammatical process. Such is not the case. There are a great many
languages, like Eskimo and Nootka and, aside from paltry exceptions, the
Semitic languages, that cannot compound radical elements. What is even
stranger is the fact that many of these languages are not in the least
averse to complex word-formations, but may on the contrary effect a
synthesis that far surpasses the utmost that Greek and Sanskrit are
capable of. Such a Nootka word, for instance, as "when, as they say, he
had been absent for four days" might be expected to embody at least
three radical elements corresponding to the concepts of "absent,"
"four," and "day." As a matter of fact the Nootka word is utterly
incapable of composition in our sense. It is invariably built up out of
a single radical element and a greater or less number of suffixed
elements, some of which may have as concrete a significance as the
radical element itself. In, the particular case we have cited the
radical element conveys the idea of "four," the notions of "day" and
"absent" being expressed by suffixes that are as inseparable from the
radical nucleus of the word as is an English element like _-er_ from the
_sing_ or _hunt_ of such words as _singer_ and _hunter_. The tendency to
word synthesis is, then, by no means the same thing as the tendency to
compounding radical elements, though the latter is not infrequently a
ready means for the synthetic tendency to work with.

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